The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

undervalue their capacity in any way—but this too can wait. We must stop the marriage. We must stop the Duke.”
    “And we must find Elöise,” exclaimed Miss Temple, “especially as she has the glass key!”
    “What glass key?” rasped Chang.
    “Did I not mention it? I believe it is the way to safely read the books. We got it from Blenheim’s pocket.”
    “How did
he
have it?” asked Chang.
    “
Exactly
!” Miss Temple beamed. “Now, both of you—back on the floor—or, all right, I’m sure it is fine if you are on a settee—but you must shut your eyes and remain inert.”
    “Celeste, what are you doing?” asked Svenson.
    “Managing our escape, naturally.”

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She knocked on the door and called out as sweetly as she could to the guards on the other side. They did not answer, but Miss Temple kept knocking and although she was forced to switch several times from one hand to the other as her knuckles became tender, at last the lock was turned and the door cracked open a single suspicious inch, through which Miss Temple glimpsed the pale,cautious face of a young soldier from Macklenburg—younger than herself, she saw, which only increased the sweetness of her smile.
    “I do beg your pardon, but it’s very important that I see the Colonel. I have information for the Contessa—the
Contessa
, you understand—that she will be most anxious to have.”
    The trooper did not move. Did he even
understand
her? Miss Temple’s smile hardened as she leaned forward and spoke more loudly, with a sharp, unmistakable intent.
    “I must see the Colonel! At once! Or
you
will be
punished
!”
    The trooper looked to his comrade, out of view, clearly unsure of what he should do. Miss Temple barked past him at the top of her lungs.
    “
Colonel Aspiche
! I have vital news for you! If the Contessa does not get it,
she will cut off your ears
!”
    At her scream the guard slammed the door and fumbled for the lock, but Miss Temple could already hear the angry stride of heavy boots. In a moment the door was flung wide by Aspiche, face crimson with rage, cheroot in one hand and the other on the hilt of his saber, glaring down at her like a red-coated schoolmaster ready to deal out a whipping.
    “Thank you so much,” said Miss Temple.
    “What information are you screeching about?” he snarled. “Your manners are quite unbecoming—even more so if I find this is a
lie
.”
    “Nonsense,” said Miss Temple, shivering for the Colonel’s benefit and slipping a theatrical quaver into her voice. “And you do not need to
scare
me so—the state of my allies and the Contessa’s power have left me helpless. I am only trying to save my own life.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
    “What information?” repeated Aspiche.
    Miss Temple glanced behind him at the guards, who were staring with undisguised curiosity, and then leaned forward with a whisper.
    “It is actually rather
sensitive
…”
    Aspiche leaned forward in turn with a tight, put-upon expression. Miss Temple brushed his ear with her lips.
    “Blue … Caesar … blue … Regiment … ice … consumption …”
    She looked up and saw the Colonel’s eyes did not move, gazing at a point just beyond her shoulder.
    “Perhaps we ought to be alone,” she whispered.
    Aspiche wheeled on the guards with fury.
    “Leave me with the prisoners!” he barked. The guards stumbled back, as Aspiche reached out with both hands and slammed the door. He turned back to Miss Temple, his face without any expression at all.
    “Cardinal … Doctor, … you may rise …”
    She kept to her whisper, not wanting the guards to hear. Chang and Svenson stood slowly, staring at the Colonel with morbid curiosity.
    “Everyone who undergoes the Process is instilled with some sort of control phrase,” Miss Temple explained. “I overheard the Contessa use one on the Prince, and again when she attempted to use one on me—to prove I had
not
been converted. I wasn’t able to work it all out—it was a guess—”
    “You risked this on a guess?” asked Svenson.
    “As it was a
good
guess, yes. The phrase has several parts—the first is a color, and I deduced that the color was about where the Process was administered. You remember that the different boxes had different colors of felt packing—”
    “Orange at Harschmort,” said Chang. “Blue at the Institute.”
    “And seeing as he was converted
before
they moved the boxes from the Institute, the color for