"I do not pity him. Doctor Svenson-"

"He struck me as-O I don't know-rather weedy-"

"He was injured!"

"Not like Arthur. Arthur was a strapping man, with very broad shoulders. Even if you grant your Doctor his uniform-though it was extremely shabby-you cannot allow his shoulders are anywhere near as broad. What's more, your fellow's hair was unpleasantly fair-not like Arthur with his very thick whiskers. I do not believe this Doctor possessed any whiskers at all. You approved of Arthur's shoulders and his whiskers yourself, didn't you, Eloise? I am sure you said something very much like that-perhaps you did not know that I could hear you. I made a point to hear everything, you know."

"Yes, Charlotte."

"Arthur. My husband promised to save me, but he was always promising things he didn't understand."

"I am sorry, Charlotte."

"Everyone is always sorry for everything."

"Not Francis," said Eloise.

To this, Charlotte Trapping was silent.

"THE TEA is hot," said the man, quietly, as if he had been waiting for some time to speak. Both women ignored him.

Chang eased two fingers to the oilcloth and edged it aside with glacial patience. Eloise sat on a broken-backed wood chair. She still wore her black dress, but had added a dark shawl. Her hair had become curled with the moisture of the woods and rough travel. There was a lost look in her eyes Chang had not, even in their determined struggles aboard the airship, seen before. The veil of kindness and care that had been so customary had gone, and a frank, bitter clarity had taken its place.

To her right, on a rotting upholstered bench, the still-steaming mug of tea held tight between his palms, sat Robert Vandaariff, hat-less, in a black topcoat with silk lapels and the muddy shoes and trouser cuffs of a sheep farmer. Like a child for whom an absent parent bears responsibility, the mindless magnate's hair was uncombed and his cravat had gone askew.

Charlotte Trapping sat with her back to Chang, in what was obviously the only whole chair in the ruined house. The widow's hair was pale with a touch of red (he would have taken it to be a henna wash had he not known her brother), silhouetted against the light of the glowing fire. She wore a well-cut jacket of blue wool over a warm straight dress. Next to her chair was a leather travel case, a hat, and long gloves, all spelling out that Mrs. Trapping had attired herself for travel and difficulty. A patterned velvet clutch bag had been looped around her wrist and hung heavily. When Mrs. Trapping raised her mug of tea, the bag clacked as if it were stuffed with Chinese ivory tiles. Near to Vandaariff lay another awkward bundle, wrapped in a blanket and bound with twine.

"SO YOU have seen Francis," remarked Charlotte Trapping.

"I have," replied Eloise. "Have you seen your brother Henry?"

Mrs. Trapping waved her hand toward Vandaariff with a sniff. "The world will lose no sleep over Henry," she said, and then too lightly, "I did not know if Francis was alive."

Eloise did not respond, and once more Chang noted the dull hardness of her gaze. Mrs. Trapping must have noticed it too, for she muttered with disapproval.

"I thought you liked Francis."

"Charlotte... your brother Francis... has changed."

"But that is where you are ignorant, Eloise. Francis has always changed-it is why he is the opposite of Henry! You would not have known him before he went to school, or again before each of his celebrated travels. Every time he returned he appeared entirely new- and each time he made new friends with no inkling how strange or dissipated he had become. It was as if portions of his character kept vanishing one after another-given over in exchange for... well... something. And what did he have to show for it-for all his boasting? Land? A t.i.tle? I will tell you, Eloise, and it is Francis all over: nothing but more wicked stories... more cruel tricks."

"But this is different, Charlotte. It is physical. It is monstrous."

"Really, Eloise-"

"Francis is beyond whims and cruelties-it is the blue gla.s.s!"

Mrs. Trapping pursed her lips and took an unsatisfying sip of tea. "I am heartily sick of this blue gla.s.s. Is it true that especially nasty man is dead?"

"The Comte? Yes."

"And who killed him?"

"Cardinal Chang."

Mrs. Trapping snorted. "Are you sure you remember correctly? Are you sure it was not my brother?"

"Your brother and the Comte were fast allies!"

"I very much doubt it." Mrs. Trapping smirked. "Francis is not one to keep promises. He was never the Comte's true friend! And who can blame him? I never liked the way that man smelt. Just like a Russian-or how one imagines a Russian-"

"Charlotte-"

"If you take that tone with me, Mrs. Dujong, I will forbid you shelter in even this crude ruin! We find ourselves at liberty-and you find yourself rescued-precisely because I have learned all there is to know about this blue gla.s.s, about this supposedly alchemical woman-and these apparently all-powerful books. Not that I have seen any of them, you understand, but I have done my share of work. You will not perhaps credit that as children I always got the better of Francis playing chess, and always got the better of Henry too-whenever he would play me, which was very rarely, because he hated to lose! Do you think I spent my time at those dreadful Harschmort galas worrying about my evening gown? I watched Henry, and I studied Robert Vandaariff. Look at him now, Eloise! Smarter than Henry, smarter even than Francis, though of course without Francis' appet.i.tes."

"I saw Francis shot in the chest. Yet he lives."

Mrs. Trapping stopped talking.

"I thought him dead," Eloise said. "We all did-and drowned beneath the sea. But then there were signs, Charlotte, murders-innocent people, terrible attacks made to look like an animal. Then I saw him myself. He has poisoned himself to stay alive, and the only man who could cure him is dead. It is all hopeless. You must abandon this business. You must go home. You have other responsibilities. Francesca needs you, and Charles, and Ronald. They have no one else."

Mrs. Trapping remained silent.

"I am sorry," continued Eloise. "I know how... how... how-"

"Who shot him?"

Eloise's face fell. The woman had not heard a word.

"Charlotte-"

"Who shot my brother Francis?"

"It was Doctor Svenson," said Eloise, heavily.

Mrs. Trapping stood up and emptied the whole of her tea mug into Eloise's face.

TAKING THIS as the best opportunity he might find, Cardinal Chang took the sill with both hands and vaulted through the window, shooting past the oilcloth to land in a crouch. Charlotte Trapping wheeled to face him, quite obviously wishing she had not just emptied her cup on such a lesser target. Vandaariff stood as well, but this was in mere imitation of the woman, for the man did nothing other than stare as Chang rose, the razor slipped from his pocket.

"It is Cardinal Chang," said Eloise quickly, her face wet, taking a warning step toward Mrs. Trapping.

"Is he your lover as well?"

"Charlotte, come away from the window."

Eloise gently reached both hands for Mrs. Trapping's arm, but at her touch the woman sharply shrugged herself free.

"So you are the one who killed that odious Comte," Charlotte Trapping cried to Chang, her eyes bright and glittering. "I daresay it has saved me the effort, and yet the timing has proven most unfortunate. Ought I to be frightened by your fearsome appearance? I am not. What do you intend with that implement?" She nodded at the razor.

Chang looked at his hand as if he had not known what it held. "This? I suppose I hold it out of instinct-like an animal. Or because I do not choose to share the fate of Doctor Svenson." Chang kicked Mrs. Trapping's chair across the room with enough force to make both women flinch. "You will sit down until I tell you otherwise."

The women did so, Eloise moving hastily to right the chair and brush off the seat. Chang watched with disgust, wondering what could possibly drive her to abandon the Doctor, who had saved her life, in favor of an employer. He turned to Vandaariff, still standing with an expression of blank concern.

"Sit down, Lord Robert."

Vandaariff did. Chang plucked the tea mug from the man's grasp and drank it down, then handed the mug back with a nod of thanks.

"I think you are an animal-" began Charlotte Trapping.

"Be quiet," growled Chang, and turned to Eloise. "Where is Miss Temple?"

"How on earth are you here?"

"Dry your face and answer my question."

"Eloise, do not tell this man one thing."

Chang shot out his hand and slashed Mrs. Trapping's jacket- trusting the razor would not cut through the whalebone in her corset- clean across her torso, causing the blue fabric to hang, the gash made before the woman could even squeak.

"Do not speak again until I am asking questions of you. I promise, we will talk, for I have spoken to your brother. Eloise?"

Eloise looked into Chang's black lenses for the first time since his entry, her gaze grim and beaten.

"I left Miss Temple at the town of Karthe. We became separated. We had quarreled. The Contessa was there, and Francis Xonck. If you have truly seen him-"

"I have seen him."

"I believe he took me for the Contessa. He attacked me, with a sliver of gla.s.s."

"Eloise," muttered Charlotte Trapping, "really."

But Eloise had already pried free the third b.u.t.ton down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and pulled the fabric open with her hands. Chang saw the bandage, and its coin-sized stain of blood.

"The Doctor found me-"

"What was Svenson doing in Karthe?"

"I have no idea. He left the fishing village not long after you yourself... we had quarreled-"

"Eloise quarrels with everyone," whispered Mrs. Trapping.

"When I woke I was on the train. The Doctor removed the gla.s.s. He saved my life."

"Again," said Chang.

"Again," echoed Eloise, miserably.

"I found him rather weedy," whispered Mrs. Trapping.

"Charlotte, please!" cried Eloise, her voice a whisper.

"Francis Xonck was also on that train," said Chang.

Mrs. Trapping looked up.

"And the Contessa," sighed Eloise, "hiding in a freight car. When the train stopped at Parchfeldt, she fled and the Doctor and I went to find her. The last we saw, Francis was bent double on the trackside, sick as a sailor. The Contessa escaped into the park. Abelard insisted that we follow."

"And what of you? Did you want to follow?"

"I believe I more wanted to die," sighed Eloise, and she covered her face with both hands.

CHANG LOOKED down at the unhappy Eloise, whose dismay only inflamed his desire to cuff her face. Instead, he stepped to the bound bundle. He flicked the razor at the blanket and then ripped enough of an opening to see the vivid colors of the painted canvas beneath it. Charlotte Trapping had gone to Harschmort, burned the laboratory, taken the paintings, and captured Robert Vandaariff all by herself. He had taken her for a society ninny. He glanced up and met her fierce, determined gaze-the green eyes unpleasantly like her brother's- and recalled 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 dest.i.tute 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."