"Why should they?" Xonck muttered hoa.r.s.ely.

"Does not your Process ensure loyalty? Slavish devotion?"

"Don't be a fool, the Process harnesses ambition. That is the risk of ruling by fear. As long as they know disobedience will be crushed, our adherents remain fiercely loyal. If, however-" and here Xonck chuckled too giddily "-the masters lose their hold, or become so ill-mannered as to die, these restraints vanish. We are sunk to their level- or they raised to ours-all the more, since knowledge itself is the most leveled field of all."

"Because the Comte is dead?"

"Very bad form, in my own opinion." Xonck thrashed his head- as if struggling with an unseen hand around his neck-and then gasped aloud.

"But Cardinal, you forget my family business-I am not such a dilettante as I may appear. Perhaps for all your reputation for learning, you are..."

Xonck nudged his plastered arm at the destruction around them. To his chagrin, Chang registered for the first time the striations of force amidst the fire... clear signs of an initial and ma.s.sive point of ignition.

"An explosive sh.e.l.l."

"Perhaps even two," replied Xonck. "Detonated after the Comte's machinery had been removed. Not one of his infernal machines is here. Just as in his laboratory-"

"You're wrong."

"I am not! Smell the cordite within the ash!"

"I do not mean here." Chang could not smell anything and was annoyed to have missed so obvious a clue. "In the laboratory there was no detonation. That was a fire, started with the Comte's chemicals. Though again his things-or at least the paintings-had been removed."

"Perhaps they did not care to set off ordnance indoors."

"This destruction is not the act of someone who cares."

Xonck smiled. "So... we have two sources of fire. Then there must also be two perpetrators, for anyone with access to our munitions has access to quant.i.ties. Neither deed can be laid to our surviving gla.s.s creature, for she quite convincingly asked me these very same questions in the garden."

"Then who has done it?"

"Lord knows. Where are your own earnest compatriots?"

"I have no idea. Dead?"

"How cold you are, Cardinal."

"I thought you were an ardent admirer of the Contessa."

"Well, you know, who isn't?"

"You tried to kill her before my eyes."

"Again, who doesn't-eventually? Did you not yourself, on several occasions?"

"Actually, I never did," replied Chang, surprised that this was actually true. "I should be happy to do so now."

"How lovely to have things in common."

Xonck looked up at the lip of the crater. There were no gunshots.

"The Contessa took your little trunk, didn't she?" Chang called.

Xonck winced at some internal pain-the blue gla.s.s ripping at the flesh it was frozen against-and merely grunted his a.s.sent.

"What was inside it?" asked Chang. "The Comte's device?"

Xonck grunted again at a still sharper pain and then, when the pain did not give way, kicked his boot at the ground, m.u.f.fling a louder cry through force of will, breathing through his nose like a bull. When the attack at last subsided, the man's face was even more spent, the red around his eyes deepened to scarlet and his teeth the color-whether this was the enamel itself or the slick discharge, Chang could not tell-of lapis lazuli stones. Strands of blue stretched between his lips with each huffing breath.

"It is true," Xonck whispered at last. "I must recover it... as I must recover my book... as I must locate the requisite power... and the requisite vessel... all true... and all unlikely. I am not a fool, Chang. If I hate the proud virtue of a real fool, like-I lose the name-your Captain of Dragoons, men the likes of whom I would happily shoot every day before breakfast... if I hate such virtue it is because... for all my rank and privilege, I have been defined by exclusion. I have studied the limits of what human beings can endure-a study undertaken without scruple, indeed, well aware that such pursuits might consume my own soul away... like Brasilan fish strip the carca.s.s of a bull-have you been to Brasil?"

Chang snorted.

"A pity," sniffed Xonck. "It is a crucible-destruction of men, of men's souls, on such a scale... an idiot can see what drives his enemies, only a rare man perceives what drives himself. But when men and women are bought and sold so openly... one is oneself devalued... yet made wise. In our civilized society we actually compete for the privilege of being owned by the very foulest of masters. As I am from a family of the foul, I know this to be true."

"I thought you were describing how you were doomed," observed Chang dryly.

"Of course." Xonck laughed. "If only one could put such a thing in a play, its audience must be huge! 'Francis Xonck to Perish: Extra Performances Added!'"

He shook his head and coughed, but almost immediately Chang could see the man had become rueful again, resistance to self-pity never being-in Chang's observation-a priority of the rich.

"But perhaps I should have died with the rest and been swept beneath the sea. I could have lain still and allowed the water to rise over my face with a hideous serenity. But I do not possess that sort of mind... and so, before you and I make our compact of survival, Cardinal-as it seems we must-I will tell you... a little story."

Xonck wiped his face. When he spoke again his voice was calm.

THREE CHILDREN, the oldest by enough years to seem more an uncle, never one with whom the younger two shared interests or exchanged secrets-a figure who from his own youth had been occupied with making business out of air-that is, quite literally, from conversation, from cunning speeches both made and overheard... for the father of all three-a sort of king, or more exactly a sort of magician-had left behind a secret, a treasure horde. It was the oldest child's skill to inflame this treasure into an empire, where the secret was sold and resold and refined and resold again, innumerable times, until he became more like a king than their father ever could have hoped, and all around him kings in truth were made to kneel.

"The second and third children were nearly twins, growing up in the shadow not of their father but of their fearsome elder sibling. They had their own portion of inheritance, but not-for he would not allow it-any role in the kingdom. Their lives became nothing but appet.i.te and ease, and no one paid either any mind, save to condemn their sloth, or blanch with disapproval at what new tastes they found. But each possessed an innate inheritance from their father, like the oldest's skill with commerce. The middle child glimpsed the father's secret itself, though she was not schooled, because she was a girl. The youngest saw only the father's lack of fear..."

Xonck paused. "Or perhaps it was not from the father at all, but the mother... she who had been slain by his birth, giving him life no matter that she would die."

Xonck spat and went on more heartily. "And for his empire the oldest son received an idiot wife, compliant wh.o.r.es, and children he could barely name. For her seclusion, the second child received a husband she despised, a life of craven envy, and children she could barely see without tears. For his ferocity, the third received no wife at all, unceasing hunger, and no child to ever call his own...

"Not much of a story at all, of course," added Xonck, after a moment of silence, "but it is a degraded plane, and one grows attached to one's fancies."

He spun his face from Chang, c.o.c.ked his head, and sniffed several times like an animal.

"It is a draft of air," Xonck whispered, already pawing at the wreckage. "A tunnel blocked with debris. The stones are too large-I cannot shift them alone!"

Against all his best instincts, Chang scrambled across the open blast s.p.a.ce into Xonck's shelter. Working together they cleared the aperture: one of the large metal ducts, the sort through which Chang had descended from the garden urn into the boiler room.

"That there is air shows the way is still open," said Xonck.

"It can only lead to the lower levels of the house. All those going up have been destroyed."

Xonck smiled. "Which means it may be crawled. If I go first, I am of course vulnerable to a knife from behind. If I go second, I may as easily be ambushed at the end."

"As may I."

"Indeed. I offer you the choice."

"What if I let you depart on your own and attempt to make my own way up the walls?"

"You cannot. There is no other way."

Chang was silent, disliking that Xonck was right, disliking their very proximity.

"Then I will follow," he said.

Xonck wormed into the shaft, his arms ahead of his body, and disappeared. Chang dove in afterward. The pipe was greasy with soot, just wide enough to squirm through, and pitch black. Chang's attention was rooted to the scuffles and grunts of Xonck's progress. When ever Xonck paused, he readied himself for a trick, but each time the man simply pushed ahead into the darkness.

Then Xonck stopped, and Chang heard him whisper.

"There is a turn. It goes down-you will have to keep hold of my feet, for if the way is blocked, I will not be able to climb backwards."

Without waiting for Chang's answer-not that Chang had intended to make one-Xonck slithered ahead, positioning himself at the turn. Chang crawled up and took hold of Xonck's ankles with both hands. He did not know how this might prove a trap, but he nevertheless held himself ready to release the man at a moment's notice.

Xonck dropped into the new pa.s.sage and Chang felt the man's weight hit his grip. He heard Xonck's knuckles knocking the metal.

"Let me go," called Xonck. "There is a hatch just ahead."

With misgivings, Chang released his hold. Xonck slid away. Be fore following, Chang drew Lieutenant Sapp's razor. The pipe was suddenly pierced by a beam of light. Xonck had found a hatch after all. Chang lowered his body into the turn, holding himself in place with his legs. Xonck opened the hatch all the way and began to climb out. Chang slid down in a rush and shot out his left hand, catching Xonck's boot before it disappeared. Xonck paused, taken by surprise, and Chang flipped open the razor, ready to strike if Xonck attempted to pull free. But Xonck did not move his leg, nor did Chang creep forward. To move farther would place Chang's head in the open s.p.a.ce of the hatchway, where Xonck might bring the hammer of his plaster cast-or a knife, or a shard of gla.s.s-down onto Chang's skull.

"An interesting situation," chuckled Xonck. "You cannot come through without risking my attack... and yet if I attempt to free myself, no doubt you will cut the cords at the back of my knee."

"It seems a sensible precaution."

"Wholly unnecessary, I a.s.sure you. Come out, Cardinal-I shall do nothing to prevent it."

"Permit me to doubt your word."

"Do you think I fear you?" Xonck rasped wickedly. "Do you think I need you at a disadvantage? You have survived me several times on luck alone-we both know it. Climb out and meet me... the real question is whether you have the courage."

"On the contrary," sneered Chang, "I am too in awe of your prowess."

Xonck sucked at a blister on his lip. Chang saw a flicker of blue through his cloak-Xonck's free hand held one of the blue gla.s.s spikes. If he released Xonck's leg, nothing prevented Xonck from hacking away at Chang as he tried to crawl out, utterly unable to defend himself.

"Withdraw your leg slowly," said Chang. "If you try anything at all I will do my best to sever your knee."

Xonck removed his hand from his cloak, revealing the gla.s.s dagger.

"If you do that I will stab you through."

"And you will still bleed to death in this stinking hole," said Chang. "The choice is now yours."

"It is no choice at all," huffed Xonck, and he quite deliberately raised both arms, and then very slowly pulled his leg free of the pipe, allowing Chang, the razor pressed close, to extricate first his arm and then his upper torso from the hatch.

"Drop your weapon," said Chang.

"As you will."

Xonck released the gla.s.s dagger. Chang's eyes flicked toward its impact-he wanted to be sure it shattered and could not be s.n.a.t.c.hed up again-and Xonck swept his plastered arm at Chang's wrist and knocked the razor away from his knee. Chang swore, his legs still caught in the pipe. Xonck clawed his free hand at Chang's face and Chang wrenched his left forearm up to block it. Exchanging blows like a pair of boxers, Chang cut the razor at Xonck and dredged a thin line across the plaster.

Xonck swept up a leather fire bucket full of sand and swung it at Chang's body like a heavy mace. Chang bent to his right and the bucket only jarred his shoulder and showered them both with sand. Xonck dropped the bucket and reached into his cloak for more gla.s.s. Chang curled his legs beneath him and shot forward, barking both ankles hard on the metal hatch rim but trapping Xonck's arm against his body and bringing him down. Xonck thrashed to his feet, eyes wild, a new gla.s.s dagger finally ready. Chang rolled to his knees, his back to the cold iron furnace, waiting for the attack...

But Xonck's eyes had not followed his movement-the man still stared, blue saliva hanging off his chin, at the floor where Chang had been. Xonck snorted in a panic, then wrenched his face to Chang's. With a swirl of his black cloak, Xonck was gone through the door.

IF XONCK'S illness had the best of him, then now was the time to cut I him down. Chang dashed after him into the curving stone corridor and toward the staircase door. But Xonck had shot the lock-there was blue fluid on the k.n.o.b-and it took four strong kicks to break it wide. The circular stairs offered too many doors to either side for Chang to blunder past safely, and his caution allowed Xonck, wherever he had vanished, to slip free.

It was always annoying when, having decided to kill, the work could not be done, but perhaps it did not matter. Chang knew the exact task to justify his journey to Harschmort-long overdue, and his alone.

At the main level Chang entered a long formal ante-room, whose far end held an archway hung with a heavy red curtain, like a private proscenium. Chang knew it was far more likely to hide servants than a stage, and so he sidled quietly to the curtain's edge. He heard voices on the other side and the clinking of cutlery, and saw that the thick carpet of the ante-room continued on to the far side... was it a private dining chamber? Who could have the leisure for a meal at a time like this?

He came through the curtain with a sudden rush. Three men in black smocks and knee-breeches looked up with surprise from their work, laying meat and cheese and pickled vegetables in piles onto vast silver platters. Chang struck the nearest with the heel of his fist hard across the ear, knocking the man into a line of wooden chairs. The second-gripping a cleaver half-deep into a wheel of thick-rinded cheese-he kicked without ceremony in the stomach and then hurled by his smock onto the groaning carca.s.s of the first. The third, younger than the other two, stood gaping with his hands full of translucent onions, like the disembodied eyes of drowned sailors. Chang took him by the throat.

"Where is she? Be quick about it!"

"Who?"

Chang hurled him into the wall-the onions slathered away on impact-and hauled him up again, this time placing the razor flat against the man's cheek.

"The Ministry officials-where are they?"

Chang spun to the second man, the cleaver wrested from the wheel, foolish-or angry-enough to attack. Chang's razor flashed forward. The man yanked back his arm, too late, his face going white as he looked down, for the slice across his fingers was so clean that the blood took a good two seconds to flow-but then the flow would not stop. The servant dropped the cleaver and held the wound tightly with his other hand, the blood seeping through those fingers as well. Chang yanked his captive peremptorily toward the kitchens.

"You are making their food-where is it to go?"

"The green drawing room-just outside-"

"What would they be doing in the kitchens if you're preparing their food here?"

"I don't know-they made us leave!"

"Where are their other prisoners?"

"What prisoners?"

"Where are the dragoons?"

"Outside-something happened in the garden."

Chang shoved him back where they had come.

"Tell no one, or I will return to cut your throat."

THE NEXT red curtain led to a formal saloon, with a mirrored wall and a ma.s.sive sideboard lined with bottles. Its tables lay littered with papers, gla.s.ses, cigar b.u.t.ts, and at least one cardboard box of carbine cartridges. Chang crossed the carpet in silence to another curtain-he imagined how, with all the curtains drawn, the whole suite of connecting rooms would appear as one ma.s.sive reception hall-and heard two men speaking low... guards?

"Allow me... your nose..."