The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

glaring. Chang scoffed.
    “We were speaking—Reeves and I. Blenheim saw us. Did you even look at the body? Reeves was shot in the
back
.”
    The words landed like a blow, and Chang could see Smythe thinking, restraining his anger by force of will, his thoughts at odds. After another moment the Captain lowered his sword.
    “I will go examine the body myself.” He looked back at thestairs and then again to Chang, his expression changing, as if he were seeing him freshly without the intervening veil of rage.
    “You’re injured,” said Smythe, fishing out a handkerchief and tossing it to Chang. Chang snatched it from the air and wiped his mouth and face, seeing the dire nature of his wounds reflected in the officer’s concern. Once again the notion that he was truly dying pressed at his resolve to keep on—what was the point, what had ever been the point? He looked at Smythe, a good man, no doubt, bitter himself, but bolstered by his uniform, his admiring men—who knew, a wife and children. Chang wanted to suddenly snarl that he desired none of those things, loathed the very idea of such a prison, loathed the kindness of Smythe himself. Just as he loathed himself for loving Angelique or having come to care for Celeste? He looked quickly away from the Captain’s troubled gaze and saw everywhere around him the luxurious, mocking fittings of Harschmort. He was going to die at Harschmort.
    “I am, but nothing can be done. I am sorry about Reeves—but you must listen. A woman has been taken—the woman I spoke of, Celeste Temple. They are about to
do
something to her—an infernal ceremony, I have seen it—it is beyond deadly—I assure you she would rather die.”
    Smythe nodded, but Chang could see that the man was still goggling at his appearance.
    “I look worse than I am—I have come through the pipes—the smell cannot be helped,” he said. He offered the handkerchief back, saw Smythe’s reaction, and then wadded it into his own pocket. “For the last time, I beg you, what is happening above?”
    Smythe glanced once up the stairs as if someone might have followed and then spoke quickly. “I’m afraid I barely know—I have just now come in the house. We were outside, for the Colonel’s arrival—”
    “Aspiche?”
    “Yes—it is quite a disaster—they arrived from the country, some sort of accident, the Duke of Stäelmaere—”
    “But people are entering the great chamber to watch the ceremony!” said Chang. “There is no time—”
    “I cannot speak to that—there are parties of people everywhere and the house is very large,” answered the officer. “All of my men are occupied with the Duke’s party—after they landed—”
    “Landed?”
    “I cannot begin to explain. But the whole household has been turned over—”
    “Then maybe there’s still hope!” said Chang.
    “For what?” asked Smythe.
    “All I need is to get upstairs and be pointed in the right direction.”
    He could see that Smythe was torn between helping him and confirming his story. He suspected that the presence of Aspiche had done as much as anything to spur the officer toward mutiny.
    “Our transfer to the Palace …” began Smythe quietly as if this were an answer to Chang’s request, “was accompanied by a significant rise in pay for all officers … life-saving for men who had spent years abroad and were swimming in debt … it should be no surprise when a reward—the money being now spent—turns out instead to be … an entrapment.”
    “Go to Reeves,” Chang said quietly, “and talk to your men who were there. They will follow you. Wait and stay ready … when the time comes, believe me, you will know what to do.”
    Smythe looked at him without any confidence whatsoever. Chang laughed—the dry croak of a crow—and clapped the man on the shoulder.
    “The house is confusing at first,” Smythe whispered to him as they climbed the stairs and crept into the main-floor hallway. “The left wing is dominated by a large ballroom—now quite full of people—and the right by a large hallway of mirrors that leads to private rooms and apartments—again, now quite full of people. Also in the right wing is an inner corridor that takes one to a spiralstaircase—I have not climbed it. When I saw it the corridor was lined with Macklenburg guards.”
    “And the center of the house?” asked Chang.
    “The great reception hall, the kitchens, the laundry, staff quarters, the house manager—that’s