The Chemickal Marriage

wrapped in shining steel. In his right hand he held a curved silver blade and in his left a glowing red orb the size of a newborn’s skull. His hair, as long as hers, was blue, and, like his mate, the upper portion of his face was masked – a blank mask of white feathers, save the eyes that shone through were bright ovals of glass. Svenson knew that each eye, perhaps more than anywhere else on the canvas, contained charged memories that might make sense of the whole. But the Contessa had not dared to look. The cycle of the card ended, and swept the Doctor helplessly back to its dizzied beginning.
    He blinked and saw the tower chamber, the blue card safe in Cardinal Chang’s gloved hand. At Chang’s side stood Miss Temple, frowning with concern. Doctor Svenson sat up like a yanked puppet, only to find that his clothing had been completely restored. The pistol lay to his side. They stared as if he were mad.
    ‘What has happened?’ he asked, his voice cracking.
    ‘What has happened to
you
?’ Chang replied.
    Svenson turned to the open arch, saw no one beyond it, then pointed vaguely at the tapestry hiding the staircase door. He saw the exasperation in Chang’s sneer, and the confusion on Miss Temple’s brow.
They
had not done up his trousers. It had been the Contessa. But when? His arousal had passed – he could not suppress a downwards glance – but under what circumstances?
    Cardinal Chang held up the blue card. ‘Where did you get
this
?’
    ‘The Contessa.’ In his companions’ presence his complicity with the woman seemed utterly indefensible. ‘I met the Contessa –’
    ‘How could you have been such a fool to look into it?’
    ‘I tried to kill her – I failed – somehow we ended up fleeing from the guards –’
    Miss Temple took his hand and sat next to him. ‘You must tell us everything.’Her gaze caught the glass card in Chang’s hand. ‘And you must tell us what you saw.’
    Doctor Svenson kept the tale decorous, aided by the fact that any impropriety with the Contessa lay beyond their imagination. Whenever his narrative faltered, Miss Temple or Chang would cut in with a question whose answer allowed an elision. Interwoven with their questions were details of their own struggle. Under the cover of Svenson’s gunfire they had fled deeper into the Palace. A wave of soldiers had swept each floor, but they managed to hide. When Miss Temple related this last, Svenson was sure he saw her cheeks redden.
    ‘Where did you conceal yourselves?’ he asked.
    ‘A wardrobe,’ muttered Chang. But Miss Temple, compensating for her blush, seemed determined to dismiss all mystery.
    ‘The trick of it being that a wardrobe
full
of clothing does not allow two people in it, and a wardrobe
without
clothing does not hide them if a diligent searcher opens its door. Further, it does not do at all to heave out half the contents to strike the proper balance – a heap of clothing serving as advertisement for close scrutiny.’
    ‘Quite the puzzle,’ offered the Doctor.
    Her blush returned.
    ‘We saw nothing of Phelps or Cunsher,’ said Chang brusquely, shovelling earth on the subject of wardrobes.
    ‘Nor I,’ said Svenson. He described the death of Lord Pont-Joule, the Contessa’s enslavement of Princess Sophia and Mr Harcourt, and the two purloined documents.
    ‘And you left her alive.’ Chang’s voice was flat, as if the fact of Svenson’s action was damning enough. ‘And she spared
you
. Why?’
    ‘For the same reason she sent the red envelopes to Celeste’s hotel. She is not strong enough to defeat the Comte on her own – now that the Comte is Robert Vandaariff.’
    ‘What did she want you to do?’ asked Miss Temple.
    ‘I cannot say – yet the answer lies in that bit of glass. Infused with her own memories.’
    ‘Uncharacteristic,’ said Chang. ‘Such
harvesting
is for the lower orders.’
    Svenson nodded. ‘There is no way to explain. You must each look into that card.’
    Already seated, Miss Temple took the card first. Svenson remained next to her. Though she’d displayed no ill-effects from viewing the glass map, he wanted to be sure that this more potent card did not provoke any. She gasped softly as the cycle completed, but he detected no sudden pallor, no chill upon her skin. Chang watched with a sour expression.
    ‘How long should we allow her to look?’
    ‘Another minute.’ Svenson spoke quietly, as if Miss Temple were asleep. ‘The level of detail is prodigious,