“Are you quite sure you don’t need any help, Mademoiselle?” asked the maid Colette as she watched Haidée pile her tray with a precarious number of items. There were apples and pastries and rolls as well as cups of hot cider made by Madame Boulanger—definitely superior in quality to that of the Green Café although its creature had a surly personality.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
“Let me help you with the door.” Colette slipped passed her just has she lifted the tray into her arms. She opened the kitchen door and nearly swatted the marten aside as it waited in the hall, dashing back and forth excitedly.
“Thank you,” said Haidée as she walked out. The tray seemed heavier than she had guessed. Her knees wobbled a bit—she refused to blame her shakiness on her tonic—and hoped that she would not trip on her skirt.
The maid opened the cellar door for her as well. The marten bounded down the stairs before her. Carefully, she made her way down the dimly lit stairwell, concentrating on putting her feet evenly so as not to fall headlong into the depths of the observatory.
Midway down, she wondered if she had been a little too ambitious with stacking the tray. So far, her arms remained steady so as not to spill any of the cider, but her muscles were growing tired. And if she did foolishly spill the contents of the tray, she hoped that the entire thing would miss her dress. She had picked a particularly flattering gown that morning—a rather deep green one that would contrast rather nicely with her brown-red hair. The neckline scooped down just low enough to tease the eye.
She tried not to think too much about the reasons on why she chose that particular gown.
The flight of stairs ended just as light spilled outward from a rather dank, windowless room. Wooden crates filled with assorted parts for various instruments were shoved against the wall. The light came from several oil lamps sitting on some overturned crates. The smell from the oil lamps was a thick, pungent odor that made Haidée wrinkle her nose. In a corner, there was a telescope on a stand aimed at the ceiling. On the wall beside it was a pair of iron double doors.
A scarred work table scattered with charts, tools, and a clock stood at the center of the room. Renaud was bent over the table looking at an astrolabe and jotting down figures. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his spectacles. The wire-rimmed glasses were sitting on top of a closed book near the edge of the table instead. His coat was draped over a chair. He looked up, and seeing Haidée, went around the other side of the table to clear a corner of it off.
“Why are you down here?”
She put the tray down on the table and sighed as the weight came off her arms. “You usually come up to the kitchen for a brief respite in the late morning. I thought I’d bring something to you instead.”
“You should have asked someone to help you carry this thing.”
“I managed well enough.”
A loud clatter interrupted Renaud before he could reply. The marten had investigated the room with great interest and had decided to take a closer look at one of the crates. While perched at the edge of the box, it had lost its balance and had fallen head first into a pile of wrenches, screws, and discarded wooden parts carved into strange shapes. After a moment, the marten poked its head out from the edge of the crate to give a confused chirp before diving back into the mess.
“Your pet needs some manners,” Renaud said.
“It’s not my pet. It just follows me around.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.” He went back around to the table to continue writing, but he didn’t pick up his pen. “Thank you for bringing down the tray.”
“You’re welcome.” She cleared her throat delicately as he continued to watch her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay down here a little while to see you work.”
“This cellar is a mess. Are you sure you want to stay down here instead of taking a walk outside?”
“The weather hasn’t been very cooperative, if you’ve noticed.”
“No, I haven’t noticed. I’ve been down here since six this morning.” He gave her a self-deprecating grin. “I have to keep up the pretense that I’m a serious astronomer.” He grabbed an apple from the tray and finally sat down in his chair before taking a bite. “The way I see it, it’s a bit like acting. Except this is easier because all I have to do is to hide myself away doing ‘research.’”
Haidée took a step closer to the table to examine its contents. He had been writing down numbers from the astrolabe—if those numbers made any sense, she had no idea. The charts had pictures of constellations or had some sort of odd table with rows of numbers. She recognized the times for sunset and sunrise and puzzled over the columns headed by the names of the planets.
“This looks more like mathematics to me than astronomy,” she finally said. She looked up from the charts.
His gaze slowly moved up her décolletage to her face. He gave her a lazy smile. “Oh, don’t move on my account. I was just enjoying the view.”
Haidée straightened. “Are you?” She found the edge of her mouth twitching upward. She was enjoying her own view as well. Renaud sat slouched back in his chair, his thighs spread, and a leg propped up on an overturned crate. He cradled his half-eaten apple in his palm like an indolent libertine. She picked up his spectacles and twirled the earpiece around her finger. “I didn’t know that astronomy required mathematics.”
“Oh, it does,” he replied. “The two are actually rather intimately intertwined. Many mathematicians dabble in studying the cosmos. And more than a few astronomers indulge in numbers besides observations.”
She looked through his spectacles and could see the room as clearly as if she had been peering through window glass. “You don’t need these at all, do you?”
“Another part of my disguise, I’m afraid.”
When she put the spectacles back down on the table, she noticed a familiar looking card sticking out from beneath a book. She pulled it out. It was a round telescope card. The previous evening, she had finished deciphering the second card that she had found in the attic observatory room. She carefully went over the symbols on this third card, noting the differences. “Did you make this yourself?”
Renaud shook his head. “No. It came with that telescope.” He jerked up his chin to indicate the instrument sitting in the corner of the room. “I found it while investigating this place. It isn’t anything interesting, just something used to help focus the lens of the instrument when observing celestial objects. Real astronomers know how to use that thing.”
“Real astronomers are a bit like sorcerers,” she replied.
“Do you know how to work those symbols?”
She put the card down. “Maybe.” She was hesitant to tell him about the reference book she had back in her room.
Finally finished with the apple, he stood up to put the core back on the tray. “Speaking of symbols, you owe me.”
Surprised, she repeated, “Owe you?”
“Back near that wall bordering the farm,” he clarified. “I wasted two spells on you before I realized that you weren’t going to kill me.”
“Me, owe you spells?” She frowned. “I didn’t make you use those spells. You were the one who tried to attack me.”
“Nonetheless, you owe me.”
“That’s ridiculous. How will I know that you won’t use those spells against me again?”
“I won’t.” At her skeptical look, he said, “Perform one of your truth spells on me again.”
“No. I don’t like using my abilities on people.” She turned to pace the room, thinking. Momentarily, she was distracted by the marten that had popped up from another crate with a golden colored object in its mouth. It jumped down onto the floor and scurried off to another corner. “What if we do a trade?” she said finally.
“Trade?” He sounded wary. “What sort of trade?”
“I’ll give you two defensive ones rather than something that could harm someone else.”
His expression smoothed. “If that’s what you want to do, all right. But a defense is not quite the same as a weapon. I want something else as well. Perhaps…a kiss.”
She suddenly laughed. “What did you think I came down here for?” She stepped toward him and grabbed the front of his shirt to lower his head. His eyes widened, but he made no move to resist.
“Ack! You damn rodent! Get off me!”
They both pulled away from each other. Renaud hastily grabbed his spectacles and shoved them back onto his face. Haidée steadied herself by grabbing onto the edge of the table, her mind still fixed on the way his excited breath feathered over her cheek.
The marten ran down the stairs with something else in its mouth and headed straight towards her. It tugged on the hem of her dress with its paws and with a sigh, she lowered her arm so that the animal could climb up to her shoulder. But instead doing so, it dropped the object into her palm and dove back into one of the crates of junk. Haidée looked down at her hand. A dull pewter key. She pocketed the object just as a man stumbled down the stairs.