CHAPTER 32

In Which Turnabout Is Fair Play

The coffee-tasting at the palace was a triumph, the royal palate piqued and pleased by the exotic elixir and Etzel’s excellent pastries. Following a most successful audience, they had been approached by the master of warrants, who offered them a wooden plaque carved and painted with the royal arms; the plaque was to be placed over the door of their coffeehouse, indicating King Rudolf ’s imprimatur of satisfaction and pleasure. Englebert and Wilhelmina returned home floating on the heady vapours of victory. That night they celebrated in the Kaffeehaus with a special dinner and a bottle of fine wine supplied by Herr Arnostovi, whose palace spies had confirmed the emperor’s delight in the new drink and its accompanying sweet cakes and his intention to imbibe frequently in the future.

“Your success is assured,” Arnostovi told them, rising from the table to hoist his wine cup high. “With the royal warrant, you will want for nothing in this city, my friends. Let us raise our cups to the Grand Imperial Kaffeehaus!” He tipped his cup to his mouth and, losing his balance, sat back down with a thump.

“The Grand Imperial, now, is it?” Wilhelmina laughed. “You are drunk, Arno.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “And why not? It is not every day you conquer a city like Prague.”

“Hardly that,” scoffed Mina lightly. She smiled at the thought all the same.

“We have tickled the emperor’s taste buds, I think,” suggested Etzel. “He drank his Kaffee and ate three of my cakes. This is all we hoped for.”

“And yet,” said the landlord, “your modest hopes have been rewarded in riches beyond your dreams. I salute you, my friends!” He waved his cup again, sloshing wine over the rim and onto his hand. “What will you do with your fame and fortune, I wonder?” he asked, licking wine from the back of his hand.

“We don’t have a fortune yet,” Mina pointed out. “What with the rent of this shop, shipping expenses, the payment of staff—I think our fortune is far from secured.”

“Only a matter of time,” crowed Arnostovi. “You should think about investing with me.”

“Right now, I only want to think about enjoying this delicious dinner,” Mina said. “Thank you, Arno.” She reached across the table to pat his hand. Etzel saw the gesture and his mouth twitched. Mina, mindful of her partner’s more tender feelings, reached for his hand also. “Here I am with my two favourite people in all the world,” she gushed, the wine making her free with her feelings. Still, she realised even as she spoke the words that it was probably true. “I thank you both.”

“Why are you thanking me?” wondered Englebert.

“For being my friend,” she told him, giving his hand another pat. “For helping me, trusting me, and above all, believing in me.”

“Mina,” said the big baker, his voice growing soft, “it is I who should be thanking you for all those things . . . and more.”

“To friendship!” cried Herr Arnostovi, draining his cup. “Let us eat and drink and rejoice in your victory today. But first—” He rose abruptly from the table and took two unsteady steps backward.

“What is it?” asked Mina, half starting from her chair.

“First, my friends,” said the man of business, “we need more wine!”

The next morning the cluttered table stood as a silent reproach to the previous night’s festivities. “It looks as if someone made merry,” observed one of the kitchen helpers when they arrived to begin work. With much tut-tutting and shaking of heads, the minions set about clearing away the detritus of what had been a sumptuous, if slightly raucous, celebration.

By the time the shop opened for business, all was ready and in order. Wilhelmina, still exulting in the triumph of the previous day, floated about her chores, her heart light, a song playing on her lips. Etzel, too, hummed his way through his duties, taking great pleasure in the way their coffeehouse filled up with customers. Thus, the day passed in happy industry—right up until the late afternoon when Chief Under-Alchemist Gustavus Rosenkreuz appeared with the court visitor known as Lord Burleigh. The two took a table in the corner and ordered coffee and Etzel’s cream cakes. They had been served and were deep in conversation, their sweets untouched on the table, when Mina saw them.

Curious, and eager to continue their brief conversation of the previous day, she paid a visit to the table.

“ . . . the device must be small enough to carry on one’s person,” Burleigh was saying. “A traveller cannot afford to be burdened in any way.”

“I understand, mein Herr,” replied the young alchemist, studying a scrap of parchment spread out among many on the table. “I think it is well within our skill to manufacture such an item to your requirements. Its size should not present undue difficulties.”

“Splendid!” Burleigh glanced up quickly. “Ah! Fräulein! We meet again.” He stood, and the alchemist rose, too, as Burleigh took Wilhelmina’s hand and gallantly kissed it. “Your shop is wonderful. I congratulate you.”

Mina thanked him. “And how was your Kaffee?”

“As good as any I’ve ever drunk.”

“You’ve had Kaffee before?” wondered Rosenkreuz.

“Oh, once or twice,” said the earl dismissively. “I forget where. I congratulate you, too, on receiving the royal warrant. You must be very proud.”

“We are very grateful.” Glancing at their empty cups, she said, “May I bring you more Kaffee, gentlemen?” Both accepted the offer, and Mina went to fetch it; when she returned with a fresh pot, Burleigh was at the table alone.

“My young friend has remembered some urgent business,” he explained in his formal English. “But this will give us a chance to become better acquainted.” He indicated the chair next to his own. “Please, sit with me.”

Mina settled into the offered seat. “Forgive me, Lord Earl,” she began, choosing her words with some care, “but it seems to me that you are very far from home.”

“As are you, my dear,” replied Burleigh.

The reply was ambiguous, so Mina probed a little deeper. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I left more than London behind when I came here. I suspect you did also.”

The dark stranger’s expression grew keen; his eyes narrowed. But he said nothing.

She took his silence for affirmation. “So, where did you come from? Or, should I say, when?”

“Whatever do you mean, dear lady?” replied Burleigh, still watching her intently.

“I mean,” said Wilhelmina, lowering her voice and leaning forward, “like myself, you have travelled in time. You’re not of this century, and neither am I.”

“What makes you say such a thing?”

“I know, all right?” she said, glancing around quickly. “Your little slipup just now—about having coffee once or twice. You forgot this is still a new thing here. And yesterday, you betrayed yourself when you asked which coffeehouse was mine.”

“Ah,” replied the earl thoughtfully. “Touché.”

“Then there are your clothes,” continued Wilhelmina, warming to her argument. “Plain, good quality, serviceable they may be—but the cloth is machine-woven. I had the same problem when I arrived. The things you’re wearing might have been made in England—but a few hundred years from now, I expect.” She fixed him a sly, knowing smile. “They may fool the locals, but they don’t fool me.”

“What sharp little eyes you have, my dear,” replied Burleigh through his teeth.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I don’t miss much.”

He took her hand as it rested on the table. “Then I am certain,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “that you will understand”—he tightened his grip, a little harder for emphasis—“when I tell you . . .” He squeezed again, uncomfortably harder, and maintained the pressure.

“Ow!” yipped Mina, trying to pull her hand away.

Burleigh held her fast in his grip.

“ . . . when I tell you that you have suddenly become an unwanted intrusion into my affairs.”

“You’re hurting me!”

“I’ll do more than that, sweet thing,” he muttered.

“Let me go!”

He brought his face close to hers the way a lover might. “If you want to stay alive,” he said, his breath hot in her ear, “stay far away from me.”

He released her hand and rose from the table. “Thank you for the coffee,” he said, all smiles and good manners once more. “I will say good-bye. I don’t expect to see you again.”

He moved quickly to the door and was gone before Wilhelmina could think to call for Etzel.

She was still sitting there, rubbing her hand and staring at the door through which the treacherous earl had disappeared, when Rosenkreuz returned. “Fräulein Wilhelmina?” he asked, taking his seat at the table. “Is all well?”

She started, coming to herself once more. “No—I mean, yes.” She forced a smile. “Never better.”

“What happened to Lord Burleigh?” asked the young alchemist. “Where has he gone?”

“It seems he had to leave. No doubt he will meet you again later.”

Rosenkreuz accepted this without comment.

“But here,” said Mina, jumping up, “your Kaffee has gone cold. Don’t drink it. I’ll bring you some more.”

“Thank you, but I should be about my own business.”

“It won’t take but a moment,” said Wilhelmina, hurrying away. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Is anything the matter?” asked Etzel, catching a glimpse of her preoccupied expression as she entered the kitchen. He placed on the baking table a tray of buns fresh from the oven.

“What?” she said. “Oh, no—no. Everything is splendid. I was just thinking. Umm, those cakes smell heavenly,” she told him. As soon as the pot was filled, she returned to the table in the corner bearing a tray with a second cup and a plate of pastries, which she placed before the chief under-alchemist. “On the house,” she said, taking her seat.

The expression puzzled the young fellow, but he reached for a pastry as his cup was filled. “I am in your debt, Fräulein,” he said, the crumbs falling from his lips.

“My pleasure,” she replied. “But I need your help with something.”

“Anything.”

“Merely a little information.”

“But, of course. What would you like to know?”

“What is Lord Burleigh doing here in Prague?”

“But it is no secret,” answered Rosenkreuz readily; then after a moment’s hesitation he added, “At least I cannot think that it is a secret. . . .”

“Well, then?”

“He has come to ask our aid in the manufacture of a device to aid his travels.”

“The device, yes,” said Mina, remembering the diagram she had seen in the earl’s hands upon entering the alchemy laboratory. “You were talking about it when I joined the two of you just now. Tell me about it.”

Rosenkreuz explained that the Earl of Sutherland was engaged in the exploration of the astral planes—the otherworldly dimensions that made up the unseen universe—and required a device to aid him. “He is a very intelligent man,” the alchemist confided, “and very brave.”

“Undoubtedly,” agreed Mina. “Another pastry? Please, go on.”

“The astral realms are thought to be—”

“The device, I mean. Tell me about that.”

“I do believe it to be the most cunning invention I have ever seen.” His hands described an oval as big as a grapefruit. “This device is to be used to identify the invisible pathways by which the earl makes his travels. These pathways are all around us, apparently—if we only knew how to recognise them.”

“I see.” Wilhelmina nodded, making up her mind. “Herr Rosenkreuz, how would you like to secure a ready supply of bitter earth for your experiments—free, at no charge whatsoever?”

“Of course. It goes without saying,” the alchemist agreed at once, “but that is in no way necessary. We can easily pay.”

“I know,” she replied, “and you are more than generous. But I want to exchange it for your help.”

“Very well,” agreed Rosenkreuz. “What is it that you wish?”

“When you have manufactured this device for Lord Burleigh,” said Mina, her tone taking on an edge Rosenkreuz had never heard in a woman’s voice before, “I want you to make one for me.”