Kingdom of Ash and Soot

by C. S. Johnson

“How did you know I was a lady?” I asked, scooting forward on my seat. “I’m dressed like a servant.”

  In front of me, Ferdy shrugged. “Everyone lies about something. Once you figure that out, it’s easier to figure people out.”

  “Oh.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling like lightning across stormy clouds. “Don’t worry, Ella. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  I was about to assure him I did not need him to keep any of my secrets when he added, “Clavan’s place is just up ahead. I’ll pull over here. Does your grandmother want to stay with the cart?”

  “Grandmother?” I suddenly realized he meant Tulia. I was surprised to see the amused look on her face, but I was glad she was not insulted. “Oh. She’s not my grandmother. She’s my companion. And she is going to come with me.”

  “My apologies.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

  My stomach suddenly twisted into knots. I jumped down on my own, brushing passed him, ducking my face away from his. I told myself that if he was going to call me by half of my given name, he could not expect me to take his gestures of gallantry seriously. But, as I watched him help Tulia down in the same manner of a gentleman attending to a proper lady, I felt a layer of shame settle on me.

  Tulia handed me The Prelude firmly; it was her way of reminding me to be brave and kind, as my mother would have wanted, and that sometimes it required more bravery to be kind.

  “Clavan works here,” Ferdy said, pointing to the sign above us. “The Cabal.”

  “The Cabal?”

  Ferdy nodded. “He enjoys the absurd and the eccentric, like all the elites. But he is a good man, and you’ll see what I mean, the more you get to know him.”

  Ferdy led us into the tavern, and at once a new world reached out to welcome me. It was dark inside, with homey colors and elegant fixtures; the air clashed with a battle of smells and moods, with food cooking and foreign spices, the taste of fine alcohol, and the distinct cloud of tobacco smoke—all of it converged together to give a strange and immersive sense of otherworldliness.

  As Ferdy led me to the bar, a dark and rich oak, polished to a shine, I felt my eyes wander around, trying to take in the small tables and plush chairs, the silk wallpaper, and the quiet rattling of newspapers.

  “Josef Clavan, you old kook,” Ferdy called. “Where are you? In the kitchen, busy under your wife’s skirts, looking for something to do?”

  I blushed at his insolence and intimate joking. I felt Tulia twitch with silent laughter beside me.

  “If you’re distracting Helen from her cooking, your customers are going to be upset.”

  Seconds after Ferdy’s taunting, a door opened and a man walked out. The lights of the tavern glistened on his bald head and twinkled off the small, round glasses on his slightly crooked nose. He rolled up his shirtsleeves as he walked over to us. “Well, if it isn’t Ferdy,” he said. “Should I even count you as a customer, since you have yet to settle your tab?”

  “You know my word is as good as gold,” Ferdy said with a friendly chortle. “And speaking of my tab, I’m going to help take care of it with your help today.”

  Clavan cocked an eyebrow and gave Ferdy a smirk. “Is that so? Enlighten me, you knucklehead.”

  “Let me start by introducing you to Ella here.” Ferdy reached out and took my arm, pulling me forward. “She’s a lady I rescued earlier today, when a thief was after her books.”

  “Well then, it sounds like she’s had a hard day.” Clavan took my hand in his over the bar and bowed over it. “Lady Ella, is it?” he asked. “I can’t imagine which was worse for you—dealing with the thief or getting stuck with this rogue as your hero.” He gestured toward Ferdy, and I could not help but laugh.

  “I’m not done deciding,” I replied, and Clavan nodded approvingly.

  “Smart lady, Ferdy,” he said. “You’re already not worthy of her.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Ferdy agreed. “Which is why I can at least buy her a drink. Put it on my tab, won’t you? And one for her companion, too.”

  “I would say it’s only appropriate.” Clavan hurried to get us our drinks. “Perhaps too appropriate.”

  “And yet, not proper at all,” I muttered, before Tulia nudged me.

  Clavan handed me a small glass of beer, and it struck me just how inappropriate this whole scene was. I was a lady, I was not supposed to sup with my vendors, I was not supposed to allow myself to be led around by a street urchin, and I was not supposed to visit any taverns.

  I was not supposed to chase down any thieves, either.

  For all Ferdy captivated me, I finally allowed myself to see the absurdity of my situation with a smile.

  Tulia put her hand on my arm, giving me a reassuring pat. I was not comforted as Clavan handed her a shot of French whiskey, telling her he knew a connoisseur when he saw one, but I decided I could relax.

  Not senselessly, though. I put my glass down after a small sip, just in case. I recalled Ferdy saying that Clavan had a drinking problem—and indeed, he probably did, working in an establishment such as his, with temptation all around. I was not going to lose my wits as Ferdy attempted to coax Clavan free of his.

  If Ferdy was actually going to do that at all. I was already starting to see Ferdy joked about any number of things, and it was hard to tell what he was serious about and what he was not. His irreverence was as dizzying as it was fascinating.

  “Where’s Jarl?” Ferdy asked, looking around. “I was hoping to see him today. I found a new pipe merchant he might like, one that trades with a plantation in San Salvador.”

  “Jarl’s working, since he has a steady job, unlike you,” Clavan said, sitting down across a table from us.

  “Only because that was your requirement for him.”

  “Well, if he’s going to marry my Faye, and Faye says he is, and since she and her mother are their usual, insistent selves on the matter, he has to keep a job. I won’t have him standing out on the streets, waving a sign around, asking for a new job every other day.”

  “That means you’re allowing some poor businessman to take the risk and employ him, though.”

  “Is that why you have yet to get a job and keep it?”

  As Clavan and Ferdy talked and laughed together, I tightened my grip on The Prelude. Was this really worth the trouble?

  Before I could wonder too long, Ferdy said my name, and I became the focus of the conversation.

  “We’re boring Ella with our discussion,” Ferdy said. “And since it was hard enough to get her to come here, let’s talk business, Clavan.”

  Clavan gave me a smile—a genuine one, not the smirk he had given to Ferdy. “Well, Lady Ella, if I did not know Ferdy here as well as I did, I would wonder what kind of woman would associate herself with him. But I’m sure I can help you free yourself from him if needed.”

  I eyed Ferdy carefully. “Well, I’ll be sure to hold you to that then, Mr. Clavan.”

  He chuckled. “Ferdy mentioned books earlier. I assume he’s brought you to me in order to see if I am interested?”

  “I gather that is the reason. He said you collect rare books, as my father did before he died. This is the latest book in his collection I’ve been ordered to sell.” I carefully reached out and handed him the copy of The Prelude.

  He shifted his glasses up to the bald crown of his head as he studied it. “Beautiful etching,” he observed, and I decided I already liked him.

  As if Ferdy read my mind, he nodded. “See, Ella? I told you Clavan was a better buyer than Wickward.”

  “Wickward?” Clavan huffed. “I’m surprised that ancient blowhard is still in business, considering how well he treats his customers. Not to mention his books.”

  “I admire any man who has the courage to make his love of writing and books into a business,” I said softly, thinking of my own dreams of Liberté, the small bookshop Ben and I wanted to open once we made enough money to escape from Cecilia. “Even Wickward.”


  “True enough,” Ferdy declared. “What else would the alcoholics and addicts do to relieve themselves from the stress of their addiction, if not write? It’s best that we keep them in business, so Clavan can stay here in business, too.”

  Clavan put his glasses back down on his nose. “You’re in a rare mood today, Ferdy. I see Lady Ella is acting as a tonic for your own addiction to trouble.”

  “A tonic to which I might well find myself newly addicted,” Ferdy agreed, and I blushed. He glanced over at me, suddenly thoughtful and sincere, as he added, “If for no other reason than she’s too easy to tease.”

  I decided to ignore him. He was unsettling me, and I did not like it. Or at least, I did not like that I liked it so much.

  “Well, Mr. Clavan, what do you think of the book?” I asked, shifting my focus back to sales.

  “I’d love to add it to my collection. And as I’m partial to Wordsworth, I’ll even settle Ferdy’s account here at the bar as his finder’s fee.”

  “Much obliged, my good man,” Ferdy cheered, lifting his cup in celebration. His eyes met mine over the rim of his glass. “And my good lady, too.”

  Moments later, Clavan handed me a small pouch of koruna, and upon feeling the weight, I felt much better about my decision to follow Ferdy to the Cabal.

  “Thank you, Mr. Clavan,” I said. “I hope next time I will be able to bring you another work you will like.”

  “I do not merely like Wordsworth. His work is among the most prized in my collection. His wisdom and insight are too keen to miss, for all the poetry he hides even in his prose.” He glanced over at me. “Have you read his work?”

  “Some,” I said. “More of his poetry than his prose.”

  “There’s magic to be had in his poetry,” Clavan said. “But there is more freedom in his prose.”

  I saw the reverence he held for the book and its writer, and smiled. Táta would be happy with my choice of buyer. And Cecilia would be happy with the money, even if it was from a Jew.

  “Then I will have to read his other work,” I replied, and Clavan’s eyes twinkled warmly at me.

  “You long to be free?” he asked, and it was almost as if he had spoken into my soul.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “From what, if I might ask?”

  “My stepmother would be a good start,” I admitted, half-watching as Ferdy chatted away at Tulia, trying to figure out some of her silent signals. “She is the one making me sell my father’s books in the first place.”

  “I wish you luck in that regard,” Clavan said. “I know the pain that comes with dealing with a tyrant, especially one who is a parent. But freedom is found in truth and the struggle for it, and if you are as determined as you seem, I believe you will find it one day.”

  “Thank you,” I said, touched and humbled. Clavan had a way of speaking that seemed to release calmness and hope into the world.

  “You’re welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Ella. Take care—especially if you’re going to go around with this schlemiel.” He nodded toward Ferdy, and I laughed again.

  “There are far worse than me running around Prague.” Ferdy grinned. “And you know it, Clavan.”

  “Speaking of which, did you hear anything new about the Artha case? Eliezer sent me a message asking for more details.”

  Behind me, Tulia went still. I caught her concern and quickly leaned in closer.

  Ferdy sighed. “A runner saw him leaving the Church of Our Lady of the Snows after taking confession. He was stabbed by a man wearing a servant’s coat as he was leaving and then left for dead.”

  Dr. Artha was murdered? My eyes, wide with shock, met Tulia’s. She did not seem surprised at all to hear the news.

  “Hmm. That doesn’t give a thief a lot of time to ask for money.” Clavan frowned. “Anything else?”

  “I’ve talked to a few sources, but nothing else odd or suspicious,” Ferdy said, his voice grim. “The former Minister-President blames the Jews for his brother’s death, but the king’s guard suspects the Nationalists.”

  “You are talking about the politician who was buried today, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “My apologies, ladies,” Clavan said. “I forgot it is hardly proper conversation.”

  I waved my hand, brushing it aside, knowing Tulia would appreciate the chance to hear more. “No, no. I am interested in hearing about what happened. What can you tell me?”

  Clavan and Ferdy exchanged a quick glance, before Clavan shrugged. “Sigmund Artha was a medical consultant for the king before his brother promoted him to a political advisor. He and I were friends, since we shared several interests. He sent a message to me a few days ago, declining his weekly invitation to the Cabal. He mentioned he had reason to believe he was being followed. He was killed only a day later.”

  “This is not entirely unexpected, unfortunately,” Ferdy said. “Several politicians in Prague have been threatened of late. Even Dr. Artha’s brother received a threat, which is rumored to be the real reason he stepped down from his position as Minister-President. There have been two murders like his in the last several months, where it appears to be a hasty mugging or a gruesome accident, and the Jews have been blamed. Others have died, too, but under less unusual circumstances.”

  “Less unusual circumstances that seem much odder when considered who gains from their death, anyway,” Clavan murmured thoughtfully.

  “That sounds terrible,” I said, suddenly very glad I was a servant in my own home, rather than one to the lords of Bohemia. As much as Cecilia could rail and wail, I doubted she would ever try to kill me.

  God forbid she would have to do her own laundry or hire someone else to do it for her.

  “It is terrible.” Ferdy gestured toward the Cabal. “Eliezer, our other friend, has been gathering information on the cases. If the murderer is Jewish, he wants the Jews to see to it that this person is caught and tried. But so far, we have not found any solid leads.”

  Clavan sighed. “When something like this happens, the Jews need to be the ones to take care of it, or our silence will be seen as support.”

  “Why would a Jew kill Dr. Artha?” I asked. “Was it because he was Catholic?”

  “Jews and Catholics do have a terrible history. However, Sigmund was good friends with me and Eliezer. That is why others, like his brother, condemn us in this matter,” Clavan said with a shrug. “Sigmund also worked with Eliezer’s wife, who is a midwife, several times. He was her source for a lot of her herbs and medicinal supplies.”

  “That is hardly fair for the Minister-President to blame the Jews.”

  “Many things in life are not fair,” Clavan reminded me. “With increased tensions between the German Diet and the Bohemian Diet, many prefer it that the Jews are to blame for things like this. I am not surprised to hear that the king’s guard actually suspects the Bohemian Nationalists.”

  “It is a sad story all around,” Ferdy said. “The runner said Dr. Artha died calling for Father Novak, one of the priests at the church.”

  I thought of the rosary beads Dr. Artha had kept on his bag. “I’m sure he had enough patients who requested the same thing.”

  Beside me, Tulia was rigid with muted anger. I pressed against her, offering a small gesture of comfort while we said our farewells.

  Clavan saw us out, inviting us to come again as he gave us a kind smile and a small wave, before disappearing behind his doorway.

  As we made our way to the carriage, Ferdy grinned. “Well, that was a nice visit, even with that last little bit.”

  I nodded. “Yes, it was very nice. I enjoyed coming to the Cabal.”

  “See, Ella? You sold your book. I’ve made your life much easier now.”

  “According to your friend, that’s a quite a risk I took.” I had been suspicious of Ferdy’s kindness before, but after the visit to the Cabal, I knew that it was quite genuine. I gave him a smile of my own and allowed him to take my arm as we walked toward Dox and the carriage
.

  “Any lady who would follow after an armed thief can surely summon the nerve to gamble every once in a while.” Ferdy offered Tulia his hand and helped her up to the carriage perch.

  “Gambling is a sin.”

  “Well, that’s why it’s so fun then, right?” Ferdy laughed. “But you know that some would say it is just misplaced hope and faith. Sometimes it is occasionally rewarded.”

  “Are you one of those people?”

  “It was a gamble earlier, stepping between you and your book thief.” Ferdy leaned against Dox comfortably, taking a long moment to stare at me.

  I stared back, before I felt the unbearable heat of my blush. “Ever the charmer, aren’t you?”

  “I would be happy to give you a further chance to see just how charming I can be,” Ferdy said. “Next time you come to the city, ask for me. Most of the merchants in Old Town Square know of me and can point you in the right direction.”

  I saw Tulia heave a silent sigh at my hesitation.

  “You should come back here when the others are around,” Ferdy said. “Between Jarl and Faye, and Helen and Eliezer and Eliezer’s wife, it is always a riot.”

  “It was very enjoyable meeting your friend, Mr. Clavan.” I had never planned for this kind of conversation, and it was frustrating that I liked it.

  “We can see each other again, then?”

  I bit my lip. I knew Cecilia would only be too happy to forbid me to go into the city if she found out about Ferdy.

  He took my hand again. “Come on, Ella. Be brave and take a risk.”

  There was something about him, I thought. Something that made me nervous and excited, somehow certain and completely unsure at the same time.

  “Sometimes when you gamble, you lose,” I said quietly.

  “I haven’t lost yet, where you’re concerned.” Ferdy leaned closer to me. “Will you come and see me again?”

  I could not refuse him—or myself.

  “I’d like to,” I finally admitted. “But I really must be going for now. I have to go home and help get ready for tonight. My stepmother is throwing a party for a special guest.”

  “So, you like parties? Are you going to the Advent Ball this year, then?”