Some were old, some young, some middle-aged. Some were upright and respectable-looking; others had sinister faces, sullen and scarred. There were more men than women, though the latter were possibly even more impressive than their male counter parts (one imperious lady in an African headdress looked about seven feet tall). All radiated an arrogant power. They wore the finest clothes, the most sought-after jewels, the rarest perfumes. They had no doubt come from some of the largest mansions in the world, filled with wonderful, priceless things and scurrying staff.
Jake had never felt so intimidated in his life. This was the second time in three days that he had sat at a table of extraordinary people. The first time, in the History Keepers’ stateroom on the Mont St Michel, had been intriguing: the room was full of light and the conversation sparkled. This was another matter entirely: the chamber was dark, almost silent and charged with malevolence.
Jake stole a sideways glance at his neighbour. The man’s small head and sharp nose were directed straight ahead, his plump hands clenched together on the table. A sumptuous purple doublet was tightly fitted to his narrow shoulders.
Jake surveyed the room in more detail. Of the four remaining empty chairs, one was larger and more important-looking than all the others. It was the only seat with armrests, which were carved in the form of entwining snakes. In the centre of the table a crystal hand held up a mysterious sphere of sapphire blue that emitted a soft light – evidently a representation of the planet Earth. In front of each person stood a glass goblet of transparent liquid and a tiny tortoiseshell box. There was no sign of dinner.
The double doors opened and two more guests came into the room: an older man and his young, aristocratic-looking wife. They were red in the face and frowning, as if they had been arguing. They strode – the man with a slight limp – across the stone floor and took their places.
Finally, on the far side of the room, a low door opened. Compared to the grand main entrance, this one was inconsequential-looking, almost hidden in the wall. Jake froze as he saw the figure of Mina Schlitz step through it. She circled the room, scanning the backs of all the guests. They half turned their heads as she passed. Finally she took her place beside the large unoccupied chair, removed her red-backed snake from its box and stroked it.
Another figure emerged from the small doorway. From a distance he looked almost unremarkable, but Topaz’s face told another story. Her eyes became steely and her jaw clenched.
‘Is that him?’ Jake whispered to her. ‘Prince Zeldt?’
Topaz nodded, and he noticed that her hands were shaking. She held them together firmly under the table and edged her seat back a little until she was partially concealed behind Jake.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he whispered in her ear.
The prince took his seat. ‘Welcome,’ he announced in a thin, barely audible voice. Some people struggled to hear, but kept that to themselves. ‘Welcome to the Superia Summit. For many of us, it is our first meeting,’ he whispered. ‘For many of us, it will be our last … but the bonds between us will endure.’
There were murmurs of agreement. All eyes were fixed, like magnets, on Prince Zeldt. He continued:
‘Fourteen years ago, in the spring of 1492, Marsilio Ficino, a trite, whey-faced intellectual, wrote this – and I quote …’ He affected a slightly nasal voice: ‘If we are to call any age golden, it must certainly be our age. This century has restored to light the liberal arts that were almost extinct: science, oratory, painting, sculpture, architecture, music …’
Zeldt scanned the mesmerized faces around the table. ‘No longer God’s playthings, this age has placed humankind centre stage. Now the people begin to understand the universe and take control of their fate …’ He paused momentarily before spitting out the next sentence with such extraordinary venom that it sent a chill down everyone’s spine. ‘This age has seen the birth of modern man.’
The prince suddenly stood up and glared at his guests, as if they were responsible for the concoction of this repulsive phrase.
‘The birth of modern man?’ he hissed again.
Thirty seconds passed before his sneer relaxed into a sinister smile. ‘I don’t think so.’
There was a murmuring of approval that turned into a soft round of applause.
‘I am a man of actions, not words,’ said Zeldt, ‘so I will get straight down to business. I am sure you are all dying to know what our new world is going to look like.’
Jake turned to Topaz. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. ‘Our new world …?’ he asked. Topaz shook her head and shrugged.
The prince nodded at Mina. She returned her snake to its case, stepped back and pulled a lever. There was a whir of machinery and, behind Zeldt, a long thin section of floor slid back. Jake craned his neck to see: through the slim aperture rose up a wall of smoke. Mina crossed to the back wall of the room and turned a dial. A ray of brilliant light, as sharp as a laser, illuminated the smoke (as well as the faces around the table). A ghostly image started to take shape behind Zeldt’s throne: the symbol of a snake and a shield and, in giant gothic letters, the familiar word …
These millionaires were rarely impressed, and if they were, they seldom showed it. This was different: Zeldt’s state-of-the-art ‘camera obscura’ made them all gasp in wonder.
The image gradually changed to one of a dark, imposing city containing a series of skyscrapers and encircled by a huge impenetrable wall.
‘Here is a blueprint,’ said Zeldt, his eyes now glittering, ‘for the first of our secure cities.’
‘That looks like the drawings I saw in Venice,’ Jake whispered to Topaz.
So began Zeldt’s medieval ‘slide show’. Images followed one after another, showing every aspect of the ghastly metropolis: a ‘secure city’ with high, ugly buildings, each with its endless succession of barred windows. Vigilant, crimson-cloaked guards were stationed at every corner, and lookout towers soared up from the city’s walls. The Black Army’s symbol of snakes on a shield was everywhere: surmounting every window, engraved into every door, and looming, supersized, above the giant gates of the city.
‘It looks like a prison camp,’ Topaz whispered, aghast at the collection of pictures.
One image showed the city’s downtrodden occupants being herded like animals through the gates; in others, people were farming the fields in supervised groups or being forced down mines.
A map of Europe now appeared before them.
‘I am proposing eight such communities, all self-sufficient, in the old continent,’ Zeldt continued. ‘For that’s what Europe is – old, tired and bloated.’ The locations of these cities were marked on the map with a pulsating symbol of the snake and shield.
Topaz shook her head in disbelief. ‘Those are the sites of every major capital city,’ she whispered. ‘Look … London, Paris, Rome, Madrid, Athens. What on earth is he proposing?’
The map of Europe changed into one showing two great land masses. The outlines were rough, but Jake recognized them as North and South America.
‘But it is in the new continent on the other side of the Atlantic where most of our progress will be made,’ announced Zeldt with pride.
The guests gazed in awe and fascination at the uncharted lands.
‘Since its discovery fourteen years ago, America has proven to be a land of unparalleled potential. There is gold beyond your wildest imaginings; copper, mercury and iron in abundance. Below the ground is a secret substance that has the power to transform us completely. Here is paradise on Earth, and we will control every square inch of it.’ Zeldt’s voice became loud and shrill. ‘Here, I propose to build at least fifty secure cities!’
The spectral map of the Americas began to pulsate with images of the snake and shield. All the guests, their faces glowing in the light from the image, watched with eyes full of greed. Only Jake and Topaz were blank-faced.
Slowly this picture of America disappeared, and the image that had begun the demonstration – the single
word Superia in giant gothic letters – returned. It loomed over Zeldt’s head, before finally melting away into the darkness.
The light dimmed. Mina closed the gauge on the wall and pulled the lever to replace the section of floor. The last of the smoke rose up into the vaulted ceiling. The presentation was over.
Zeldt scanned the faces around the table. ‘Tomorrow I must leave the country on a private family matter. But I would encourage all of you, and whatever family you have brought with you, to remain in the castle until the worst has passed. Of course, you will be safe anywhere, but it is best that you stay here. We have enough food and drink to last a year. And naturally, all my staff are at your disposal.’
Jake and Topaz once again exchanged a sidelong-glance with each other.
‘So this leaves only the final matter …’ Zeldt murmured. ‘Please open your boxes and charge your glasses.’
The occupants of the table seemed to know what to do. They reached forward and opened the small tortoiseshell box in front of them. Jake and Topaz followed suit. Jake was amazed to discover a quantity of white talc-like powder.
‘I recognize this,’ he whispered in Topaz’s ear. ‘It looks like one of the substances Talisman Kant sold to Mina Schlitz for the casket of gold.’
The guests started emptying the powder into their crystal goblets of water, as did Zeldt and Mina Schlitz. The glasses were fizzing and bubbling as the water reacted with the agent. Jake and Topaz had no choice but to copy everyone else. Soon the liquid in each goblet became still again.
Zeldt held up his glass. Once again his voice was loud and rousing. ‘TO THE FUTURE. TO THE FUTURE OF OUR WORLD!’
Everyone was about to drink, when a voice called out, ‘One moment.’
The man with the sharp nose sitting next to Jake put up his hand. ‘Pieter De Smedt of Ghent,’ he introduced himself. His voice was nasal, high-pitched. Jake had stopped breathing, aware that eyes would now be looking in his direction.
Zeldt stared at the man, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.
‘I am sure I am not the only person around the table who is thinking this …’ The man indicated his goblet with tiny, bloated hands, his jewelled rings catching the light. ‘But how do we know that this “potion” of yours is going to work? All this could be an elaborate trick to get hold of our money.’
Mina’s lips tightened in annoyance. Pieter’s other neighbour, the tall, haughty lady in the African headdress, surveyed him with distaste.
Zeldt took a deep breath and smiled thinly. ‘Isn’t it obvious that I need all of you, just as much as you need me. I thought I had made it quite clear that we were working together. But there is no compulsion.’ His voice was now clear and sharp as a razor. ‘Would you like to leave now?’
There was a long pause. As he thought it through, Pieter De Smedt’s thin red lips pursed and his nose twitched. ‘The fact is … I don’t trust you.’
There was an astonished murmur amongst the guests. All eyes flashed in Zeldt’s direction to see how he would react. The prince’s expression remained inscrutable. He simply lowered his eyelids at Mina. She did not hesitate, but swept round the table to Pieter. She quickly deposited her snake on the table, then unclipped a whip from her belt, looped it around Pieter’s neck and pulled it tight.
The effect was shocking. He gasped helplessly, giving a high-pitched whine; his face turned pink, then crimson, his eyes bulging; he reached out his stumpy hands in vain, knocking over his glass. The snake thrashed with delight as Mina effortlessly tightened her grasp. Jake, whose hands were shaking under the table, had one eye on the serpent, the other on Pieter’s face. He wanted to stand up, to put a stop to it now! But Topaz took hold of his leg firmly. The lady in the African headdress watched the spectacle, her eyes glinting sadistically. Pieter let out a final twisted glottal stop, Mina released the whip – then his head thumped forward onto the table, the serpent deftly coiling out of its way.
Mina reached over, straightened the goblet, then took Pieter by the collar of his purple doublet and deposited his limp, lifeless body on the floor as if discarding yesterday’s rubbish. Jake wondered if the man had any family with him; it was impossible to tell as not a single guest dared show any emotion. Finally Mina retrieved her beloved pet, kissed it and placed it back in its box.
Suddenly Jake caught sight of Pieter’s vacant staring eyes and he was seized with panic. Topaz, aware of Mina nearby, clutched his leg even more firmly under the table.
‘Be strong, Jake, I beg you, be strong,’ she whispered, trying to reassure him. A red-headed man who had been sitting next to Pieter turned his head questioningly – but at last Jake managed to get his breathing under control. Pieter’s body was dragged out of the room by two guards. The double doors closed behind them.
‘Anyone else …?’ asked Zeldt.
The guests shook their heads eagerly, held up their goblets again and started, one by one, to drink. Jake looked at Topaz, his anxious eyes asking her what to do. Topaz was aware that they could be found out if they did not comply, and she could already feel Mina’s gaze heading in their direction. She nodded at Jake and drank; he did the same. He braced himself for something nasty like atomium, but this tasted only of water.
Zeldt stood up. ‘Miss Schlitz will supply you with enough elixir for the rest of your families.’
Mina pulled back his chair and he made for the hidden door. He turned and looked at the occupants of the room. ‘Now, you are my guests – enjoy your dinner,’ he said enigmatically before vanishing into the darkness.
Moments later, the double doors swung open again, and an army of servants swarmed in to serve the food.
As one might have guessed from the décor in the entrance hall, the general theme of the meal was meat. There were hams baked in cloves and cabbage, poule au pot Henri IV, Michelmas goose in almond sauce, roast duckling with spice rub, and a red deer pie that was so enormous it was decorated with its own set of antlers.
Topaz had no appetite, Jake even less, but they realized they had to go through the motions of eating in order to not arouse suspicion. Conversation started up around the table, but it was desultory: a tableful of arrogant medieval millionaires, each one thinking themselves better than the next, does not make for a convivial party. As Jake forced down his food, all cloyingly rich, he glanced at the place where Pieter De Smedt had been sitting just twenty minutes before. Nathan had spoke about Zeldt’s capacity for cruelty. Those were just words; that empty chair was a fact.
Just when Jake and Topaz thought they might be able to slip away, the desserts arrived.
‘Frangipane pie, lemon posset, prunes in syrup, almond jumballs with orange sauce,’ the waiters announced. Jake and Topaz chose the smallest and forced it down, wondering whether they should try and sneak one out for Charlie. In the end they decided that with Mina still scanning the room, it was far too risky.
Finally the meal ended and people started to disperse. Jake and Topaz stood up, made their way cautiously towards the door and slipped out.
* * *
‘Soup! I had soup,’ Charlie complained as the three of them made their way back towards the suite. ‘And not interesting soup, like pea and thyme or porcini mushroom, but cabbage soup – or rather, cabbage floating in tepid water. That was the only vegetarian option – pig’s trotters weren’t really doing it for me. Though even cabbage soup was more scintillating than the conversation. I now know just about everything I will ever need to know about carriage axels and their provenance. In short, don’t buy a carriage from north-eastern Europe. Anyway, if you refuse to tell me about your desserts – “for my own good”, as you put it – at least tell me what went on.’
Jake and Topaz gave him a synopsis of everything they had witnessed earlier, ending with the unpleasant demise of Pieter De Smedt of Ghent.
‘Good grief,’ said Charlie, unnerved. ‘I saw him being carried out. Presumed he’d overdone it on oysters or some such.’ His face could not get any paler. ‘Whatever Z
eldt is planning, this is the big one.’
‘Look!’ Jake exclaimed, glancing down the corridor.
Mina Schlitz had appeared round the corner and was striding towards them. They retreated into the shadows and hid behind a statue of a Roman warrior.
Mina stopped in front of a stone wall-fountain. She looked from side to side and, confident that no one was in the vicinity, did something with her hand (the agents were unable to see exactly what, as Mina herself was blocking their view). A thick panel of stone on one side of the fountain creaked open, revealing a dark cavity within. She stepped inside and disappeared down a staircase before the wall closed behind her.
The three agents looked at each other.
‘I’m guessing there’ll be some answers through that doorway,’ whispered Charlie. ‘We need to come back after dark and investigate.’
23 UNMASKED
ROSE DJONES DID not sleep a wink that night. She was disturbed by her discovery of the chequered rose and the bundle of notes, and haunted by the image of Jupitus staring at her behind the Library of Faces. She wondered if she had really glimpsed ‘the look of love’ in his otherwise inscrutable gaze. She wondered also why she had butterflies in her stomach. ‘It can’t be possible,’ she exclaimed out loud to herself, ‘that I could have feelings for that rotter!’
In the twenty-five years that Rose had known Jupitus (when they were younger they had been forced to go on missions together), he had not once shown her the slightest sign of affection.
The following day Jupitus ignored Rose at lunch, taking a seat next to Oceane Noire, who was dressed, with attention-grabbing theatricality, in black. (Norland asked her if anyone had passed away, and she replied, ‘I’m in mourning for my thirties.’) It was only when Rose was leaving the room that Jupitus pushed in front of her and spoke: ‘Four-thirty sharp, the eastern battlements. Don’t be late.’
The History Keepers: The Storm Begins Page 19