The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

blades and the unguarded status of his enemies.
    “Why, Captain Smythe,” he drawled, “is something the matter?”
    Smythe stepped forward, still not drawing his own blade.
    “Who else is with you?” he called. “Bring them out now.”
    “I would be delighted.” Xonck smiled.
    He stepped aside to usher through the other members of the Cabal—the Contessa, the Comte, and Crabbé—and after them the Prince, Roger Bascombe (notebooks tucked under his arm),and then, helping the unsteady Lydia Vandaariff, Caroline Stearne. After Caroline came the six functionaries in black, the first four manhandling a heavy trunk, the last two dragging Elöise Dujong between them. Miss Temple breathed a sigh of relief—for she was sure the shot they heard had meant the woman’s death. As this crowd spread from the door the Dragoons withdrew, maintaining a strict cushion of space between the two groups. Xonck glanced toward Miss Temple and then stepped out into this borderland to address Smythe.
    “Not to repeat myself … but is something
wrong
?”
    “This can’t go on,” said Smythe. He nodded to Elöise and Lydia Vandaariff. “Release those women.”
    “I beg your pardon?” said Xonck, grinning as if he could not quite believe what he heard, yet found the possibility deeply amusing.
    “Release those
women
.”
    “Well,” Xonck said, smiling at Lydia, “
that
woman does not wish to be released—for she would fall down. She’s feeling poorly, you see. Excuse me—have you spoken to your Colonel?”
    “Colonel Aspiche is a traitor,” announced Smythe.
    “To my eyes, the traitor here is you.”
    “Your eyes are flawed. You are a villain.”
    “A villain who knows all about your family’s debts, Captain,” sneered Xonck, “all secured against a salary you may not live to collect—the price of disloyalty, you know, or is it idiocy?”
    “If you want to die, Mr. Xonck, say one more word.”
    Smythe drew his saber and stepped toward Xonck, who retreated, his fixed smile now radiating malice.
    Miss Temple groped for her dagger but did not pull it out—the air felt heavy and thick. Surely the Cabal would retreat in the face of Smythe and his men—how could they hope to withstand professional troops? It was clear that Captain Smythe was of the same opinion, for rather than pursuing Xonck, he pointed generally at the crowd around the doorway with his saber.
    “Throw down your weapons and return to the house. We will settle this inside.”
    “That will not happen,” answered Xonck.
    “I am not looking for bloodshed, but I am not afraid of it,” called Smythe, pitching his voice to the others around Xonck—the women particularly. “Throw down your weapons and—”
    “It really is not possible, Captain.” This was Harald Crabbé. “If we are not in Macklenburg in two days, our entire effort is undone. I do not know what this rabble has told you”—he gestured vaguely to Miss Temple, Svenson, and Chang—“but
I
can tell you they are unscrupulous killers—”
    “Where is Mr. Blenheim?” Smythe interrupted Crabbé without care.
    “Ah! An excellent question!” cried Crabbé. “Mr. Blenheim has been murdered—and by
that
young woman!”
    He pointed an accusing finger at Miss Temple, and she turned her eyes to Smythe, wanting to explain, but before she could get the words from her mouth the Captain tipped his brass helmet toward her in salute. He looked back to the Deputy Minister, whose condemnation clearly had not had the expected result.
    “Then she has saved me the trouble—for Mr. Blenheim murdered one of my men,” answered Smythe, and then he bawled at them with a harshness of command that made Miss Temple jump. “Put
down
your weapons! Get
back
in the house! Your effort is
undone
as of this minute!”
    The crack of the pistol echoed flatly from the roof into the open air, the sound somehow less intrusive than the impact of its bullet, which spun Captain Smythe and knocked him forward to his knees, his helmet bouncing from his head. Miss Temple spun to see Doctor Lorenz, a smoking revolver in his hand, standing underneath the gangway. Without an instant’s hesitation Xonck strode forward and landed a sweeping kick on the Captain’s jaw,knocking him sprawling on his back. He turned back to the men behind and screamed aloud, his eyes disturbingly bright.
    “
Kill them
!”
    The rooftop exploded into mayhem. Lorenz fired again, bringing down the nearest Dragoon. The two Macklenburg