The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

marriage, advancement in government?”
    “Yes, Sir, I am well in your debt—and I assure you—”
    Crabbé waved away Bascombe’s obsequiousness as if he were brushing off flies. “What I have said—about there being too many elements in motion at once—is for your ears alone.”
    Again, Svenson was astonished to find neither man referring in the slightest to Lord Vandaariff, who stood not two feet away.
    “You are intelligent, Roger, and you are cunning as any person in this business—as you have well proven. Keep your eyes open, for both our sakes, for any out of place comment or action…from
anyone
. Do you understand? Now is the sticking point, and I find myself brimming with suspicion.”
    “Do you suggest one of the others—the Contessa, or Mr. Xonck—”
    “I suggest nothing. Yet, we have suffered these…
disruptions
—”
    “But these
provocateurs
—Chang, Svenson—”
    “And your Miss Temple,” added Crabbé, a tinge of acid in his tone.
    “Including her only strengthens the truth, Sir—which they each have sworn—that they have no master, nor any plan beyond plain antagonism.”
    Crabbé leaned closer to Bascombe, his voice dropping to an anxious hiss. “Yes, yes—and
yet
! The Doctor arrives by way of the airship! Miss Temple penetrates our plans for Lydia Vandaariff and somehow resists—without assistance, which one can scarcely credit—submersion in a glass book! And Chang—how many has he killed? What havoc has he not set off? Do you flatter these so much that they have done all this without aid? And where else, I ask you, Roger, could that aid have come from, save within our number?”
    Crabbé’s face was white and his lip shaking with rage—or fear, or both, as if the very idea of being vulnerable set off the Minister’s fury. Bascombe did not answer.
    “You know Miss Temple, Roger—possibly better than anyone in this world. Do
you
think she could have killed those men? Shrugged off that book? Located Lydia Vandaariff and quite nearly spirited her from our grasp? If it was not for Mrs. Marchmoor’s arrival—”
    Bascombe shook his head.
    “No, Sir…the Celeste Temple I know is capable of none of those things. And yet—there
must
be some other explanation.”
    “Yet do we have it? Is there an explanation for Colonel Trapping’s death? All three of our
provocateurs
were in this house that night, yet it is impossible that they would know to kill him without some betrayal from within our ranks!”
    They fell silent. Svenson watched them, and with patient slowness reached up to scratch his nose.
    “Francis Xonck
was
burned by Cardinal Chang.” Bascombe began to speak quickly, sorting out their options. “It is unlikely he would undergo such an injury on purpose.”
    “Perhaps…yet he is extremely cunning, and personally reckless.”
    “Agreed. The Comte—”
    “The Comte d’Orkancz cares for his glass and his transformations—his
vision
. I swear that in his heart he considers all of this but one more canvas—a masterwork, perhaps—but still, his thought is to my taste a bit too…” Crabbé swallowed with some discomfort and brushed his moustache with a finger. “Perhaps it is simply his horrid plans for the girl—not that I even trust those plans have been fully
revealed
…”
    Crabbé looked up at the young man, as if he had said too much, but Bascombe’s expression had not changed.
    “And the Contessa?” Bascombe asked.
    “The Contessa,” echoed Crabbé. “The Contessa
indeed
…”

    They looked up, for one of their men was returning at a jog. They let him arrive without any further conversation. Once he reported the way ahead was clear, Bascombe nodded that the man should rejoin his companion ahead of them. The man crisply turned and the Ministry men again waited for him to disappear before they followed in silence—evidently not finished with their brooding. Svenson crept after them. The possibility of mistrust and dissension within the Cabal was an answer to a prayer he had not dared to utter.
    Without the trailing men to block his view, he could see the Minister more clearly—a short determined figure who carried a leather satchel, the sort one might use for official papers. Svenson was sure it was not present when they had collected the books, which meant Crabbé had acquired it since—along with his acquisition of Lord Vandaariff? Did that mean the satchel carried papers
from
Lord Vandaariff? He could still make no sense of the