The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

Trapping’s killer? Or did Trapping threaten to tell Vandaariff about the Comte’s plans for Lydia, if Lord Robert had not known already? But no, what did Vandaariff’s feelings matter if the man was going to be made their slave in any case? Or hadTrapping discovered something else—something that implicated one member of the Cabal against the others? But which one—and what was their secret?
    Svenson’s head was already swimming with too many names and dates and places and figures. He returned to the pages of tightly scrawled text. So much had happened within Macklenburg itself that he’d never even glimpsed. The roots of the conspiracy had worked their way deeper and deeper, amassing property and influence and, he shook his head to read it, doing whatever they needed to acquire more. There were fires, blackmail, threats, even murder … even … how long had this been going on? It seemed like
years
… he read of experiments—“usefully serving both scientific and practical purposes”—where disease had been introduced into districts where the tenants would not sell.
    Doctor Svenson’s blood went cold. Before him were the words “blood fever.” Corinna … could it be that these people had killed her … killed
hundreds
… infected his cousin … in order to drive down the price of
land
?
    He heard steps outside his door. Quickly and quietly he stuffed the pages back into the satchel and blew out the light. He listened … more steps … was that speaking? Music? If only he knew where exactly he was in the house! He scoffed—if only he had a loaded weapon, if only his body was not a painful wreck—he might as well wish for wings! Doctor Svenson covered his eyes with his palm. His hand trembled … his own immediate danger … the need to find the others … the Prince—but it was all thrown to pieces with the idea—no, the
truth
, he had no doubt at all—that this same business, these same people, had—casually, offhandedly, uncaringly—murdered his Corinna. It was as if he could no longer feel his own body, but was somehow suspended above it, commanding his limbs but not inhabiting them. All this time spent wrestling and railing against cruel destiny and a heartless world—and now to find these forces embodied not in the dispassionatecourse of a disease but in the deliberate handiwork of men. Doctor Svenson put his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. It had been preventable. It needn’t have happened at all.
    He wiped his eyes and exhaled with a shuddering whisper. It was too much to bear. Certainly it was too much to bear in a closet. He unlooped the chain from the knob and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor before his nerves got the better of him. All around—visible to either side through open archways—were guests, masked, cloaked. He met the eyes of a cloaked man and woman and smiled, bowing his head. They returned the bow, their expressions a mix of politeness and horror at his appearance. Taking advantage of the moment, the Doctor quickly beckoned them to him with a finger. They paused, the traffic continuing to flow about them, all in the direction of the ballroom. He motioned again, a bit more conspiratorial, with an inviting smile. The man took a step closer, the woman holding his hand. Svenson gestured once more, and the man finally left the woman’s grasp and came near.
    “I beg your pardon,” whispered Svenson. “I am in the service of the Prince of Macklenburg, who you must know is engaged to Miss Vandaariff”—he indicated his uniform—“and there has been an intrigue—indeed, violence—you will see it on my face—”
    The man nodded, but it was clear this seemed as much a reason to run from Svenson as to trust him.
    “I need to reach the Prince—he will be with Miss Vandaariff and her father—but as you can see, there is no way for me to do this in such a crowd without causing distress and uproar, which I assure you would be dangerous for everyone concerned.” He looked either way and dropped his voice even lower. “There may still be confidential agents at large—”
    “Indeed!” replied the man, visibly relieved to have something to say. “I am told they have captured one!”
    Svenson nodded knowingly. “But there may be others—I mustdeliver my news. Is there any way—I am dreadfully hesitant to ask—but is there any way you could see fit to lend me your cloak? I will certainly mention your name to the Prince—and his partners, of