Ian Hocking - The Amber Rooms

‘How do you feel?’

‘For an hour or so after one of my spells, I need to sleep. But then I’m fine.’ He paused. There was a measured aspect to his tone. Saskia guessed that he was unsure how to play their conversation. ‘Mother likes me to stay in bed, though, so I do.’

‘I’m glad you’re better.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Now return to me what you have stolen.’

‘I’m sorry?’ he asked. The surprise was almost genuine.

‘Don’t apologise, Pasha. Just hand it over.’

Pasha reached under his pillow and withdrew a folded handkerchief. He held it out for Saskia to take. When she unfolded the handkerchief, she saw the band. In the darkness, its finish was marbled. She passed it over her stump and pushed it into the crook of her left elbow.

‘Why did you take it?’

His head tilted back. The pride of a nobleman was there, nascent.

‘Because I wanted to see you again.’

‘And yet the darkness here is complete, Pavel Eduardovitch. Bad luck.’

‘Yes.’

She yawned.

‘Turn on your bedside light, if it pleases you.’

‘The filaments are broken ever since Monday, when I had the bad dream.’

‘I see.’

‘Are you angry?’

‘Do I sound angry?’

Pavel swallowed.

Don’t tell me you want to marry me , she thought.

‘I stole the band as you carried me to the taxi in the Tsar’s Village.’

‘I thought you were unconscious.’

‘It comes and goes.’

Saskia said nothing for a long minute. Then she said, ‘Your English is excellent.’

Pasha sighed and said, exasperated, ‘It didn’t do anything, you know. It didn’t glow or buzz.’

Saskia removed the pocket watch from her waistband and opened the lid. Its green light reached her face.

‘Now you have your wish,’ she said. ‘You see me again.’

‘Hardly. What is that?’

Saskia passed him the watch. He closed it, then opened it.

‘But this is my mother’s watch. Did you steal it?’

‘English idiom: “Two can play at that game.” Yes, I stole it a moment ago. I advise you to dig a hole and bury it.’

‘Why?’

‘The luminescence is caused by the gradual decay of the material, a metal called radium. Each particle of radium comprises smaller particles. Some of these particles are called electrons. We derive the word electron from the Greek for amber, ήλεκτρον. The electrons, as well as some other particles, emanate away from the material. Some of this energy takes the form of visible light. This emanation is dangerous. It can cause sores and other, more serious diseases.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ said Pasha. ‘If what you say is true, she can decide what to do about it.’

‘She won’t think it’s true.’

‘Then I’ll tell her to listen to the scientists.’

‘They don’t know about the dangerous emanation.’ She paused for effect. ‘Nobody does.’

‘How do you know these things?’

‘I’m your tutor,’ said Saskia. The shape of the words betrayed her smile, and Pasha smiled, too. ‘It is my job to know things that will give you an advantage.’

Pasha placed the pocket watch in the pocket of his pyjama top. ‘I wish you still worked for us.’

‘So do I.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Ms Tucholsky, there are some things that a man must do even though they are difficult. Sometimes they are futile. I am not a man yet.’

‘Pasha—’

‘Wait. Yesterday, I would have died a man. I knew that the horse guard wanted to kill you, and I placed myself between his sabre and your—’ He flicked away a run of sweat from his forehead. ‘Yourself.’ He sniffed in that noble manner again. ‘One may earn the right to be called a man if one acts as a man.’

‘We have a similar expression where I come from. “Stupid is as stupid does.”’

‘Alexander Pope?’

‘Forrest Gump.’

‘Oh.’

Saskia leaned forward. She was still smiling. ‘Give me your hand.’

‘Ms Tucholsky …’

She could feel the heat from his body. His hand was clammy. She guided it towards her body. ‘Here.’

In a disappointed voice, Pasha said, ‘It’s a bottle.’

‘Yes.’

He paused, then repeated, ‘It’s a bottle.’

‘Are you taking any medication prescribed by a doctor?’

‘Some teas. Nothing else.’

‘Then I want you to take one of these tablets each day. Never, ever take more than one. They’ll take about a week to become fully effective. Stop taking them if you feel overly dizzy, if your eyes feel as if they’re moving randomly, or if you get excessively clumsy.’

‘What happens if I take more than one?’

‘You’ll die. It’s a poison; but some poisons can help in non-fatal doses. Your seizures should stop. Hide the bottle where nobody can find it. There is a scientist at the Military Medical Academy with a great knowledge of physiology and medicine. He’s called Pavlov. If you need to see him, tell him that Penelope sent you.’

Saskia lay across the bed, parallel to the foot rest, and put one arm beneath her head.

‘And now my last gift. What time is your viva voce at the Lyceum?’

‘Ten o’clock.’

‘You have six hours. Plenty of time.’

‘For what?’

‘Tell me how you will impress your interviewers.’

‘Well,’ Pasha said. ‘I will demonstrate my knowledge of mathematics. Euclid, and so on. That is the basis of my proposed study.’

‘Have you heard of the St Petersburg Paradox? It might serve as an interesting case of the failure of rationality in the light of mathematics.’

‘Ms Tucholsky, before we begin, I must finish my earlier thought. A man must speak his desires if he is to, so to speak, hold them.’

‘Put it away, junior.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘There are times when a man must accept the discrepancy between his wish and his reality. This is one of those times.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Now, imagine a roulette wheel. If you put your money on red and the wheel returns black, what would happen if you doubled your bet and placed it once more on red? Eventually, you are guaranteed to win at least the amount you put on red. Understand? This is the reason casinos have a maximum bet.’

‘I’m sleepy.’

‘We call the range of winnings the possible gain. Repeat that, please.’

‘I’m going to call for help.’

Saskia gripped his foot through the blanket. ‘They would never reach you in time.’

Pasha laughed. ‘The range of winnings is called the possible gain. But what does “paradox” mean?’

‘Парадокс. An entity whose components make sense individually but not as a whole.’

Kamo had been installed in the public viewing room of the Police Department on the Fontanka. It was a plain wooden hall with leather-backed doors at both ends. Kamo was standing on a chair in the centre. His feet were chained and his hands cuffed behind his back. Around him, a line of building superintendents, and their assistants, and the otherwise curious, passed by in a spiralling queue. Their expressions were by turns curious or indifferent. He might have been the Tsar in state. As one of them lingered, Kamo stamped his foot, and hissed, ‘There you are! Did you get the consignment of illegal pamphlets I sent? Come, don’t be shy!’

That gawker hurried on.

Outside, the sound of church bells carried through the traffic.

This abstract present carried wearisome generalities. Even the pain was boring. Kamo longed for the particular feel of forest earth beneath his felt boots.

In his memory, it is October, 1905. The weather is unseasonably cold. Tiflis could be warm in autumn, even sultry. The cold snap is a topic of conversation second only to the revolution.