This Dark Endeavor

by Kenneth Oppel

  “What on earth is that diabolical smell?”

  I exhaled. “Thank goodness. I thought it was Father.”

  “You’re lucky he and Mother are still out.”

  “Can you smell it in the house?” I asked in alarm.

  “No. I only caught a whiff of it from the dock.” He came closer. “So this is where you’ve been disappearing the last few days. What are you up to?”

  “Something to help us when we explore the caves.”

  I had wanted to surprise everyone, and now that my relief was spent, I felt a twin stab of irritation and disappointment.

  “Is this all … urine?” Konrad asked, gazing at several buckets on the floor.

  “Yes.”

  “I see. Yours?”

  “Well, not all of it, obviously,” I replied. “Most of it comes from the horses.”

  “Awfully considerate of them to give it to you.” He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. Then he began to laugh, and I could not stop myself from following his lead. It was heedless, uncontrollable laughter, and even as I enjoyed it, it reminded me how little laughter Konrad and I had shared in the past month. But this—this was fun as we used to have it.

  I went to him and hugged him tight. “Do you think me mad?”

  He wiped his eyes. “Not yet. Tell me what you’re doing.”

  “Well,” I said, “first it was necessary to boil the urine to a paste.”

  “Of course.” He put his hands behind his back and surveyed my table like a pompous tutor. It was difficult not to start laughing again.

  “And after that I needed to transmute the paste into gaseous form—”

  “Gaseous form! Excellent!” he said. “I like what you’ve done with these little glass curlicues, by the way.”

  “They allow me to pass the gas through water to create—Well, I don’t want to tell you yet. But you’ll be amazed.”

  “No doubt. Where did you learn all this?”

  “Eisenstein,” I said, pointing to the green book on the table.

  “That is from the Dark Library too, is it?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s just hope Father isn’t checking the shelves. How can you bear the smell?”

  “I’d stopped noticing.”

  “Come on. You need some fresh air, Little Brother. Henry and I want to go for a row on the lake. Your company is requested.”

  Looking at him smiling upon me, my guilt was sharp. I had stolen his kiss from Elizabeth. I had harbored jealous and stingy thoughts. I was indeed a scoundrel.

  “Soon,” I promised. “I’m nearly finished. Ready the boat, and I’ll join you in half an hour.”

  “But is he strong enough yet?” Mother asked worriedly the next day at lunch.

  We had just told our parents of our plan to go riding in the foothills.

  Father looked at Konrad, who was eating his sausage and potato Rösti with great enthusiasm. “Look at him, Caroline. He blooms with health. I see no reason why they shouldn’t have their outing tomorrow.”

  Konrad truly did look well. He’d regained almost all of his lost weight, and his face was no longer gaunt.

  “It won’t be arduous,” I said, pouring myself some more cider. “We only mean to do some fishing, wander in the hills, and have a leisurely picnic.”

  “And it will be Henry’s last day with us,” Konrad reminded them, for Mr. Clerval had returned from his journey. “Our good-bye celebration.”

  “And if Konrad becomes too tired,” said Elizabeth, “he can recline on a blanket like a sultan and we will feed him grapes and fan him.”

  Mother sighed. “Very well, as long as you promise to return before sunset. Henry, you are more levelheaded than these three. I charge you with everyone’s safe return.”

  “I give you my word, Madame Frankenstein,” said Henry.

  “Thank you, Mother,” said Konrad. “And now, to prove my fitness, I will trounce Victor in fencing.”

  “Do not count on it,” I said.

  “A hit!” said Konrad.

  “Your point,” I panted as we retreated to our starting positions. It was not a formal fencing match this time, just the two of us in the armory. Konrad had wanted a single bout—his first since his illness—to see what kind of shape he was in. And damn him, he was in the lead! Three hits to my two.

  “En garde!” I said, readying my foil.

  “Allez!” said Konrad, and we circled each other. It was my attack, and I watched him like a falcon, knowing I needed three more hits if I wanted to win.

  “You are very good, Victor,” Konrad said.

  “Without my usual partner I’m out of practice,” I replied.

  I remembered our last match. My victory against him had really been a lie, since he’d been sick.

  “There’s something I must tell you,” Konrad said. “It’s given me a guilty conscience, keeping it from you so long. You and I shouldn’t keep secrets.”

  “What’s your secret?” I was glad my face was concealed.

  “I am in love with Elizabeth.”

  “You are?” I let my foil drop, as though surprised, and then I lunged. He parried weakly, and left himself wide open for my riposte. I struck him in the belly.

  “Nicely done,” he said, retreating.

  Now we were tied.

  “Did you know?” he asked as we stepped back and prepared to resume the bout.

  “I had an inkling,” I said guardedly. “And does she return your feelings?”

  “Entirely.”

  His single word delivered a sharper stab than any foil.

  “But how … When did this happen?” I still couldn’t understand how I could’ve been so ignorant of this.

  “Sundays, when I take her to Mass.”

  I nodded. Over the years, that would have given them ample time alone.

  Hurt barbed my next comment. “But it’s strange, don’t you think? She’s grown up with us as a sister …”

  “But she is not our sister, just a distant cousin.”

  “True, but doesn’t it seem just a touch … unsavory to you?”

  We watched each other warily, foils at the ready.

  “Not in the least,” he said. “En garde.”

  “I wonder how Mother and Father will feel about it,” I mused.

  “Oh, I think Mother knows perfectly well how Elizabeth and I feel about each other.”

  “You’ve told her—and not me!” I exclaimed, genuinely hurt.

  He lunged, and I quickly parried.

  “She could tell,” Konrad said. “I didn’t need to confide in her. And she was very happy about it. She said it had long been her wish, and Father’s, that Elizabeth would one day be a bride to one of us, and be forever part of our family.”

  “You mean to marry at sixteen?”

  “When we’re older, of course.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” I said, “youthful passions are often fleeting. You may both feel differently in a few years.”

  “Listen to you—he who has never been in love!”

  “How do you know?” I said coldly.

  Our blades clashed, and before Konrad could retreat, I had struck his jacket.

  “A hit,” I said.

  “You are filled with fire,” he said. “Well done.”

  We backed away from each other once more, puffing.

  “So, have you been in love?” Konrad wanted to know. “With whom? Out with it!”

  “That’s my business.”

  “We don’t keep secrets, you and I.”

  “You’ve kept yours,” I said. “And for quite some time.”

  “Well, a few months perhaps. No more.”

  That was not what Elizabeth had told me, but I said nothing. I was not quite that reckless, not yet.

  “One of us,” I murmured.

  “What?”

  “You said it was Mother’s wish that Elizabeth marry one of us. Wasn’t that right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “So sh
e wasn’t picky about which one?”

  Konrad dropped his guard for a moment, but was quick enough to parry when I lunged.

  “What if,” I panted, “you and I were to love the same person? What if I loved Elizabeth too?”

  We circled warily.

  “But you don’t.”

  “Pretend I do.”

  He shrugged. “It would be a disappointment to you. Because she loves me.”

  In my temper I lunged clumsily. He knocked my blade to the side and hit me.

  “A point,” he said. “We are tied. En garde.”

  “Allez!” I said. “Are you so sure she could love only you? That you’re so much better than me?”

  “Victor, I didn’t say that.”

  “But you think it.”

  “Why are you so angry?”

  “Because people will always love you best,” I said. “You are … a more charming person. No doubt kinder, too.”

  He laughed. “I’ve never thought so.” Backward and forward we tested each other.

  “You do not really love Elizabeth, do you?” he said.

  “No,” I lied.

  Konrad lunged and scored his winning hit, right on my heart.

  He sighed, lifting his mask. “That is a relief. A fine bout. I am still out of shape. We must do this more often.”

  My brother had kept a secret from me, and now I would keep one from him.

  I will have Elizabeth as my own.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE DESCENT

  SOMEONE SHOULD STAY BEHIND WITH THE HORSES,” SAID Konrad.

  Despite Temerlin’s careful map, it had taken us a good half hour to find the entrance to the cave in the foothills. It was a man-size cleft in a rocky outcropping, partly hidden behind shrubs. The four of us dismounted and started to unload the gear from our saddlebags.

  “The horses can take care of themselves,” Elizabeth said. “We’ll hobble them, and they can graze. I saw a creek just over there where they can drink.”

  “I think you should stay with the horses,” said Konrad.

  I smiled to myself, knowing what was coming.

  “I’ll do no such thing,” she said indignantly. “Victor knows how capable I am.”

  “I’ll vouch for it a hundred times over,” I said.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t—,” Konrad tried to say.

  “Then, please don’t insult me by suggesting I shouldn’t come. You stay with the horses if you like.”

  “I will stay with them,” said Henry, eyeing the cave opening with some horror. “There is the small matter of my claustrophobia.”

  I looked at Henry. “I didn’t know you suffered from that affliction as well.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Quite badly. In combination with my fear of heights and my general excess of imagination, it creates a veritable typhoon of fear.”

  “A very nice turn of phrase,” said Elizabeth, filling her pack.

  “Thank you,” said Henry. “In any event, you’ll want someone out here in case you get lost and need rescuing. I have brought some books to read.”

  “An excellent idea,” I said, thumping him on the shoulder. “Write some poetry too while you wait.”

  “Indeed,” he said, inspecting his pocket watch. “It is now nine in the morning. In order to reach the château before sundown, you will need to be back here no later than six o’clock.”

  “Nine hours,” I said. “More than enough time for a stroll and a bit of fishing, eh, Konrad?”

  “Don’t be surprised if we’re back before lunch, Henry,” he said, shouldering his rucksack.

  “Be careful,” said Henry as I buckled on my scabbard. Just knowing my saber was at my hip made me feel armored, invincible.

  “Konrad, you have your clock?” Henry asked.

  “Of course,” he said, nodding at me. “We both do.”

  We passed through the opening, and in that one step, summer evaporated. An ancient cold emanated from the stone. We’d done well in dressing warmly. The cave was large, and clearly no stranger to humans. Near the entrance the remnants of campfires were scattered about, and pictures and names were scratched on the stone walls. There was the whiff of urine and animal scat.

  “Is your pack too heavy?” Konrad asked Elizabeth.

  “I’ll manage it,” she said.

  Mine was certainly heavier than I would’ve liked. Outside, when Konrad and I had divided up the gear, we’d made sure to make our two packs the weightiest. Elizabeth set hers down and, without preamble, pulled her skirt off over her boots. Beneath she wore a pair of pantaloons.

  She caught me staring at her. “You didn’t think I was going to go caving in a dress, did you?”

  “Of course not. Very sensible,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see the heat in my cheeks.

  Konrad made to light the lanterns.

  “Wait,” I said. “We may not need them.”

  I’d been looking forward to this moment. From my rucksack I took a sealed glass container. Inside was neither oil nor wick, just a fist-size lump of dull white matter.

  “What is that?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Behold,” I said, “the flameless fire!”

  I opened a small vent in the side of the container, and at once the white matter began to glow green, dimly at first, but then with greater intensity, casting a ghostly light about the cave.

  Elizabeth gasped, drawing closer. “How does it do that? It does not burn.”

  “Nor give off heat. It needs only a bit of oxygen to glow.” I sealed off the vent, and still the lump emitted its green light.

  “How did you make this?” she demanded. “It’s miraculous.”

  “Polidori told me where I could find the recipe.”

  “You are turning into an accomplished alchemist, Victor,” she said, but I wasn’t sure her remark was entirely complimentary. “Its glow is unsettling.”

  “Not at all,” I replied. “It’s merely one of earth’s elements. Phosphorous.”

  “Very impressive,” said Konrad. “But I think, for exploring, our lanterns are still better.”

  On point of pride I was about to protest, but I could see he was right. The lantern flames would be much brighter.

  “I never meant for us to use it the whole time,” I lied. “It is in case our lanterns run out—or get wet.”

  I carefully put the container back into its protective case.

  Our three lanterns lit, I led the way to the back of the cave, Temerlin’s map in my hand. There were three tunnels.

  “This is ours,” I said, nodding at the middle one.

  With white chalk Elizabeth clearly marked the corner, and we started down the gentle slope. I took a quick glance back, at the gash of daylight from the cave mouth, and then squinted ahead into the lantern’s glow.

  We were lucky. The tunnels might have been mud, but they were stone, and high-ceilinged, and we were able to walk all three of us abreast—for now, at least.

  After ten minutes the passage opened out.

  “Here’s the second cave.” The ceiling slanted lower here, and we stooped as we entered. I glanced at the map.

  The hole was exactly where it was supposed to be. It gaped in the middle of the floor, a misshapen smile.

  We crouched near the edge. A mountaineering spike jutted from the ground.

  “Temerlin’s?” Elizabeth said.

  “Must be,” I said, gripping it and testing its strength. “Still solid.”

  “You don’t think he died down here, do you?” she said.

  I must confess, gooseflesh erupted across my neck. “Wouldn’t his rope still be here, then?” I said, which I thought was reasonable enough.

  “He died elsewhere,” said Konrad calmly. “Or presumably we would not have his map.”

  “Quite right,” said Elizabeth with relief.

  From his rucksack Konrad pulled out a hammer and a fresh mountaineering spike. “Best to use our own, don’t you think?” he said to me.

 
“Of course.” I readied the rope—the same knotted line we’d used in the Sturmwald. According to Temerlin’s notes, the hole was a sixty-five-foot vertical drop, hardly more than what we’d undertaken in the vulture’s tree.

  I allowed Konrad to drive his spike into the rock, and then I did a second one nearby for good measure. I had been reading up on mountaineering lore (Father’s library really did have a book on everything) and proceeded to feed the rope through both spikes and tie a knot that would only get tighter the more weight was put on it.

  “Don’t you need to fold the bitter end over once more?” Konrad asked, watching me carefully.

  I looked up in annoyance.

  “You’re doing the alpine bowline, yes?” he asked.

  “Naturally,” I said. Obviously he’d read the same book. I was hardly surprised, but I was irritated now, for I’d lost my concentration and had to undo the knot and make it over.

  “That’s it,” said Konrad.

  “I know it is,” I said.

  We tied a lantern to the end of the line and lowered it carefully. Hand over hand I counted out the length, and true to Temerlin’s word, the lantern touched down after sixty-five feet.

  I went first, climbing down knot by knot, away from one lantern’s light toward the next. I paused to take a look about me. It was no narrow shaft but a huge cathedral of stone into which I descended. In the gloom I beheld great jagged walls of sparkling damp rock, sculpted into columns and deep niches like secret chapels. In places, green fungus shone like tarnished bronze.

  When I touched down, I realized I was atop a tall pedestal of staggered stones, its giant steps leading to the cavern floor proper.

  I cupped my hands round my mouth and called up, “Safe and sound!” Immediately my shout was amplified and echoed about by the strange walls into something unrecognizable and a bit frightening. I untied the lantern, and Konrad drew the rope back up so that he could lower down our gear. After that, Elizabeth made her descent, and then my brother.

  I took a last look at our rope, our one and only way out. And then we started down the giant steps. Each was a good four feet high, and because we were off balance with our heavy packs, we lowered ourselves carefully.

  “It is a marvel of nature,” breathed Elizabeth, holding high her lantern and gazing about. I noticed that she was shivering.