by Kacey Ezell
“That seems an odd phobia for an Immortal,” she said mildly.
De Graaf responded with a chuckle. “Perhaps, but then, the Buyer has always been an eccentric. Some say he was here when the Merovingians ruled Paris, but if you ask me, I suspect he’s much older than that.”
Lucia’s eyes went wide. “How much older?” she asked.
De Graaf’s smile grew wider, and something mischievous entered his gaze. “My guess? I believe him to originally have been a Roman.”
“No!” Lucia exclaimed.
De Graaf nodded. “Oh, yes. I have no proof, of course, but when you meet him, note his stature and the definitive aquiline quality of his nose.”
“A Roman…” Lucia breathed, her librarian’s curiosity piqued. “Do you think…would he tell us?”
“About his origins? I’ve asked. You might have better luck with it, my dear, should you choose to turn on your charm. He does have a reputation for liking clever, beautiful women.”
“Flatterer.”
“Truth-sayer,” he corrected. “Merely that. Judge for yourself. I predict you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger within an hour of our arrival. Which should be fairly soon,” he added, glancing up at the night sky.
Lucia grinned at his continued compliments, but then stiffened and turned away from the brass railing of the NightShip. “How soon?” she asked.
“Perhaps an hour and a half?”
“You should have told me sooner,” she said, gently pushing past de Graaf to head toward the ladder below. “I must change clothes and get ready if I’m to meet a real Roman!”
De Graaf laughed again. “That’s only my guess!”
Lucia waved a hand over her shoulder as if to say, “Yes, yes, your caveat is noted!” and disappeared down the ladder to the levels below.
* * *
The Chateau had looked massive from a distance. Up close, it resembled a mountain that had been shaped into the pleasing lines of a modern country house. The front edifice dwarfed the Leeuwin, and she wasn’t a small ship by any stretch of the imagination.
They sailed past the front entryway, a monstrously grand colonnaded affair, and rounded the turreted corner to a side wing. This wing featured some curious construction that made Lucia wonder for all of twenty minutes as to its purpose. However, it quickly became apparent that this wing of the house had been designed to accommodate the docking of grand airships like the one on which she stood.
The top story of the wing featured another colonnaded balcony. Openings like wide doorways interrupted the delicate stone railing that protected the balcony’s surface. As they approached one of these openings, some hidden mechanism began to whir, and a walkway extended from the floor of the balcony out to meet the entrance of the Leeuwin’s main deck.
Lucia found an out-of-the-way (she hoped!) corner in which to stand during the docking process and watched with a bemused smile. This whole trip seemed like something out of a dream, an experience to which she could only aspire. Now here she was, standing on the deck of a NightShip as it docked at the mysterious chateau of an eccentric Immortal. This was better than any book!
The moon had risen in the night sky by the time the crew had made the Leeuwin fast to the docking apparatus. Lucia was grateful for the cloak de Graaf had placed about her shoulders earlier. The cold breeze wasn’t punishing, but firm, and the soft black wool warmed her nearly as much as the thought of Johannes’ gentle hands on the skin of her neck as he moved her hair.
As if he’d been summoned by her thoughts, the captain himself appeared. His handsome face lit up in a smile as he caught her eyes, and he offered her his arm with a short bow from the waist.
“My Lady,” he said, and if there was a little extra stress on the possessive article, she was the only one close enough to hear. “Shall we venture forth to meet our host?”
Lucia wound her arm through his with her own smile. “Indeed, My Captain,” she replied with a little emphasis of her own. “I’d enjoy it above all things.”
De Graaf led her down the gangplank onto the walkway, then in through the columns. As she got closer, Lucia could see the capitals of each column were carved in intricate and exceptionally beautiful motifs. They also appeared to be made of smooth, creamy marble that gleamed in the moonlight.
Once they entered through the arched doorway, the interior appeared no less opulent. A thick, dense carpet lined the floor, and the stone walls shone with illuminated sconces. Upon closer inspection, Lucia realized that the sconces contained no candles. Instead, each one contained a cunning contraption of pipes with a tiny flame at the top. The flame flickered slightly with the air of their passage but appeared remarkably steady when compared with candle or lantern light. She badly wanted to stop and examine one of the sconces, but their entire party, the crew of the Leeuwin, moved down the hallway with some speed, and she felt disinclined to interrupt or stop them.
“Where are we going?” Lucia asked de Graaf. He moved with such assurance, she had to wonder how often he’d been a guest here at this bizarre marble palace of wonders.
“To meet our host,” de Graaf answered without breaking stride. “And I assume to our guest quarters. The Buyer will want to give us an opportunity to clean up and rest before we meet. He’s rather scrupulously polite about such things. As you’re with us, I imagine he’ll have refreshments for you at our meeting, as well as a meal for the crew with his staff.”
“Did you tell him I was coming?” Lucia asked, startled. She would have sworn no messenger had left the Leeuwin during their journey.
De Graaf smiled down at her and shook his head. “No,” he said.
Lucia pursed her lips but refused to give him the satisfaction of asking further. De Graaf chuckled low in his throat and covertly caressed the back of her hand with his fingertips. She enjoyed the intimacy of the touch, but also enjoyed pretending not to notice. Within a few moments, they stopped in front of a carved, ornate set of double doors.
A slight woman, fair, but with dark hair and eyes, stood there. She wore a plain but clearly well-made gown of fine brown fabric. She greeted them with a smile and a hint of sharp teeth behind it. An Immortal.
“Captain de Graaf,” she said, her voice pleasantly low. “You, your lady, and crew are welcome here. The lady may refresh herself within. He awaits your convenience in the small parlor below.”
De Graaf doffed his hat, inclined his head to the woman, and thanked her gravely. She made a gesture Lucia didn’t quite see, and the door behind her began to swing silently open. The woman stepped to the side and extended a hand as if to invite Lucia inside.
“I’ll leave you here, my lady,” de Graaf said, his tone less playful and more formal than before. Lucia suspected this was for the benefit of the woman who watched them. “You’ll be safe here, I give you my word. I shall call for you in an hour. Will that be enough time?”
“Ample,” Lucia said, grateful she’d taken the time to prepare before they disembarked earlier.
De Graaf unwound his arm from hers, then bent over her fingers. Lucia fought not to shiver at the feather-light caress of his lips on her knuckles. Instead, she favored him with a private smile before turning to enter the room.
“You’ll find a maidservant, Adrienne. She’s ready to help you with your toilette, Lady Lucia,” the strange woman said.
“You know my name?” Lucia replied, startled. The woman smiled. “But of course, my lady. Should you require anything else, simply tell Adrienne, and she’ll assist you.” The woman gave a sort of half-bow from the waist, and then left, closing the door behind her.
With a sort of bemused wonder, Lucia listened for the tell-tale turning of a lock on the door. Silence.
“Well,” she said, letting out a gusty sigh, “at least I’m not a prisoner!”
“No, of course not, my lady. You’re our guest!”
The voice was light and pleasing; it came from Lucia’s right. Lucia turned and saw, amid the rich furnishings and soft
lighting of the entryway, a woman standing in a doorway with a welcoming smile. Like the earlier woman (whose name Lucia just realized she’d never gotten!), Adrienne’s clothing was plain, but finely made of expensive fabric. She wore her dark hair neatly pulled back into a simple chignon, and her skin held the pallor of someone who rarely ventures out in the sun.
“Adrienne?” Lucia asked, walking toward her with a smile.
“I am, my lady. May I take your cloak?” The woman stepped forward to do just that. She moved like a dancer, all liquid grace. Her touch was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and for a moment Lucia wondered if she might be an Immortal.
“I’m not, my lady. Not yet, at any rate,” Adrienne said with a smile as she turned to hang Lucia’s cloak. Lucia blinked, then felt her face pale as she realized what had happened.
“How did you…?”
Adrienne turned back, that gentle, warm smile still in place. “I’m not an Immortal, my lady, but my master is. He’s very old, and very wise, and he has the gift of seeing into mortal thoughts. That’s how we knew your name. He told us. He told me you were wondering if I was Immortal. I’m not, though I hope to be someday.”
“I…see…” Lucia said, not sure how to respond to this information. “So, you’re a Source, then?”
“I have that honor, yes. Not only for the Master. Others of our household are Immortals, as well. The house manager, Madame Devoir, whom you met, for example. She manages the master’s domestic affairs and has done so for a century. If I prove myself to her and to the master, one of them will turn me when the time is right.”
Lucia’s startlement began to fade away. In its place, a deep curiosity sprang up.
“That’s fascinating,” she said, enthusiasm bleeding into her tone. “I wish I had my notebook to hand. Can you tell me more about your life here? What’s it like? What must you do to prove yourself? How long have you lived here?”
Adrienne laughed. “My lady, I’ll be happy to answer all your questions, but for now, I must defer. You don’t want to be late for a meeting with the master. Let’s get you ready, and we shall speak at length soon.”
“Very well.” Lucia sighed, then chuckled, for she sounded like nothing so much as a disappointed child.
Besides being a fascinating creature, Adrienne was also a highly skilled lady’s maid. She had Lucia washed, brushed, primped, and pressed with minutes to spare before the soft chime of a bell announced Captain de Graaf’s presence at the outer door to the apartment.
Adrienne opened the door, and the good captain took a moment to stare at the vision before him.
“Do you like it?” Lucia asked, then turned so he could see the way the gown Adrienne had procured skimmed her upper body before flaring away at her waist. It was constructed of a finely woven cream-colored thread, and shot through with threads of metallic gold, which caught the light when she moved. For some reason, she felt rather girlish. Perhaps it was the immersion in the highly feminine pastime of primping. Whatever the cause, she lifted one hand to her newly styled hair and smiled as de Graaf closed his mouth with a snap.
“You look stunning,” Johannes said, meaning it.
“Thank you,” Lucia replied, and then turned to Adrienne. “And thank you! You’re a true artist!”
“I thank you, my lady,” Adrienne replied with a smile. “Enjoy meeting the master.”
“I intend to,” Lucia said and linked her arm through Johannes’.
As before, their path down the stone corridors was lit by the strange contraptions Lucia had noticed earlier. After taking several turns, passing some truly breathtaking tapestries and works of art, they came to a wide stone staircase. The lit sconces seemed to indicate they should take this route down. At the bottom, Madame Devoir awaited them.
“He’s within,” she said with that same enigmatic smile she’d displayed upstairs. “Please, go right in.” This time when Madame Devoir made another of her door opening gestures, Lucia could see the unearthly speed with which she moved. If Adrienne was like water, Madame Devoir moved like lightning striking.
The room into which Madame Devoir ushered them was dimly lit, large, and high-ceilinged. As richly appointed as Lucia’s guest apartment had been, it paled in comparison to this room. Lush, intricately woven carpets in dazzling jewel tones covered the floor. Tables and desks stood here and there, seemingly scattered at random throughout the space. Ornate floral arrangements sat around the room on sideboards and desks, the blooms giving the air a light fragrance. And the walls…
Every wall was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. Multiple ladders stretched for the whole length, and as she watched, one of them began to roll from one side of the far wall to the other. At first, Lucia thought it might be moving by itself, for it appeared to be mounted on some kind of rail system, but as it came closer to where they stood, she began to make out the figure of a man hanging on near the top of the ladder.
When it came to a stop, he descended, not by stepping down step by step as Lucia would have expected, but rather in the fashion of a sailor; he hooked his hands and feet on the side and slid down the entire length of the ladder. When he came to the bottom, he turned and clapped his hands together with glee.
“That’s always very fun,” he said. His words had a subtly odd lilt to them, as if he’d learned to speak the language from someone who spoke a slightly different dialect. “De Graaf, Lady Lucia, welcome to my Library. What do you think of it?”
Lucia tilted her head back and felt a wave of dizziness wash over her at the sheer scale of it all. So many books! So many records, so many stories! It was almost enough for her to beg for immortality now, just so she’d have the chance to read them all.
At this thought, the man facing them started to laugh.
“My dear lady Lucia! I think perhaps we’re kindred spirits in academia, you and I,” he said. “‘Tis a pity your young captain found you first. I’d be tempted to try to seduce you away with my books.”
“Wherever did you get so many of them?” Lucia whispered in awe as de Graaf simply chuckled. Though whether it was at her awe or the Buyer’s teasing jab, she didn’t know.
For this had to be the Buyer, of course, though he looked nothing like Lucia had expected. He was, in fact, slight of stature, as promised. But he also appeared young, not more than seventeen or eighteen. Except for his eyes. When Lucia looked into his eyes, she could feel the weight of centuries staring back.
“Here and there,” the Buyer said, his smile growing. “Do you like them?”
“I think them marvelous! Why, this must be the largest library in the world!”
A shadow, as of pain, passed over his face, causing even de Graaf to blink and reach out in concern.
“No,” the Buyer whispered. “It’s not that. But maybe one day, if I continue to live long enough, I’ll be able to recreate what was taken from us all by fire.”
Lucia shook her head slightly and glanced at Johannes. The captain met her eyes with a concerned look of his own before turning back to their host.
“My friend,” Johannes said, “are you all right? Shall I call your Source?”
“No,” the Buyer said. “It’s just a memory. I was there once. The largest library in the world. I was born near there. My father was one of the scholars who made translations of the works to send around the world. You didn’t know that about me, did you, de Graaf? Not many people do,” he said with a small, sad smile. Then he shook himself with a funny little wriggle, and all of the sadness fled from his face.
“Well, enough of that. Shall we have a seat? I had my staff prepare some refreshments over here. I hope the gloom in here isn’t too much for your eyes, dear lady. I don’t trust the open flame of the gas-lamps near my treasures.”
“Not at all,” Lucia murmured. In truth, her mind was still struggling to wrap around this revelation. He’d been at the Library of Alexandria? What an astonishing thing to imagine! She followed the Buyer and Johannes to the seating area with a bemused e
xpression on her face.
“I understand,” the Buyer said once they were settled and Lucia held a cup of truly delicious tea, “you have something rather special for me.”
“I do,” Johannes confirmed. “That is, Lucia and I do. She’s here representing her own interests as co-owner of the piece. I went through quite a bit of trouble to bring this trinket safely to her family.”
“Yes, why don’t you tell me about that?” the Buyer asked, sitting forward. A small frown marred his jarringly youthful brow. “I was surprised to get your note. Since we began the NightShip trade, our major advantage has been that we can promise increased security of our shipments. What pirate tangles with Immortals, after all? For that matter, what pirate can fly?”
Lucia listened closely as Johannes related the tale of the pirate attack that had damaged his ship. Some of his descriptions seemed incredibly far-fetched to her, but she perked up when he described the small, airborne screwcraft.
“I’ve read something about those,” she said suddenly, excitement coloring her tone. Her face immediately took on a color of its own as she blushed with embarrassment at the realization she’d just interrupted Johannes. He merely smiled and gestured for her to continue.
“I do apologize, Captain,” she said. “It’s just…I read a treatise by a man named da Vinci, in Florence. He detailed a flying craft similar to what you describe—fascinating. His treatise lamented that steam engines lacked the power to actually achieve flight, however. I wonder how the problem was solved?”
“I believe they had a lighter-than-air component to the design, similar to our lifting bags,” de Graaf said. “I didn’t get much of a look at them, as I was fighting for my life at the time, but the way they moved would indicate that to be the case.”
“Fascinating,” the Buyer murmured. “And did you glean any clue as to their identity?”
“Not specifically,” Johannes said. “However, I have reason to believe they counted Immortals among their company.”
“Immortals? Impossible!” the Buyer said, sudden indignance flashing in his ancient eyes. “All know the NightShips are sacrosanct! We rely upon their trade to earn us a place in humanity’s world.”