The Alchemist's Door (25 page)

Read The Alchemist's Door Online

Authors: Lisa Goldstein

BOOK: The Alchemist's Door
13.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
All four were sleeping peacefully. He held the candle over each in turn and said their names silently, as though performing an incantation: “Arthur, Katherine, Rowland, Michael.” Then he turned and went back to his room.
He woke what seemed a short time later. A terrible feeling of dread weighed upon him, a feeling he had thought he had left behind when he came to Trebona.
He listened hard. The same footsteps were heading down the corridor.
Once again the footsteps stopped at his door and he heard the malicious laugh. Once again he stumbled to the corridor and looked left and right down the hallway. Once again he visited his children's room, and once again he saw nothing amiss.
He did not go back to sleep, and so was awake when the
footsteps came again and the entire performance was repeated. And repeated again an hour later, though this time Dee could see the sky turning pale beyond his window and knew that dawn was near. Somewhere a cock crowed.
He lay still, watching the sky grow lighter. Objects emerged slowly out of the gloom, defining themselves: bed, wardrobe, chair. Their very ordinariness reassured him. When he heard servants bustling down the hall he dressed and went downstairs.
Count Vilém sat alone at a great oak table, breakfasting on bread and beer. “Good day, John!” he called to him. “Care to join me?”
Dee sat. His eyes felt stuffed with sand. Vilém gestured to a servant standing motionless by the table; the man left and returned with a platter of bread and beer. Dee stared at it, wishing he had some of that reviving drink Loew had once served him—what was it called? Coffee, that was it.
“John,” Vilém said. “John, are you listening to me? A traveler brought some letters last night.”
Dee forced himself to pay attention. “Letters. Yes.”
“Listen to this,” Vilém said, opening one of the envelopes in front of him. “It's from a friend of mine in Prague. ‘I was recently introduced to a man who is fashioning a cup from a giant green stone,' he writes. ‘He claims the stone is an emerald, though I have never seen or heard of one so large. He is a Jew, and says he is making the cup in anticipation of the coming of the Messiah. There are strange mystic currents in Prague. Everyone feels that something is about to happen soon, though no two people can agree on what it will be. You must leave Trebona, my friend, and come to the city—otherwise you will miss it.'”
Vilém looked up. “What do you think? Is something about to happen?” He saw Dee's expression and put his letter down. “What is wrong?”
“I heard something last night,” Dee said. “Footsteps.”
“Is that all? It was a servant, probably. One of the girls sneaking out to visit one of the stableboys.”
“No. Loud footsteps. And a—a laugh. An evil laugh. I went out to the corridor but there was nothing there.”
Vilém frowned. “I don't know what it could have been.”
“No, but I do. I am—I have been haunted by a demon.”
“A demon?”
“Yes. I have been running from it since I left England, but I can't escape it. I'm afraid it has followed me here, to your house.”
“Well,” Vilém said. “We'll post a guard outside your room. And I'll look in my library for something to banish it, some ritual or incantation.”
Dee's heart sank. Vilém meant well, but he had no idea how to deal with the thing that haunted him. He was a hearty, pragmatic man, a man who thought that a practical solution could be found for everything. Dee had once believed that himself, before this thing had started to dog him. But even Loew, with all his learning, had not been able to help him. He was completely alone.
“Post the guard outside my children's room instead,” he said.
Katherine came down the stairs. “Hello, child,” he said. “Have some breakfast with us.”
As she came closer he saw that she looked troubled. It was not a child's expression but an adult's, the face of someone with a problem too great to bear. The sight twisted his heart.
“What is it, sweetling?” he asked.
She put her arms up and he lifted her to his lap. She would soon grow too heavy for this, he thought, realizing to his surprise that she was already five years old. “I had a bad dream,” she said.
He drew her close to him. His heart was pounding so loud
he thought she might be able to feel it against her skin. “What did you dream?”
“A—a thing. There was a bad thing. It came into my room. Then there was a light, and it ran away.”
A light? Could that have been his candle? “What kind of bad thing?”
“I—I don't—”
To his horror she burst into tears. He cursed himself for asking her, for forcing her to think about the thing she most wanted to forget. Had her dream brought back memories of that night in his study? Even worse, what if it had not been a dream at all? What if the demon was stalking her again?
He had to do something, he thought. Surely there was a spell, a ritual … . He shuddered. Katherine must have felt something because she squirmed in his lap to face him. Her worried expression had returned.
“Everything will be fine,” he said. “The bad thing will not bother you again.”
A plate slipped across the table and smashed into a wall. Katherine cried louder. “What was that?” Vilém asked. His commanding expression had gone; he looked uncertain, almost afraid.
“It's the demon,” Dee said, quietly, so Katherine wouldn't hear.
That night when he went to look in on the children he saw that Vilém had been as good as his word: a man in the count's livery stood in front of the door, his eyes alert. The guard nodded as Dee stepped inside.
The children slept peacefully. Rowland had thrown off his blanket; Dee covered him again and tucked him in.
The presence of the guard did not reassure Dee; he felt uneasy as he made his way back to the room he shared with Jane. His apprehension grew when he blew out his candle,
plunging the room into darkness. He tossed on the bed, certain he would never get to sleep. Several times he thought he saw fantastic shapes in the dark, his mind creating phantoms where nothing existed, and he jerked awake, his heart pounding.
He fell into a troubled sleep. A scream woke him. He sat, then quickly spoke the spell for his glow-light. “What is it?” Jane asked, coming awake beside him.
“I don't know.”
Together they ran into the corridor. A bright glare came from the children's room. At first Dee thought it was another glow-light, something the demon had summoned up. He woke fully, all his senses alert, prepared to do battle with whatever the demon had in store for him.
As he hurried closer he saw orange light flaming from the open door. Vilém came running down the corridor. The guard he had posted followed him, and other servants scurried around; the entire house seemed to have come awake.
Dee ran for the children's door. “No!” Vilém said.
Dee barely heard him. The fire was concentrated around the four children, playing around their bodies and caressing their faces. He rushed to the closest, Rowland, and saw to his relief that he was not burning; the fire illuminated and held him, nothing more. The children looked enchanted, as if they had lain under a spell for a hundred years, their faces glowing in the light.
He reached through the fire for Rowland. His hands and arms burned and sparks caught on his nightshirt, but he ignored everything and pulled his son out and laid him on the floor. Beside him he saw Jane doing the same to Katherine, and Vilém lifting out Arthur. He hurried to Michael and pulled him free.
As soon as the children were safe the mattresses and bed linen ignited. Dee heard an enormous
whoosh
and for the first
time smelled fire and burning straw. Arthur came awake and started to scream; Katherine and Rowland heard him and woke as well, their cries joining his. Michael, remarkably, still slept.
Dee lifted Michael and shepherded the rest of the children outside. The ceiling gave way behind them, falling heavily on the beds and catching fire as well. Vilém called for water. A stream of servants ran downstairs to the well.
Dee did not join them. He hurried his family to his bedroom and crowded the children in the small bed, where he examined them carefully. They had fallen asleep again, understanding somehow that they were safe. None of them, miraculously, had been hurt.
“Husband,” Jane said softly. He looked up at her. Amazingly, she was smiling. “Your beard is almost gone. And your eyebrows … .”
“Your eyebrows too,” he said. He reached over and gently traced the nearly bare arcs over her eyes.
“Thank God the children are all right.”
Dee frowned. “Not God,” he said. “God was not responsible for any of this.”
“No. It's that demon, isn't it? That thing Kelley called up in your study in England.”
He looked at her, surprised. He had told her everything else, but he had been careful to keep this one thing from her, knowing how she would worry. “How do you know about that?”
“I see things, don't I? And hear things. I'm not stupid.”
“No,” he said. “Not stupid at all.” He hesitated. Men ran up and down the stairs, shouting out orders. “I thought I had finally outrun it, but it's found us again. And it's toying with me. It could have killed the children, but instead it wanted to show me its power. It will kill me with worry one day.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I think—I have an idea, but we'll talk about it tomorrow. I'm far too tired to decide now.”
He made room for himself on the bed and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
He met Vilém in the corridor the next morning. The count was still dressed in his nightclothes. “Is the fire out?” Dee asked.
“Yes. The room's destroyed, though. Was that—was that your demon?”
“I'm afraid so.”
Vilém said nothing. They walked to the children's room together. The count had not exaggerated; the room lay in ruins, the ceiling fallen, the floor awash with water. Servants came and went around them, sweeping and pulling debris from the room.
One of the servants hurried up to Vilém. “We received some letters this morning,” he said.
Vilém glanced through the packet absently. He stopped at an envelope, his eyebrows raised, and then handed the letter to Dee. “You have some interesting friends,” he said.
The letter was from Loew. As Dee reached for it he felt a sharp pain, and he noticed for the first time that his hands were red and raw, burned from last night's fire.
“Here, are you all right?” Vilém asked.
“Yes.” He broke the seal and opened the letter quickly, wincing.
“I have some bad news about your associate Edward Kelley,” Loew had written. “He has kidnapped the boy Izak and says he will exchange him for the name of the thirty-sixth man. I am at a loss to know what to do. I thought that since you were acquainted with the man you might have an idea or two. At least, I hope you will write telling me Kelley's address.”
Dee looked up to see Vilém watching him closely. “What is it?” Vilém asked. “You look as if you've gotten bad news.”
“Bad news, yes,” Dee said. “Not for me, but for a friend of mine.”
“What is it?”
“A young man I know has been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped? By who?”
By a man I once called my friend, Dee thought. If not for me this never would have happened. I bring evil to everything I touch.
He thought quickly. The demon had proved that it could find him no matter where he went, no matter how safe he thought himself. He had to stop running, had to turn and face it at last. “I'll have to leave here for a while,” he said.
“What about your work on the Stone?”
“The Stone?” Dee asked absently, his thoughts still on his demon. “I wonder if perhaps the Stone is to be found somewhere besides workshops and studies, if the path to it lies outside, in the world.”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you look after my family for me?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Dee went upstairs to pack. One last time, he thought. It was nearly a prayer. One last journey before we all return to England.
PEARL USHERED ONE OF LOEW'S STUDENTS INTO THE STUDY. “He says he has a letter,” Pearl said.
Loew took the letter eagerly, hoping that it was from Dee. But one glance showed him that it couldn't be; there was no envelope, just a piece of paper folded in half. He opened it.
“I have not yet heard from you,” the letter said. “My patience in this matter is not unlimited. The boy will die if I
do not receive the information I want within seven days. Cattle Market, at the base of the statue. Yours sincerely, Edward Kelley.”

Other books

True Fate by Varadeaux, Shayna
The Devil's Alternative by Frederick Forsyth
WikiLeaks by Harding, Luke, Leigh, David
The Impossible Ward by Dorothy Mack
McAllister Rides by Matt Chisholm
Silver Spoon by Cheyenne Meadows
A Lotus for the Regent by Adonis Devereux