The Mystic Marriage (51 page)

“Oh, he found no stain on you that I know of,” Langal said. “Your friend Razik has been more careless though. Debts…well, nothing worse than any young man might accumulate if he didn’t care to confess his vices to his mother. The occasional poor choice of companions. And it seems he has been somewhat careless in his correspondence. Some indiscreet letters to a lady, promising things he should not have offered…the man I spoke with revealed more than he learned, I fear. He seemed to think there might be other entanglements to be found and that was how your name came up. The baron has been spending a great deal of time in your company…”

Antuniet almost laughed at the thought, but the noise would have drawn attention. “I can’t think of a place less likely for illicit amours than my workshop!”
Except my own
.

Langal shrugged. “I have—” He gave a self-deprecating cough. “—made the investment of securing the more material assets involved. But it might be good for the baron’s friends to take measures to protect his good name.”

“You have the letters?” Antuniet asked sharply.

He laughed. “I was referring to the debts. No, from what I know the letters are still in the lady’s hands at the moment. Some connection of one of the young men at the Austrian embassy.”

Antuniet’s mind raced, trying to untangle what purpose Kreiser might have. Was he still trying to secure his interests with Annek? Or had his tenders toward Elisebet been more than a feint after all? This was Barbara’s realm, not hers, and she had no power to protect her own reputation, much less Efriturik’s. Barbara. With that thought the puzzle fell into a more recognizable shape. “What do you want in exchange for this information? As I recall, you offer nothing freely.”

Langal made only a fleeting show of offended innocence. “I put you onto Monterrez for no return.”

She couldn’t contradict that without explaining the carnelian talisman. “That was one; I hardly expect two.”

He made no further protest. “There is a…a business matter that I would like to discuss with your cousin the baroness. She is unlikely to…We did not part on good terms in our last encounter. You would do me a great favor if you could gain me a hearing with her.”

Barbara might grant it simply for her asking; she didn’t know whether she could presume on their seedling friendship that far. But the warning about Efriturik—that was good coin in trade. She’d seen the impulse in Barbara, half guardian, half bully, that had drawn her own fate willy-nilly into her cousin’s ambit. She knew it had been cast over Efriturik as well. Barbara would jump at the chance to meddle in his problems. And she suspected that Langal knew that from the first. This wasn’t a compliment to her own influence over her cousin, only to her value as a go-between. “I will arrange it,” she answered confidently.

Chapter Thirty

Margerit

A dinner party could not be arranged in only one or two days, Margerit concluded, and certainly not when she was anxious to impress. It was nearly a week after she was first introduced to Serafina Talarico before she felt able to provide her a proper welcome to Rotenek.

“I’ve been in your city for nearly a month now,” Signora Talarico pointed out cheerfully over the
potage d’Evrevisses
. “I had meant to arrive in time for your patron’s
tutela
, the one you wrote about so brilliantly.”

“But you were there to see the All Saints
castellum
,” Barbara noted from the far end of the table.

They were eight tonight, for her aunt and uncle had taken the excuse to dine with the Pertineks, thinking to leave the scholars to themselves. Antuniet and Jeanne had made the time to come. Akezze had struck up an acquaintance already and was helping Signora Talarico find more suitable lodgings. To fill out the numbers, Margerit had invited the two of her old guild-sisters from the Atelpirts that she still met socially: Ainis Nantoz and Iosifin Rezik.

“You noticed me there?” Signora Talarico asked in surprise.

It would be hard not to notice her, Margerit thought. Signora Talarico’s striking looks turned heads every time she entered a room. It wasn’t that unusual to see darker skins in the western edge of the city or around the wharves, but far less common in the concert halls and salons.

“I notice anyone who takes such a keen interest in Maisetra Sovitre,” Barbara said. “I’ve been watching for you since then.”

“You mustn’t mind Barbara,” Jeanne added with a laugh. “She used to be Margerit’s armin and she never lets down her guard.”

Signora Talarico looked confused but the arrival of the salmon intervened.

“So you must tell us your story!” Iosifin urged. “However did Margerit’s work come into your hands?” It was what Margerit had longed to ask as well, though manners had restrained her.

“My husband,” Signora Talarico began, “was an assistant librarian in Rome at the Vatican. He is still, I suppose. The appointment still stands; his stipend is still paid. They took on a great many assistants when the archives started arriving back from Paris after the wars and no one keeps much track of who comes and goes. I was working with him and when he disappeared I simply kept up his tasks and no one thought anything of it.”

“Disappeared?” Antuniet asked sharply.

Signora Talarico threw up her hands in amused exasperation. “He does that from time to time: a manuscript to track down, a question regarding interpretation on which he must consult. Sometimes he returns; sometimes he simply sends a letter to tell me where he’s settled. The last time, I waited in Palermo ten months before he summoned me to join him back in Rome. When he needs me, he finds me. Marrying me was cheaper than hiring a clerk, he says. So it happened that I was sorting out all manner of arriving documents—ones that weren’t part of the main shipments—and that was how I found your sketches and notes. When I had read through your analysis five times I knew I must find the scholar who wrote it even if it took years. But fortunately it was not nearly so difficult. Most of the time was spent in concluding my affairs in Rome and arranging to travel. But to find someone with so much promise, so much insight…there is so much to learn.” She sighed. “For that I would travel to the ends of the earth.”

Margerit could feel herself blushing at the praise. Even in the brief conversations she’d had with Signora Talarico she had seen the woman’s sharp mind. “I can only be grateful that you came all this way to teach me,” she said.

“Teach you? Heavens no,
cara mia
, I’m here to be your pupil, not your teacher! Do you know how impossible it is for a woman to study thaumaturgy in Italy? If I were interested in literature or languages that would be one matter, but anything touching on theology? My husband promised to teach me, but it is always tomorrow or next year. Your papers…they spoke to me. I have seen wondrous visions and felt the touch of angels’ wings, but I want to know how to use the skill. And so I have come to you.”

The evening reminded Margerit of nothing so much as those glorious days before the guild was betrayed. Throughout dinner the air was filled with the names of ancient authors and quotations known by heart. By the time the meringues and jellies were served, she had ventured once to address her visitor as Serafina, though it seemed too soon for such familiarity. Even Antuniet and Ainis had regained something of their old camaraderie. “I wish every day could be like this!” she sighed aloud.

“Would that it could be so,” Akezze replied rather dryly.

“What I think she means,” Antuniet added, “is that conversation may fill the soul but not the belly.”

“Though I have more than enough work for the moment,” Akezze hastened to add. “Thanks to your help. Who will be the next speaker for your
salon d’academie
?”

Margerit made a dismissive gesture at so grand a name for her little project, then said on impulse, “Perhaps Signora Talarico would favor us?” She explained how the lectures had started and grown.

“And when will we see your English botanist again?” Jeanne asked.

“Maisetra Collfield promised to visit next fall and bring me a copy of her book. It should be published in the summer, she thinks. By then I hope to have found a better home for the events. The
Salle-Chapil
is in such demand during the high season and it’s really too large now that the novelty has cooled.”

“A pity you didn’t keep the guildhall,” Iosifin said and immediately seemed to regret it, as a brief chill settled over the room.

“No, that was impossible,” Barbara said. “And you were lucky to find a buyer for it. But why not ask at the university? The lecture halls aren’t used in the evening as a general rule. See if they’d let you hire the Chasintalle.”

“Now what did I tell you back at floodtide,” Akezze said with a laugh, turning to Antuniet. “A second Fortunatus!” At Serafina’s befuddled look she explained, “Do you know the story of how Rotenek University was founded? Fortunatus the mystic—you’re familiar with his writings? He wasn’t able to travel to Paris or Bologna to study but he corresponded with scholars across Europe and one by one teachers came to him, either to embrace his theories or to try to refute them. And once they came, they sought out other students for their keep. And those students attracted other teachers. They began with lectures out in the Plaiz Vezek where the old marketplace was, but then Prince Chonratus built the Chasintalle, with its lecture hall and dormitories and it grew from there.”

Margerit covered her embarrassment at the comparison to Fortunatus by countering, “I’ll inquire at the university, but I don’t know that it would be suitable. I want to encourage the young women to come—the ones who aren’t as bold as we were—and they may not be allowed to travel south of the river in the evening.”

“The young women of good families, you mean,” Akezze added. “Many of those who would benefit most already live there.”

“Speaking of young women,” Antuniet said, “I’ll be needing a few more assistants once we start the final work. Margerit, I don’t suppose you could find me someone to twin Anna for the
virgo
role? Anna doesn’t think her younger sister has the steadiness to learn the parts.”

At first Margerit’s thoughts flicked to Iosifin and Ainis, but when a woman had reached the advanced age of thirty unmarried, it was no longer safe to assume that she was therefore untouched. And it was a question that would be unthinkable to ask directly. But then, with her mind on girls with missed opportunities, she offered, “Perhaps Valeir Perneld. She’s only in her first dancing season, so she should have the time. I met her at Saint Orisul’s this summer. She has some sensitivity to
fluctus
, if that would be helpful. She thinks her parents wouldn’t allow her to take classes, but this would be different. And you’re planning to do the new cibations at the palace workshop, yes? Then there should be no objection. I’ll ask if Her Grace would be willing to make the invitation; that would be impossible to refuse.”

“Margerit, you’ll become a politician yet!” Jeanne teased. “Now could we adjourn to the drawing room? I recall that you keep a very fine port and since we’ve banished the men, we can be comfortably scandalous together.”

The evening couldn’t last forever, though it continued long past the time when Margerit heard her aunt and uncle return.

After the guests were gone and they had retired upstairs, Margerit asked, “Barbara, what was it you were discussing so seriously with Antuniet? You had your heads together in the corner for half an hour.”

Barbara grimaced. “Do you recall Langal? The man who was pursuing Arpik’s debts?”

Margerit nodded. It was awkward for Barbara to discuss the man she had once thought her father: Arpik or Count Turinz or sometimes “my mother’s husband.” Arpik’s debts had set the whole course of Barbara’s life in motion, and Langal’s efforts to collect on them had been at once subtle and brutal. He’d hoped to goad Barbara into uncovering her true parentage while there was still time to link Arpik’s notes to Saveze’s wealth. He’d failed in that but the marks remained, both on her mind and body. Barbara rubbed absently at the scar on her temple that lay half-concealed under a wave of her tawny hair as she continued, “It seems he has some business to discuss with me. And as an earnest of good faith he passed on a warning about some mischief that Efriturik became tangled in.”

“But what is that to you?” Margerit asked. “You aren’t Efriturik’s armin. It’s not your responsibility to chase around pulling him out of scrapes.”

“It’s not that type of scrape. But why wouldn’t it be my responsibility? He could be our next prince. Don’t we all have the duty to have a care for his reputation? Especially in the face of foreign meddling? Yes, it seems Kreiser is tangled in this too. I doubt the goal was to bring him down. More likely to set a hook in him. But I’d find a way to thwart Kreiser for no other reason than satisfaction. The man irritates me.”

“Be careful,” Margerit warned, but she said no more than that. Barbara was cautious enough, except when honor drove her. And if it were a matter of honor, no warning would make a difference.

* * *

Margerit had seen the palace workshop before but it had seemed cold and hollow while the construction was in progress. This evening it felt inhabited and alive, from the gleaming tile on the benchtops to the shelves crowded with bottles and apothecary jars. And in the center of the room stood the engineers’ masterpiece: the great revolving furnace, with its wheels and gears standing ready to align the work to the fraction of a degree. The floor tiles radiated from it in a compass rose but that was just for show, as were the chased zodiacal designs on the gears. “Antuniet,” she breathed, “it’s beautiful!”

Antuniet looked up briefly from where she was sifting powders. “That wasn’t my choice, but I’m not paying the workmen’s fees, so they can dress it up however they like, as long as it works. Anna, could you check the copper? I’m not sure we have enough of the triple-distilled for tomorrow.”

Margerit traded her coat for a pinafore and tied a scarf around her hair. “But it’s still beautiful. Doesn’t that speak to how much Her Grace values your work?” She knew Antuniet still had sleepless nights worrying the gift would be found wanting.