He moved quickly to the door and was gone before Wilhelmina could think to call for Etzel.
She was still sitting there, rubbing her hand and staring at the door through which the treacherous earl had disappeared, when Rosenkreuz returned. “Fraulein Wilhelmina?” he asked, taking his seat at the table. “Is all well?”
She started, coming to herself once more. “No-I mean, yes.” She forced a smile. “Never better.”
“What happened to Lord Burleigh?” asked the young alchemist. “Where has he gone?”
“It seems he had to leave. No doubt he will meet you again later.”
Rosenkreuz accepted this without comment.
“But here,” said Mina, jumping up, “your Kaffee has gone cold. Don’t drink it. I’ll bring you some more.”
“Thank you, but I should be about my own business.”
“It won’t take but a moment,” said Wilhelmina, hurrying away. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Is anything the matter?” asked Etzel, catching a glimpse of her preoccupied expression as she entered the kitchen. He placed on the baking table a tray of buns fresh from the oven.
“What?” she said. “Oh, no-no. Everything is splendid. I was just thinking. Umm, those cakes smell heavenly,” she told him. As soon as the pot was filled, she returned to the table in the corner bearing a tray with a second cup and a plate of pastries, which she placed before the chief under-alchemist. “On the house,” she said, taking her seat.
The expression puzzled the young fellow, but he reached for a pastry as his cup was filled. “I am in your debt, Fraulein,” he said, the crumbs falling from his lips.
“My pleasure,” she replied. “But I need your help with something.”
“Anything.”
“Merely a little information.”
“But, of course. What would you like to know?”
“What is Lord Burleigh doing here in Prague?”
“But it is no secret,” answered Rosenkreuz readily; then after a moment’s hesitation he added, “At least I cannot think that it is a secret…”
“Well, then?”
“He has come to ask our aid in the manufacture of a device to aid his travels.”
“The device, yes,” said Mina, remembering the diagram she had seen in the earl’s hands upon entering the alchemy laboratory. “You were talking about it when I joined the two of you just now. Tell me about it.”
Rosenkreuz explained that the Earl of Sutherland was engaged in the exploration of the astral planes-the otherworldly dimensions that made up the unseen universe-and required a device to aid him. “He is a very intelligent man,” the alchemist confided, “and very brave.”
“Undoubtedly,” agreed Mina. “Another pastry? Please, go on.”
“The astral realms are thought to be-”
“The device, I mean. Tell me about that.”
“I do believe it to be the most cunning invention I have ever seen.” His hands described an oval as big as a grapefruit. “This device is to be used to identify the invisible pathways by which the earl makes his travels. These pathways are all around us, apparently-if we only knew how to recognise them.”
“I see.” Wilhelmina nodded, making up her mind. “Herr Rosenkreuz, how would you like to secure a ready supply of bitter earth for your experiments-free, at no charge whatsoever?”
“Of course. It goes without saying,” the alchemist agreed at once, “but that is in no way necessary. We can easily pay.”
“I know,” she replied, “and you are more than generous. But I want to exchange it for your help.”
“Very well,” agreed Rosenkreuz. “What is it that you wish?”
“When you have manufactured this device for Lord Burleigh,” said Mina, her tone taking on an edge Rosenkreuz had never heard in a woman’s voice before, “I want you to make one for me.”
CHAPTER 33
In Which Nature Takes Its Course
It began as a simple tickle in the throat. Xian-Li coughed once or twice, drank a little water, and carried on making herself ready for the day. She and Arthur breakfasted with some of the priests on slices of sweet melon, dates, figs in honey, and goat’s milk flavoured with almonds. While Arthur and the servants of Amun chatted over their food, Xian-Li sat quietly and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her back, letting her mind wander where it would.
“You’re not eating,” Arthur observed at one point during the meal. “Aren’t you hungry, darling?”
“Mmm?” She shook off her reverie and looked down at her untouched plate. “Oh, I was…” Her voice drifted off.
“You must eat something,” he chided. “You simply can’t meet Pharaoh on an empty stomach, you know.”
She nodded, picking up a fig. She put it down again after only a bite, and her mind flitted away once more. The next thing she knew the meal was over; the white-kilted priests were getting up, and Arthur was on his feet, ready to go.
“Xian-Li?”
“Yes?” she said, glancing up.
“I was talking to you just now. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Very sorry, husband,” she replied, offering a wan smile. “I was cloud-drifting.”
He laughed. “In England we call it wool-gathering.” His glance became serious. “Are you sure you’re well, my dear? You look pale.”
“A little tired, perhaps,” she allowed. She stood up, and the world seemed to spin; the ground shifted under her feet. Her vision dimmed and, suddenly dizzy and light-headed, she sat back down with a thump. “Oh!”
“Darling? Are you all right?”
She waved away his concern. “I stood up too fast,” she told him.
“Here, let me help you.” He put his hand beneath her arm.
She stood again, more slowly this time. “It is nothing.”
They walked across the sunny temple yard to the guesthouse to finish preparations for the short journey to meet the pharaoh’s barge at Oma. Anen was to be their guide and had gone to fetch a mule cart for them; the priest, as a member of the extended royal family, would travel in a horse-drawn chariot. They were to leave as soon as he returned.
“This is a very great honour,” Arthur was saying as they entered the small, spare house. His voice seemed to come to her from a very great distance. “I suppose it would be akin to meeting your emperor Qing-” He broke off abruptly, for his wife was leaning against the doorpost with her hand to her head.
“Darling! You are unwell.”
“I feel a little warm,” she confessed. “Maybe I was in the sun too long.” She patted his arm and went to wash in the basin on the tripod beside the bed. She bent over the basin, and in her reflection in the still water she saw a drawn, hollow mask looking back at her. Lowering her hands into the basin, she laved cool water onto her face and neck and felt instantly refreshed. “That is much better.”
She dried herself and wound her long, black hair into a coil and pinned it up for travel. She found the linen scarf she had been given to help keep the sun off her head and, thus prepared, sat down on the pallet that was her bed to await Anen’s arrival with the cart. Meanwhile, Arthur heard a clatter of hooves in the courtyard and went out to greet the priest, and on his return found his wife stretched out on the bed, her arm over her eyes.
“Xian-Li,” he said, “it is time to go.” He crossed the room and knelt beside the pallet. When she failed to respond, he gave her arm a gentle shake. “Xian-Li? Wake up, my dear.”
She came to with a start. “Oh, forgive me, I must have dozed off. I-” She struggled upright, only to sink back
