The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

he said, essaying a casual tone that did not persuade. The second boot was on half-way. He stumbled, stepping upon it, the excess flopping around like an odd fish attached to the base of his leg. “I shall follow—I assure you—”
    “Doctor!” hissed Chang. “It will be fine. The roof is wide, and the climb will be nothing like the pipe!”
    “The pipe?” asked Miss Temple.
    “Ah—well—that—” said Doctor Svenson.
    “I thought you managed it splendidly.”
    From the passage Chang scoffed.
    “I have a difficulty with height. An excruciating difficulty—”
    “I have the same with root vegetables.” Miss Temple smiled. “We shall help one another—come!” She anxiously looked past his shoulder down the hallway, relieved to see it still empty, and took his arm. He thrust his foot down into the boot—fully in but for a last uncooperative inch. They stepped through the door.
    “Pull it tight,” whispered Chang, who had continued on above them. “It is better they not notice we have forced the lock.”

    The sky above was grey and so low as to seem palpably near, the sun well behind a thick bank of winter cloud. The air was cool and moist, and if there were only more wind Miss Temple might have told herself she was on the sea. She inhaled with pleasure. She looked down to see with a certain small wonder that under her feet was a crusty layer of tarred paper and copper sheathing—so this was walking on a roof! Behind her Doctor Svenson had knelt, concentrating closely on his left boot, eyes fixed to the ground. Chang secured the door with bits of broken wood, wedging them into the frame to prevent it from opening easily. He stepped away and wiped his hand on his coat. She saw that his other hand held her carpet bag—she had completely forgotten it, and reached to take it from him. He shook his head and nodded toward a nearby building.
    “I believe we can go this way—north,” he said.
    “If we must,” muttered Svenson. He stood, still keeping his eyes low. Miss Temple saw it was time for her to act.
    “Excuse me,” she said, “but before we travel further together, I believe—I am convinced—that we need to speak.”
    Chang frowned at her. “They may be coming—”
    “Yes, though I do not think they are. I think they are waiting for us in the street, or waiting for Mr. Spanning to make sure the guests in the rooms near to mine will not be disturbed by any screams. I am confident we have at least some few minutes.”
    The two men looked at each other. She could sense the doubt in the glance that went between them. She pointedly cleared her throat, bringing their eyes back to her.
    “To the great distress of my only available relative, I have been thrust into the company of two men at the very border—if that—of respectability. This morning we were strangers. In this instant all three of us are without sanctuary. What I want—in fact demand—is that we make quite clear what we each hope to achieve in this matter, what masters we serve—in short, what is our
agreement
.”
    She waited for their reaction. The two men were silent.
    “I do not find the request excessive,” said Miss Temple.
    Svenson nodded at her, looked to Chang and muttered, groping in his pocket. “Excuse me—a cigarette—it will distract from the altitude, this sea of vacant space—” He looked back at Miss Temple. “You are correct. It is most sensible. We do not know each other—chance has thrown us together.”
    “Can we not do this later?” asked Chang, his tone clinging to the merest edge of civility.
    “When would that be?” answered Miss Temple. “Do we even know where we are going next? Have we decided how best to act? Who to pursue? Of course we haven’t, because we have each made assumptions from our very different experiences.”
    Chang exhaled, vexed. After a moment, he nodded sharply, as if to invite her to begin. Miss Temple did so.

    “I have been attacked and now uprooted. I have been misled, threatened, and lied to. I wish for justice…which means the
thorough
settling of each person involved.” She took a breath. “Doctor?”
    Svenson took the moment to actually light his cigarette, return the case to his coat pocket, and exhale. He nodded to her.
    “I must recover my Prince—no matter this conspiracy, it remains my duty to
disentangle
him. I have no doubt that this entails a kind of war—but I have little choice. Cardinal?”
    Chang paused, as if he found this a