Eloise put away her neglected story of the opera and smiled gamely. "What thought?"

"Actually several thoughts, or several that make one large thought cl.u.s.tered together-like chairs around a table, don't you know."

"I see."

"One of those cunning tables one can extend."

"What thoughts, Celeste?"

"I was thinking about killing."

"Killing?"

Miss Temple nodded.

"I'm sure it is a subject to weigh upon us both," began Eloise, with a careful air. "We have seen so much of it in so short a time-the killings at Tarr Manor, people hunted through the hallways of Harschmort, the truly savage battle on the rooftop before the airship could fly, and then death after death once we were aloft-and for you an even more difficult and sensitive question, in your unfortunate and foolish and corrupted former fiance."

The cautious deliberacy of her words was mortifying. Miss Temple waved her hands. "No no-it is not that at all! I am occupied with our present business! We are miles away, and it is all my mind can hold-certainly there is no room there for a wolf! If we are to help the Doctor and Chang, who must have become caught up in these same events-"

"But these recent deaths," protested Eloise, "we know very little-"

"We can extrapolate!" cried Miss Temple. "We are not fools! If one has studied dogs, one then knows how to lead a pack of hounds! If we a.s.sume the three incidents are part of one tale-"

"What three incidents?"

Miss Temple huffed with exasperation. "In the fishing village! The grooms killed in the stable, the fisherman dead in his boat, the Jorgenses in their cabin! By st.i.tching them together we will see whether the resulting narrative reveals the raw hunger of a beast or the calculated actions of a villain. We can then determine where next-"

"How can we? Not having witnessed the incidents, not having seen the stable or the boat, not knowing how the bodies were disposed-"

"But you must know! Doctor Svenson must have told you-"

"But he did not."

"We at least know in what order the killings occurred, and at what times."

"But we don't. We know only when the bodies were found, Celeste."

Miss Temple did not enjoy others referring to her Christian name at whim, and enjoyed it even less as punctuation to a thought she was supposed to find self-evident.

"Then perhaps you will tell me when that was, Eloise."

After a wary glance at their silent driver and another sigh of resignation, Eloise shifted closer to Miss Temple and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "The two grooms were discovered first, after the storm. The wind was still quite high, but the rains had eased enough for folk to leave their homes. Several horses were found roaming free. When they were led back to the stable, the doors were found open and the grooms, dead. The Doctor and Chang were both there. I was tending to you, not that I regret being deprived of the sight."

"And some horses are still missing."

"Apparently, yes."

"And there was a hoofprint at the Jorgenses' cabin, along with the mark of spurs. Did you see the man in the village wearing new boots?"

"I did not."

"Riding boots. In a fishing village!"

"With spurs?"

"No," snapped Miss Temple. "But that barely matters-such boots are as unlikely in that village as a tiara."

"I disagree-they are fishermen, there was a storm, they all increase their living through salvage."

"What of the boat?" asked Miss Temple.

"The fisherman's boat was found after the grooms. Since a savage animal was already settled on as the killer, there was only curiosity at how such a beast had managed to come aboard."

"Did the Doctor venture an opinion, having seen the bodies?"

"Doctor Svenson did not share his opinions with me."

"Why not?"

"You will have to ask him, Celeste!"

Miss Temple tossed her hair. "It is all quite obvious! The Contessa was rescued by the fisherman. Upon landing, he was of no further use to her and she killed him. Then she came across the unfortunate Jorgenses. Killing them provided her with new clothing, food, and a place to warm herself. Thus restored, she finally proceeded to the stable, where she killed the grooms and took a horse, driving the others away to make the attack look like a wolf."

"That does not explain the hoofprints at the cabin. Or your spurs."

"I cannot be expected to answer everything."

Eloise was silent, running her tongue against the inside of her teeth, which Miss Temple realized was a sign of the woman's irritation.

"What?" snapped Miss Temple.

"It is geography," answered Eloise. "You have seen the forest, and where the river runs, and the width of its flood during the storm. Believe me when I say it was impa.s.sable for at least two days-exactly why the Jorgenses were not found sooner. Further, the fisherman's boat and the livery stable were divided from each other by still more flooding. There truly is no way, in the given span of days, that a single person, however viciously inclined, might have accomplished all five of these killings."

"But we found the hair," Miss Temple said, frowning.

"It could have been Mrs. Jorgens'."

"You know it wasn't," Miss Temple replied coolly. "Why did you and Doctor Svenson quarrel?"

"I should prefer not to speak of it," replied Eloise.

"Is it related to our peril?"

"It is not."

Miss Temple flounced her dress across her legs. "I expect it weighs upon you cruelly," she observed.

Eloise said nothing.

MISS TEMPLE pulled another hank of dark bread from their second loaf. She was not especially hungry, but gave herself over to an earnest series of bites and swallows, studying the rocky hills. She'd no experience with such landscapes, stones driving up through the earth like some primeval carca.s.s whose flesh had been melted away by a thousand years of rain, the bones blackened with rot but remaining, stiff and unfathomably hard. The soil was gritty and coa.r.s.e, sustaining only tough, greasy gra.s.ses and squat knotted trees, like sclerotic pensioners bent under the weight of impending death.

Staring into this barren landscape Miss Temple cast her mind back to the airship. She attempted to recall the fates of each member of the villainous Cabal-it had been frenetic. The Contessa had leapt-unseen by anyone-from the dirigible's roof into the freezing sea. Francis Xonck and Roger Bas...o...b.. had been shot, the Comte d'Orkancz shot and stabbed, the Prince of Macklenburg horribly killed, and of course poor Lydia Vandaariff... Miss Temple closed her eyes and shook her head to dispel the image of the blond girl's head splitting off from her body even as the crack of stiffening blood echoed out from her mouth. The airship had become a tomb of icy water as the cabin filled-she herself had seen the sodden corpse of Caroline Stearne, murdered by the Contessa, bobbing against the rooftop hatch... But if no one had survived, or no one aside from the Contessa, then how could she explain identical murders on the sh.o.r.e?

Miss Temple sighed again. Was this not a good thing? Was it not better the hair had belonged to Mrs. Jorgens, and the plague of wolves exactly that? Was it simply that she could not trust such luck, or was it that the absence of further intrigue forced her to face her recent actions in a more sober light? It was all well and good to have killed in the heat of battle, but what of life afterward? And could she truly convince herself that Roger Bas...o...b.. had been shot in battle? Certainly her fiance had been angry, even perhaps dangerous-but she had been armed. Why had she not simply left him there alone, locked in a closet? Miss Temple took another bite of bread, swallowing it with difficulty, her throat gone dry. The airship had been sinking-would she have allowed Roger to drown? Would drowning have been any less a murder? She saw no way past what she had done, apart from wishing-and then taking it back at once-that Chang or Svenson had taken Roger's life instead. The task had been hers-to kill him or set him free.

And could she not have done that? Did not her entire adventure prove how little Roger Bas...o...b.. had come to matter? Could he not have lived? Why had she pulled the trigger?

Miss Temple had no answer it did not hurt to think on.

The sun had set by the time their cart entered the tiny town of Karthe, a stretch of low stone huts, and here and there a larger storehouse or barn. The driver had stopped in front of a two-story wooden structure-wood seeming to Miss Temple to be an expensive commodity, given the total lack of trees-with a hanging painted sign, its image a flaming star pa.s.sing across a black sky.

"The inn," he muttered. In an uncharacteristic gesture of politeness, the driver climbed from his bench and helped first Eloise and then Miss Temple down from the cart. "I will settle the horse. I will stay at the livery, but return to take you to the morning train."

He paused and turned his slightly damp eyes toward Eloise.

"As to the price we had discussed..."

Though she had antic.i.p.ated (and looked forward to smashing) this stratagem for extracting more money from two ostensibly helpless women, Miss Temple barely marked what the man was attempting to say.

"We must discuss your suggestions between ourselves," she announced quite firmly, stopping the driver's narrative of desert in its tracks. Immediately she hooked her arm in Eloise's and pulled the woman a half turn so Miss Temple's mouth was pressed against her ear.

"It is the perfect opportunity to answer all of our questions! I will ascertain if any village horses have arrived, whether there have been any riders from the north, while you locate signs of any unexpected persons here at the inn! Also the Doctor and Chang-we will know they have traveled safely!"

"But-wait-Celeste-if they have left us-and they have-perhaps they have no wish to be found."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Miss Temple. "I will find you in our room!"

She pressed two coins into Eloise's hands-having taken a moment during the day to pull off her boot and ascertain their financial state-and then indicated with an extended arm that their driver ought to remount and proceed directly to the stable with her as a pa.s.senger. Neither Eloise nor the driver seemed particularly pleased, but neither could they find any persuasive reasons to protest. The driver helped her back into the cart and climbed into his seat. Miss Temple went so far as to wave as her companion receded into the dark.

THE STABLE was as modest as the rest of Karthe, making plain by the meager number of stalls exactly how few horses were owned in the environs. Miss Temple watched the driver arrange for his nag-an earnest, aging creature who would certainly p.r.i.c.k her heart if allowed to do so, thus her choice to ignore it utterly-before stepping herself into a sharp haggle with the groom, agreeing to cover the costs for both man and beast as a fair extension of their original bargain. Hoping for more but sensing the steel in her tone, the driver agreed-yet was more than a bit surprised when she followed along as the groom installed the horse and acquainted the driver with his place of rest. Miss Temple did so solely intent upon her investigation. It did not occur to her that she was seeing where the man would lay, as if in advance of some later a.s.signation-the idea was too absurd-until the flicking, curious glance of the groom to the driver and the driver, somewhat abashed, back to the groom, stopped her cold. She reddened with anger and waved brusquely at the stalls.

"As a livery this seems rather meager," she huffed. "I suppose you must depend on strangers for your pay-are we your only tenant?"

The groom grinned at what now seemed to be an inquiry about privacy.

AND IT was then, in the midst of her sneering exasperation at the foul minds of men in general that Miss Temple's thought was seized from within, over-borne for a desperately clotted instant with a swirl of memory from the blue gla.s.s book. As ever, these experiences-and her own unnatural partic.i.p.ation in them-were in that first moment irresistible. Set off by the smirking men, the details of the stable dredged into her memories like hooks, catching echoes of straw, horse stalls, leather, sweat, and musk. Miss Temple became in her flashing mind both man and woman-and indeed man and man-as each detail of an a.s.signation caught hold: her ripened lady's body, shoulders braced against a wall, pushing her hips back like a stretching cat... or feeling, as a boy, the rough imprint of straw on her knees, quivering at the difficult entry of the older boy behind... or her own hard, masculine fingers mauling the soft flesh of a farm girl, legs wrapped round his waist, pulling tight inside her, the fervid quickening... she bit her lip to draw blood and blinked.

The driver and the groom were staring at her. How much time had pa.s.sed?

"I ASK OF course because I will be staying at the inn," explained Miss Temple. "A lady is often well prepared to know who else may be in residence at such an establishment-whether to expect gentlemen, or figures of trade or unsavory adventurers, all of whom must in turn billet their mounts with you."

The groom opened his mouth, then shut it, his hand floating up to indicate the stalls. For the first time Miss Temple noticed the pallor of the young fellow's complexion. Was he ill? She cleared her throat importantly, rising up to her toes and peeking into a stall.

"I see we are not your only tenant after all-excellent. Are these animals locally owned?" The horse inside ignored her, snuffling at its feed. "Who in a mining town such as this would own a horse?"

"P-people need to ride," stammered the groom.

"Yes, but who could afford one?" asked Miss Temple.

"Foremen," offered her driver. "Or to let out to travelers."

Miss Temple could not imagine anyone traveling to Karthe for any reason at all. She peeked into the next stall. It was empty, but strewn with straw and droppings.

"This horse is gone," she called. "Is it let out, as he says, or did it belong to a traveler?" She turned to face the groom.

"T-traveler."

"And this traveler has gone?"

The groom's stretched throat bobbed nervously as he swallowed. Miss Temple could not prevent her mind, for it was now a trait she a.s.sociated with grooms in general, from drifting to an image of that bobbling throat slashed wide.

"One horse or two?"

"T-two." The single word emerged in parts, as if traversing an ill-swallowed bone. What was possibly making the fool so unsettled?

"And when? When did these two travelers leave? And who were they? Were they together?"

"I never saw them."

"Why not? Who did?"

"Willem. The morning boy-but-but he-he-"

"He what?"

"You should ask the others."

"What others?"

"If anyone's there."

"Where?"

"At the inn."

The driver laughed lewdly, as if even mentioning the inn was to conjure rooms and a.s.signations. Miss Temple brusquely pushed past both men to the tack room, where the driver was to sleep. The humble room was wholly unremarkable, as was the tattered straw pallet the man would use.

"A whole silver penny for this?" Miss Temple scoffed loudly. "It is not worth the half!"

"Beg pardon-"

"No doubt he is used to no better," she sneered. "Yet on principle- this pallet, for example..."

With a heave she lifted up one corner, wincing at the dust that rose to her face. Feeling ridiculous-why had she gone farther into the stable instead of just walking away?-she flung the pallet from her, flipping it over. Miss Temple looked down, turned back at the now-silent groom, and then down again. Seeped into the pallet's canvas cover was a brilliant blue stain the size of a tea saucer.

A FURTHER SEARCH before the gaping faces of her social inferiors revealed no more than the Jorgenses' cabin had disclosed after the single hair. Miss Temple strode back up the darkened lane to the inn, dis-missing any suggestion that she be accompanied by either man. What did it mean that the blue stain was positioned on the pallet precisely near a sleeper's head? Or that there were two horses from the north? Could this be what the Doctor had discovered-why he had so swiftly followed the Cardinal? But how could the two men have left her-both of them!-with such danger in the village, and only Eloise to protect her, or-as Miss Temple was already refiguring their likely dealings in her busy mind-for her to protect?

Miss Temple turned at a rustling noise. There was nothing. She looked at the tiny cottages, each showing a c.h.i.n.k of light beneath a bolted door or between closely drawn shutters...but one, just ahead to her left, showed no light at all, nor did a plumed shadow of smoke rise from its chimney. Miss Temple stared. The door was ajar. Some thing was wrong in Karthe... something had been wrong with the groom... she had found the blue stain...Miss Temple stepped quickly off the road. The door opened silently at a push and she went in.