Barbara Hambly - 02 TRAVELING WITH THE DEAD

"Is he alive?"

Karolyi nodded. Although she knew he must be at least thirty-five, he seemed younger and radiated a kind of earnest intensity, like a youthful charmer who has put his charm aside to speak of important things.

"Though I cannot guarantee how much longer that will last. He is in the hands of..." He hesitated artistically, studying her face, like one who debates with himself how much of what he says will be believed. And yet, she realized, he was actually watching her, trying to guess how much she knew.

Like Ysidro playing picquet, she thought, peeking at the stock cards and wondering what to appropriate and what would do him no good. Her heart beat harder and she thought, Jamie will die if you botch this up.

"He is in the hands of a man called Olumsiz Bey," he went on after a moment. "A Turk. A truly evil person. Tell no one," he added quickly, as Lydia pressed her hands to her mouth and widened her eyes as Aunt Lavinia generally did before crying out in horror at the presence of death-dealing spiders or the perfidy of the children of her neighbors. "What exactly did he tell you, Mrs. Asher, that brought you to Constantinople to search?"

He must have been talking to Lady Clapham. She wondered how much that redoubtable woman had seen fit to tell him-how much she would have considered not worth the trouble of hiding.

"Oh, where, when?" She didn't expect a truthful answer to the questions and asked them to buy herself time to think, but she had no need to manufacture the panic, the desperation that she threw into her voice. She had never considered herself to be an actress, but any young lady of good society knew how to exaggerate delight or terror, or whatever other emotion was called for. A number of conversations with Margaret over the past week certainly helped her performance.

She clasped her hands to her breastbone. "Did you speak with him? Did he look well?" Has he been in touch with his own department? Do they know I had dinner with Mr. Halliwell? Why would I have come to Constantinople if I didn't know the kind of danger he was in?

"We did not have the opportunity to speak." Karolyi's voice was soothing, a beautifully modulated tenor with the barest trace of a Middle European accent. An eminently believable voice. "He appeared unharmed, though as I said, there is no way of knowing how long that will last. That is why you and I must talk. When you fled from me last night, I feared some rumor or calumny had reached you. I assure you, Madame..." He made his voice earnest, deeply concerned. "I assure you, such rumors are exaggerations, fed by the enmity of our two countries and the suspicions of men who see only threats wherever they look."

"Fled from you?" Lydia steeled herself, produced her eyeglasses from her handbag and put them on to peer at him. "Last night? Were you at the palace reception last night?"

Under the fine traces of mustache his mouth quirked, disarmed for a moment. With two quick gestures of his forefinger he smoothed the mustache, and Lydia noted the fine cut of the pale tan gloves, French kid at six shillings the pair.

"Baron!" Razumovsky's gray and golden bulk appeared from around the corner of a stall and pushed through the crowd, Margaret scuttling in his wake. Lydia's glasses immediately disappeared from her face and into the folds of her skirt.

"Back from your flying visit to London, I see."

"Prince." Karolyi bowed to the exact depth required of a Russian prince rather than an English one. "A flying visit indeed, but one must dress, you know." He laughed rather vacantly and flicked the lapels of his Saville Row suit. "Are you here with Mrs. Asher?"

He believes I've been taken by surprise, thought Lydia swiftly. If I put this off, he'll guess I had time to prepare.

"Will you excuse us for a few moments, Your Highness?" As the Russian moved off she turned her back slightly and put her hand behind it, signaling-and hoping he saw- with her outspread fingers: five minutes.

"From what Mr. Halliwell said I gather you and my husband weren't exactly friends," she said quickly, keeping her voice fast and breathless to keep from stammering with uncertainty and dread. "But it is all really a... a sort of confraternity, is it not? You are all in the same business, no matter what side you're on." She produced her glasses again and put them on, well aware of the air of scholarly ineffectualness they lent to her face. "Thank you so much for letting me know! I knew-I knew-that Cousin Elizabeth couldn't have been wrong!"

"Cousin Elizabeth?"

"Cousin Elizabeth in Vienna," said Lydia, as if slightly surprised that Karolyi were not acquainted with her family. "She lent my husband twenty pounds a week ago Thursday night, to take the Orient Express to Constantinople. She's his cousin- his second cousin, actually-and she lives in one of the suburbs, I forget the name... In any case I telephoned her when Mr. Halliwell gave me the note from my husband..."

"Note?" The graceful eyebrows deepened in a frown.

"Telling me to return to London. Saying he was going on, he couldn't tell me where. Mr. Halliwell did his best to convince me to go back, and I let him think I was going back, but I knew my husband was in danger of some kind! I knew it." She clasped her hands again, praying that it wasn't obvious that she was shaking all over.

"Why were you in Vienna?" He was running this over in his mind, trying to fit pieces together. Guessing at Ysidro's inscrutability had given her a greater ability to deal with ordinary human expression.

She widened her eyes. "He sent for me." What other reason would there have been? her tone seemed to ask. And, when Karolyi looked gratifyingly skeptical, she explained, "He telegraphed and said there were some medical notes that would need to be analyzed. I am a medical doctor, you know," she added, propping her spectacles and looking as unworldly and harmless as she possibly could. "I do research at the Radcliffe Infirmary."

"And your specialty is?"

"Rare pathologies of the blood." It was nothing of the kind, but unless Karolyi read medical journals, he wouldn't know that. It was the kind of thing they would have sent for her to examine, if they were dealing with vampires.

He evidently didn't, for a look of enlightenment dawned in his eyes. "I see."

"But when I reached Vienna, Mr. Halliwell told me something dreadful had happened and Dr. Asher had had to leave the city suddenly, and gave me his note, telling me to return to London. And I knew he had to be in some kind of danger, especially after Cousin Elizabeth told me he'd borrowed money from her to come to Constantinople all of a hurry. And now they tell me he's disappeared, and I don't know what to do! Oh, Baron Karolyi, if you know anything, can help me in any way...!"

He looked annoyed, as well he might, she thought, but he concealed it well as he patted her hands. "Calm yourself, Mrs. Asher, calm yourself. What have you been able to find out of his whereabouts?"

That, she thought, was what he wanted to know. That, and how much she herself knew.

"Nothing!" she wailed. "I came here to the marketplace because I understand he was arrested near here. I thought that some of the shopkeepers might have seen something, or know something..." She removed her spectacles and blinked dewily up at him. "Prince Razumovsky was kind enough to offer to escort me here, as he knows the language."

Karolyi sniffed, just slightly, and Lydia reflected that Lady Clapham's estimate of the prince's amorous nature was probably correct, if Karolyi would believe that the prince would come here to escort a woman.

"Listen, Mrs. Asher," he said, lowering his voice somberly and leaning down a little to gaze into her eyes. "His Highness may officially be on the side of the English, but believe me, he is not a man to be trusted. Whatever you chance to learn- even small details, even if they sound foolish to you-let me know at once. You and I can pool our resources; together we can find your husband."