The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

beyond him. Whether it was grief for the woman or outrage at an attack on one of his own, for the first time Miss Temple saw within the Prince a capacity for regret, for sentiment beyond mere appetite. But what to Miss Temple might have rendered the Prince infinitesimally admirable, for the Contessa changed him to a danger, and before he could take another step she hurled her second book into his knees. The glass shattered above his boots and with a piercing scream the Prince toppled back, legs buckling, juggling the books, landing heavily on the stairs, his boots still upright where he’d left them. His upper body slid down to rest against the fallen crewman and did not move.

    The Contessa stood alone, flexing her fingers. The delirious gleam in her eyes grew dim and she looked around her, realizing what she’d done.
    “Rosamonde…” whispered Xonck.
    “Be quiet,” she hissed, the back of her hand before her mouth. “I beg you—”
    “You have destroyed my
Annunciation
!” The Comte’s rasping voice betrayed an unbecoming whine, and he stood up, weaving, groping another cutlass from the cabinet.
    “Oskar—stop!” This was Xonck, his face pale and drawn. “Wait!”
    “You have ruined the work of my
life
!” the Comte shouted again, pulling free the cutlass and surging toward Miss Temple.
    “Oskar!” the Contessa shouted. “Oskar—wait—”
    Elöise took hold of Miss Temple’s shoulders and yanked her from the Comte’s path as the large man shouldered through, eyes fixed on the Contessa, who dug hurriedly to restore her metal spike. Miss Temple held her pistol, but it did not seem possible that she should shoot—for all this was the final confrontation with their enemies, she felt more a witness to their self-destruction than a combatant.
    Cardinal Chang felt no such distance. As the Comte d’Orkancz passed by, Chang took hold of his massive shoulder and spun the man with all his strength. The Comte turned at this distraction, eyes wild, and raised the cutlass in an awkward, nearly petulant manner.
    “You
dare
!” he cried at Chang.
    “Angelique,”
spat Cardinal Chang in return. He drove the saber into the Comte’s belly and up under his ribs, cutting deep into the great man’s vitals. The Comte gasped and went rigid, and after one hanging moment Chang gave the blade another push, grinding it in half-way to the hilt. The Comte’s legs gave way and he took the blade from Chang with his fall, his dark blood pooling into the fur.

    His cough trailing into a thick rattle, Chang dropped to his knees and then slumped back against the doorframe. Miss Temple cried out and sank to his side, feeling the Doctor’s nimble fingers snatch the revolver from her hand as she did. She looked up from Chang’s haggard face to see Svenson extend the gun at Francis Xonck—caught flat-footed by the Comte’s death. Xonck stared into Svenson’s hard eyes, his broken mouth desperately working for words.
    “Doctor—too much hangs unfinished—your own nation—”
    Svenson pulled the trigger. Xonck flew back as if he’d been kicked by a horse. The Doctor now stood face-to-face with Roger Bascombe.
    He extended his arm, and then thought better of it and wheeled to the Contessa at the far end of the airship’s cabin. He fired, but not before Roger had leapt forward and shoved the Doctor’s arm. The bullet went wide and the Contessa ran for the stairs with a cry.
    Svenson grappled with Roger for the gun, but Roger—younger, stronger—wrenched it away as the Doctor tripped over Xonck’s leg. With an ugly grimace he aimed the gun at Svenson. Miss Temple cried out.
    “Roger—do not!”
    He looked up at her, his face disfigured by hatred and bitter rage.
    “It is over, Roger. It has failed.”
    She knew there was one bullet left in the gun, and that Roger was too close to miss.
    “It is
not,
” snarled Roger Bascombe.
    “Roger, your masters are dead. Where is the Contessa? She has abandoned you. We are adrift. Both the Prince and the Duke of Stäelmaere are dead.”
    “The Duke?”
    “He will be killed by Colonel Aspiche.”
    Roger stared at her. “Why would the Colonel do that?”
    “Because I ordered him to. You see, I learned the Colonel’s control phrase.”
    “His what?”
    “Just as I know yours, Roger.”
    “I have no control phrase—”
    “O Roger,…you really do not know after all, do you?”
    Roger narrowed his eyes and raised the revolver to Doctor Svenson. Miss Temple spoke