M. Rose - The Secret Language of Stones

I didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice. In fact, I decided to take advantage of it.

“Grigori, please don’t leave us here. I understand you’re a Bolshevik and your principles are against the monarchy, but there’s a difference between ideology and murder. And murder is a terrible burden to bear for the rest of your life.”

He cocked his head, as if listening and weighing my words.

“You saved my life on that ship,” I said. “I know you weren’t doing it just because of this rendezvous. I saw your face. I know what’s inside of you. You saved my life-are you really going to be the one who also ends it?”

His face twisted into a mask of grief as he wrestled with his personal emotions versus his politics. “I didn’t plan on having feelings for you.”

“But you do.”

He shrugged. “This is a time of war in more ways and in more places than one. In a time of war sacrifices must be made.”

A few moments passed.

“How can you leave your father? Your family? Your country?”

“My family? My country? My father never loved me. Not really. Not with his soul. And France has never been my country. I used France. Used her naïveté. Used her willingness to believe everyone wants to be in Paris instead of Petrograd. Used your city’s tunnels to hold secret meetings under the shop in order to plan all this. And now that I’ve done my job and secured the diamonds, I’m going back to Russia as a hero to work for the party. I’ve done what I came to France to do.” He spat out the name of my homeland.

“The Rainbow Diamonds?” The empress looked at me.

I nodded.

“I’d thought so. Nicky told me about them so long ago. He said he had given them to your Monsieur Orloff to safeguard. Did you bring them with you? Is that what you were going to give me?”

“I was,” I told her. “But they took them.”

“My father-in-law handpicked each of those stones,” she said. “Collected them. Treasured them. The finest colored diamond collection in the world… He gave them to my husband… and from my husband they went to Nicky…” Her voice trailed off.

“And now that fortune will help to fund the new party, the new Russia. Stones!” he said. “Glittering, gaudy stones. Blood money.”

All his emotion shone in his eyes. What I’d thought of as resentment had been hatred. I’d misread so much about this man. So had his father. We see what we want to see when we look at someone. Like a diamond before it has been cut. We can guess at its brilliance but can’t see the faults until the stone has been cut and polished. Only then can we glimpse inside and see the occlusions and the clarity.

“You should have stayed in your room with your ghosts, Opaline.” Grigori’s voice cracked. He turned. And left. The door clanged shut. A key turned. The metallic sound echoing like the final punctuation to Grigori’s words.

“They have taken all of my treasures, haven’t they?” the empress said. “My son, my grandchildren, my country.”

What did she believe? What was she asking? What did she really want to know? I decided I would wait. If we survived this and if she asked again, then I would offer her the talisman and together we would learn the fate of those five precious children. But was there any reason to conjecture about what I’d sensed and tell her nothing but a hunch? Did she need to know that here and now, while we were alone in this ancient underground cell? So deep belowground that, despite it being August, we were freezing cold. As I started to shiver, I worried about the empress, who’d been left here overnight.

She needed heat. So did I. What were we going to do to survive? I shut my eyes and tried to reach Jean Luc. He’d been so distant since I’d gotten on the boat. Barely here. He’d warned me. He was already leaving. Drifting away. But I couldn’t bear to let him go.

Or maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe this was all meant to be. Maybe the Dowager and I would be left to die here. Maybe this was the end of my time on this plane. Perhaps that’s what Jean Luc meant. Had he known? And when the end came and I was released from this body, would my soul find his?

My shivering increased. The Dowager’s teeth chattered. I struggled against the ropes but they remained taut. Frustrated, I jerked my arms downward. Had I heard a faint squeak? I repeated the action. The rope wasn’t giving but the wooden slats of the old chair were. For another minute or two I yanked and tugged, each exertion producing more creaking until I heard the first splinter. Keeping at it, I continued moving my arms up and down until the wood finally gave out and the chair rail clattered to the stone floor. With the echo still ringing, I disentangled my hands from the rope.

Jumping up, I rushed to the Dowager and untied her. Her skin was cold to my touch. Once I’d helped her stand, she leaned on me, unsteady on her feet.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I will be. It’s just so cold down here. We need to keep moving,” she said as we began to pace. From one end of the cell to the next. Back and forth. After ten minutes of this, she stopped.

“This won’t do. We must find a way out,” she said. “A way to open the door.”

We searched the room together, inspecting it, both of us hoping we’d find something, but we failed. It was hard to give up, but after an hour, we realized there simply was nothing down here but the chairs and the rope and bottles of wine. I cracked one open on a rock, one for me and one for her.

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“We’re going to think of something. I haven’t survived so much to die at the hands of those filthy Bolsheviks who’ve stolen everything from me.”

“Not everything,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

I reached inside of my shirt and pulled out the necklace and gave it to her. “Your son’s gift to you,” I said.

She took the necklace from me and inspected it. “There is a key?”

“He told you that much?”

“Yes, he said there would be a key to open it.”

“They took the key. They think they’ve got the real necklace. I don’t know how long it will be before they realize their eggs are hollow. But we need to get out of here and find safety before they do. I will make you another key when we get out.”

“Did Monsieur Orloff tell you about the necklace?”

“No, only that it was a secret gift. And he gave me an identical necklace to wear on the outside of my clothes in case anyone followed us.”

“He is a smart man. My son chose well when he chose him.” She fingered the eggs. “If Monsieur didn’t tell you about the Rainbow Diamonds, how did you know?”

I told her about making the key myself and opening them.

“What did you make a key with?”

“I’m a jeweler. Miniature locks and keys are part of my designs. I found a bit of gold in my pocket and heated it.”

“With what?”

“My fingers.”

“Your fingers? I don’t understand.”

I told her a little about myself and my heritage.

“A mystic. One got us into this trouble. How ironic if one were to get me out.”

“I’m not a mystic.”

“Would you prefer ‘witch’?”

I nodded. Even if I didn’t live to use it, the time had come to own it.

“Can you make a key to get us out of here? To unlock the door?”

“I don’t have any gold or tools.”

“If it’s gold you need…” She held out her hand, showing me her two rings.

“Even if there’s enough there to fashion a key big enough, I would need more heat than I can generate. More heat than my own fingers could withstand.”

Behind me warmth caressed the back of my neck, as if someone were blowing on my skin. I turned around. No one stood behind me. But I knew. Jean Luc was there. He’d come back.