The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters
Dragoons are a fine regiment—so helpful to the Foreign Ministry. Good of him to step into the breach.” He clucked his tongue and called back to Xonck. “You’re not wearing black. Trapping
was
your brother-in-law.”
“And I am devastated, I do assure you.”
“Then why did he have to die?”
He received no answer. Chang would have to do better than this to provoke them. They walked on in shuffling silence, the lantern light catching on what seemed to be chandeliers in the air above them. Their passageway had opened into some much larger room. Xonck called ahead to Bascombe.
“Roger, put the lantern on the floor.”
Bascombe turned, looked at Xonck as if he didn’t fully comprehend, and then placed the lantern on the wooden floor, well out of Chang’s reach.
“Thank you. Now go ahead—you can find your way. Give word to prepare the machines.”
“Are you quite sure?”
“I am.”
Bascombe glanced once, rather searchingly, at Chang, who took the opportunity to sneer, and then disappeared into the dark. Chang heard his footsteps well after the man had passed from the light, but soon the room was silent once more. Xonck took a few steps into the shadow and returned with two wooden chairs. He placed them on the floor and kicked one over to Chang, who stopped its momentum with his foot. Xonck sat, and after a moment Chang followed his example.
“I thought it worthwhile to attempt a frank discussion. After all, in half an hour’s time you will either be my ally or you will be dead—there seems little point in mincing words.”
“Is it that simple?” asked Chang.
“It is.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t mean my decision to submit or die—that
is
simple—but your own reasons…your desire to speak without Bascombe…not simple in the slightest.”
Xonck studied him, but did not speak. Chang decided to take a chance, and do exactly what Xonck asked—speak frankly.
“There are two levels to your
enterprise.
There are those who have undergone this Process, like Margaret Hooke…and then there are those—like you, or the Contessa—who remain free. And in competition, despite your
rhetoric
.”
“Competition for what?”
“I do not know,” Chang admitted. “The stakes are different for each of you—I imagine that’s the problem. It always is.”
Xonck chuckled. “But my colleagues and I are in complete agreement.”
Chang scoffed. He was aware that he could not see Xonck’s right hand, that the man held it casually to the side of his chair behind his crossed leg.
“Why should that surprise you?” Xonck asked. Chang scoffed again.
“Then why was Tarr’s death so poorly managed? Why was Trapping killed? What of the dead painter, Oskar Veilandt? Why did the Contessa allow the Prince to be rescued? Where is the Prince now?”
“A lot of questions,” Xonck observed dryly.
“I’m sorry if they bore you. But if I were you, and
I
didn’t have those answers—”
“As I explained, either you’ll be dead—”
“Don’t you think it’s amusing? You’re trying to decide whether to kill me before I join you—so I won’t tell your colleagues about your independent plans. And I’m trying to decide whether to kill you—or to try and learn more about your Process.”
“Except I don’t have any independent plans.”
“But the Contessa does,” said Chang. “And you know it. The others
don’t
.”
“We’re going to disappoint Bascombe if you don’t show up. He’s a keen one for
order
.” Xonck stood, his right hand still behind his body. “Leave the lantern.”
Chang rose with him, his stick held loosely in his left hand. “Have you met the young woman, Miss Temple? She was Bascombe’s fiancée.”
“So I understand. Quite a shock to poor Roger, I’m sure—quite a good thing his mind is so
stable.
So much fuss for nothing.”
“Fuss?”
“The search for Isobel Hastings,” Xonck scoffed, “mysterious killer whore.”
Xonck’s eyes were full of intelligence and cunning, and his body possessed the easy, lithe athleticism of a hunting wolf—but running through it all, like a vein of rot through a tree, was the arrogance of money. Chang knew enough to see the man was dangerous, perhaps even his better if it came to a fight—one never knew—but all of this was still atop a foundation of privilege, an unearned superiority imposed by force, fear, disdain, by purchased experience and unexamined arrogance. Chang found it odd that his
Weitere Kostenlose Bücher