The Chemickal Marriage

mostly, by the stitching. But your face … the damage there is singular – and to most tastes horrifying, I’m sure. The eyes are abnormally sensitive – even when asleep you flinch from a lantern. Do you mind my asking the cause?’
    ‘A riding crop.’
    ‘Viciously applied. How long ago?’
    ‘Where are my clothes?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. Burnt? No, Cardinal Chang, you remain almost as you were born. For one, to increase the difficulty of slipping away, were you – ever resourceful – to manage it. But, in the main, it makes you easier to
study
.’
    ‘Study how?’
    ‘Such a hopeful question. I will ask one in return, now we are speaking. What do you remember?’
    The words hung between them, and Chang knew his inability to recall a thing since the forest was a direct result of something Vandaariff had done. With nothing else to say he could only hope to provoke the man.
    ‘I remember putting a sabre through your guts on the airship.’
    ‘But that was not me at all,’ Vandaariff replied mildly. ‘That was the poor Comte d’Orkancz.
I
was at Harschmort House, left behind by all my former friends.’
    ‘Left an idiot, you mean. I
saw
you –
him
– and I saw everything at Parchfeldt! How in hell did you survive? That mob was set to tear you to pieces.’
    ‘Very good. The airship
and
the factory. And after that? What, Cardinal Chang, do you remember
next
?’
    Chang pulled against the chains and exhaled through his nose.
    ‘If you have done anything to me – I promise you –’
    ‘Done? I have saved your life.’
    ‘Why would you do that?’
    ‘Another excellent question. You are abrim.’
    Chang turned at a sound to his left – a panel flush with the wall, swinging clear. A tall man in a shining black coat stepped through, silk rustling against the doorframe. Though he was not old, white hair hung to the man’s collar, and his skin was as brown as a Malay sailor’s. He sank into a silent bow and then spoke gently, tamed.
    ‘My apologies, my lord …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Another incident at the gate. A single man. Not from the town.’
    ‘Not from the town? Gracious, is he alive?’
    ‘He is.’ The white-haired man met Chang’s gaze without expression.
    ‘Bring him, Mr Foison,’ said Vandaariff heartily. ‘We will seize the opportunity to learn.’
    Foison bowed and left the room. What town? Chang could see nothing to place where he was. If only he were not so
weak
. Through the door came the sounds of men lugging a burden. Vandaariff rubbed his hands as if this bespoke an awaited meal.
    ‘What of the others?’ Chang could not help himself. ‘Celeste Temple, Svenson, the Contessa?’
    ‘Do you not know?’
    ‘I’ve asked, haven’t I? Tell me, damn you!’
    ‘Why, they are all dead,’ answered Vandaariff. Then he smiled. ‘That is, dead or entirely mine.’
    Chuckling, he limped through the door and pulled it tight. The walls were not so dense as to stop the screams. It was a relief when Foison finally re-entered with the ether and sent Chang to darkness.
    He was shocked to wakefulness, face down again, by a sudden freeze across his lower back, sharp as an animal’s bite.
    ‘Do not
move
,’ Vandaariff intoned. ‘It will only prolong the struggle.’
    ‘What … struggle is that?’ gasped Chang, his chin grinding into the planking.
    ‘A struggle of metals.’ The chill curled to the base of Chang’s spine. ‘Alchemy tells us of different metals linked in a lattice of power. The natural blood of your body, Cardinal Chang, is suffused with iron – thus we have begun with a vector of quite traditional
magnetism
.’
    ‘You’re insane, mad as a foaming dog.’
    ‘Your body was depleted of course – vital salts, ethereal compounds. After this restoration, the true work may begin …’
    Just beyond the light stood Foison, silent, white hair glowing in the shadow. The cold seeped past Chang’s pelvis to his legs. His teeth were chattering.
    ‘I killed you once. I’ll do it again.’ Chang could scarcely speak. ‘What true work?’
    ‘A cloth in his mouth, Mr Foison. It would be a shame if his shivering broke a tooth.’ Vandaariff leant to Chang’s ear. ‘The true work of heaven, Cardinal.’
    Their final conversation had been prefaced by the entrance of Foison. In the man’s hand was a ceramic bowl with a wooden spoon sticking out. He saw Chang was awake and set the bowl aside. Inside lay a sickly dollop of grey paste.
    ‘Is that what I’ve been eating? If