The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

deaths of her men. And she put her hands upon me, quite indecently—”
    “Yes, yes,” snapped Xonck, impatiently waving her on, “about
Bascombe
—what did she say about
him
?”
    “That he would be Lord Tarr.”
    Xonck was muttering to himself, glancing over his shoulder at the wooden doors. “Too many others must have been there … what else, what else—”
    Miss Temple tried to recall what the Contessa
had
said to her, or anything provocative that might inflame Xonck’s obvious suspicions …
    “The Comte was there too—”
    “I am aware of that—”
    “Because she did ask
him
a question.”
    “What question?”
    “I do not think I was supposed to hear it—for I’m sure it made no sense to me—”
    “Tell me what she said!”
    “The Contessa asked the Comte d’Orkancz how he thought Lord Robert Vandaariff had discovered their plan to alchemically impregnate his daughter—that is, who did he think had betrayed them?”
    Francis Xonck did not reply, his eyes boring into hers with a palpably dangerous intent, doing his best to measure the true degree of her compliance. Miss Temple somehow kept the fear from her face, concentrating upon the patterns of shadow on the ceiling beyond his shoulder, but she could tell that Xonck was so provoked by these last words that he was about to slap her again, or launch into an even more debasing physical assault—when behind them, topping his rising agitation as an erupting whistle announces the boiling of a kettle, the wooden doors opened and the Macklenburg Envoy’s freshly scarred and deferential face poked through.
    “They are ready, Mr. Xonck,” the man whispered.
    Xonck snarled and stepped away from Miss Temple, his fingers tapping the handle of the dagger in his belt. With one more searching stare at her face he spun on his heels to follow the Envoy into the ballroom.
    It was perhaps the length of two minutes before Miss Temple concluded, with the rise of different voices piercing murkily through the doors, that the members of the Cabal were holding forth to their assembled guests. She was aware of the silent Captain Smythe behind her and the general presence of his soldiers, within direct call however distant their posts might be. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could only hope that eagerness forinformation had blinded Xonck to her disguise—which was more designed to fool ignorant guests in the hall than seasoned members of the Cabal. With a sudden urge toward self-preservation, Miss Temple restored her feathered mask into position. She sighed again. She could not go anywhere … but perhaps she could measure the strength of her cage. She turned to Captain Smythe and smiled.
    “Captain, … as you have seen
me
interrogated … may I ask
you
a question?”
    “Miss?”
    “You seem unhappy.”
    “Miss?”
    “Everyone
else
at Harschmort House seems … well, eminently
pleased
with themselves.”
    Captain Smythe did not answer, his eyes flicking back and forth between his nearest men. Accordingly, Miss Temple dropped her voice to a demure whisper.
    “One merely wonders
why
.”
    The Captain studied her closely. When he spoke it was near to a whisper.
    “Did I hear Mr. Xonck correctly … that your name is …
Temple
?”
    “That is so.”
    He licked his lips and nodded to her robes, the slight gaping around her bosom that allowed a glimpse of her own silk bodice showing through the layers of translucent white.
    “I was informed … you did favor the color green …”
    Before Miss Temple could respond to this truly astonishing comment, the doors behind her opened again. She turned, composing her face to a suitable blandness, and met the equally distracted Caroline Stearne, so preoccupied and so surprised to see Miss Temple in the first place as to pay no attention whatsoever to the officer behind her.
    “Celeste,” she whispered quickly, “you must come with me at once.”
    Miss Temple was led by the hand through a silent crowd that parted for them impatiently, each person begrudging the distraction from what held their attention in the center of the room. She steeled herself to be calm, expecting that at the words of Francis Xonck she must now submit to public examination by the entire Cabal in front of hundreds of masked strangers, and it was only this preparation that forestalled her gasp of shock at the sight, as she was pulled so briskly onto the open floor by Caroline Stearne, of Cardinal Chang, on his knees,