The Queen's Necklace (44 page)

He shook his head slowly. “Not a thing, I swear to you. Not a
blessed thing in a long, long time. I wish you wouldn't listen to what others say of me. If you want to know something, you have only to ask. I may be a scoundrel—a rogue—anything you like, but I would never lie to you.”

Lili cringed inwardly. There
was
a liar in this room, and she knew who it was, even if he did not. She swallowed hard, tried to relax, but found that she could not.

And as Will bent over to kiss her gently on the mouth, as she felt herself go suddenly stiff and cold under the covers, Lili knew that it was going to be another dissatisfying night for both of them.

In the weeks that followed, Lili visited the Volary often. At Dionee's invitation, she attended two card-playing evenings, and a third devoted to dancing, held in the Music Room under the oppressive gold ceiling and the great chandelier. On each of these occasions, it seemed to Lili that Will was less occupied attending the queen than he was with some of the women attending her.

Almost on sight, Lili conceived an aversion to a certain Lady Steerpike and a Maria Ascham, as both of these ladies were far too caressing,
much
too familiar in their manner toward Wilrowan. Letitia Steerpike was handsome and hard-looking, her lips very red, her eyes very bright, and her bosom very bare in her low-cut gowns. As for Maria Ascham, she was the woman that Will had “kidnapped” all those years ago.

Thanks to Blaise, who danced with Lili twice, the informal ball was not a complete disaster, but her one dance with Will was silent and hostile, simply because she had seen him in whispered conversation with Letitia Steerpike only moments before.

Why did he invite me to Hawkesbridge only to humiliate me?
Lili asked herself, all through the dance. She felt hot and miserable in her splendid new gown. The dress—made of peacock satin with three rows of lace—had made her feel elegant when she first put it on, but
how had she imagined she could ever compete with the far more mature, and certainly more blatant, charms of a Letty Steerpike?

That the Steerpike creature's interest in Will was considerably more marked than his in her was not much comfort. Even Wilrowan would not be so shameless as to flaunt his mistress in the presence of his wife.

He is such an accomplished flirt!
thought Lili, as they walked through the complicated figures of the dance. A slight squeeze when their hands touched, a light brushing of fingers as he passed on her left—oh, he knew all the tricks, that much was certain. Had she not been so well-acquainted with her wayward husband, she might have been fooled into thinking that it actually
meant
something.

But if Lili was learning to dread Dionee's evenings, she did look forward to her afternoon visits with the king, where the mix of books and tea, chess and conversation, was exactly to her taste.

One afternoon, during a visit to his library, he offered to show her some of the rarer items inside the Treasure Room. Lili felt a stir of excitement; the chance she had been waiting for had finally arrived. It was only with difficulty that she hid her elation.

Leaving the building through an arched doorway, Lili and the king followed a meandering stone path across a vivid green lawn. Somewhere in the distance, a bird or a monkey shrieked, a great cat roared. Passing down an avenue of budding fruit trees, Rodaric led the way up a short flight of mossy brick steps, through another door, and into the dim, chilly vastness that was the museum wing.

Moving from one drafty chamber to the next, he paused briefly in a long torchlit gallery to show Lili a collection of full-length portraits done in oils. “My earliest ancestors,” said Rodaric, with a motion of his hand. “I should say: the earliest kings and queens of Mountfalcon. One knows so little of one's family history before the Fall of the Empire, but I believe we had some employment in the southern tin mines.”

Yet these were no portraits of men and women contemplating their humble origins. There were dignified men in pouter-pigeon doublets stuffed with bombast; more dashing ancestors decked out in love-locks, slashes and ribbons; amorous young women in bare-shouldered wasp-waisted velvet gowns—and one small grey-eyed boy, closely resembling Rodaric himself, though by the cut of his coat and the length of his loose flowing hair, he had probably been dust for centuries.

Then it was out of the gallery and into a long corridor, where the king proceeded to point out some of the choicer curiosities for which the Volary was famous: some newts, frogs, lizards, and serpents put up in pickle; a corn-mill in a bottle, that moved without wind, water, or clockwork; the skeleton of a whale; a dried cockatrice and a necklace of tears; and an immense great-grandfather clock, towering (so Lili discovered by craning her neck) a full two stories high inside a stairwell.

Ascending those very same stairs, Lili and the king finally reached the corridor just outside the Treasure Room. Two guards in maroon-and-gold stood at stiff attention before a massive door; at Rodaric's approach, they saluted smartly and stepped aside.

The king reached inside a pocket in his waistcoat and drew out a large and ornate silver key, which he proceeded to fit into the lock. As the heavy oak door with its five bars of iron swung slowly open, Rodaric sent one of the guards in to light the candles, then he beckoned to Lili to follow him in.

Once inside, Lili glanced around her in wonder and delight. There was so much color, so much beauty—it was like entering a private universe, a miniature cosmos, exquisitely painted.

The walls were all covered with allegorical frescoes, depicting the four seasons—the elements—and the arts and sciences. Ancient gods and goddesses sported overhead, in a cloudless sky of purest blue, while the golden chariots of the sun, the moon, and the thirteen
planets chased each other in endless circles across the painted firmament. At Lili's feet, a beautifully inlaid mosaic tile floor depicted the depths of the ocean, with glowing fishes, colorful seaweeds, and deep-sea monsters swimming about with their mouths wide open.

Walking a few steps ahead of her, Rodaric touched an unseen spring on one of the frescoed wall panels. A door slid open, exposing the secret cabinet behind. “As you will see,” said the king, moving on to another place and opening up a second section of wall, “the objects inside each represent absolute mastery of the various arts: metallurgy, lapidary, clockwork, bookbinding—” He went on to open another, and yet another hidden cupboard.

On velvet cushions inside these cabinets the Royal Treasures fairly dazzled Lili's eye, with the gleam of silver and gold, the flash and glitter of precious stones.

Rodaric watched her reaction with a faint smile. “Yes, it is a monstrous display of vanity and avarice. You must remember, however, that my family has been collecting these things for fifteen hundred years.”

“But I think it's perfectly beautiful,” murmured Lili, impressed in spite of herself, as much by the craftsmanship as by the costly materials. “Though perhaps I
would
be embarrassed if it was all mine.”

“Fortunately, very little of it actually
is
mine, which removes some of the embarrassment. I hold most of this in trust for my heirs, and for the people of Mountfalcon.”

Continuing around the room, Lili felt a tingle across her skin. It was the result of the currents of force drawn to this place over many years by the presence of the Goblin engine. Now that the Chaos Machine was gone, the effect would eventually dissipate as the magnetic rays were attracted elsewhere, but for now it was still very strong, at least to someone as sensitive as she was.

“The Orb of Mountfalcon,” said the king, opening one of the cabinets
and indicating a golden globe of the earth, about the size of an apple. Tiny gemstones sparkled at the poles and around the equator.

Though Lili knew that the Orb was only a decoy, she could hardly say so. Believing her interest genuine, Rodaric took out the globe and opened it up, displaying the intricate clockwork mechanism inside. As she watched the small wheels spin, the various movements of the delicate machinery, Lili thought it was all so cunningly made, it was a great pity that it
did
nothing.

On the same shelf where the Orb had been resting, there was an empty cushion. When Lili bent down to peer at the red velvet pillow intently, the tingling sensation was stronger than ever. “And what was here?”

“Nothing of great importance,” said Rodaric with a shrug. Only because she knew the truth and was watching him did Lili see that sudden tightening of muscles which belied his casual reply. “A little jeweled orrery.”

So this was the very spot where the Chaos Machine had rested. Around Lili, the magnetic forces seemed to coalesce like a tiny thunderstorm.

Concentrating her will, she forced all of the air out of her lungs in one long breath. The room began to grow grey, the walls to close rapidly in around her. As her knees buckled, she heard the king say her name, felt him reach out and grasp her by the waist.

Then the world went black, and Lili went limp in Rodaric's arms.

When Lili came back to herself, she was seated on a low marble bench in the corridor outside the Treasure Room. The king was kneeling at her feet and vigorously chafing her wrists, while the two guards hovered behind him.

As her eyes fluttered open, Rodaric gave an audible sigh of relief. He turned to the guards and waved them away. “For the love of Heaven, one of you go at once and fetch Captain Blackheart.”

The taller of the two guards saluted and hurried off; the other took up his position again by the door, leaving Lili alone with the king at the other end of the corridor.

“I beg your pardon. I can't think what made me do anything quite so—foolish.”

“Not at all,” said Rodaric, taking her wrist and stroking it more gently this time. “I am the one who should apologize. The room needs airing. I should never have taken you inside.”

Lili flushed guiltily. Her swoon had been authentic enough, but it had not been the fault of the stale air. It was the sort of trick she despised, feigning the sort of feminine weakness she hated even more, but it had been necessary in order to initiate that brief yet intimate contact with the king. During the moment before she lost consciousness completely, when she was in his arms at the heart of the magnetic storm, something had passed between them, unnoticed by him but not by her.

Images had crowded into her mind:
the Chaos Machine and its delicate internal workings, the dizzying labyrinthine complexity of the Mountfalcon mines
. For the moment, it was all a muddle; there had been so much received in a single instant, so much to remember, so much to be mentally sorted out, when she had the leisure and privacy to do so. But Lili knew that when she had done so, she would know the Goblin device every bit as well as Rodaric knew it himself. More than that, she was now attuned to the exact vibration that would announce the presence of the Chaos Machine—if and when she ever came within its orbit of influence.

“I am feeling much better now.”

She tried to rise to her feet, but found it impossible, so long as Rodaric continued to hold her gently in place. “You will stay where you are until I tell you otherwise,” he insisted. “I see that you have regained your usual charming color, and that is a very good sign, but until—”

He stopped speaking, when a familiar impatient step sounded in the corridor behind him. As Rodaric turned, Lili looked up at the same time, and saw Will just arriving—and not best pleased, it would seem, by the sight of his wife all but reclining in the king's arms.

“Wilrowan,” Rodaric said calmly. “You arrive in good time. Lili has been a little unwell. I think that you should see her back home.”

Wilrowan glared at them both. His nostrils flared and his mouth compressed in a thin, hard line. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “I think you must be right, Your Majesty. It is past time that I took my wife home.”

Luden, Rijxland—Three Months Earlier

21 Niviôse, 6538

L
ord Polyphant was entertaining visitors, when Lucius Guilian suddenly appeared in the ambassador's salon, as though he had been impelled by the force of a cannon.

Outside, it was a white winter afternoon. Inside, Lord Polyphant and his guests had gathered in a room with two large fireplaces, where they were blunting their sharp winter appetites with caviar, plovers' eggs, and champagne. But conversations were beginning to lag, people were starting to make their excuses and drift away, when Luke's precipitous entrance provided a much needed spark of interest.

Lord Polyphant rose slowly from his seat by one of the fires, smiling his false sweet smile. “Mr. Guilian, what a pleasure to see you. I trust you are acquainted with—” he turned and gestured toward the various gentlemen who made up a group around him “—Lord Catts, Lord Hoodj, Mr. Varian Dou, and of course, Lord Flinx.”

Luke, who had entered with such energy, went suddenly very still. It was—as one of those present would later describe it—like watching ice freeze. His back stiffened, his jaw clenched so tightly the teeth rattled, his usually expressive dark eyes turned as cold and as hard as stones. It almost seemed as though something would shatter,
as very slowly, and very stiffly, Luke made the very smallest of bows in the direction of Lord Flinx. “I don't believe I've had the—pleasure.”

The king's nephew looked nothing like rumor had painted him. In that gaudy assembly—among those improbable wigs, those exaggerated coattails, hoops, and stilt-heeled slippers—he was as soberly and modestly dressed as a Pantheist clergyman. A middle-aged man, with light hair unpowdered and neatly clubbed at the back, he had a soft air of gentility utterly at odds with his vile reputation.

“Yet I feel as though I know you, Mr. Guilian. My little niece is full of your praises. She is always repeating the clever things that her new friend ‘Lucius' says and does.”