Paula Goodlett - Grantville Gazette 45

Agathe put her hands on her hips, anger making her face red. "We would have a hard-working daughter-in-law with enough skills to help keep us afloat. I want you to announce that you have taken care of the matter by arranging her marriage to Christoph. And if you don't, Julius Wolf, I swear I will!"

Margarethe was crying as Christoph led her into the workroom. Silently, he sat beside her and offered his handkerchief, which she took with a sniff.

"They haven't made a judgment yet, and even if they rule for Master Gench, Papa and Master Brumme can appeal to the duke."

Margarethe mopped her eyes and shook her head. "The duke will never listen. I suppose I could sign everything over to your papa and run away, but Master Gench would find me and force me to marry his son."

Christoph reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Margarethe, I have a present for you."

"Oh? For me?"

"Two presents actually, one from Papa and the other from me."

Gently, he opened a cloth bag and pulled out a large hank of angora wool, dyed a soft blonde. "I know you ordered this from the crayon profits, but Mama told Papa she'd never forgive him if he charged. well. family. The salesman called the color 'Kristina Blond' so he was sure it was the right color."

Margarethe stroked the soft wool in amazement, her tears slowing. "Ohhh! Christoph! It's perfect! Softer than I could ever imagine! But you said you had a present for me?"

Smiling he handed her a box. Opening it, Margarethe stared. Laying in the box were two wooden dolls, one boy and one girl.

"I. I made them special. With the knob joints in the arms and legs like Emma's. I painted them too. I know the hair is only paint. "

"Oh. Christoph! They're exquisite! I don't know what to say!"

"Say you'll marry me, and not just to avoid Rolf Gench. Though it would be a massive blow to me if you preferred him. I want a room full of dolls and little girls of our very own to play with them."

Margarethe smiled. "And what if we have boys?"

"We could always expand the business into toy soldiers. But first we have to do a little promotion."

Magdeburg Palace security, plagued by crack-pot religious fanatics, spies, and an ever widening circle of foreign and native enemies, were pleasantly surprised to find that the package contained not a bomb, but a eighteen-inch doll of Princess Kristina holding a miniature Brillo doll and a note:

TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

FROM M. KLEIN amp; COMPANY, FASHION DOLLS

Epilogue

"Hurry up! Get that wagon loaded and going!"

"Lukas, calm down!" Hilda Gench placed her arm on her husband's, trying to calm him, but he shook it off.

"Hilda, be silent and get that useless son of yours out here! We need to get out of town as soon as possible!"

"But there's no reason. "

"Of course there's reason, fool woman! Were you deaf when you heard the pastor read the banns for the Wolf boy and the Klein girl? Well, if you did, then you also remember the loans I took to try and get that girl for our boy! Money to bribe the other guild masters, money for the magistrate, not to mention our other debts! If we don't get out of town right now , we're done for!"

Hilda whimpered as Lukas raised a meaty hand toward her. "But Lukas. "

"Go!"

"Men coming," Rolf called from where he slouched in the doorway.

Toward the end of the street, Lukas saw men dressed in the uniforms of the town guard riding toward the house. Ignoring his wife and son, he clambered onto the wagon and grabbed the reins. "I'll write from Prague!"

Salim let the door to Baram Khan’s sickroom close before addressing the man who walked out. “Any change?”

The physician started, wheeled to face him. “I didn’t see you there.”

Salim stepped into the light of the candle the man held, and quirked an eyebrow.

The local man shook his head. “No, no change. I must be going. A-another patient, you understand.”

Salim did not blame him for being frightened. Knowing the fate of physicians who failed to save the lives of powerful men in his own nation, Salim could forgive the man thinking Salim might attack him.

Waving him away, Salim turned to look at the door. Beyond it, surrounded by a very few of his remaining loyal servants, the emperor’s envoy was dying a slow, painful death. A week, perhaps a bit longer, and the man would breathe his last and go to his final reward, whatever it might be.

Taking his prayer beads in hand, Salim said a prayer in the darkness to speed Baram Khan’s passage to Paradise. Just because one thought little of another man’s deeds did not make them less likely to attain Paradise. It only showed the unworthy state of one’s own soul.

Hearing a horse in the courtyard below, he stepped to the window at the end of the hall in time to see the physician ride out of the torch-lit courtyard. Good riddance. The man had proved almost worthless, failing, even, to see what was plain to Salim and anyone else with experience of court life: Baram Khan had been poisoned.

It wasn’t even entirely the pompous courtier’s fault he was dying. Baram Khan’s tasters had all died in various mishaps before the envoy even entered the Germanies. Then, understandably angry at being robbed by Grantville’s mercenaries-which the Mughal noble could only see as confirmation of the histories Salim was translating for him-Baram Khan departed the wonders of Grantville before new tasters could be found.

No one knew who had killed Baram Khan but, like everyone else in the man’s entourage, Salim had an idea who it might be.

Salim shook his head. Regardless of the who and the how of the current situation, decisions had to be made.

Rehan Usmani, Baram’s first servant, would want to return immediately to Aggra and report events to Nur Jahan.

Fear seized his heart at the thought. Little could be worse for the Empire and Mian Mir’s hopes than that woman possessing proofs Aurangzeb would, in his hunt for the throne, imprison his own father and murder his brothers.

Baram Khan’s exile on what the court had believed a fool’s errand had led to this much, at least: Salim had the books from the future, he had the pictures.

He could return to Mian Mir and ask the living saint what to do, couldn’t he?

Finding his answer in the question, Salim turned from the window, started for his chamber.

Grantville’s mercenary company might have stripped Baram Khan of everything of value he’d carried on his person, but his servants had passed largely unmolested. Salim still had several small pouches of fine gemstones, and knew where to sell a few.

At least five hours remained before morning prayers. He would pack quickly, walk a couple of the pathetic excuses for horseflesh from the manor and, once out of hearing, be on his way.

A long, dangerous journey lay ahead.

He smiled to think of it.

The siblings had barely greeted one another when the honeybee flew between them to land on the orchid and crawl into the purple folds of the flower, seeking the nectar within and drawing the Prince and Princess to watch in appreciative silence. Long moments passed, the heavy bloom trembling. Eventually the honeybee took flight from the flower, releasing the siblings from stillness much as it scattered the flower's golden pollen.

As the interloping insect disappeared deeper into the gardens, wingbeats joining the hum of the others of its hive, Dara Shikoh and Jahanara leaned back and regarded one another, much as they had many times before and, God willing, would have opportunity to do for many years to come.

Putting away her desire to immediately transcribe the beauty of the bee’s flight into poetry, Jahanara waited for her brother to speak. She noted his smooth brow was furrowed under the gorgeous yellow turban. She had not seen him so troubled since Aurangzeb’s poem had embarrassed him before all the court. Jahanara suppressed a shudder, recalling the events immortalized therein: the great war elephant, mad with rage and entirely out of control, trampling slaves and scattering the Imperial household. Her younger brother Aurangzeb, barely sixteen, calmly sitting his horse while everyone fled. The way clear, Aurangzeb charged the great bull elephant and struck it between the eyes, stinging it so badly it ceased its rampage.