Quintessence Sky (10 page)

"Morning? Look at me. Look at my hands. They
haven't stopped shaking. My horoscope
changed
in front of my
eyes. One moment, the lines were in one position, the next moment
they had moved. I'm afraid to go out and look at the stars, because
I don't know what I'll see. If you can explain what's happening,
take pity on me."

Barrosa glanced up and down the passage. "All
right. I can't explain all of it, but I can explain some. Tell no
one where we go or what you see."

Whitehall Palace was a labyrinth—hundreds of
sumptuous rooms that sprawled over acres of land in haphazard
arrangement. Secret passages and shortcuts abounded, and Ramos had
heard tales of plots and intrigues hatched in this royal warren.
After a dozen turns, he was lost, and completely reliant on Barrosa
to lead the way.

Barrosa opened a door to a cavernous library
still decorated in the Italian Renaissance style. Palace
renovations had begun under Mary's father, but had not yet reached
this far. Tall gilded mirrors faced ancient portraits over acres of
red carpet. On the ceiling, English kings of old in poses of regal
glory stretched out their arms to grateful masses, while the twin
cherubs Victory and Britannia looked on in approbation.

Barrosa crossed to an elaborately carved wall
and leaned his weight on a piece of molding, which rotated down
like a door handle. A portion of wall swung inward, mirror and all,
revealing a stairwell leading down. Ramos raised an eyebrow.
Barrosa beckoned.

Once inside, Barrosa pushed the secret door
shut, then led the way down the stairs. A light shone from
somewhere below, but Ramos couldn't identify it. It was clear and
white, not yellow or flickering like light from a candle or torch.
Like starlight.

When they rounded the corner, he could see
the source: an elegant glass ewer, made for water or wine, from
which a pure light poured as if a star was captured inside. Ramos
was so taken with the light that it was several moments before he
noticed the other marvels in the room.

It was a large cellar, with driven beams
between earthen walls, and it smelled dank. Three stout oak tables
were cluttered with books, glass retorts and spiraling alembics,
wooden boxes with bells on top, knives and basins, braziers, a
dozen odd structures of iron whose purpose Ramos couldn't guess,
and more gold than he had ever seen in his life. Gold nuggets, gold
bars, gold coins, gold crosses, gold rings, and odder still, gold
flowers, leaves, fruits, bones, and one tiny, intricately-fashioned
golden mouse, every hair individually carved. Ramos spun,
dumbstruck, and noticed diamonds, some as big as his fist,
scattered on the table or even the floor, as if someone had dropped
them in the dirt but hadn't bothered to pick them up. Did England
have such hidden wealth that jewels like this could be discarded
and forgotten?

"A year and a half ago," Barrosa said, "a
Spanish ship called the
San Salvador
was sent west by King
Philip in pursuit of ship full of Protestant heretics and
traitors."

Ramos peered into the ewer, and saw that the
light was produced by an ordinary worm crawling around the inside
surface of the glass. Ordinary, that is, except that its body shone
with a pure and beautiful light.

"A month ago, the
San Salvador
returned, with less than half its crew and none of the ship's
officers, nor the inquisitor who had been sent with them.

"My brother Diego was the inquisitor, wasn't
he?" Ramos said.

"Yes, that's right. I'm sorry. They claimed
to have found the heretics at an island called Horizon, at the edge
of the world, where the ocean flowed into the abyss. What you see
in this room is what they brought home on their ship."

So this was why the king had sent Diego so
far away. For gold and miracles. Ramos drifted between the tables,
trying to understand what he was seeing. A movement caught his eye,
and he squatted to peer in a wooden cage that had been blocked from
view before. Inside, a white-furred animal fixed him with startled
eyes. It was the size of a rabbit, but there the resemblance
stopped. Circling its narrow, naked head was a stiff frill of skin
with brilliant red and blue stripes. Its back feet were broad and
flat and supported the whole animal, unlike the front feet, which
were smaller and sharply clawed. It looked so ridiculous, it was
hard to believe it was real, not a stuffed circus sideshow with the
sewing thread showing through the seams.

"What is it?"

The creature, startled by the sound of his
voice, rose like a balloon to the top of its cage, where it bobbed,
defying gravity. Ramos gaped.

"We think it's a defense mechanism," Barrosa
said, clearly enjoying the effect this was having on Ramos. "It
can't hide from predators, not with that frill, so if it's
threatened, it just floats up into the sky, out of reach."

"But how?"

"That's what you're here to find out. How all
of this works. It's the real reason the king summoned you from
Spain."

Ramos stood, his knees cracking. "And what
does the king hope that I will find?" He was already yearning to
put his hands on these things, to examine them and test them and
tease out their secrets. There was so much to understand.

"That's no mystery. He wants weapons. Power
that he can use in the fight against the infidels and heretics.
That and a source of gold to finance his armies."

Ramos looked around him, dizzy. It seemed
Philip had already found a source of wealth. Though it was true, he
would need a lot more than this to conquer France, the German
heretics, and the Musselman infidels.

"The pouch Philip gave to Mary. It came from
the ship, too?"

It wasn't really a question, but Barrosa
confirmed with a nod.

"What was inside it?"

In answer, Barrosa reached to his own throat
and pulled the leather pouch out from under his rough habit. He
worked the mouth of the pouch open and tipped it so Ramos could see
a point of light, glowing from the black interior. He leaned
closer. It was a tiny sphere, like a pearl, that glowed with a
pure, white light like the one illuminating the room, only much
fainter. Barrosa took a dropper from a nearby table, sucked some
clear liquid into it, and deposited one drop onto the pearl in the
pouch. Instantly, the pearl's light increased.

"What did you put on it?"

"Salt water."

Ramos stared at the pearl, so ordinary a
shape, but so beyond anything he'd ever experienced. He felt shaky,
not just physically, but in a more central way. He knew how things
worked. He had studied the physical world, and anything not
explained there was in some way answered by the Bible or the
Church. But this . . .

The existence of strange creatures from
distant lands was no surprise; Aristotle had described such beasts,
as had Pliny. He had read of the camelopard, the rhinoceros, the
salamander that thrives in the midst of flames, the catoblepas that
kills with its eyes. No, what disturbed him was what seemed like
magic: light without fire, levitation, the horoscope altering
itself before his eyes. Barrosa had said the island sat at the edge
of the abyss. Was this black sorcery from the pit of Hell? Or was
it a miracle from God?

Ramos was reeling, but at the same time, the
gears of his mathematical mind were turning. It was a relatively
new idea, philosophically speaking, to consider secondary causes.
God was the primary cause for everything in creation, but Ramos, as
a scholar, wanted more. Yes, God made the dew form on the ground,
but it also formed because the water in the air condensed when the
surface cooled. Yes, flies were created by God, but they were also
created by rotting meat, as one could tell by leaving meat to rot
until the flies generated from its flesh. Many in the Church
thought it was blasphemy to think this way, but that's why the
Church needed reform, starting with the education of the clergy. It
was one of the principles that had drawn him to the Jesuit order in
the first place.

"So, that pearl," Ramos said. "What happened
when the king put it around the queen's neck?"

Barrosa, grinning, hopped up and down on the
foot that for so long had given him his limp. "The pearl cures
anyone it touches," he said. "Just wearing it around my neck makes
injuries heal instantly and keeps me in perfect health."

That could explain why the king, of all
Geminis, was unaffected by the madness. Ramos thought of Antonia.
Could this pearl heal madness after it had already begun? "How many
pearls are there?"

"Only four. Originally, Philip kept one for
himself and gave the other three to trusted men, educated
philosophers who would study them and report what they found."

"You are one of those, then. Who are the
other two?"

"Perez and Peinado."

"I remember them. The king chose well. They
are both wise and clever. Where are they now?"

Barrosa grimaced. "They're dead."

Dead. The word hung in the air. Men who were
impervious to injury and illness did not die of natural causes.

"I never said this job was safe," Barrosa
said. "Perez was killed by a creature that burst into flame,
immolating him before we could pull him free. The pearl didn't save
him. Peinado broke open a wooden box to see what was inside, and
fell into a hole in the air."

Ramos raised his eyebrows, though he could
tell his friend was in earnest.

"You'll believe me soon enough," Barrosa
said. "I was there. It was just a hole, black and empty and
devouring everything it touched. Look—" he pointed to a corner of
the room. "You can see what it did."

There was a circular indentation in the wall
and the floor, as if cut to make room for a large sphere. The end
of the table was similarly sheared away.

"So the king gave one of their two pearls to
the queen, to heal her and her unborn son?"

"That was Peinado's." Barrosa reached into
his pocket and pulled out another black pouch, this one seared and
twisted by fire. "I am to give Perez's to you."

Ramos accepted the pouch. The moment he did
so, he felt the weariness lift from his body. He felt stronger,
younger. A small cut on his hand closed up, and the pain he always
felt from a bad tooth at the back of his mouth vanished. He
uncinched the pouch and peered inside. The bright pearl lay nestled
in its black cavity. Ramos closed the pouch again and tucked it
under his shirt with the reverence he might have shown a piece of
the True Cross.

"Does this magic have a name?" he said.

Barrosa nodded. "It's called
quintessence."

The moment he left the cellar, Ramos went
straight to his apartments. He could feel his heart beating against
the pouch resting on his chest. He felt conspicuous, as if he had
stolen something precious and any moment he would be caught.

He found Antonia as he had left her, sitting
by the fire. He sent the nurse to wait outside; he had been charged
with secrecy, and couldn't risk her learning of the miraculous
things Barrosa had shown him. He and Antonia were alone.

Ramos held his breath and tied the pouch
around her neck. He felt the weariness of the years settle back on
his own shoulders. Surely this would work. Of all the Geminis he
knew, only King Philip had escaped the madness brought by the nova,
and only Philip had been wearing a quintessence pearl around his
neck. It must be the reason he was preserved.

"Can you hear me, Antonia?"

The apartments were dimly lit. A fire burned
low in the hearth, and shadows flickered over her beautiful
face.

"Antonia? How do you feel?"

She opened her mouth. His heart surged; he
was certain she was about to say his name, to speak sense
again.

"I was always afraid of my father," she said.
"He was rarely home, but when he was, I hid in my room."

Ramos waved his hand in front of her eyes. No
response. "Can you hear me?" he said.

"That's sad. I was lucky enough to be taken
in by someone who loved me. My uncle." Antonia started to cry. "I
miss him so much."

Ramos held on to her and cried himself, tears
of frustration and guilt. If only he had been there that night,
instead of participating in an inquisition. It was foolish to think
he could have done anything to stop it, but a part of Ramos blamed
himself. If he had stayed by her side, then maybe God would not
have brought this misery on her.

She spoke as if she were living in a dream.
As if there were other people in her head with whom she held
conversations. But there was no intelligence in her gaze, no body
language that tried to be understood. It was like her mind was
walled off in another place, trapped in her imagination.

He took the pouch back again. Her only
reaction was a slight drooping of her shoulders and a slackening of
her features. She continued to talk to herself, half conversations
that no one ever answered. He returned the pouch to his own neck,
feeling the corresponding sense of health and well-being, which
only heightened his shame. But he couldn't leave the pearl here
with her, in the hopes that it would in some way ease her plight.
It was not his to bestow. He was tasked with learning its
mysteries, and he would not cross the king's will.