The Chocolatier's Wife

by Cindy Lynn Speer

The two ladies walked away from the shore to an end of town that seemed a little less prosperous than the rest. The address was an old book shop; from the window display, the wares it specialized in were both well used and undesirable to a young woman. They went up the stairs to the place above it, knocking on the door.

  The door opened, and Tasmin breathed out in relief. “It is you!”

  “Is it?” he asked shortly.

  “You are the gentleman I saw the other day at the Admiralty Barracks and the Apothecary on the main street. Do you recall? You had ordered lenses?”

  He was wearing a black coat so dusty-looking she longed to reach over and brush it off. He stared at her coldly over silver-wire-framed glasses. “And what does that mean to you, Miss?”

  The desire arose in her to leave, to just turn around and let this disagreeable little man return to whatever it was he was doing. Tasmin took a deep breath. No going back, not now, not ever.

  “It is my understanding that you are considered a talented naturalist, and therefore you have an understanding of plants that rivals most others.”

  He frowned at her. “Young lady, are you going to stop flattering me and tell me what you’re about?”

  “I gathered from your conversation with the apothecary that you have a light microscope?” She spoke now like the terror of the school room she could be, quietly, no nonsense.

  “And what would you want with that?”

  She removed the poisoned chocolate from her pocket. Her body had warmed it a little, but it didn’t matter since William had thrown away most of the chocolate that had covered the almond. “Is this really a poisoned almond? My intended husband swears he roasted these ... this is a Halsey Almond, in case you do not... ”

  “I am quite familiar.” He looked at it closely.

  “For four hours. Three should have been enough, and he tasted some, randomly, to make sure they were all right.”

  “He doesn’t intend to be your intended for long, does he?” The man backed away from the door, then turned and began moving things to clear a space next to his microscope.

  “No, we will be wed quite soon,” she said dryly.

  “What made you think I would help you?”

  “I didn’t, but you’re the only man I knew who might have a microscope, and I hoped that your natural curiosity would win out.”

  She waited for him to light a candle, but instead he took the almond from her with a pair of forceps, and then smelled it. He frowned, made a thin slice of it, but instead of preparing it to be viewed under the ‘scope, he placed it on his tongue. Cecelia made a sound of disgust.

  “Come here,” he said, gesturing to a window. He went over to the light, a magnifying lens in one hand and the almond in the other. “Yes, it’s what I thought. Look at the almond. Look how grainy the red coloration is.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what I’m seeing?”

  “A bad Halsey almond smells like rotted flesh. ‘Tis truly disgusting. And the red in the center is uniform, dark. If this was a freshly cut, bad almond, the red would even leak a little. This is dye. You can tell by how grainy the color appears, and the fact it tastes vaguely of carra bark, which is a common red dye.”

  She started to ask how, and then it dawned. “A needle? They injected dye into the almonds to make it look like they were poisoned!”

  He looked interested. “Why? What are you about? Now that I have appeased your curiosity, have pity and appease mine.”

  “You have heard of the murder of the Bishop? Well, this was at the crime scene. They are saying that the chocolates are poisoned, but they must not have been; they were only made to look like they were. The Bishop must have been killed another way.”

  He frowned. “Indeed. And even if these were poison almonds, I very much doubt the Bishop would have eaten them. They taste as bitter and wretched as they smell. I suspect he would have spat it out immediately, perhaps even thrown up in an effort to ensure the poison was gone. There is not much likelihood that he would have ingested enough of the poison to do much worse than, if he were weak, send him to bed for a few days.”

  “Is it commonly known that the almonds smell like that if not cooked right?”

  He shook his head. “The sellers will warn you about the pink centers and about the poison because they don’t want consumers to perish from the almonds, but the possibility of something being poison if not cooked right doesn’t diminish sales badly. On the other hand, the idea that the nut has the capability to smell extremely foul and bleed a vile red fluid does.”

  Tasmin shivered. “We are an odd people.” But her mind was racing. If William only knew of the pink, then chances were the killers did, too. The killer had planned things so cleverly, it was almost admirable. “Thank you very much.”

  He almost smiled. “You were right about my curiosity.”

  Dear William,

  Cecelia and I have no choice but to go directly home, but I wanted to tell you that I have taken the nut to be tested, and have found that you are completely in the clear. The almonds are not evidence of your carelessness, but of a larger plan. I am sure I do not need to tell you more, but still will look forward to speaking upon it at a later date,

  Yours,

  Tasmin

  P.S. I have already paid the lad a coin, but have promised that you would give him another, to ensure that you receive this. I hope you will forgive the impropriety.

  William’s mother was waiting for them when they returned. She gave the impression, at least, though Tasmin very much doubted that Henriette had truly stalked the hallway waiting for her. She excused Cecelia with a wave that even the usually cheeky woman did not argue with, and led Tasmin to her private parlor.

  “Well. I see you are settling into my son’s life quite comfortably.”

  “I am trying to prove myself an able companion. Much work needs to be done before he can re-open his business.”

  “A confectionery hardly can be called a business, dear, not for one who has run a small shipping and trade empire. But I am struck by your hoydenish behavior. Going out to see my son at all hours, rushing to his side. You are determined to marry him, aren’t you?”

  “It is my duty to wed him, madam. I do not exactly have a choice. And indeed, your comments would have a point to them if in fact your son had not already set a date for our marriage, as he must by the laws of our land.”

  Her voice was calm, even kind as she said it, but she was getting tired of these snide remarks, and she knew her words doubtless showed it. She was right.

  “Ah, I have struck a nerve. Would you like some of these cheese tartlets? I cannot abide chocolate, sadly. No? Well.”

  She settled back, and to Tasmin her eyes glittered like a snake’s.

  “You are right about duty. If either of you are to wed, you have no choice. The laws of this land prevent any other option. I am glad, for one. I would never have married my Justin of my own accord, and I do dote on him now that I know him, though no one may think it. I am not one for emotional scenes.”

  Tasmin nodded, grateful that a maid came in with the tea things. She took some for something to do.

  “What do you really think of this endeavor of William’s? No, no, I don’t want what you think you should say; I want to know what you really think. Does it have a chance? How do you feel about him just going about it without asking a soul?”

  She swallowed her drink, and said, wryly, “Well. A woman does like to be asked when her husband-to-be makes plans for their future, but now that I have spoken to William about it and seen the place properly, I think that William has the determination to make it work. The shop itself could not be better placed; he has excellent business sense, and some truly interesting ideas. I dare say if anyone can make a success at it, he can.”

  For a second, she saw a true smile flitter, then disappear. “I think so, t
oo. William was always determined. He was walking and talking before any child I ever met. And once he started walking and talking ... oh, heavens.” She laughed, and for a second the mask dropped, and Tasmin realized that behind all the coldness and waspishness was a woman who truly loved her son. “Andrew was like that, too, but not quite so much. He was just as bright, but a bit more quiet. Then he got so very sick. The Tanigier fever touched here, too, not as badly as it did the Capitol. Anyone who got sick was sent away immediately, in the hope that it would keep down the spread of the plague. We were grateful that he survived it, but when he came back he was different.”

  Tasmin didn’t have to feign concern. She could feel for the woman, a bit.

  “I don’t mind William having his hobbies,” the woman said, starting to return to the person Tasmin was used to. “But he has a flaw, one you must watch out for, for it will bite you some day. He believes that everyone is as determined as he is. Even when he was a child I found him utterly exhausting. I was relieved when he went to sea; it allowed me to rest.

  “He thinks Andrew will be able to rise to the task of being the head of the business, while the rest of us know that he most certainly will not. That is including you, for surely you, as an outside observer with no emotional sentiment to cloud your judgment, can see how unsuited he is. The only other one who refuses to see it is Bonny. Oh, how she pushes him.”

  “It must be a terrible strain on their marriage, this new position and all the responsibilities it entails for them both.”

  Henriette looked into her cup, and Tasmin wanted to ask if she was reading the leaves. “They were so happy when they first wed. You wouldn’t have known that, for the last year or so.”

  “That is most distressing. I wonder; can anything can be done to mend it?”

  “Doubtful. Even William coming back would not heal them.” Tasmin was feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Well. I suppose the course is set, now. William is determined to go his way; surely you must know that.”

  Henriette looked out the window, absently crumbling one of the tartlets into tiny pieces. “Nothing is ever set, Miss Bey. William could still come back. Normalcy could be returned. Do not think that Andrew would lose too much by this. We may be a hard people, but we watch after our own.”

  “So, the only one to feel like they’d lost something would be ... Bonny?” And William. But, poor man, you are fighting your battles in a world where duty comes before self, and though you strive to find a balance between the two, no one will allow for it.

  That serpent glitter had returned. “And you would gain, would you not? ‘Tis something to think about, when you are spending all that time with my son.”

  “I shall endeavor to consider it,” she said, feeling as if she were a puppet whose strings were being fought over. Lavoussier, Henriette, everyone wanted control over her because they thought she had some measure of control over William. Fascinating.

  “Excellent. I trust your good sense will rule.” She folded the cloth of the napkin over the crumbled food. “Are you going to the Magister’s Ball?”

  It took Tasmin a second to jump to the next topic, partly because she had totally forgot about the Light Day celebrations and felt completely unprepared. “William made mention of it in passing.” Which was not an answer, but she could only hope that she was, indeed, for she would not go unless William went as well.

  “Ah. Good. Then I shall send for a dress for you. Since you do not mind old-fashioned dresses, I have one that will suit you very well.”

  Several hours later, when she had finally undressed and fallen into bed, all Tasmin would say to Cecelia was, “If he ever does come back to the family business, I shall be forced to run away. Else, I may turn to homicide.”

  “If it’s that old harridan you’re speaking of, the court would heap piles of gold at your feet, perhaps even have a town named after you.”

  “You don’t think,” Tasmin asked as she pulled the covers over her head to block out the light of Cecelia’s lamp, “that he actually loves her, do you?”

  Cecelia’s weight joined hers on the bed. “If you are speaking of William, then yes. Loving his mother is a very William thing to do.”

  Tasmin groaned.

  “I did not, however, say that he likes her.”

  She sighed, but managed to finally get to sleep. The next day, after all, was the Magister’s Ball, and she wanted to be well rested.

  Dear Tasmin,

  Do you think that you might find the time to stop by the shop this day? Your sprites miss you as—I must own—do I. Besides, I should like to speak to you upon the subject at hand...

  Yours,

  William

  Five mages arrived early on the morning of the Magister’s Ball, in a coach of snowy, sparkling ice. They were elementalists, and sorcerers, and illusionists who traveled widely from town to city to village, wherever their services were required in the magic-poor South. One was a mere child, in the blossom of her youth; the second, heavily pregnant; the third, tall and bleached by age, her strange, golden eyes her only color. The ladies were followed by two men, one, bear-like and huge, husband to the second and father to the first; the other a slender, tall reed of a man with faintly purple skin.

  The morning had dawned warmer than it should be for this time of year, but where these five went, winter followed. The coach rolled into the huge courtyard in the center of the town, now cleared out of market place booths and the other clutter of everyday life, even the gallows. A snow began to fall, covering the paving stones with a thick blanket, turning the courtyard into another world. Trees of ice sprouted around the perimeter of the square, reaching high into the sky, blocking the place off from the curious eyes of the town.

  The preparations for the three days celebrating Light Day had begun. The town’s prosperity showed in how elaborate the celebrations were, and the presence of the five showed that Azin Shore felt that it was, if not up to the standards of the capital, in fine fettle. People would come from miles around to take part and see for themselves the wonders the mages would create. The five would form the place that would on the first day be for a masked ball, the next for commemoration and worship, and the last a place for all, poor and rich, to gather to celebrate the first day of the new year.

  Inside, a grand palace was slowly beginning to form under the guidance of the five mages: tall stately walls, windows, towers, the process unseen, but heard in distant song. The purple man emerged once from the trees, and he did so only to throw his hand out towards a hill and side street, where the snow began to fall even more heavily, allowing the children a place to gather, throwing snowballs, sliding down the hill on whatever they could find. Tasmin watched, feeling outside the world of the mages, content to observe for a few moments while her mind cleared.

  She looked at the chocolate shop. Ayers was setting up a table next to the door, and a couple of lads were gathered, waiting. William came out with a half round of broken tabletop in his hands, and he gave it to them. They ran away with it, clearly excited, and she smiled. Well, there was one table that wouldn’t get repaired. Part of her sighed, considering the expense, but also she knew the well-waxed and polished surface would be wide enough to hold two or three lads and would move quite well over the snow.

  As she approached the trees, the purple man turned and saw her. She curtsied to him, knowing him from her time traveling the land. For a short time she had been as these, wandering the continent. He smiled at her and blew across the palm of his hand. She looked up at the snow as it began to fall into her hair, sticking to her face and eyelashes. On the other side of the trees she could hear the voices of the women combining, rising and falling, twisting together and falling apart, as they sang the building into being. It was old magic, hearkening back to the time when their people had sung their very homes to life from the rocks of the earth. It was a magic that pulled at her bones, and she could fee
l the sprites tumbling around her, attracted and repelled by the call of the spell. The branches created a doorway just for her, and she realized part of her was unsure she really wanted to go in, but she did. Behind her they shut again, keeping out any who might wander in, for while this was a magical process, it was also dangerous.

  Berend, the huge, bear-like man, raised his arms. Water came gushing out of the ground, held in place by a river bank of ice and snow. She could see the pylons of a bridge that would go across the stream and skating pond he was making.

  And there she was, Elyria, the oldest and wisest, her hands filled with the hardest spell of all. Orbs of golden cold-light dropped from her fingers, her own clan of sprites whipping them away to string them into the trees. They were fire-sprites, hard to see in the day, for they were visible to her eye like line drawings made of fire rather than ink; she could see through their tiny little bodies, which trailed sparks like burning wood.

  “Did you ever manage to learn the secrets of cold light?” Elyria asked, throwing one of the orbs to Tasmin, who caught it lightly.

  “Nay, milady,” she said, and another came at her, and a third, and she began to juggle them. “I am only an Herb Mistress; plants are my interest.”

  “Only,” Elyria sighed. “Your mother and I had a long talk the other night. She thinks you are throwing away your opportunities.”

  Tasmin threw one of the orbs at a tree, and a sprite caught it and threw it up onto the branch. “I can imagine very easily what words were exchanged, Honored Aunt, but I am happy with my path.” Another orb was tossed and borne away, and then the last.

  “I can see that you are ... mostly.”

  Tasmin turned so she could look her aunt full in the eye. “Are you very disappointed with my choice to stay? Do you think I am wasting my life?”

  “Well.” Her aunt seemed to take a moment to think. “You are only a little extraordinary. If you were very extraordinary, then I would probably fight on your mother’s side in the matter, but then, if you were very extraordinary, you would not have the time to consider this matter at all, and the point would be moot.” Elyria winked at her, and Tasmin felt a little lighter.