The Oracle Glass Part 70

"You know as well as I do, she will be second to no one-now she feels her time has come. She will open the gates of h.e.l.l and rule chaos alone, as queen."

La Trianon sighed. "And she was always such a practical person-it's this mysticism thing. It gave her vision, you know. Who else could have dared dream that our profession could become so great? She created an empire with her dreams-but now..."

"Now they will destroy her," I finished.

"More to the point, they will destroy us," said La Trianon, getting up briskly from the table. "If the police ever get hold of her ledgers, that's the end of me-and you, too, little marquise. I'm going to have a talk with her. There are safer ways of making money than feeding La Montespan's hopeless dreams of revenge."

"But is there any better way of feeding Madame's itch for glory? That's your problem." Glory, yes, I thought. But not just glory. This was La Voisin's revenge, a revenge so formless, black, and absolute that it could pull down the world, dragging us all with her into death. As I got up to leave, I felt my mind working like an overwound clock. Somehow, I had to get hold of my contract and the P volume of the Shadow Queen's ledgers. Without them, no matter where I fled or how I changed my name and appearance, I might someday go to the door to find Desgrez standing there. Where couldn't he follow me? Only the New World, I sighed to myself. But then I thought of music, the theatre, my books. How could I ever live among savages, even if I had a taste for it? Ah, me, better the savages that I know than the ones I don't. One thing was sure: I couldn't tell Florent. The knowledge of what was in the ledgers would make the magic leave his eyes. He'd see me as I really was. If I told him about the ledgers and what was in them, he'd abandon me.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

"Pretty bird! Clever Lorito! Awk!" Grandmother's parrot paced up and down, inspecting himself in his New Year's gift: a little mirror attached to the end of his perch. Trust d'Urbec to know what a bird would like for a present. He had come back so laden with good things from his latest trip abroad that even Astaroth had vanished for several days after Sylvie had tried on the pretty new cap with silk ribbons on it.

"Florent, since you've returned, that bird has become as vain as a peac.o.c.k! Aren't you even ashamed, for having corrupted him so?"

"Vain bird. Pretty bird," announced the parrot, preening before the mirror.

Still in his dressing gown, with his feet propped up in front of him on a footstool, d'Urbec set down his cup on the table beside him and looked up at the parrot with a self-satisfied, proprietary air. "Parrots and lapdogs-they can't resist me. Only cats and I have difficulties. Don't you find that significant?"

"Do you mean that's why you and Madame can't stand each other? I think it's more than cats. And you still haven't told me why she had you thrown out of her house right in front of Madame de Poulaillon."

"I was hoping you wouldn't hear about it. That shows I should never underestimate you."

"I want to know, Florent. I need to know just in case I get any strange gifts. Perfumed gloves, for example, or a bottle of wine. And you might have to send your shirts to another laundress."

"Oh, don't worry so. I just showed her my hand, is all. I tried to buy out your contract. You'd think she'd want to sell it; after all, the value has declined recently. But then, she does blame me. She refused, and there was quite a scene. She warned me I'd better not be entertaining any notion of marrying you. But I talked legalities until my mission was accomplished. She got the contract out to show me that it was legitimate. And I found out where it was kept."

"Florent," I said, shocked, "for G.o.d's sake, don't try to break in to get it-it's worth your life. It's bad enough that she thinks we are having an affair."

"Sylvie, more chocolate please-the first was excellent." D'Urbec gave the order nonchalantly and, as she left the room, signaled caution. "Now," he said quietly, "you will have to take it on faith that I can outwit the Shadow Queen. If I can fool Desgrez and those police hounds and get you beyond the ramparts of Paris, I can certainly retrieve a few papers."

"Florent, I beg you, don't do rash things-it's not important."

"On the contrary, it's quite important-and you know it. It is the only written connection between you and La Voisin. The rest is all rumor. Half of Paris has been to her house, and even La Reynie will not track down half of Paris. I want the contract, and I want the ledger I saw on the shelf above it-the one labeled P." I was horrified. How could he love me anymore if he saw what was in it?

"You know about the ledger?" I gasped.

"It's my business to know things that might lead to losing you forever, Genevieve. I have waited too long to lose everything."

"But see here; it can't be urgent. La Bosse and La Vigoreux were taken over a month ago, and they haven't even bothered Madame, or any of hers. It's like when they took the Chevalier de Vanens for false coining two years ago. They found he was a poisoner, but it went no further. The cloud pa.s.ses, Florent. It would be better to sell my paintings than waste time trying to get your hands on a book she won't give up." Florent nodded, and I thought he'd forgotten.

February pa.s.sed, and even though the first winds of March were raw, one could feel a hint of spring in the air. Not long, not long, said the wind, and soon there will be flowers, and fish will be banished to its proper place of exile on the menu. Florent was progressing handsomely with the sale of my paintings, which I did regret, and with the disposal of a rather large and heavy sideboard which had no more purpose since it no longer contained silver plate.

Late one morning, when my only client had departed, I noticed Sylvie dusting and humming. It was a salutary change. Astaroth didn't like dusting because he refused to bend over.

"Sylvie, you are very cheerful this morning. Where's Astaroth?"

"Astaroth? Oh, he's gone off to visit his family."

"Demons have families?"

"Of course. If you were possessed by one, you'd know. Astaroth has dozens of wives, and even more mistresses, to say nothing of children, cousins, brothers, uncles, and aunts, and, of course, he has a very important position to maintain-he is master of absolute legions of devils. You can't keep up all that without work, you know-even if he does prefer Paris."

"Everyone sensible prefers Paris," I answered. "Have you got the black taffeta laid out? This afternoon I go for a private reading at the Hotel Soissons."

"It's a sign of spring-everyone will be wanting a new lover and a reading. You'll grow prosperous again. You'd be prosperous now if you'd quit supporting that professional gambler-not, mind you, that I don't like him. But really! Your painting that you liked so well! You've become a regular love slave. If Madame weren't so busy, she'd have words."

"Well, I shall have words if you don't answer the door. Mustapha! Where is he when I need him?" I turned back from the kitchen door to see that Sylvie had shown in a pair of sober-looking citizens, lawyers, by the look of their long gowns and heavy wigs. One of them had his back to me; he was evidently inspecting the furniture. The other was running his fingers along the faded spot where the painting had hung. He turned his hand to inspect his fingertips for dust.

"There seems to have been a painting removed from this spot. Evidently, you were informed just in time, Maitre Pasquier." At the sound of the name, my blood froze. The second man turned from his appraisal of the furniture to look at me. After only five years, he looked much older. His face was fatter, his eyes quite dead with righteousness, like two turnips that have been too long in winter storage. His complexion reminded me of those bloated pink worms that one finds drowned above ground after a rainstorm. Evidently his profession had agreed with him.

"Well, well, it is etienne, the bloodsucker. To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Brother? Have you run through your profits from your sale of our sister?" I enjoyed watching the rage rise in him.

"At least she didn't deny her ident.i.ty," said his companion, as he restrained him.

"You always had a shrewish tongue, Sister. I'd recognize you by that even if no other part of you were the same. Enforced silence in a solitary cell in a convent will do your soul good. Doubtless you will even come in time to thank me for saving you from a life so disgraceful."

"Thank you? For what? For interrupting my business and inspecting my house like a pair of p.a.w.nbrokers?" Now it was etienne's turn to restrain his companion.

Behind me, I could hear Sylvie whisper, "Mustapha, run to the art gallery on the Pont Notre-Dame and get Monsieur d'Urbec. Tell him there's terrible trouble."

"Leave her alone. We've proved that our informant was right. She can't go anywhere. And soon enough, I'll be able to conceal this...this horrible disgrace to the family honor."

I took a step forward and stared into his corrupt face like a basilisk. He took a step back. "Who informed you I was here?" I said, in a cold voice.

"I have my means. Informants among the police. La Reynie protects you, but La Reynie has enemies." Yes, I thought. Enemies among the great, who don't want him discovering their corrupt activities with the occultists of the city. Someone on their side with access to police records had wanted me quietly put away to cut off La Reynie's investigation. They must have pa.s.sed my name to my brother. "And of what did these informers inform you? That Mademoiselle Pasquier lived in the rue Chariot, that she was rich, and you owed it to your honor to seize her goods and lock her up in a convent?"

"I was informed that my runaway sister had disgraced the family name by setting herself up as a fortune-teller and was now engaged in a ruinous affair with a gambler."

"And spending everything before you could get your hands on it, eh? What unseemly haste, Brother."

"Your insults only dig your own grave, Sister." He folded his arms and stared at me arrogantly.

"And my marriage means nothing either, I suppose?" He drew back. Sylvie seemed shocked. Her eyes got a strange, faraway, calculating look in them.

"Marriage? You lie. Who would have a disgraceful monster like you?" Safe in my fashionable gown and costly lace, I laughed at him.

"Why, any number of fortune hunters would. Didn't your informant tell you that? I think he owes you a refund on your bribe. Poor Brother, you came at the end of the line. You're too late. My fortune has escaped you. And now you insult a married woman in her own home." I sat down in my own crimson-brocade cushioned armchair, barricaded behind the big gilded desk that held my water vase in the dragon stand.

"You little shrew," he cried, approaching the desk, "you'd say anything just to put me off, wouldn't you? But you can't deceive me. I'll believe you the day I see the marriage contract, and no sooner. I'll get an order to have you seized, and as for that adventurer, I'll have him arrested-" He had begun to shout, as if loudness could make up for lack of logic. Gilles had moved to stand behind them at the foot of the staircase, his immense arms folded, in case of trouble.

"And interfere with the sanct.i.ty of the family so beloved by our monarch?" I answered, my voice dripping sarcasm. "Perhaps you do not know; I have read for him personally..." At the very mention of the King, the second lawyer got a strange, deferential look in his eyes, but nothing stopped etienne, so fiercely did he desire the furniture he had been stroking. "Be careful, you hypocrite," I hissed. "If you continue to bother me, there will be questions raised about your own conduct that you will not enjoy answering-"

But both men turned suddenly at the sound of the front door opening and heavy boots at the entrance. etienne's companion pulled at his sleeve, trying to get him to leave.