The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

the Colonel was blue.”
    “What was the rest of the phrase?” asked Svenson.
    “The second word is about their
role
, using a Biblical metaphor—I’m sure it is all part of the Comte’s ostentation. For the Prince it was Joseph—for he will be the father to someone else’s child, as poor Lydia must be Mary—for me it would havebeen Magdalene, as for all of the white-robed initiates—and for the Colonel, as the representative of the state, I guessed correctly it would be ‘Caesar’ … the rest follows the same way—‘Regiment’ instead of ‘Palace’ or ‘Royale’—”
    “Is he understanding this?” asked Svenson.
    “I think so, but he is also waiting for instructions.”
    “Suppose he should cut his own throat?” suggested Chang, with a moist chuckle.
    “Suppose he tells us if they’ve captured Elöise,” said Svenson, and he spoke slowly and clearly to Colonel Aspiche. “Do you know the whereabouts of Mrs. Dujong?”
    “Shut your filthy hole before I shut it for you!” Aspiche roared.
    Svenson darted back a step, his eyes wide with surprise.
    “Ah,” Miss Temple said, “perhaps only the person who speaks the phrase can command.” She cleared her throat. “Colonel, do you know where we can find Mrs. Dujong?”
    “Of course I don’t,” snapped Aspiche, sullenly.
    “All right … when did you last see her?”
    The Colonel’s lips curled into an unabashed and wicked smile. “Aboard the airship. Doctor Lorenz asked her questions, and when she did not answer Miss Poole and I took turns—”
    Doctor Svenson’s fist landed like a hammer on the Colonel’s jaw, knocking him back into the door. Miss Temple turned to Svenson—hissing with pain and flexing his hand—and then to Aspiche, sputtering with rage and struggling to rise. Before he could, Chang’s arm shot forth and snatched the Colonel’s saber from its sheath, a wheeling bright scythe that had Miss Temple scampering clear with a squeak. When she looked back, the Cardinal had the blade hovering dangerously in front of the man’s chest. Aspiche did not move.
    “Doctor?” she asked quietly.
    “My apologies—”
    “Not at all, the Colonel is a horrid beast. Your hand?”
    “It will do fine.”
    She stepped closer to Aspiche, her face harder than before. Shehad known Elöise endured her own set of trials, but Miss Temple thought back to her own irritation at how the woman, drugged and stumbling, had slowed their progress in escaping the theatre. She was more than happy to expend the sting of her guilt and regret on the villain before her.
    “Colonel, you will open this door and take us into the hall. You will order both of these guards into this room and then lock the door behind them. If they protest, you will do your level best to kill them. Do you understand?”
    Aspiche nodded, his eyes wavering between her own and the floating tip of the saber.
    “Then do it. We are wasting time.”
    The Germans gave them no trouble, so inured were they to following orders. It was only a matter of moments before they stood again in the open foyer where the members of the Cabal had argued with one another. The Dragoons lining the corridor were gone, along with their officer.
    “Where’s Captain Smythe?” she asked Aspiche.
    “Assisting Mr. Xonck and the Deputy Minister.”
    Miss Temple frowned. “Then what were
you
doing here? Did you not have orders?”
    “Of course—to execute the three of you.”
    “But why were you waiting in the corridor?”
    “I was finishing my cigar!” snapped Colonel Aspiche.
    Chang scoffed behind her.
    “Every man reveals his soul eventually,” he muttered.
    Miss Temple crept to the ballroom doors. The enormous space was empty. She called back to her prisoner.
    “Where is everyone?” He opened his mouth to answer but she cut him off. “Where are each of our enemies—the Contessa, the Comte, Deputy Minister Crabbé, Francis Xonck, the Prince and his bride, Lord Vandaariff, the Duke of Stäelmaere, Mrs. Stearne—”
    “And Roger Bascombe,” said Doctor Svenson. She turned to him, and to Chang, and nodded sadly.
    “And Roger Bascombe.” She sighed. “In an orderly manner, if you please.”
    The Colonel had informed them—sullen twitches around his mouth evidence of a useless struggle against Miss Temple’s control—that their enemies had split into two groups. The first occupied themselves with a sweeping progress through the great house, gathering up their guests and collecting