Age Of Unreason - Newton's Cannon Part 33

"Adrienne, if you stay here... You are engaged to the king."

"I may have to marry him. I don't want to, Nicolas, but things have gone beyond

allowing me to choose what I want. Millions of lives are at stake."

"I don't understand."

"I will explain it to you later, Nicolas. Now I want you to kiss me again; hold me some

more. Give me some of your courage. And later..."

"I cannot cuckold the king," Nicolas breathed. "If you marry him, I will-"

At that moment came the faint sound of feet upon the gra.s.s, and a tall shadow moved

against the stars.

"How lovely to see you alive, Nicolas," Crecy's voice said. "I see you have Mademoiselle well in hand. But if the two of you don't mind, I think it would be best for us all if we returned to our rooms before dawn."

Nicolas reluctantly slipped off to where the Hundred Swiss had their lodging while Crecy and Adrienne entered by one of the few unguarded ways. Adrienne hid most of her torn gown with Crecy's shawl.

The guard at Adrienne's door started when he saw the two of them. "Miladies," he

gasped, "I did not-""You did not see us go out because we did not go out, Alexander," Crecy finished for him.

The guard's face waxed scarlet. "Whatever you wish," he mumbled.

"How gallant. I hope you were as thoughtful of Marie's needs."

The guard's expression promised that she had made her point clear.

Helen was asleep in a chair in the antechamber and roused muzzily when the door opened.

"Mademoiselle," she murmured.

"Helen, go to your chamber and sleep properly. My presence was again requested by

the king.""Yes, Mademoiselle."When they were alone, Crecy helped her undress."I am so tired." She sighed."The devil!" Crecy said, examining Adrienne's stockings. "No gra.s.s stains! Now there's a trick I've never learned."

Adrienne giggled. Her blood felt as if it were fizzing like champagne. Outside, the sky was already gray, the morning star a bright spark.

"We didn't do that," she said shyly. "He just kissed me."

"Didn't he even try?"

Adrienne laughed. "I suppose he did, but he was very polite. He let me have what I wanted and asked for nothing." She noticed Crecy's skeptical smile. "No, really," she went on. "I know it's stupid, Veronique. I've been with the king many times. But in this way, I'm still a virgin. Does that make any sense at all?"

Crecy's expression softened. "Yes, it makes sense. And if it is of any consequence, I still regard you as a virgin."

Adrienne studied Crecy carefully for any signs of mockery. "Thank you," she said.

"You are the only woman in Versailles who would thank me for such an accusation. Nevertheless, you are welcome. Now, not to say that your little encounter with Nicolas would not have made all of our efforts worthwhile, but did you-"

"Oh! I found it in his room, just as I thought I might."

"How did you know?"

"Do you remember at the party in Paris, the way Fatio went on about Newton? Once Fatio and Newton were very close. The impression I get of Sir Isaac is that he is a very cold man with few friends. But I think Fatio was his friend."

"Do you think they were lovers?"

Adrienne paused, embarra.s.sed that she had considered that already. "No. But Crecy, there is something to your question. These two men were once dear to each other, that is clear. Yet they have not spoken in twenty years. All this time, I think that fatio has been trying to win back Newton's heart, and I think that his love has turned to venom. He has created a weapon that will kill everyone in London, using Newton's own theories to do so."

"And that is why you suspected he has a way of communicating with Sir Isaac."

"Yes. He wants him to knew, Veronique. Maybe not until the comet is plummeting to Earth. Or maybe he means Sir Isaac to flee London and truly understand what he has wrought But a man like Fatio lives for the praise of others. For Fatio, this would have all been for naught if Newton were to die without knowing who had killed him."

"Andso?"

"And so I sent a message to Newton. Fatio will discover this when he tries to send his own, I think. Also, Veronique, something saw me in the laboratory."

Crecy narrowed her eyes. "Something'?"

"Yes, a sort of cloud with a red spot in the center, like an eye."

A tremor seemed to pa.s.s across Crecy's face, an unguarded instant of some emotion Adrienne had never seen her or anyone express. Then Crecy's face hardened to porcelain again, perfect and smooth. Had that been fear? Despair?

Whatever else it had been, it had been recognition.

"What? Veronique, what was it? You know"

Crecy shook her head, but Adrienne grabbed the other woman's wrist. "Veronique, there may be things you are sworn not to tell me. I accept that, even though I don't like it. You say that in the future we will be friends. But if you and Nicolas are not my friends now, then I have none. I know both of you have secrets from me. Both of you have some goal involving me of which I am unaware. I know this, and yet I need-" Tears threatened to clot her throat, but she swallowed them. As she continued, her tone remained as cool and controlled as Crecy's. "You must trust me. You have helped me solve one equation. Now help me solve the one in which I am a variable."

"There are still things I cannot tell you," Crecy cautioned. "But ask me now what you most want to know. Understand, it is not you I do not trust, Adrienne, but myself."

"Do not dare to play games, Veronique. I need answers now."

"It is not a game," Crecy replied. "Did someone see you? Besides your big red eye?"

"Gustavus might have."

"Gustavus? Have I met this man?"

"No. He is Fatio's a.s.sistant. He was not at the masque at the Palais Royal-or if he was, we did not see him."

"a.s.sistant. d.a.m.n. I should have known."

"Veronique-"

"Adrienne, what is your question?"

"I want to know what that thing was."Crecy looked away. "You have chosen the worst question," she said. "To see one of them is one thing. That they can forgive. But if one such as you knows about them-Adrienne, I already fear for your life. Do not make me triple my fear."

"Trust me," Adrienne said. "If doom finds me, let it not find me in ignorance."

Crecy reached to stroke Adrienne's chin. For a strange moment, she thought Crecy would kiss her, but she did not. "I will tell you what I know," she said. "But I promise you, you will not like it."

Vasilisa

Vasilisa's throaty accent at his shoulder was a shock, coming unannounced by footsteps. Ben jerked as if stung, involuntarily slamming his book in the process.

Throaty her accent might be, but her laughter was silver chimes. Ben blushed furiously as he turned to find her framed by the door to his room, beautiful as always. Today her dress was pure London, an azure skirt and loose, low-cut blouse that revealed the hollow beneath her throat and just a hint of...

"I didn't mean to frighten you," she explained.

"Ah," Ben replied, feeling stupid. "No, it's just that when I read-"

"The storm of words smothers all other sounds. Yes, I know that feeling well. What isthat you're reading?""Oh, it's nothing," Ben said quickly, but Vasilisa was already frowning a bit at the t.i.tle."The Daemonic.u.m?" she asked. "What are you doing reading such a silly book?""I got it from the society's library," he replied defensively."Well, it's still silly," Vasilisa maintained. "At least you'd best not let Colin or James-or especially Mr. Heath-see you with that."

"Why?"

"Demonology is a favorite topic with the Philosophical Society right now. It's all the

rage." She rolled her eyes and then showed him a sliver of smile. "I came to see if you might accompany me to a tavern for a bite to eat."

"What of Mr. Voltaire?"

Vasilisa blinked. "What about him?"

Ben suddenly felt that he had committed a colossal blunder. "Well, I don't know... I thought that you and he... ate... ah, dinner together."

Vasilisa burst out laughing, and Ben felt his face redden. "You mean you heard us in

my room the other night. Why, Benjamin, how rude!"Ben was certain that his head would simply catch fire and burn to a cinder. He wished it would, in fact "Well, no, I didn't hear anything, I just thought..."

"It's no matter, Benjamin. With just the two of us staying here, there can be few secrets of that sort between us. Monsieur Voltaire did 'dine' with me a night or two, but he and I are very... um, casual friends. I don't know where he is tonight. He's probably at one of those coffeehouses with his literary friends." She paused and a.s.sumed a bit more gravity. "What pa.s.sed between Voltaire and me-I don't mind you knowing, Ben, but it's not something I wish generally spoken of."

"Oh, yes, of course," Ben replied. "Discretion is my watchword."

Vasilisa's brow puckered in a tiny frown. "You don't think worse of me now, do you, Ben?"

Ben wasn't sure precisely what to think. He had never known a woman so bold about such things-except Sarah, who was a wh.o.r.e. To know a woman who sought s.e.x for the same reasons as a man-well, Robert had spoken of such things, but Ben had begun to despair of ever meeting such a woman.

All that went through his head, but what he said was, "Of course not, miss."

"Come, Ben, call me Vasilisa. And let's go to a tavern, for if you aren't hungry, I could devour a bear."

Once the roast was in front of him, Ben found that he did, indeed, have an appet.i.te. It might have been the walk that did it. Vasilisa wished to eat at a tavern in "the city," and so they had made their way up Fleet Street and across the ca.n.a.l. Then again, it might be the gla.s.s of dry Portuguese wine glowing in his belly, and the Russian's flattering attention.

Another thing he liked about Vasilisa: She didn't let food get in the way of conversation. To Ben, conversation was what was enjoyable about a meal-it was the only time you could get people still long enough to pursue a topic in any depth. And even though he was thousands of miles from the table he was brought up at, dining in a grand tavern in the heart of the City of Science with a woman from Russia, it reminded him of his childhood and of his father in the most pleasant way possible.

"I'm glad that you met him," Vasilisa was saying around mouthfuls of roast beef. "Even if you never meet him again, it is something to tell your children and their children about."

"Yes," Ben agreed. "I can tell them that I met Sir Isaac Newton after he became senile and mad."

"Who has more right to go mad?" Vasilisa asked. "Never has there been a more brilliant man. The memory of my own meeting with Newton-even given his state of mind-is something I will always cherish.

"Tell me why you were really reading that book, Ben," Vasilisa insisted, pouring them each another gla.s.s of wine and then signaling to the server. When he came she placed three shillings in his hand. "Another bottle of the Portuguese, please," she said. When the server was gone, she arched her brows at Ben. "Well?" she asked.

"You remember my story? The man Bracewell?"

"Yes. The one you believed to be a sorcerer."