“It must be soaked,” said the Contessa. “It does not matter—this far north I cannot prevent a scar.”
Miss Temple took up the bottle and poured carefully along the wound, catching the drips with the cloth. The Contessa winced again, but said nothing. The cut seeped blood as Miss Temple pressed against it, refolding the stained cloth several times until the bleeding stopped. At last the Contessa's hand came over hers, holding the cloth in position herself.
“I am obliged to you, my dear.”
“What happened?” asked Miss Temple.
“I was forced to pass through a window.”
“By whom?”
“Cardinal Chang.”
“I see.” Miss Temple's heart leapt. Chang was alive.
“But I was not fleeing Cardinal Chang. I was fleeing Francis Xonck.”
“Francis Xonck is alive?”
“If you can call it life. You smelled him yourself, didn't you?”
“He was chasing me? Just now? The monster?”
“I say this with kindness, my dear, but you really must keep the pace.”
“But Xonck stinks of the blue glass!”
“He does.”
“But the Doctor shot him!”
“One did not think the Doctor had it in him—yet it does seem Francis has taken drastic steps to survive…”
The Contessa carefully returned her arm to her dress and did up the buttons. The close working of her fingers drew Miss Temple's eyes as if their repeated movement was a conjuring sign.
“How did you escape the airship?” Miss Temple asked.
“How do you think?”
“You must have jumped.”
The Contessa tilted her head, encouraging her to go on.
“But your dress—the Doctor said it would have soaked in the water and pulled you down.”
“The Doctor is astute.”
“You took it off!”
The Contessa tilted her head once more.
“I should never have done that,” whispered Miss Temple.
“Then you should have died,” the Contessa told her. “But I think you would have done it. And anything else you needed to. That is how we recognize one another, Celeste.”
Miss Temple's words came suddenly, hot and loud. “But you did not recognize me, madame. You consigned me to death. On more than one occasion!”
The Contessa's eyes glittered, but her voice remained even. “Why should wanting you dead change a thing?”
Miss Temple opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap.
SHE LISTENED to the rattling wheels, wondering what stops there might be between Karthe and the city, and if the contents of their car were even destined for the city. The doors might well open in an hour at another mountain town, or two hours after that in some village that stank of pigs. And would Francis Xonck be waiting for them?
“Where is Elöise Dujong?” she asked.
“I'm sure I've no idea.”
“I thought I was chasing her,” said Miss Temple. “But I was chasing you. The man on the path—Mr. Olsteen, the hunter—”
“The soldier, Celeste.”
Miss Temple ignored her. “He had her knife in his hand.”
“What a conundrum. A shame he cannot explain it.”
“You killed him.”
“Someone had to.”
“How do you know he was a soldier?”
“Because I went to great trouble to avoid him—and his fellows— for some days, while they went to not quite enough trouble to find me.”
“Did they find Chang?” Miss Temple asked, suddenly afraid. “Did they find the Doctor? Who are they?”
“I thought you wanted to know about Mrs. Dujong.”
“I want you to answer my questions.” Miss Temple fixed her gaze on the Contessa quite firmly.
The Contessa studied Miss Temple's face, then yawned, covering her mouth with her hand, and then lowered the hand to reveal another knowing smile.
“I am tired. As you look like without sleep you will die, I would suggest that you do so next to me. It is still the mountains, and we have no blankets. Think of it as a pact for warmth between animals.”
Before Miss Temple could reply the Contessa blew out the candle.
MISS TEMPLE did not move from her barrel, listening with consternation to the rustling of the Contessa's petticoats as the woman sorted herself on the floor. The Contessa was a wicked, wicked creature—it would be the act of an idiot to trust her. Miss Temple was exhausted and shivering. What had happened to Chang? He'd left his note—and then done what, simply vanished to the city, knowing the Contessa was alive and free? And was Doctor Svenson any better? Miss Temple hugged her knees to her chest. She did not wish to find either man a source of disappointment, and yet they had clearly done less than they might have in her service.