A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (15 page)

Marsh was seething inside. He took a few deep breaths before he spoke. “Do I take it that I do not have the Council’s support?”

The Grand Master inclined his head. “Bring us the Oracle. That is the ruling of this Council.”

“And what of the Alchemists? What if they manage to create the carmot stone? Every supernatural creature that dwells in Shadow or that has the old blood in its veins will flock to this new source of power. There will be utter chaos, and we will be as powerless as you propose.”

“Lord Greychester, the Alchemists have been trying to invoke the power of the carmot stone since the dawn of alchemy and they have never succeeded. Betting that they will fail again is a risk I am willing to take. The death of one scientist is regrettable but understandable. Now, tell us; are you going to bring this young woman to us, or do we have to take her?”

Marsh rose from the table. “I see this meeting is over,” he said. “I have sworn an oath of loyalty to this Council and so I will obey. I will bring you the Oracle, but not if it is against her will. You will give me time to persuade her. Or else I will hide her where you will never find her. And believe me, I am very good at hiding. She will disappear without a trace.”

The Grand Master pressed his lips together. Long seconds ticked by while he considered the ultimatum. “Very well, then, you have three full moons to try. But if you fail, we will come for her.” His voice was soft, but like steel.

Marsh gritted his teeth and bowed stiffly. “As you wish, my lord. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please, gentlemen. I have important business that I need to attend to.”

“Oh, and Greychester …”

Marsh turned to face the Grand Master at the top of the stairs.

“If you betray us, the penalty will be death for both you and the girl.”

Marsh met the Grand Master’s gaze. “I will pretend that you never said that to me. Don’t think I won’t challenge you over the insult.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the others. There had not been a duel between Warlocks for many years. The Grand Master started laughing. “You may try, insolent pup. I would very much enjoy teaching you a few lessons.”

“Till we meet again, old man,” Marsh said as he left the room.

Back on the street, he paused to take a few deep breaths of cold night air. His hands were shaking inside his gloves. He had won the battle, but he was very far from winning the war.

CHAPTER 25

Elle stared out of the lead-glass window at the canal below. The color of the water had changed from the strange almost-the-color-of-spark-blue to a thick black, like velvet. Light refracted in flecks of gold from the windows and shimmered off the surface as the water moved. She had bathed and dressed. The seamstress had come and gone. Stefano had brought her tea and so there was nothing left to do but to wait.

It had been a strange day and she still could not believe that they had survived the crash. She had never seen magic of that magnitude in action. She shivered and rubbed her arms where the skin showed between her sleeves and the tops of her fine new satin gloves. Marsh was obviously a very powerful man and the thought made her a little afraid of him.

The door handle rattled. She stiffened and turned to meet Marsh as he entered the room.

He turned up the spark lights. “Oh, hello. Why are you sitting in the dark?” He looked slightly concerned as he crossed the room to join her at the window.

“I like looking at the canal and it’s prettier if the light inside is low.”

“The seamstress came as promised, I see,” he said.

“I was lucky because— she had this in my size. She said something about a previous order that was canceled. Personally, I think it’s a bit too flouncy for my taste, but do you think it will do?” She spoke a little faster than she meant to and her cheeks grew warm as she felt his gaze flick over her, taking in the layers of pale pink organza and satin that draped around her slim figure like flower petals. She was not used to men staring at her like that.

“Eleanor, you look lovely.” Ever so lightly, he touched the matching ribbon she had tied around her neck to hide the fading bruises at her throat. “And I’m glad you are healing.”

“Thank you,” she said, somewhat awkwardly. “You’ve changed too, I see.” He was dressed in a new dinner jacket. The edges of his collar were freshly starched. But the fine tailoring and starched linen could not hide the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Yes, I stopped off at my tailor on the way back. He always keeps a few things in my size for when I am in Venice.” He gestured at his new white silk waistcoat. “They should deliver the rest of my new things tomorrow.” Did the seamstress have everything else you needed? If not, we can call someone else.” He spoke quickly, as if he wished to please her.

“Thank you, you are too generous. I think I have all I need. But enough talk about luggage. Tell me, did you find any news about my father?”

He was still staring at her.

“Well? Did you?” she asked again.

He rubbed a hand through his hair, mussing up the careful combing. “Nothing. I’m afraid the Council knows no more than I do about the Alchemists or the whereabouts of your father. Elle, I’m sorry. I really thought they would be of more assistance.”

Hope crumbled inside her. “Do you mean to tell me that we came all this way for nothing? So what now?”

He sighed. “I really thought they would be more helpful.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not really surprised. I had the feeling that they weren’t going to help. I say we go to the consulate tomorrow. If they don’t know anything that might help, I will ask them to send out a wire to all the other consulates with my fathers description. Surely someone in this world must have seen him.”

Marsh sighed. “That could take months.”

“Well then, I must go home and hire an investigator. Surely there must be people who specialize in finding missing persons.?”

“Those people will only take your money and leave you with nothing,” he said.

“Well what other option do I have?” she said. “You said yourself that the police are not much help.” She knew Marsh had a point, but giving up just seemed so senseless. “I am not giving up, Hugh. I can’t. She could be stubborn too.

He pressed his lips together. “Shall we discuss our plans over dinner?” He patted his stomach. “I don’t know about you, but defying death always makes me ravenous.”

She did not feel like eating. In fact, she was feeling decidedly queasy. She wanted to rush outside and scream out her father’s name at the top of her lungs, but instead she rose and picked up her new satin reticule.

“Dinner sounds like a fine idea,” she said, forcing a smile. Marsh was right. Their simple luncheon looking out over the ocean near Genoa seemed like a lifetime ago. Perhaps a hot meal would bring new a perspective to the search for her father.

Dinner at the restaurant inside the Hotel Royal was a glittering, opulent affair. The restaurant’s patrons sat at tables covered in starched linen and arranged in neat rows. Refracted and mirrored from every angle in silver and fine-cut crystal were well-groomed faces and gleaming jewels.

The dinner seating was in full swing when Elle and Marsh entered the room. More than a few people glanced up and nodded at Marsh as they were shown to a table.

“Why are they staring at us?” Elle said out of the corner of her mouth.

“Because I am Viscount Greychester and I am about to have dinner with a breathtakingly beautiful woman.”

“What happened to the dowdy and eccentric Mr. and Mrs. Mason from London?”

He smiled. “You and I make far too striking a couple for that disguise.”

“You are so vain,” she scoffed.

“Look,” he said softly, pointing at a mirror on one of the walls. Elle started at their reflection. Marsh was darkly handsome behind her. Her new dress was low cut and showed off more of her curves than she normally put on display. Bruises aside, the pink of the gown made her skin look soft and luminous.

“You are like peaches and cream tonight,” he murmured behind her. Her whole body filled with languid electricity as his words passed over her. He was difficult to resist when he behaved like this. And it was dangerous. They were affectionate friends and she would have to take care not to let any of her fanciful thoughts show.

The maître d’hôtel led them to a table in the middle of the room. Elle took her seat in the chair proffered by the steward; back straight, gloved hands folded on her lap as she had been taught.

A string quartet started up, filling the room with soft baroque sounds—the unofficial music of Venice.

“So tell me of the Council?” she said as soon as the waiter walked away.

Marsh opened the red leather-bound wine card and flicked over the gold tassel that hung from its spine.

“Politics. The Council is tied up in diplomatic conundrums. They are of no use to us right now.”

“What does that mean? You are a member, could you not make them help us?”

He looked up from the menu and his eyes softened. “The Council of Warlocks is an ancient one, Elle. They tend to think about matters in the long term. It’s a common affliction amongst the long-lived and the immortal.”

Elle sighed. “Marsh, what does that
mean
?”

“It means that they view your father as an incidental loss. It means that you and I are on our own in this endeavor.”

“How can they say that? My father is one of the great scientific minds of our age. His work is invaluable.”

“You have to remember that the Council does not care about science and progress. It is the very work that your father does that causes the Shadow to shrink and diminish. For each new miraculous modern invention that sees the light of day, a creature of magic in the Shadow loses its place in this world and disappears. At the rate we are going, the world will swing into an irreparable state of unbalance sooner than we think. In fact, come to think of it, the Council may even see the loss of a scientist as advantageous.”

“Perhaps I should address them. Maybe I could appeal to them,” she said.

His expression hardened. For a moment Elle could have sworn she saw fear in his eyes. He shook his head. “That is a very bad idea. Truly, we are better off on our own. Please trust me on this.”

Elle looked down at the words on her inscrutable Italian menu as she fought the rising sense of despair that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“I’m sorry, Elle. They would not be moved on the point.” He reached out to take her hand.

“It’s hardly surprising,” she snapped. “I should have expected nothing less from Warlocks.”

Marsh looked at his menu for a long time without answering. “The oysters look good,” he said eventually.

“So does the smoked fish,” she said sarcastically. Suddenly her traitorous stomach rumbled, despite the fact that it was tightly laced up inside the boning of a long evening corset.

As if in answer to her rumbling stomach, the waiter appeared.

“Wine?” Marsh said.

Elle nodded. “Yes, please.” She was going to need a stiff drink.

He ordered a bottle of white burgundy. In ordinary circumstances, she would have been impressed.

“I suppose we should celebrate the fact that the Council won’t help us, if anything,” she said once the waiter had poured their wine. She lifted her glass. “Good riddance to them. I would rather die than accept their help anyway.”

“You will never know how wise your words are,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” He smiled as if to reassure her. “So tell me, are you partial to Italian food?”

She looked at the menu, somewhat perplexed. Conversations with Marsh took such giddy turns sometimes. There was definitely something he wasn’t telling her. And she needed to find out what that was. Preferably before the evening was over.

“Yes,” she said. “There is a little place that I go to whenever I fly the Rome route. I am rather fond of their linguine. But then again, I suppose that I am less afraid of eating street food than most women I know. Mrs. Hinges would have an apoplexy if she found out. She is irrationally afraid of all foreign food.”

Marsh laughed. “Street food? Is that what you call it?”

“Well, it’s hardly fine dining.”

The waiter appeared with a claret jug and refilled their glasses.

Marsh handled his like a man quite accustomed to tasting wine. He smiled at her. “For now, let’s celebrate the fact that we are both still alive, shall we?”

Elle sipped her wine. It was woody on her tongue. “I had almost forgotten that we nearly died today.”

Marsh stared at her in surprise. “You are a fascinating woman, did you know that?”

“Thank you. You are not so bad yourself, when you remember your manners.” The wine was warming her insides, loosening the tightly laced anxiety that had held her together thus far.

The waiter reappeared and Marsh ordered for them.

“We will find your father. I gave you my word on that,” he said once the waiter had retreated.

“And how do you propose we achieve this?”

“I have many contacts here in Venice. We’ll start with them.” He took another sip from his glass. “The Alchemists will go where the Council has no influence. If my theory is correct, then they will seek out a place that has significance, but which is out of reach politically.”

The waiter placed a plate of finely sliced smoked salmon in front of Elle and a platter of oysters for Marsh.

Elle picked up her fork and pushed it into the wedge of lemon. “And who are these contacts?” The sharp citrus smell rose up and settled between them, like a conspiracy.

“I think we should start at the Venetian archives. I know the chief scribe there. He’ is an old friend. If we narrow down the search to a list of places where a carmot stone might be wrought, then perhaps we will be able to deduce the location from the other clues. There are a few other possibilities, but I’d rather not talk about them tonight.”

“I still say we should go back to England, but I’ve read some Greek and Latin, so I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have a look,” she said.

Marsh gulped down an oyster. “I know you don’t believe me, but the answers are here in Venice,” he said as he set down the shell.

Elle wasn’t so sure. She had the distinct feeling that there was more to the matter than her affectionate friend was letting on. The trick was to get him to tell her. And Marsh was not the type of man who was easily tricked. She would have to employ her wiles to make him let his guard down.

She smiled sweetly at him and they finished their meal companionably enough. Despite the fact that she was feigning, Elle found herself enjoying dinner far more than she should, and on more than one occasion, he made her laugh louder than was strictly appropriate. She was in high spirits and a bit giddy from the wine when she finally put down her spoon. Her mouth was sweet with the taste of cinnamon-stewed pears.

“It’s quite late, and I think I’d rather retire. It has been a terribly long day.”

Marsh signed the bill of fare and placed it on the corner of the table.

“The unstoppable Miss Chance wants to go to bed? Whatever will they say if the news ever gets out?” He smiled at her. “Come on, I have a surprise for you. It won’t take long. I promise.”

He offered her his hand to help her up. She wobbled a little as she stood. Burgundy and tiredness were a lethal combination. “Oh, very well. Come along then,” she grumbled.

Outside the crisp night air made them gasp as they stepped out of the hotel vestibule. Elle felt her head cleared as she took in the night air.

Marsh said something to the concierge and then turned to her. Even in the dark, she could feel the intensity of his gaze. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to say thank you for saving my life today. Look!” He pointed at the canal as a gondola glided up beside the hotel jetty.

“A gondola ride!” Elle felt excited despite herself.

“I give you the most beautiful city of Venezia.,” Marsh spoke into her hair, sending little shivers up and down her neck that had nothing to do with the cold.

She held on to her skirts as the boatman helped her into the gondola. He handed her a blanket to wrap around herself. Marsh settled in the seat next to her. He rested his arm casually along the back of the bench behind her.

“How very proprietary of you,” she said, looking at his arm.

She saw the side of his face lift slightly as he smiled. “We wouldn’t want you falling into the canal now, would we? The water might look pretty under the stars, but I would strongly recommend against a swim in it.”