The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

Macklenburg proper?” asked the Comte.
    “With either route it will be ten hours at the least. More if the wind is against us … as it presently is …” Lorenz licked his thin lips. “May I ask what is going on?”
    “Merely a disagreement between partners,” called Xonck, over his shoulder.
    “Ah. And may I ask why
they
are still alive?”
    The Contessa turned to look at them, her eyes settling at last upon Miss Temple. Her expression was not kind.
    “We were waiting for
you
, Doctor. I would not have any bodies found on land. The sea will take them—and if one does happen to wash up on a beach, it will only be after days in the water. By thattime even the lovely Miss Temple will be as grey and shapeless as a spoiled milk pudding.”
    Caroline appeared again, the bag in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.
    “Madame—”
    “Excellent as always, Caroline,” said the Contessa. “I am so glad you retain your flesh. Can you read them?”
    “Yes, Madame. They are Lord Vandaariff’s writings. I recognize his hand.”
    “And what does he write
about
?”
    “I cannot begin—the account is
exhaustive—
”
    “I suppose it would be.”
    “Madame—would it not be better—”
    “Thank you, Caroline.”
    Caroline bobbed her head and remained in the doorway with Lorenz, both of them watching the room with nervous fascination. The Comte frowned darkly, beads of sweat had broken out on Xonck’s forehead, and Crabbé’s face had gone so pale as to seem bloodless. Only the Contessa smiled, but it was a smile that frightened Miss Temple more than all the others rolled to one, for above her scarlet lips and sharp white teeth the woman’s eyes glittered like violet knife-points. She realized that the Contessa was
pleased
, that she looked forward to what would come with the bodily hunger of a mother embracing her child.
    The Contessa drifted to Xonck, placing her face next to his.
    “What do you think, Francis?” she whispered.
    “I think I should like to put down this sword.” He laughed. “Or put it
in
someone.” His eyes settled on Chang. The Contessa leaned her head against Xonck’s, somewhat girlishly.
    “That’s a very good idea. But I wonder if you have ample room to swing.”
    “I might like more, it’s true.”
    “Let me see what I can do, Francis.”
    In a turn as elegant as if she were dancing, the Contessa spun toward Deputy Minister Crabbé, the razor-sharp spike in place across her hand, and drove it like a hammer into the side of his skull, just in front of his ear. Crabbé’s eyes popped open and his body jerked at the impact … then went still for the four long seconds it took for his life to fade. He collapsed onto Prince Karl-Horst’s lap. The Prince hopped up with a cry and the Deputy Minister bounced forward and onto the cabin floor with a thud.
    “And no blood to mop.” The Contessa smiled. “Doctor Lorenz, if you would open the forward hatchway? Your Highness? If you might assist Caroline with the Minister’s remains?”
    She stood, beaming down as they bent over the fallen diplomat, his eyes wide with the shock of his dispatch, doing their awkward best to drag him to where Lorenz knelt in the cabin beyond. On the sofa, Lydia watched the corpse’s progress with a groan, her stomach once more heaving. She erupted wetly into her hands and with a disgusted sigh the Contessa shoved a small silk handkerchief at the girl. Lydia snatched it gratefully, a smeared pearl of blue at each corner of her mouth.
    “Contessa—” she began, her voice a fearful quaver.
    But the Contessa’s attention turned at the clicking of a bolt, as Lorenz raised an iron hatchway from the floor. A burst of freezing air shot through the cabin, the grasping paw of winter. Miss Temple looked through at the open hatch and realized that something seemed wrong … the clouds outside … their pallid veneer of light. The round windows in the cabin were covered by green curtains … she had not noticed the dawn.
    “It seems we divide the future in ever expanding portions,” observed the Contessa. “Equal thirds, gentlemen?”
    “Equal thirds,” whispered the Comte.
    “I am agreeable,” said Xonck, a bit tightly.
    “Then it’s settled,” she announced. The Contessa reached out to Xonck’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
    “Finish them.”
    * * *
    The dagger was in Chang’s hand and he slashed toward Xonck, catching the saber on the dagger hilt and pushing Xonck’s weapon