The Oracle Glass Part 65

"According to her maid, she is chiefly engaged in a most shameless and open love affair with Florent d'Urbec, the gambler."

"Another one! The two most irritating people in Paris have formed an alliance. How appropriate."

"Your pardon, Monsieur. I have come to make a suggestion. You need to use La Pasquier to discover the facts about this latest intrigue of Buckingham's."

"You know how I hate to depend on her. And I swear, she wears that fishwife disguise solely to offend me with its odor."

"She is our only conduit to Buckingham's occult activities. He is believed to have enlisted the satanists in support of this new attempt."

"I'm afraid, then, I shall have to put duty before aroma."

"Exactly, Monsieur. Wittily put," answered Desgrez.

The next day, two red-stockinged sergeants showed Madame de Morville into La Reynie's reception room. La Reynie, in a plain suit of fawn-colored velvet with lace at the throat and sleeves, paced up and down impatiently, while the celebrated fortune-teller, in the discarded ap.r.o.n, cap, and gown of a fishwife, inspected the jumble of nymphs and other half-robed mythological beings that adorned the ceiling of the long, high room.

"I would think, Mademoiselle, that one of your origins would tire of the smell of that abominable costume." La Reynie spoke impatiently. Brus.h.i.+ng some invisible dust from his sleeve, he ordered a lackey to open the window in an irritated voice. "And kindly do not sit on the upholstered chair," he added. Madame de Morville smiled secretly and, with exaggerated humility, took the plain wooden stool without a cus.h.i.+on that was reserved for low-ranking visitors.

"The English Milord Buckingham has arrived in Paris with two companions. I have been informed that he has made a number of contacts throughout the city. This evening, he goes to get a reading from the spirits." The two sergeants took up their post at the white-and-gold paneled door to the antechamber.

"Yes, at Madame Montvoisin's. I have been invited. Spirits, as you know, are not my specialty."

"Lately, your specialty seems to be predicting gambling winnings and loose living," La Reynie observed drily. "This time, I expect a full report: what Buckingham desires, who joins him there, and what the spirits promise. A full report, do you understand?"

"Yes, of course, Monsieur de La Reynie." Was her tone a shade too sarcastic? La Reynie had learned over the course of several encounters that Madame had a decided bent toward sarcasm. But he didn't take the bait this time and remained dignified, looking down his long nose at her with a fixed expression of disdain. "Then you may go, Mademoiselle Pasquier," he announced. "Latour, open the other windows before I smother in the smell of rotted fish."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

It was already late in the afternoon by the time I had bathed away the smell of fish and had myself laced into my most impressive antique court dress for my appearance with the Sybils. Sylvie accompanied me, also dressed in her best, and Mustapha carried my train. I had promised Florent that I'd be back before dark, because the spirits don't usually take more than an hour. Madame burns incense and chants, and Nanon whispers from behind the tapestry in the next room through a speaking tube into the black parlor. The client is awed, the spirits equivocal, and Madame well paid.

I found the milords already arrived and drinking wine at the dining table in front of the tapestry, while Madame, sitting with them, gave orders to Nanon and Margot, who were scurrying back and forth into the black parlor.

"Ah, there she is-the dear marquise. Now our number is complete. Sylvie, you must join Nanon in front. Margot, I'll be wanting the cordial gla.s.ses in my cabinet. Mustapha, wait in the kitchen; our mysteries are only for initiates."

"I must say," giggled Milord's plump blond companion, "I am dreadfully partial to demonic seances. Tell me, will there be a virgin sacrifice?"

"Our mysteries are not to be revealed carelessly," answered La Voisin in a deep, thrilling-sounding voice. "You have requested the aid of one of the most powerful of the princes of h.e.l.l. It is enough for you to know that the sacrifice will be entirely appropriate. Astaroth does not serve without the payment of a human soul." The milords shuddered deliciously, and even the jaded face of Buckingham seemed to come alight with new interest.

"Tell me, does it involve...orgiastic excesses?" asked the second milord, and the bizarre l.u.s.t in his eyes unsettled me. "I am especially fond of ceremonies performed...without clothing." Oh, goodness, I thought, the things La Voisin does for money. Money and a refuge abroad. You'd think, with her pa.s.sion for elegance, she'd manage to conduct a ceremony with dignity.

"Oh, you may be undressed if you wish." La Voisin chuckled. "But as for me, I am empress of these shadows and dress accordingly."

"Silly French biddy," whispered the milord to Buckingham. But only I heard him.

"Then it's settled-the three of us will witness, and I will make the request to the demon. What must we do first?" asked Buckingham.

"First we must have a brief protective ceremony in my cabinet, because my lackeys are already preparing the parlor for the ceremony." At that moment, two servants carrying a rolled-up carpet appeared in the door of the black parlor. "Then I must robe in my vestments of power. That is a ceremony you must not witness. Purification, dedication. They must be absolute, if we are to retain power over the demon."

"Hmm-a genuine Turkish carpet. Your business must be very good, I a.s.sume," observed the second milord.

"Of course. I am aided in every project by infernal powers, as you yourself will soon be," answered La Voisin, unperturbed. Then she turned to me with a curious smile. The little v, all pointed, with the eyes caressing. "My dear Marquise, could I impose upon you to supervise the labors of those simpletons in my parlor? The windows must be sealed tight with pitch. I want no forgotten corners. Make sure the servants don't nick my desk when they bring it through the door-replacing gold leaf is costly. The braziers must be exactly equidistant in the corners of the room, and the black drapes over the statues and the face of the cupboard with the figurines. Ah, good-I am so grateful, Madame." She summoned Marie-Marguerite to her, and I heard her say as they vanished into the cabinet: "My daughter, an adept of superior powers...long ago dedicated to the demon in just such a ceremony...wealth and power...your request is simple for such a high prince of h.e.l.l..."

"Yes, yes..." I could hear him agreeing as they vanished in the direction of her cabinet, but the rest was lost. What request? I needed to know. I'll have to sit through the whole wretched ceremony now to find out, I thought. d.a.m.n that troublesome policeman, anyway. This was obviously going to take half the night, and I'd rather be home with Florent.

But at last, under my supervision, the room, stripped and sealed, was ready. The preparations seemed a bit elaborate for an ordinary spirit reading, but, then, impressing milords requires more show. The candle sconces on the walls were filled with black candles, and the heavy black brocade curtains were pulled across the tall windows. The remaining furniture, shrouded with black cloth, took on strange, eerie shapes like ghosts, while the faces of the Virgin and all the little cherubs on the shelf had been hidden away under black drapes. The black tiled center of the floor, ordinarily hidden under the rug, reflected the glitter of candle flames in its clean-scrubbed surface. Marie-Marguerite, strangely subdued, appeared at the open door to tell me that I was wanted in her mother's cabinet.

In Madame's cabinet, I found three s.h.i.+vering milords with cabalistic signs painted on their foreheads; the pupils of their eyes were large and glittering. Drugged, I thought. They certainly will see things. A little dish of something burned to ashes sat on the writing table beside the inkstand. There was a parchment with odd figures drawn in black. A bottle of cordial, some little gla.s.ses, and a plate of marzipan, all in little colored shapes like fruit and toys, sat in the midst of all this. Madame was sitting in her brocade armchair like an empress. A robe of scarlet velvet lay over her shoulders. It was heavily embroidered in gold, with hundreds of double-headed eagles, their wings spread. Beneath was a skirt of sea green velvet, heavily trimmed with lace. On her feet were scarlet velvet slippers, embroidered in gold with the same double-headed eagles. On her head rested a crown of lead, ornamented with death's-heads.

"Sit down, my dear. We have a long night's work ahead of us, and you know I hate to proceed without a little refreshment." I watched carefully as she poured the cordial into the gla.s.ses. Each was clean; there was one for her as well. Good, it wasn't drugged. You always had to check these little things when drinking with La Voisin. The milords raised their gla.s.ses to her. So did I. The marzipan went around, my favorite thing. I took the one shaped like a little cottage, which looked a bit larger than the other pieces.

We sat in silence for a while, which was just as well, because I suddenly felt very tired.

"It is time," the Shadow Queen announced, her voice deep and strong. "My powers are at their height. The moon has risen. My blood is inflamed with the powerful seed." The milords shuddered. "I will draw the circle." As if through a haze, I saw her take from the cupboards boxes and jars and mix the contents in careful proportions in a big bra.s.s bowl. "For the braziers," she said. Opium, St. John's wort, mandrake, and who knows what else. Then she took out chalk, a knotted cord, and five candles from a special box. In a strange metal box she had a mummified head. "The head of a parricide," she announced.

"Th-those are made of human fat?" asked one of the milords.

"Of course. I would use nothing else for such a powerful ceremony," she answered. His companion shuddered. She picked up her little silver bell and rang it. Her two lackeys, now clad in black, appeared at the door. "Take the offering into the chamber," she said, with a single, commanding gesture in my direction. It was at this time that I discovered I could not stand. I felt odd all over; I tried to turn my head to see what was happening, and it wouldn't move as I wished it to.

"How much did they pay you for this?" I tried to croak, before my tongue itself thickened and refused to do its duty.

"Don't struggle too much against the drug, my dear. You'll just overburden your breathing, which is much weakened just now." I couldn't move to see her. She leaned in front of me.

"They are paying me quite a lot, Marquise. And you really have to understand that my investment in you was spoiled after that business with the King. And, too, how could I trust you once it was clear you'd become a police informer-No, don't look so annoyed. I guessed it right away. I'm not stupid, you know, and La Reynie never lets people go without some little bargain or other. Never mind; it will all work out for the best." She patted my hand and smiled. "Besides, once Astaroth has taken possession of your mind, you will be entirely reliable again. One of us-you really ought to be pleased." Your daughter was right, I thought. You'd sacrifice anything if it were convenient.

"Oh, yes, I can see it in your eyes. You're wondering how I administered the drug, aren't you? So cautious, you are. Well, it wasn't in the wine; it was in the marzipan. You always will take the largest piece." She chuckled, and the view s.h.i.+fted crazily as the lackeys picked me up and deposited me in the black chamber, propping me up limply against the wall under the window.

"I beheld Satan as a bolt falling from heaven. It is thou who hast given us power to crush dragons, scorpions..." La Voisin was tracing the outer circle counterclockwise-the direction of the Devil-with the point of the great sword as she chanted. Marie-Marguerite and Sylvie, dressed in close-fitting blood-red robes, their hair unbound beneath circlets of lead, both stood behind her, holding something. Then followed the inner circle, traced in chalk, and the cabalistic signs, the triangle, the seal of Solomon. The Shadow Queen's two adepts lit the chemical mixture in the braziers and the bra.s.s bowl, and a fetid smoke began to fill the room. Then La Voisin placed the contents of the other bowls, a cat's head and the mummified head, outside of the circle as offerings to tempt the demon close.

"The cat must always be black?" murmured one of the Englishmen.

"Yes. And fed on human flesh."

"Must blood be shed?"

"Yes. Keep your hands close to you. If you extend them beyond the circle, we may lose you." The milords drew their hands close to them in horrified silence. The Shadow Queen resumed chanting, reading from her open grimoire while her two red-clad adepts lit the human candles and placed them within the circle. Meanwhile the room filled with the stifling smoke from the braziers. The milords were sweating and choking. Astaroth, however, stubbornly refused to put in an appearance.

"Mother, you must conjure him by Lucifer, his master-"

"Not yet. It is too dangerous. One more time." The Shadow Queen read again, "I invoke and conjure thee, O spirit Astaroth and, fortified with the power of the supreme majesty, I strongly command thee by Baralamensis, Baldachiensis, Paumachie, Apoloresedes, and the most potent princes Genio, Liachide, Minsters of the Tartarean seat, chief princes of the seal of Apologia in the ninth region..."

I felt violently ill. A dreadful sense of pressure and foreboding filled me. Marie-Marguerite fell to her knees. La Voisin's hair seemed as alive as snakes, all spread out over the crimson robe as she raised her hand, holding a rod, in a commanding gesture.

"Appear!" she cried.