A Shadow All of Light (10 page)

“That would be a joyful event.”

“My advice is,
Bright to bright and never night.
That is to say, milady, 'twould be best not to shut it away in casket or box or vault, surrounded by black gloom and tomblike silence. Better to bring it to its own likeness and let it breathe and find itself again. Your own physic may strengthen along with it, milady, for it is well attested in the accounts of history and the writings of sages that the health of the possessors stands in close relation to the condition of the stones they possess. I could furnish many a treatise and pluck from memory countless examples.”

He paused and cleared his throat. “Perhaps, if you have time and patience, you might hear the little-known story of the Lady Erminia and her opal. It so closely was attached to her thoughts and moods that it changed hue and, some have said, even its shape as her own thoughts journeyed and her moods shifted.…”

And then Astolfo went on to tell at length, with intriguing detail and in high-colored language, that tale of Erminia of which he would brook no syllable from my lips. I found this most irritating and might even have preferred another of Mutano's blows to Astolfo's elaborate account of the Lady Erminia's opal. I rattled my chain and Mutano, as if to oblige my unspoken thought, delivered a solid kick to my shin.

Astolfo was concluding: “So, as you see, the connections between possessor and possession are intimate and enduring. For the sake of the stone and for the sake of your own well-being, I would pray you to place the diamond upon a sheet of the snowiest linen on a table in an open room, with two lamps set about it day and night to shed upon it the warmest and most lucent light. I am certain that you will then see it returned to its former brilliance.”

“It may be as you propose,” the countess said, “but I mislike exposing my diamond in such a public area, so prominent to the eyes of all, with everyone passing by and about. Why, 'tis to welcome thievery with a handwrit invitation delivered upon a salver.”

Her doubtful remark brought us to the third part of Astolfo's scheme.

“It will be broadly approachable, milady. So it must be constantly guarded and its care must be given over to the responsibility of one who is completely—nay, slavishly—devoted to your welfare. It must be guarded by a person whom no taint of suspicion can ever join to, one who has served you faithfully for many a long season, someone you have learned to trust without stint or reservation.”

“You intend my minister Chrobius,” she said.

“But milady—” Chrobius stepped forward and made as if to remonstrate.

“Our Chrobius hath many a weighty matter already in his charge,” the countess said. “There are affairs of state which pluck at his attention like hungry children at their mother's apron. Matters of finance bedevil him, rumors of armed revolt, whispers of intrigue and conflict. Every day his hours are so overfull with such considerations that they spill out of their allotted times like oat grain pouring from a torn sack.”

“If't vex not your forbearance, milady, let me plead,” Astolfo said, “for I believe there is no charge in all your affairs so urgent as this one. It touches directly upon your health and therefore upon the safety of your lands and dependents. I would urge you to create a special, particular office. Let Chrobius become ‘Master of the Jewel.' If any stratagem advance against it, he shall find it out, though it be hid like an adder coiled in a cave in the cliffs of Clamorgra.”

With the mention of Clamorgra, Chrobius's change of expression showed that he understood the allusion to his ugly scheme. He came forward with unexpected quickness for an elderly man. “Milady Countess, I feel I must turn away from this sudden and injudicious honor. There are affairs of—”

The countess giggled merrily and clapped her hands like an excited child. She drummed her heels on the rung of her chair.
“Master of the Jewel!”
she cried. “Oh, that is a dear, a precious title. I do love the ring of it.”

“Yet it is a grave responsibility and much hangs upon the office,” Astolfo warned. “If anything were to happen to the Great Countess Triana Diamond, as the gemologists now name it, all the consequence would be upon the head of the Master of the Jewel, and Chrobius must stand to answer.”

“It is grave—but also jolly,” she said. “It is done. I now declare thee, my good and faithful minister Chrobius, ‘Master of the Jewel.' It shall henceforth be your sole duty to guard by night and by day, in peace and war, in foul weather and fair, the welfare of the Great Countess Triana Diamond. You shall be well rewarded for your service.”

Chrobius did not quiver an eyebrow. “Yes, milady Countess.” He bowed and stepped backward into his place behind our trio.

“You too shall be fitly rewarded, Master Astolfo. You have but to name your fee, be it not too burdensome to our treasury.”

He made one of his unhurried, elegant bows. “The service was too trifling, milady, and I am still embarrassed by the perfidy of my once-apprentice, this verminlike Falco. I could expect no reward.”

“You should. You must.”

“If it please you, milady—no. But I shall return from time to time to see if all is in order, that no other gem has been brought to proximity with the diamond, that it is kept in a bright, bare place all its own, and that no shadow is stealing into its heart like some arrant villain crawling into a secret cave in Clamorgra.”

This second mention of Clamorga would be, I thought, Astolfo's repeated warning to Chrobius that that his alliance with the countess's third husband was foreknown and that we were alert to any threat from that quarter.

“Well then,” she said, “I fear not that I shall find some way to recompense your good effort. And now, as his last duty before he attendeth only to the jewel continually, Chrobius shall lead you the way out.”

“Milady.” Astolfo bowed once more and we departed, with the wretched, battered, peevish Falco shuffling along in chains and devising in his furious mind many little revenges upon his friend Mutano.

Chrobius preceded us through the great salon, through the corridors where the shadows no longer whispered ominous threats, to the wide hall at the front doors of the palace. Here he stopped, turned, and gave each of us a level, uninformative gaze, signaled to the footmen to open for us, then turned and padded his way to his task of nursemaiding to the end of his days that immense diamond.

Outside, we climbed into the carriage provided by the countess and set off toward Astolfo's manse. I slouched in the corner of the vehicle, weary and resentful, yet pleased withal. Master and colleague sat across from me in high good humor.

“A stout piece of work, methinks,” said Astolfo. “We need no gold in our pouch for't. We stand to flourish in the countess's favor and gratitudinous goodwill. We have the treacherous Chrobius in our power. A happy day's labor, eh, Falco? And none so onerous, either.”

“Easier,” I said, “much easier for you than for me.” I clashed together my shackles.

Astolfo and Mutano grinned at each other. “Ah, lad,” said the shadow master, “when I consider how far you are from proper attainment, how much you have yet to learn, there swims into my brain a vision of the wide and starry sky.”

I received this cheerful insult with the best grace I could muster. If my mental instruction and physical training kept on at the rate they were now progressing, I should one sudden day become as wise as any sage and as strong as the swiftest stallion. These were attainments to enjoy, for the time being, in rosy prospect.

 

III

Dance of Shadows

The array of the knowledge of jewels—their kinds, conditions, styles, and histories—that the maestro brought to bear in the matter of protecting the Countess Triana and the renewal of her diamond did not surprise me. Our trade is often an ancillary one, our business to design, produce, and provide
qualities
that are added to objects of value. To a stiff canvas fabric we might add an almost unnoticeable shade of gray that will increase, when the artist renders his subject upon it, both definition and subtlety. For a woman whose face has been marred by accident or intentional violence, a mixture of shades and tints of certain gradations can cause the flaw to seem to disappear. When a diplomatic letter must be dispatched that is intended to convey a paucity of substance and a plenitude of ambiguity, we can admix several umbrae to the ink with which it is written, producing a sort of locutionary fog over the meanings of the phrases.

To these instances Astolfo brings his practical knowledge of painting and drawing, of cosmetics and fashion, of the chemistries of writing fluids of every sort. Underlying all these particular sciences and the many others that are related is a confident grasp of the nature and properties of light.

I have often wondered if the ancient sages who penned the crammed volumes I was required to read knew even half as much as my master who compelled me to read them.

It is no marvel then that Astolfo is sought out by collectors of all kinds of valuables to judge, appraise, estimate damages, suggest repairs, and so forth. Indeed, a good half of our custom was in dealing with wealthy collectors.

But the maestro had affected to disdain what he called the vice of collecting.

“For it
is
a vice, you know,” he said, and looked at me with that gray-eyed gaze that so rarely gave away the true cast of his humor. “I have known many a man to waste his substance upon trifles. He may bestow a fortune upon a heap of essence-bottle stopples, upon elegant sword-hilt pommels, upon coins of fabled cities in fabled ages past. Then these connoisseurs expire and their descendants scatter those spurious treasures to the round of the compass for a fraction of the amount expended. This collecting, Falco, is a costly vanity.”

“I take it that you make an exception for the collectors of shadows.”

“Shadow collectors may be the worst of the lot,” he replied. “For not only do the objects themselves extort fat prices, but a discriminating taste for them is expensive to acquire. And then there are the further costs of proper care and storage and restoration when that is necessary and possible.”

“Yet you derive some large part of your income from collectors.”

“Ah.” He sighed and blinked. “I lead a superfluous existence. I cannot fathom why you feel attracted to such an inutile way of life.”

I might have talked at length of the fascination that the trade of shadows held for me, why it stood in my mind as one of the subtlest, cleverest, most demanding methods of maintaining oneself. But I knew better than to give my lash-tongued mentor reason to ply me with sarcasm. I only inquired what he thought he might occupy himself with otherwise.

“Why, I should retire from commerce,” said he, “and devote myself to the close study of the ancient mages. I would delve into the unexplored hinterlands of reality. I would strive to achieve equanimity of mind and equability of temper. I would exercise to be always cheerful in this world of futile strife. And I seek always one particular object, a thing that embodies within it a complete purity of spirit.”

“I cannot imagine what that thing might be,” I said, “but most who know you would say that you have already arrived at the other goals you aim at. You are equable and balanced, hardly a melancholy man.”

“A long face discourages custom,” he declared. “If my clients see me downcast, they may suspect I fret over an unsound business and carry their trade elsewhere.”

“So then, your talk is not pure philosophical disquisition. We have a venture in hand?”

“We do.” He had not objected to my use of the plural pronoun.

“And it has to do with the pursuit of shadow-collecting?”

“As soon as you have made your appearance presentable to polished company, we shall go to the house of Ser Plermio Rutilius,” Astolfo said. “I shall tell you about him as we travel.”

“Will Mutano accompany us?” I asked. If Astolfo felt the need of our colleague so fierce in combat, we might be entering a situation of some danger.

“No,” he replied. “If our host saw the three of us together he might doubt of my capacities. You shall answer well enough as a diverting companion, and no more than that. He will see that you are harmless; Mutano does not readily present that aspect.”

I agreed.

*   *   *

Our travel was accomplished in handsome style, for Ser Rutilius had sent a well-appointed coach-and-two to Astolfo's mansion to fetch us the two leagues to his château. As we rolled smoothly through the green springtime countryside, Astolfo informed me that our host was the scion of an ancient race of warriors who had hired out to duchies, principalities, and great estates to protect them from marauders, enemies and friends alike. Since our province of Tlemia had very recently blundered into peaceful times only occasionally troubled by rumors of pirates, there had been naught to occupy the hereditary skills and services of Rutilius. And so, as a young man, he had entertained himself with dissipation, gathering from cellars their sumptuous wines, from tailors their most costly and elaborate cloaks and doublets, and from respected families their comeliest, most complaisant females.

“In short,” said Astolfo, “he led such an existence as you have dreamed of leading, Falco, a life of idle pleasures following upon one another like raindrops in a springtime shower. And do you not dream of it still?”

I would not reply, but my thought was that such an existence would not be wasted upon me. Youth, strength, and high spirits would guide me through the vale of rainbow temptations.

“But Rutilius is an intelligent young noble and in due season he found these pastimes to pall. He has educated himself in the sciences and the arts. He raised the farming practices of his lands to extraordinary levels; he has renewed and refined his martial skills; he has become a knowledgeable connoisseur of painting and tapestry, statuary and architecture. His senses and apprehensions having become so acute, it was perhaps inevitable that he should come to pursue shadow-collecting, for no other cultivated attainment is so difficult to achieve. But, as it is the most expensive of such follies, so is it the most rewarding, for, as you have discovered, umbrae are infinite in interest and delight.”