CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Upon returning home, Iosef was relieved to find things in a state of peace. The lights were dimmed, and most of the servants had retired, following Iosef’s customary instructions. The footman was still up to meet him at the door, but otherwise things were quiet. That meant that whatever his earlier misgivings, Julius had either not elected to move against the household, or his ruffians had not yet arrived. The second possibility was unlikely. A sensible man would have attacked Iosef’s family at more or less the same time that they attacked him, and Iosef considered Julius a sensible man.

Sensible, that is, until he had mistakenly decided to murder one of the Living; though being mortal, he could hardly be faulted for his ignorance. It seemed that Mordechai truly had been the target, and there was no further cause for alarm.

“Good evening, Highness,” the footman said, taking Iosef’s hat and cane.

As Iosef’s suit still bore the knife holes from the fight, he chose not to remove his overcoat. Pravec surely noticed this, but he was a good servant and said nothing of it. As was customary with sojourning Shashavani, mortal servants, when they were necessary, were always selected for their ability to “forget” or “overlook” any eccentricities among their employers.

“And you, Pravec,” Iosef replied, heading for the stairs. “Where are the Princesses this evening?”

“I believe your sister is reading in the upstairs library, Highness,” Pravec answered. “The mistress of the house has gone out for the evening. She did not say where.”

Iosef froze for a moment. “Has gone out?” he asked. “Or is still out?”

Varanus had left to visit her wastrel son before Iosef made his visit to Mordechai’s bookstore. If she had not yet returned.…

“To my knowledge, she has not returned from her earlier outing, Highness. I could inquire of the other servants if you wish.”

Things began turning over in Iosef’s mind. A chaotic torrent of probabilities, possibilities, and unlikely events that might still come to pass twisted and mingled into endless lists that quickly ranked a series of outcomes until he finally fixed on the best course of action available to him.

“Pravec, is Mister Luka still awake?” he asked.

“Yes, Highness,” Pravec replied. “He is in the east drawing room.” Pravec coughed slightly. “Attending to his firearms. I served him some wine at his request only a quarter of an hour ago.”

“Excellent,” Iosef said. He reached out and retrieved his hat and cane. “Fetch him for me and instruct him to ready the carriage. I have some business to attend to.”

“At once, Highness,” Pravec said. He bowed his head and quickly hurried from the foyer.

Iosef heard someone approaching on the upstairs landing a few moments before Ekaterine appeared through the doorway. She looked down at him, appearing both surprised and pleased to see him.

“Oh! Lord Iosef,” she said in Svanish. It would not do for the servants to hear her addressing her alleged brother in unfamiliar terms. “I thought it would be the Doctor.”

“It seems that Varanus is still at large in the city,” Iosef answered. “But I am concerned for her safety. Where has she gone?”

“She had supper with Alistair…er…Friedrich,” Ekaterine told him. “And I believe she then intended to spend the evening with Count von Raabe.”

Iosef felt the muscles in his face tighten into an expression of displeasure that might almost have been noticeable to a casual viewer, such was the severity of his discontent. It was as he had feared. Varanus had gone to see her lover, the same man who might have tried to murder Iosef and might now try to murder her.

“Did I say something wrong, My Lord?” Ekaterine asked, quickly descending the stairs. She was very familiar with the enigmatic expressions of the Living, and of course she recognized Iosef’s distress.

“Men in the employ of Von Raabe attacked me and Herr Mordechai this evening,” Iosef said. He did not say that they were dead. He did not need to. “I do not know if I was the intended target, but if I was, Varanus may be in danger.”

Ekaterine grew pale and ran down the remaining steps.

“I am coming with you,” she announced. Only as an afterthought did she think to amend the statement, “With your permission, My Lord.”

“Of course,” Iosef said. Were their situations reversed, he would have demanded the same, and possibly without the decorum of asking permission afterward.

Ekaterine stopped at the bottom of the stairs as a thought came to her. “I should get a gun,” she said, spinning on her toes and making for the stairs again.

Iosef glanced toward the adjoining hallway as he heard and smelled Luka and Pravec approaching. As an afterthought, he grabbed Ekaterine by the arm to stop her from leaving, without bothering—or needing—to look toward her.

“That would be best,” he agreed, “but Luka has weapons aplenty for us to use.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ekaterine said quickly.

Luka arrived a few moments later, his moustache twitching, either from excitement at the prospect of some as yet unannounced adventure or out of irritation at being interrupted by one of the servants. The latter was most likely. He was coatless and his sleeves were rolled up. There was gun oil on his fingertips, and he carried a half-full glass of wine in one hand.

“What is it, Brother?” Luka asked Iosef, also speaking Svanish. “The man in the starched collar said it was urgent, but as usual he had nothing useful to tell me.”

“Thank you Pravec,” Iosef said to the footman. “You may retire.”

“Very good, Highness,” Pravec answered. “Shall I rouse the coachman about preparing the carriage?”

“No need. Luka will attend to it.”

“As you wish, Highness.”

When Pravec had left, Luka raised an eyebrow at Iosef and opened his mouth to speak.

“Why am I—”

“Julius von Raabe attempted to kill me tonight,” Iosef explained, unbuttoning his overcoat to show the knife wounds. Now that the servants were gone, there was no further need for concealment.

“What?” Luka exclaimed.

“Well, either myself or Mordechai,” Iosef amended, leading the way across the foyer in the direction of the attached carriage house. “But I understand that Varanus intended to visit Von Raabe this evening, so if I was the target, she may be in danger.”

“I most certainly was,” announced Varanus as she stormed into the foyer from the servants’ passage.

“Doctor!” Ekaterine exclaimed. She ran to Varanus and embraced her friend tightly. “I thought you might be dead!”

“I am perfectly fine,” Varanus said. There was a pause. The front of her dress was covered in blood. “Now,” she added. “I am perfectly fine now.”

“You have blood on your dress,” Iosef noted dryly.

“It’s mine,” Varanus answered. “Your shirt has holes in it.”

“I did not put them there,” Iosef said.

“What happened to you?” Varanus asked.

“Julius von Raabe attempted to murder me,” Iosef explained. “And you?”

“What a strange coincidence,” Varanus said. “Julius von Raabe attempted to murder me as well. And my son.”

Iosef did not comment on this last point. He had always regarded young Friedrich as something of an unfortunate distraction.

Varanus hesitated for a moment and added, “And on that note.…”

“Varanus…?” Iosef asked. “What have you done?”

“Alis…Friedrich and his friends had nowhere else to go,” Varanus told him. “Or rather, his friends had nowhere else to go, and he refused to leave them.”

“What?”

Varanus turned toward the passage and called out in German, “Come in!”

Iosef’s eyes narrowed as Varanus’s son entered the foyer, followed by a young man and woman. All of them were disheveled, exhausted, and frightened, and carrying heavy bags of luggage or medical equipment. To Iosef’s irritation, Friedrich smiled at the sight of him. For some reason, during their first meeting in London ten years ago, Friedrich had gotten it into his head that they were somehow friends. But then Friedrich’s expression turned to one of bewilderment. Iosef looked no older than he had at their previous meeting.

Before Friedrich could ask any annoying questions, the girl next to him caught sight of Ekaterine and gasped aloud, not quite with delight and not quite with relief. She dropped the bags she was carrying and threw herself into Ekaterine’s arms, clinging to her like a drowning woman would cling to driftwood.

“Muse!” she exclaimed.

Though confused, Ekaterine smiled and took it all in stride. “Hello Miss Chromoluminarist. There, there, you’re safe now.”

“I was afraid they had taken you too,” the girl rambled, clearly on the verge of losing her wits.

“Too?” Ekaterine asked.

Friedrich was the one who answered, as he stormed up to Iosef and Varanus:

“Stanislav and Erzsebet have been taken, and I mean to find them. We must do something immediately before those men get away!”

Iosef looked at Varanus and asked in Svanish, “What is he going on about?”

“Two of his friends were kidnapped by Von Raabe’s men,” Varanus explained. “I fear he is insistent about rescuing them.”

“Of course he is.” Iosef sighed. “To be honest, I am more than a little annoyed at my recent treatment by our once friend.”

“As am I,” Varanus agreed. From her tone, Iosef knew she understood what he was getting at, and he suspected her sentiments were much the same. “A shame, really. He was very pretty.”

“So I recall,” Iosef said. “And a good conversationalist. Very learned.”

Varanus nodded. “A pity, but certain things simply cannot stand.”

“Indeed.”

Luka looked at them, his eyes shifting from one to the other. “To be clear,” he said, “we are talking about hunting him down and brutally murdering him, yes?” He emptied his glass in one gulp. “Because if everyone here is alive and well and we are not plotting revenge, I have an elephant gun in need of cleaning and a bottle of wine that I would like to finish.”

“Brutal murder, yes,” Iosef told him. “Revenge aside, Von Raabe must surely have his reasons for trying to kill us.”

He paused, thinking better of mentioning Mordechai’s cultist theory in front of Ekaterine, who would surely become unnecessarily excited and insist on investigating it herself. He would inform Varanus and Luka privately once they had departed.

He continued, “If Julius learns that we are not dead, he will simply redouble his efforts until the deed is done. In addition to his original motives, he now has self-preservation to inspire him to deeds of violence. I would prefer to resolve that little problem now before he can recover and try again.”

“Agreed,” Varanus said. Her voice carried a hint of regret, which did not surprise Iosef. Julius had been a very pleasant diversion for her until now.

“I will ready the coach,” Luka said, excusing himself and making for the carriage house.

Iosef addressed Ekaterine: “Sister Ekaterine, would you be so good as to take Varanus’s…guests upstairs and secure them someplace quiet until we can decide what to do with them?”

“Of course!” Ekaterine replied. She detached one arm from the enthusiastic girl’s grasp and held it out to Friedrich and his other friend. She addressed them in German, “Welcome to our home. I understand you’ve all had a bit of an ordeal, so I want you to be sure to make yourselves comfortable during your stay.”

“Not too comfortable,” Iosef reminded her.

“Sufficiently comfortable,” Ekaterine said cheerfully. Taking Friedrich’s hand, she gently led the mortals up the stairs. “Now then, come along and I’ll get you some nice hot baths and a little sherry. Just the thing after whatever’s happened to you.”

Iosef turned to Varanus and resumed speaking in Svanish. “Julius is residing at Count von Steiersberg’s house in Prague, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Varanus said. “I know the way.”

Iosef had expected as much, but he did not consider it polite to say so.

“Good, then once Luka has readied the carriage, we will depart. With luck, we will find Julius and his associates and attend to the problem they have imposed upon us.” Iosef considered another thought. “Oh, and if your son’s friends are imprisoned there, I suppose we might rescue them too.”

“Magnanimous of us,” Varanus noted dryly. “But I suppose that would be best. Until they are found, Friedrich will insist on looking for them, and it may get him into trouble.”

A common enough occurrence in the best of circumstances, Iosef thought. But he wisely chose not to voice the comment.