The Chemickal Marriage

ever been collected –’
    ‘Unless she is bursting into tears or a rage, certainly.’
    Svenson’s tone grew sharp. ‘Perhaps you have your own answer.’
    ‘What does
that
mean – why should I?’
    ‘You question my observation – I ask for yours.’
    ‘I’ve no idea in the slightest!’
    Svenson passed the hand with the cigarette over his brow, wreathing his head with smoke.
    ‘We are men. We meet our fate as a duty – as our lot. But her fate surpasses expectation. The book that held the Comte’s corrupted mind – it was in Celeste’s possession. Did you not wonder how she could guide us through the munitions works?’
    ‘Of course I
wondered
.’
    ‘You did not
ask
.’
    ‘When should I have done so? When the dock was exploding? In the damned pipe?’
    ‘Well, that is why, I think. She has touched that book, gazed inside.’
    ‘Why did you even go to Raaxfall?’
    ‘I told you, Celeste received a map of the works, in glass, from the Contessa.’
    ‘And you
went
! Of all the idiocies –’
    ‘Our journey saved your life.’
    ‘Do you think that is the end of it? What else did you accomplish without understanding? What task did you perform for
her
?’
    Svenson rose and stalked from the compartment. Chang suppressed the urge to call the man back. He shut his eyes behind the stonecutter’s goggles and settled deeper in his seat.
    His thoughts rushed elsewhere, worrying a phrase of Miss Temple’s like a sore tooth: ‘Whatever body holds him.’ She had referred to the Comte, his essence scattered to Vandaariff, a glass book, even part of Miss Temple herself – and as long as that book existed, what prevented his incorporation into one new victim after another? Chang was not concerned with imaginary incarnations. He could think only about himself, chained to the table, suffering the procession of elemental glass cards. No sleep came.
    When the train met the tunnels outside Stropping Station, Chang rejoined the others. He was surprised no one had come to fetch him – taking it either as a measure of respect for his ordeal or disapproval of his temper – and so simply stood and faced them, cracking the knuckles of both hands.
    ‘The conductor is gone to the front,’ said Phelps.
    ‘Good. As soon as the train stops we will exit through the rear. Follow me. We will cross the tracks and leave the station in secret.’
    They waited at the rear of the train. Miss Temple’s eyes were red. Chang looked to her right hand and saw the fingertips smeared, as if she had been reading newsprint. A bead of black stained her collar.
    The train’s brakes seized with a screech and Miss Temple staggered,steadied by Doctor Svenson. Chang peered out of a compartment window. Setting off from the platform at a trot was a squad of brown-coated, truncheon-wielding constables. Across Stropping, similar knots of lawmen prodded passengers into groups, escorting them through the station like criminals.
    ‘Open the door! We will be stopped any second.’
    Cunsher, in the lead, called back, ‘It is locked!’
    Chang rushed into the corridor. ‘Kick it open! The place is thick with policemen!’
    ‘Policemen?’ cried Phelps. ‘But why?’
    Chang shouldered through to Cunsher, whose kicks had done nothing. The train gave out the massive hiss of an exhausted dragon. The air was split with police whistles. Svenson pulled them aside and extended the long Navy revolver, firing three rounds point-blank into the lock plate. Chang kicked and the door flew wide. He leapt to the gravel and turned for Miss Temple. A constable shouted to stop. Letting the others come after, Chang raced away, Miss Temple’s hand tight in his, headlong for the nearest train.
    ‘Under! Under!’ he cried, and dived first. The stones stung his knees and elbows, but Chang rolled out the other side. He caught Miss Temple’s shoulders as her head appeared and they were up and scrambling towards another train. Miss Temple held up her dress (the clutch bag leaping about on its strap), all attention focused on keeping her feet.
    Out from under the next train, Chang finally looked back: no police in sight. He sighed with relief. If the search had been particular to them, the constables would not have given up so easily. From the number of officers spread across the station floor, he guessed their orders had been limited to managing passengers in general – and to give chase would have meant leaving other travellers with little or no escort.