The Cardinal's Blades

11

There was a coach in the courtyard of the Hotel de Malicorne, waiting to depart, when Gagniere arrived at a gallop.

“Madame!” he called out as the vicomtesse, dressed in a travelling cloak with a short cape, was about to climb through the coach door held open for her by a lackey. “Madame!” Surprised, the young woman paused. She had the casket containing the Sphere d’Ame under her arm. She proffered it to a man sitting inside the vehicle, of whom the marquis saw no more than his gloved hands, saying: “Don’t open it.”

Then turning to Gagniere, she asked: “Where are your manners, marquis…?”

The gentleman dismounted, and unsure who was inside the coach, said in a confidential tone: “I beg you to forgive me, madame. But circumstances demand that I forgo the usual formalities.”

“I am listening, monsieur.”

“We have Pontevedra’s daughter.”

Gagniere’s eyes shone with excitement. The vicomtesse, on the other hand, manifested nothing more than a cautious wariness.

“Really?”

“She fell into our hands by returning to her home at the very moment when Savelda happened to be there as well. The souls of the Ancestral Dragons are watching over us, madame!”

“No doubt, yes… Where is she at present?”

“With Savelda.”

The vicomtesse winced.

As the ambassador extraordinary of the king of Spain, the comte de Pontevedra was negotiating a rapprochement with France which the Black Claw opposed. With that in mind, his daughter constituted a choice prey. A prey that should be preserved intact.

“When the Grand Lodge of Spain learns that Pontevedra’s daughter is in our hands,” said the young woman, “it will lay claim to her. We must therefore hide her in a secure place, outside Paris; somewhere no one will be able to reach her without passing through us.”

She thought for a moment and decreed: “Have Savelda conduct her without delay to the Chateau de Torain.”

“Today?” asked Gagniere, alarmed. “But, madame-”

“Do it.”

The man in the coach then spoke up, still without revealing himself: “It was at Pontevedra’s express request that the cardinal called up the Blades…”

The vicomtesse smiled.

She privately reflected that it was in her power to, sooner or later, wreck Pontevedra’s diplomatic mission by threatening his daughter’s life. But the same means could be used to a different, more immediate, end. It would, moreover, be an opportunity to measure the depth of the ambassador’s paternal feelings.

“Let us send word to Pontevedra that we hold his daughter and that if he wishes to see her again alive, he must provide us with some tokens of his good will. The first is to persuade Richelieu to recall his Blades as of today. That will remove a thorn from our foot.”

“And who shall carry this news to Pontevedra?” asked Gagniere.

The vicomtesse thought for a moment and an idea came to her.

“Monsieur de Laincourt wishes to be initiated this evening, does he not? Well, let him show his mettle. If he carries out this mission successfully then he shall have what he wants.”

After Gagniere’s departure, the vicomtesse climbed into the coach, which immediately set out. She sat facing the person the marquis had been unable to see and to whom she had entrusted the precious reliquary.

“It’s the Sphere d’Ame, isn’t it?” asked the man as she took the casket from him.

“Yes. Without it, nothing that will take place this evening would be possible.”

“I am anxious to see that.”

“I believe you. But the experience is painful. And sometimes, fatal.”

“I don’t care!”

Full of confidence in him, the young woman smiled at monsieur Jean de Lonlay, sieur de Saint-Georges… and captain of the Cardinal’s Guards.

If he survived, there was no question at all that he would become an initiate of the first order in the Black Claw’s French lodge.