The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

everyone—Svenson was a family retainer, a nurse-maid, essentially dismissible. Such perceptions generally suited the Doctor as well, creating that much less bother in his day. Now, however, he would be forced to make himself heard.
    Flaüss was behind his desk, writing, an aide standing patiently next to him, and looked up as Svenson entered. The Doctor ignored him and sat in one of the plush chairs opposite the desk, plucking a green glass ashtray from a side table as he went past and cradling it on his lap as he smoked. Flaüss stared at him. Svenson stared back and flicked his eyes toward the aide. Flaüss snorted, scrawled his name at the base of the page, blotted it, and shoved it into the aide’s hands. “That will be all,” he barked. The aide clicked his heels smartly and left the room, casting a discreet glance at the Doctor. The door closed softly behind him. The two men glared at each other. Svenson saw the Envoy gathering himself to speak, and sighed in advance with fatigue.
    “Doctor Svenson, I will tell you that I am not…
accustomed
…to such treatment, such
brutal
treatment, by a member of the mission staff. As the mission
Envoy
—”
    “I am not part of the mission staff,” said Svenson, cutting him off in an even tone.
    Flaüss sputtered. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I am not
part
of the mission staff. I am part of the Prince’s household. I answer to that house.”
    “To the Prince?” Flaüss scoffed. “Between us, Doctor, the poor young man—”
    “To the Duke.”
    “I beg your pardon—
I
am the Duke’s Envoy. I answer to the Duke.”
    “Then we have something in common after all,” Svenson muttered dryly.
    “Are you
insolent
?” Flaüss hissed.
    Svenson didn’t answer for a moment, in order to increase what powers of intimidation he could muster. The fact was, whatever authority he claimed, he had no strength beyond his own body to back it up—all that rested with Flaüss and Blach. If either were truly against him—and realized his weakness—he was extremely vulnerable. His only real hope was that they were not outright villains, but merely incompetent. He met the Envoy’s gaze and tapped his ash into the glass bowl.
    “Do you know, Herr Flaüss, why a young man in the prime of his life would need a doctor to accompany him to celebrate his engagement?”
    Flaüss snorted. “Of course I know. The Prince is unreliable and indulgent—I speak as one who cares for him deeply—and often unable to see the larger
diplomatic
implications of his actions. I believe it is a common condition among—”
    “Where were you this evening?”
    The Envoy’s mouth snapped shut, then worked for a moment in silence. He could not believe what he had just heard. He forced a wicked, condescending smile. “I beg your pardon—”
    “The Prince was in grave danger. You were not here. You were not in any position to protect him.”
    “Yes, and you will report to
me
concerning Karl-Horst’s
medical
condition—his—his face—the strange
burns
—”
    “You have not answered my question…but you are going to.”
    Flaüss gaped at him.
    “I am here on the direct instructions of his father,” continued Svenson.
    “If we fail further in our duties—and I do include you in this, Herr Flaüss—we will be held most strictly accountable. I have served the Duke directly for some years, and understand what that means. Do you?”

    Doctor Svenson was more or less lying. The Prince’s father, the Duke, was an obese feather-headed man fixated on military uniforms and hunting. Doctor Svenson had met him twice at court, observing what he could with a general sense of dismay. His instructions truly came from the Duke’s Chief Minister, Baron von Hoern, who had become acquainted with the Doctor five years before, when Svenson was an officer-surgeon of the Macklenburg Navy and known primarily—if he was known at all—for treating the effects of frostbite among sailors of the Baltic fleet. A series of murders in port had caused a scandal—a cousin of Karl-Horst had been responsible—and Svenson had shown both acuity in tracing the deeds to their source and then tact in conveying this information to the Minister. Soon after he had been reassigned to von Hoern’s household and asked to observe or investigate various circumstances—diseases, pregnancy, murder, abortion—as they might arise at court, always without any reference to his master’s interest. To Svenson, for whom the sea was