The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

to. When I came upon her she was quite unaware of the soldier in the process of her rape.”
    He spoke in as sharp a tone as he could. The woman in the black feather mask did not flinch.
    “May I ask what you did?”
    “Apart from taking the book?” Chang asked. “It’s so long ago I can barely recall—you don’t mean to say you
care
?”
    “Is that so strange?”
    Chang stopped, his voice rising to an unaccustomed harshness. “From what I have seen, Madame, it is
impossible
!”
    At his tone the Dragoons stopped, their boots stamping in unison on the marble floor, blades ready. The woman raised her hand to them, indicating patience.
    “Of course, it must be very upsetting. I understand the Comte’s work is difficult—both to imagine and to bear. I have undergone the Process, of course, but that is nothing compared to what…what you must have seen…in the tower.”
    Her face was entirely reasonable, even sympathetic—Chang could not bear it. He gestured angrily behind them to the blood-stained floor.
    “And what happened there? What
difficult
piece of work? Another execution?”
    “Your own hands, Cardinal, are quite covered with blood—are you in any place to speak?”
    Chang looked down despite himself—from Mr. Gray to the troopers down below, he was fairly spattered with gore—but met her gaze with harsh defiance. None of them mattered. They were dupes, fools, animals in harness…perhaps exactly like himself.
    “I cannot tell you what happened here,” she went on. “I was elsewhere in the house. But surely it can only reinforce, for us both, how
serious
these matters are.”
    His lips curled into a sneer.
    “If you will continue,” she said, “for we are quite delayed…”
    “Continue where?” asked Chang.
    “To where you shall answer your
questions,
of course.”
    Chang did not move, as if staying would somehow put off the confirmation of the deaths of Miss Temple and the Doctor. The soldiers were staring at him. The woman looked directly into his dark lenses and leaned forward, her nostrils flaring at the indigo stench but her expression unwavering. He saw the clarity in her eyes that spoke to the Process, but none of the pride or the arrogance. As he was closer to the heart of the Cabal, had he here met a more advanced and trusted minion?
    “We must go,” she whispered. “You are not the center of this business.”

    Before Chang could respond they were interrupted by a loud shout from the corridor ahead of them, a harsh voice he knew at once.
    “Mrs. Stearne! Mrs. Stearne!” shouted Colonel Aspiche. “Where is Mr. Blenheim—he is wanted this instant!”
    The woman turned to the voice as the line of Dragoons broke apart to make way for their officer, approaching with another squad of his men behind him. Chang saw that Aspiche was limping. When Aspiche saw him, the Colonel’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened—and he then pointedly fixed his gaze on the woman.
    “My dear Colonel—” she began, but he bluntly overrode her.
    “Where is Mr. Blenheim? He is wanted some time ago—the delay cannot be borne!”
    “I do not know. I was sent to collect—”
    “I am well aware of it,” snarled Aspiche, cutting her off, as if to expunge his previous employment of Chang he would not even allow the speaking of his name. “But you have taken so long I am asked to collect
you
as well.” He turned to the men who had come with him, pointing to side rooms, barking orders. “Three to each wing—quickly as you can—send back at once with any word. He must be found—go!”
    The men dashed off. Aspiche avoided looking at Chang and stepped to the woman’s other side, offering her his arm—though Chang half-thought this was to help his limp, rather than the lady. He wondered what had happened to the Colonel’s leg and felt a little better for doing so.
    “Is there a reason he is not in chains, or dead?” asked the Colonel, as politely as he could through his anger at having to ask at all.
    “I was not so instructed,” answered Mrs. Stearne—who, Chang realized as he studied her, could not be older than thirty.
    “He is uniquely dangerous and unscrupulous.”
    “So I have been assured. And yet”—and here she turned to Chang with a curiously blank face—“he truly has no choice. The only help for Cardinal Chang—whether it merely be to soothe his soul—is information. We are taking him to it. Besides, I have no wish to lose a book in an unnecessary struggle—and