A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (20 page)

Rosamund was glowing, but there was fear in her eyes. “Please, Hugh, don’t be angry. Will you deny an old woman a small comfort? She has so much to spare. I gave her the crystal. The debt was paid.”

“All this time and you haven’t changed. Still only thinking about yourself.” There was a bitterness in his voice. “I can see that coming here was a mistake. Let’s go.” He helped Elle to her feet.

Elle glanced behind her as they left the room. The old lady was rocking backwards and forwards in her chair and she could have sworn that the old woman’s wrinkles had lessened and she was sitting taller.

“What on earth was that all about?” Elle said as they got back into the carriage. “Who
was
that woman?”

“Rosamund is the Oracle. But she does not have the same abilities you do. She used to be a friend. Years ago.” His lips were still tight and he looked angry. “I thought she might have gained at least an inkling of wisdom after in all these years.” He shook his head. “I should have known better.”

“What a strange lady. What was all that hand-holding about?”

Marsh did not answer. He just stared in front of him as the cab trundled along over the cobbles. “I’m sorry for subjecting you to that, but I fear for you, Elle. An untrained Cybele is an open invitation for trouble. I thought Rosamund might be able to tell you how to complete the metamorphosis on your own. So you could at least protect yourself, but I have failed.” He looked utterly miserable.

Elle lifted the crystal over her head and held it in her hand. “My mother wore this once.”

Marsh looked at the stone in her hand. “She did. As did every Oracle before her for the last five thousand years.”

He ran his a hand through his hair. “There is so much you still don’t know. Promise me one thing, will you?”

“And what would that be?”

“Promise me that you will never allow another being to draw energy from you like Rosamund just did. Every time it happens, a bit of what you are disappears. You must promise me.”

“Is that what she was doing? Why you’re were so angry?”

“Yes. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have drained you dry like a husk. She would have assumed your life force and become young again. You would have ended up as a pile of dust on the floor.”

She was silent. “Well then, I suppose I should thank you for saving me. Even though you were the one that took me to see that awful woman in the first place.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“There are many out there who will seek to use you in the same way. A Cybele is an empty receptacle for power. The Shadow will seek to fill that receptacle and those who hunger for power will seek to drain it. Every time that happens, a bit of you will disappear. One of the skills of the Oracle is to ensure that this does not happen when magic is channeled. You have to learn how to protect yourself. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

Elle nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right.” She dropped the crystal into her reticule and closed it.

“And do you see now what you might become if you don’t learn how to use your gift properly?”

Elle felt herself grow angry. “I am nothing like that woman. And I will never be like her. Even after a thousand years, I will not.”

Marsh stared at her for a long moment. “You know what? I think you might be right.” And for the first time that day he looked slightly less unhappy.

CHAPTER 33

The station was crowded when they stepped from the carriage. Soldiers in bright red uniforms stood about along the platform. The brass buttons on their uniforms glinted as they moved. Most of them seemed to be congregating around the third third-class seats at the back of the train. Ladies in smart travelling dresses and furs stepped ahead of porters with large trolleys of luggage.

Marsh helped Elle onto the train step. His hand remained on her waist when he hopped up onto the step behind her. She smiled at him.

“You know, you are rather pretty when you smile, Miss Chance. You should try to do it more often.” He spoke close to her ear.

Elle rolled her eyes. “Mr. Marsh, if I didn’t know you better, I would say that you were flirting with me.”

Marsh gave her an enigmatic look. “Oh, but there is much you don’t know about me.”

She edged past him and into their compartment. Whatever it was, their little visit to the old woman seemed to have lifted something inside him. It was as if a dark cloud had shifted away. Elle stopped at the door of their compartment. The air inside felt thick and unpleasant. She reached out before her.

“Elle, what is it?” Marsh said behind her.

“Can you not smell that? It smells like something died in here.”

He gently moved her out of the way. “Wait. Let me have a look.” He stepped past her and into the carriage. Elle peered into the compartment. Everything looked as it had before.

Marsh reached down and pulled out their trunks. They appeared locked and untouched. He checked the bunks and on top of the racks too.

“Seems to be all right,” he said. “I can’t sense anything.”

She stepped into the compartment and opened one of the windows. “I don’t know, maybe it was my imagination, but it was the strangest sensation. Like someone had disturbed the air.”

“Perhaps.” Marsh took off his hat and gloves and sat down on his bunk. “It has been quite an afternoon so far, hasn’t it?”

“You can say that again. I do hope that lovely waiter with the coffee machine will be round again. A nice hot drink is precisely what I need right now.”

“Leave it to me.” He disappeared from the compartment.

She pulled the crystal pendant out of her reticule and studied it. She was starting to build up quite a collection of jewelry of dubious origin. The crystal sphere was held in place by a cage of intricately worked brass filaments.

She rubbed the yellowing dome with her sleeve. A light flashed before her again … 
Soldiers in brown uniforms, moving like clockwork. Dead eyes staring ahead of them. Trains. People. Explosions. Suffering. Dead. So many dead.

She cried out and let go of the pendant. Her cheeks felt wet and she realized that she was crying.

Marsh came into the compartment. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She wiped at her face. “One moment I was looking at the stone and the next thing there were these visions. Marsh, there is so much evil in the world. Bad things are going to happen.”

He sat down next to her. “You saw something?”

“I can’t remember exactly, but they were terrifying things. There will be much suffering in times to come.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but you should use your gift to help others. To warn them so they don’t make those mistakes.” He gripped her shoulders gently and pulled her to his broad chest. “It is our duty.”

He was still holding her when the whistle sounded and the train started moving.

“Someone called for a hot drink?” A waiter poked his head into the compartment. He spoke with a heavy Austrian accent. “Oh, excuse me,” he said.

At the sight of the coffee machine, Elle brightened up and disentangled herself from Marsh’s embrace. “What have you got?” she asked.

The waiter smiled. “Could I interest you in a lovely cup of Viennese chocolate, madam?”

CHAPTER 34

Eustace Abercrombie was feeling particularly pleased with life. He settled down in a comfortable chair, put his feet up on the ottoman and lit a cigar. The caliph of Constantinople might be a complete bore, but he was an excellent host, and the elaborate luncheon he had just enjoyed was the reason for his current state of contentment.

Abercrombie half closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off into the beginning stages of a nice nap. He loved the quietness of the afternoon, before the Nightwalkers woke.

Nightwalkers. The mere thought of them turned his digestion sour. But, they were a necessary evil, born of an alliance so ancient that only the very oldest of the Nightwalkers remembered its origins. The ancient truce between those who were immortal and those that could step into the sun. The children of the night would rule the dark hours and the Alchemists, with their study of the planets, would guard the Nightwalkers by day. In return, those of the night paid handsomely for the service. And there were few things in the world Alchemists loved more than gold.

But the world was changing. Change was so close he could feel it. He knew about the secret experiments and tests conducted by the elders in dark cellars and dungeons. The day when Nightwalkers could walk in the light and no longer needed protection from zealots and the superstitious was nearly upon them. And when that happened, the Alchemists would no longer be needed. Their alliance was coming to an end and Abercrombie knew it was up to him to ensure that it ended in their favor.

He would make sure that Alchemists would stand free from the Night Lords and with all the power and the money they could hope for. Yes, that day would come very soon. He reached over and pulled the wooden box with the brass edges and the inlay out from its hiding place inside the ottoman at his feet. He held it up to the light and examined it. He could almost feel the power of the carmot inside radiating out at him.

“Very soon.” He moved the box from side to side feeling its weight. “Very soon indeed.”

CHAPTER 35

The Orient Express steamed into Budapest shortly after sunset. The generous curves of the River Danube swept through the twin cities of Buda and Pest, dark against the plumb-colored sky. Lights twinkled on the bridges that married the cities on either side of the banks into one.

The locomotive trundled into the station, embracing the passengers waiting on the platform with clouds of incandescent spark-laced steam. Station workers and porters bustled up and down on the platform, helping people embark and disembark from the carriages.

Marsh carefully placed his papers back into their leather folder and consulted his train schedule. “Not a long stop. Only fifteen minutes.” He looked at Elle. “Shall we go for a drink before dinner? We should be moving again soon.”

Elle sat back and stretched her back slightly. “I think that would be nice,” she said. Elle couldn’t really say why the misery she felt had lifted after her visit to the strange old lady, but she was grateful for it.

“Then I shall leave you to change.” He pulled the brass handle that closed the screen divider between them. I for one would like to shave while the train is not moving. Razors and moving trains are not really companions.”

The divider slid into place, leaving her alone in her half of the compartment. She drew down the window blind to shield herself from prying eyes on the platform and set about unbuttoning rows of small buttons. She stepped out of her dress and petticoat and laid them on her bunk. Next to the screen divider, there was a lever that said
“Toilette”
on its brass and porcelain handle. She pulled it and one of the panels slid round, converting the compartment corner into the loveliest little washbasin and toilette cubical. She leaned over to study the pipes behind the basin. “These pipes must run to the spark reactors in the main engine. That must be the way they heat the water.”

“What was that?”

“I said the hot water must be coming from the train’s spark reactors. It’s like the samovar on my ship.”

“Must be.” Marsh was humming a tune to himself.

Elle stepped up to the screen. The polished wood panels were held together with brass hinges. One of the hinges had worn and bent slightly with use, leaving a gap between the panels. Unable to stop herself, she put her eye up to the gap.

Marsh was standing over his basin with his back to her. His face was covered in white shaving soap. A long razor with an ivory handle rested in his hand. He had stripped down to his trousers and his body swayed gently as he ran the blade over his cheek.

Elle’s gaze wandered over the muscles in his back and she felt her breath catch in her throat. He was magnificent. Not that she had seen many half-naked men in her life, but still. It was rather a mystery why he wasn’t married. Or at least engaged, but he was rather closed on the subject. She watched him raise his chin to shave his throat.

There must be something wrong with him, she decided. Or maybe there was a secret code amongst Warlocks never to marry. Or maybe he preferred the company of gentlemen. She somehow doubted that. Perhaps it was because he was so closed. Maybe most right-thinking women sensed how dangerous he was.

She checked her thoughts. With a flush of embarrassment, she realized that she was behaving worse than a thirteen-year-old debutante hiding behind a curtain at a ball.

A whistle sounded and the train lurched into motion. Elle fell forward and grabbed on to the handrail to stop herself from crashing into the screen. The divider shuddered as the spring mechanism engaged. To her horror, the divider drew back. She had grabbed the wrong lever by mistake.

Marsh turned round in surprise and his eyes lit up with amusement at the sight of her in her pantaloons and corset. He made no attempt to avert his gaze.

Elle put her hands to her chest to cover herself “Sorry. Wrong lever,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“If you say so.” His gaze slipped over her curves.

She grabbed the lever and pulled it, but it jammed. She yanked it again, but the spring was stuck.

Marsh chuckled and stepped forward. Suddenly they were very close to one another. She could smell the fresh sandalwood of the shaving soap on his skin. He leaned closer and unhitched the corner of the divider, which that had become hooked on one of the luggage straps in the overhead luggage rack. “There you go,” he said with a slow smile before the divider slid back into place.

Mortified, Elle pulled one of her new evening dresses out of her portmanteau. It was made of the softest opal-colored silk. She shook it out and finished dressing as fast as was possible within the confines of the compartment. She tidied her hair in the mirror and dabbed freesia oil behind her ears. The smell of flowers filled the air around her.

For the first time, she was glad that the bracelet was still stuck around her wrist. At least the diamonds meant that she would not have to stand back for the beautiful and well-heeled ladies she was about to encounter. She pulled on her long gloves and picked up her stole. She knocked on the screen. “Marsh?”

He pulled the screen back and looked down at her. “I think I preferred the last outfit.,” His mouth quirked up into another slow smile, but this time there was something soft in his expression. “Ready?”

She smiled up at him. “Ready and famished.”