The Dark Volume

Xonck's story, that the second child had inherited the intelligence of their powerful father. From the conversation he had just overheard he knew she was whimsical, cruel, and insufferably proud—that she was here at all proved her bravery and determination … and that she was a Xonck meant she was also probably insane.

But he was not finished with Eloise Dujong.

“Where is the Doctor now?” he demanded, harshly.

“We left him at my uncle's cottage.”

“Struck on the head,” added Mrs. Trapping.

“He will be safe,” said Eloise quickly. “The cottage is warm and there is food and firewood and a bed—Lord knows he deserves an excuse to let all of this go, to let me go.”

“I'm certain he feels the same way,” said Chang.

“He is alive,” said Charlotte Trapping haughtily. “He need not be.”

“And how long will he stay there, do you think?” Chang ignored her, directing his words to Eloise. “And where will he go? The Prince is dead. The Doctor has been declared an outlaw by his own government—and our Ministries, presently in the hands of his enemies, are more than happy to capture or execute him. I do not imagine he has any money. A destitute foreigner hunted by the law? Your Abelard will be lucky not to be hanged on the spot by the first country sheriff to run him down!”

Eloise began to sob before he finished.

“You're an ugly fellow, aren't you?” observed Mrs. Trapping.

Chang took hold of Eloise's jaw, tugging her face up so their eyes met. “I've been to your room—I know. Were you Xonck's spy from the beginning? Or was it the Contessa?”

“Cardinal—”

“Of course, none of this was worth mentioning! When people were dying! When people were saving your life!”

He released his grip with a push.

“Caroline Stearne summoned you both to a private room in the St. Royale,” Chang went on. “Doing the Contessa's bidding—was it only blackmail, or something else? What did she demand in exchange? Who else did you betray?”

Tears streamed down Eloise's cheeks. He turned away from her to Mrs. Trapping.

“Why don't you tell me—there are no holes in your memory, are there?”

“I am completely capable of telling you about Caroline Stearne,” said Charlotte Trapping. “But I want you to tell me why I should.”

Ironically, Chang realized her blithe dismissal of his anger actually meant that, for the first time, she truly understood how dangerous he was. Was this her Xonck tenacity rising to—and there was the pity, perhaps only to —a mortal challenge?

“These are family matters,” she said coolly. “Why should you be part of it?”

“Clearly I am already.”

“But what is your stake, sir? Is it this Doctor? Is it revenge? Or—” she allowed her eyes to traverse his ruined habit—“merely a matter of money?”

With an effort Chang stopped himself from backhanding the woman across the face.

“I am here because people have tried to kill me. People like your brother.”

“But he has not killed you. I don't know what you're so afraid of— you must be very formidable to survive Francis. You must tell me where he has gone. What are his plans?”

“So you can assist him?”

She smiled almost girlishly. “O I do not say that…”

The woman was insufferable.

“When did you last see your children?” asked Chang.

Mrs. Trapping did not answer, realizing at once what the question meant.

“It is that terrible man!” she whispered. “Noland Aspiche. Always watching, disapproving—he never accepted Arthur as his rightful commanding officer.”

“He hired me to kill your husband, actually,” said Chang dryly.

“What?”

“Chang did not kill Arthur,” said Eloise quickly.

“But—but that man—he hired you.”

Chang smiled. “Your husband was loathed.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Your husband was an undeserving ass.”

“But—the arrogance—the presumption—”

“Charlotte!” Eloise cried. “Your children! Could they have been taken by Francis?”

“Of course not! Why would he endanger—”

“Charlotte!”

“I do not know!”

Both women turned to Chang. To tell them what he knew was to step away from interrogation and toward alliance. Did he want that? Did he care? What was his stake? Had he not been wrestling with Charlotte Trapping's question since the first night in the fisherman's hut? Why was he still involved in this business? He thought of the Doctor, with a broken head and a ruined heart, and of Miss Temple, running for her life, a captive, or already dead. He looked at the two women, their bundle of paintings, their idiot tycoon, squatting in a shambles like the meanest gypsies.

“At the command of the Privy Council, your children were put on a train to Harschmort House, under the immediate authority of a Captain Tackham.”

Charlotte Trapping's eyes narrowed. “David Tackham made advances to me at a regimental function. He was not even drunk. He is an adder.”

“Are they still at Harschmort?” Eloise asked Chang.

“Am I?”

“Did Francis see them?”

“I do not know.”

“Did he speak of them?” pressed Eloise. “You said the two of you talked—did he speak of them?”

“Not at all.”

“What did he say?” This was Mrs. Trapping, but her voice had gone cold.

“Very little that bears repeating,” replied Chang. “The blue glass has deranged his mind.”

“Cardinal, please!” cried Eloise. “Francesca! The boys! Where are the children now?”

“No,” he said. “Tell me about Caroline Stearne.”

FROM OUTSIDE the window came the sound of splashing water. Chang turned to it, trying to pick out anything unusual within the normal noises of the woods at night—for night had indeed fallen while they spoke—but it all sounded strange to him. Who knew what shuffling steps would be covered by the pond water rushing past the broken mill wheel?

He spun again and pulled his head back as sharp as any bantam rooster. The brick in Charlotte Trapping's hand swung inches past his face. He caught her wrist and, had the razor been open, could not have prevented an instinctive counter-stroke from slicing her jugular. As the razor was folded into his right fist he merely snapped a blow to the woman's jaw, dropping her to the floor with a protesting grunt of pain. He looked at Eloise, who stood with both hands over her mouth.

“I did not see her!” she whispered. “O Cardinal Chang—O Charlotte, you fool!”

She went to her mistress, sprawled and kicking, then looked to Chang, her eyes wide.

“Cardinal!”

The door behind was kicked open. Three dragoons filled the window, carbines aimed at his chest, while in the doorway stood an officer with his saber drawn. Behind the officer were the shadowed forms of at least another