"He said himself he had been ill," Ben told them, "but now he seems to think he is well again."

"To his health, then," Voltaire said, lifting his bowl. The others imitated him a bit distractedly.

"There was one more thing, Ben?" Maclaurin inquired.

"Yes. This." He withdrew the sphere from his pocket and handed it to Maclaurin.

"He said that one of us would know what to do with it."

Maclaurin gave the object a long, thoughtful look. It was no larger than a marble but was oblong. Ben had examined it closely on the walk to the Grecian. Inscribed on its metallic surface were seven sets of three digits, each punctuated by an alchemical symbol, and a single set of two digits set apart in a square.

Each of the philosophers examined the object in turn, as Ben watched their faces

carefully.

"Do any of you know what it is?" Ben asked, as Stirling, the last, turned it over in his palm.

Each answered in the negative.

"Well," Ben said, trying as best he could to quash the flood of self-satisfaction that seemed to expand in his chest like a new heart, "I do."

Maneuvers

Adrienne woke with a start as her sedan chair thumped suddenly to the ground. She bunked at the scene before her, trying to recall where she was. To her left, a number of men and women were dismounting. To her right was the king in his sedan chair, waving for her attention. He let down the window, signaling for her to do the same.

"I shall be commanding a regiment personally," he informed her, smiled, and then signaled his bearers to pick up and move on down the hill.

A vast meadow spread out before them. On the field marched two armies.

Yes, she remembered now. She had managed four hours of sleep before the king had sent for her. On a whim, he had decided to recreate one of the more famous early battles of the war. Once she might have thought such a spectacle interesting; now it seemed perverse. Her sedan chair was stiflingly hot. She signed for her servants to open the door.

The king was halfway down the hill, his chair and bearers looking like a fat, gilded beetle.

Standing was better; a breeze soughed through the elm, oak, and maple along the ridge of the hill. The court began entrenching itself around her, their servants spreading blankets, opening wine, and erecting tents and sunshades.

"Shall we set out your tabouret, Mademoiselle?" Helen asked.

"No, thank you, Helen. I should like to walk along toward the forest a bit. If you could inform the guard?" Then, not waiting for them, she began to stroll that way.

She could not keep Crecy"s p.r.o.nouncements out of her mind.

If the creatures of tale and legend had some scientific basis, then what was it? The stories she remembered often took place in deep forests. Auberon and his fey followers held court in sunless places. But what she had seen had been in Versailles, and it had been a thing of fire and air. Could life be built of such insubstantial stuff? Could such animalcules as could be seen through microscopes form into something like that?

Four Swiss Guards ran to catch up with her, and Nicolas, who was among them, shot her a dour look. The sight of him cheered her a bit.

Then she noticed that Torcy was on a path to intersect her, one guardsman and a young valet coming close behind.

"Good morning, dear Demoiselle," he greeted her, kissing her hand. "I notice that you seek a somewhat different perspective on the king"s battle. See, he has just reached his command."

Adrienne followed Torcy"s indicating finger, and there Louis was, stepping out of his chair. When one was near Louis, he seemed a giant, towering above all others. At several hundred yards, he could be seen for what he was: a short fat man. For a score of heartbeats, she pitied him. He was so convinced of his youth and health, so sure that she must find him as beautiful as he had once been, the man shown in glorious portraits. From her present view, he looked so vulnerable...

And then he moved. There was something so unlovable, so unsympathetic about his calculated, pompous motions that she almost shuddered.

She had almost forgotten that Torcy was there. "I am sorry, sir," she told him. "My mind wanders a bit today."

"Understandable," he said. "Considering."

"Considering?"

He smiled his wolfish smile. "I wonder if our servants might spread a blanket for us? I could then explain to you the maneuvers on the field." He gracefully twisted his hand to indicate the "armies" below, but she had a chill feeling that he meant a different field, different maneuvers.

"That sounds lovely," she said.

Within moments, a small pavilion had been erected for them, as down below the flam of drums and the wild piping of hautboys signaled the battle had begun. Two lines of infantry advanced, and suddenly smoke bloomed from their rifles. The enfeebled bark of gunfire reached them a moment later, as if from a world away.

"Watch for the Light Horse to sweep in from the side in a few moments," Torcy commented.

"Very well."

Torcy waved the servants away.

"You have been a very busy young woman."

"My wedding is approaching."

"Yes, which is why I found it odd that you should be engaging in such precocious adventures, my dear. Posing as an Austrian baron? Breaking into Monsieur de Duillier"s rooms?"

Adrienne knew she was still smiling. Aside from a small chill, she felt fine, her thinking seemed clear.

"What evidence do you have for these accusations, Monsieur?" she asked sweetly.

He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a bundle of letters. "These are the signed accounts of witnesses: guards who were bribed, servants who witnessed certain things. A number of people can swear that both you and your lady-in-waiting were at the Palais Royal. One of my agents followed you to de Duillier"s apartments."

Adrienne stared intently at the field. Hors.e.m.e.n in blue and gray uniforms were closing in upon one of the lines of infantry, but suddenly their horses were shying from a string of explosions; from the body of the infantry had stepped a group of tall, lanky men wearing floppy, unbrimmed hats. They had muskets slung on their backs, but they were hurling something.

"Grenadiers," Torcy clarified.

"They have strange hats."

"If they wore brims, they would knock their hats off when they unslung their muskets. I notice that you make no attempt to deny my accusations."

"I do not dignify your accusations," Adrienne replied.

"I prefer to think that even after all you have been through- after all of the poor judgment you have exercised and the evil influences that have beset you-that you still prefer not to dissemble."

"You are free to believe that."

"Mademoiselle, I have not pa.s.sed on what I know to the king, or Bontemps, or anyone else."

Adrienne turned to face the minister. "And what could that possibly mean?"

"It means, Mademoiselle, that I would like your cooperation in a certain matter."

"Well," Adrienne said, in as pleasant a tone as she could muster, "I would not think that the marquis of Torcy would be second in anything, but I have been proved wrong, for anything you might want of me, someone else has already inquired after. You wish my virginity? Oh, I am sorry, but the king has taken that. You wish my soul? A pity, for it has been purchased. Surely not my heart, for as you know, that is not mine to give. But if you want to f.u.c.k what has already been used, I can accommodate you. If you wish to rent a share of a soul already transacted to others, by all means, lease it. My heart, I fear, I have no control of, but I am certain that I can act the part of a lover well enough."

Her tirade caught Torcy off guard, but he quickly recovered. "This talk of a heart," Torcy mused. "There are some things I have failed to learn after all. You have been unfaithful to the king?"

Adrienne, preparing another verbal sally, stopped in astonishment. How could Torcy know the details of her adventures and not know- Ah.

"Never mind that," Torcy said. "I do not care about such things. What I want-" Tears were trickling from the stern minister"s eyes. Adrienne stared at him, unbelieving. "What I want," he whispered, "is for you to kill the king."

For a quarter of an hour, neither of them spoke. Adrienne watched the weird ballet below them.

"Is it so orderly in reality?" she asked finally.

"No," Torcy answered huskily. "In reality there is much screaming, chaos, and confusion. Men with holes in their heads do not know it and grin at their comrades, believing that they have survived the battle. The field stinks, for men foul themselves as they die, and open entrails have their own diverse odors. No, war is nothing like what you see before you now, my dear."

She nodded. "You have lost many who were beloved to you in the wars?"

"Mademoiselle, you cast your line, but it will catch no fish. It is sufficient that I have decided-much against my heart, entirely against my honor-that Louis XIV has reigned too long. If he rules another year, France will be ruined."

"You were behind the attack on the barge? That was why the barge was burned before I could examine it."

"No! " he snapped, and then repeated more quietly, "no. Then I was as I seemed: the king"s minister and friend. It was your observations that led me to the real culprits. No, that plot was engineered by the Korai."

Adrienne stiffened, but he waved his hand. "I care not if a group of women form some Rosicrucian cabal. I have known of them for some time. I never cared until they became active in politics. You led me to them, my dear, but when I found them I was... persuaded."

"The d.u.c.h.ess swore to me-"

"The d.u.c.h.ess is an admirable woman and well suited to lying, but she did not lie to you. The a.s.sa.s.sination attempt was planned and carried out without her knowledge. Madame Castries, as I am sure you know, is the brain behind that feminine body."

"And when you learned this?"

"At the time I was shocked, and I would have seen all of you hanged. Now..." His eyes went a little distant. "Now I grow older. Do you understand what will become of France after that thing of de Duillier"s strikes London? No civilized country in the world will stand with us. Mademoiselle, I have seen things, heard the king say things..." He looked weary enough to die. "He is no longer Louis," he said. "I know my king, and that man down there is not he. You, of all people, should know that"

"Regicide will not stop the comet."

"No, but it might undo some of the worst damage. If Louis is dead, we can end the war.

France and Spain will be divided, a peace can be drawn up, and the new king can distance himself from the affair. It will be bad, but if Louis is still alive-"

"Then he may do it again. And again, and again, until all of Europe bows before him."

"Ridiculous. Until some enemy sorcerer lays waste to France with an even more destructive spell. And this weapon of de Duillier"s is not like a cannon, as you well know. It cannot be fired at will, but only when the heavens provide ammunition. Even I see that."

"And who will you support as king?"

"Orleans, of course. Maine is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and France will not have him."

"And how is it that you need me, sir?" she asked. "Why must I help you to slay my husband-to-be?"

"Mademoiselle, the king cannot be slain under most circ.u.mstances. He wears ensorceled clothing, and there are things that seem to watch him.""Things?""Demons, I believe. Serpents from the pit.""So he must be naked? Why not when he is changing in his own bedchamber?""Bontemps would rather see France rise in flames than betray the king.""Some would say the same of you.""And once they would have been right But times and people change. I only ask you to think on it."

"No, you ask much more than that," Adrienne said. "Else why inform me of all the crimes you could charge me with, if you wished?"

"If I must coerce, I will. But in truth, I wanted you only to know that our interests coincide, and that I am not your persecutor."

"No? And yet I feel enormously persecuted, Marquis. How can that be?"

"It is the king who despoils you, Adrienne. It is the king you must be free of."

Below, the battle seemed to be concluding; the bodies of men were scattered on the green field. There was no blood.

"Do you leave me a choice?"

"I wish to, but I cannot. If you refuse, I must try to kill the king anyway, and I will probably fail. Mademoiselle, the worst thing that can happen to you is that I fail and have pity on you. Then you will have to marry the king. You will have to become another Maintenon, without possessing her fort.i.tude and lack of imagination. Better by far if my evidence were to come to light, for then you would probably be cloistered in some distant convent, where your life would be more pleasant. No, think of my blackmail evidence as proof that you were forced into my mad scheme if it should fail. I can remove from my doc.u.ments any mention of the Korai, if you wish. In short, I will a.s.sert myself as sole author of all events. But to secure these things, you must help me."

"What will become of me afterward?" she asked.

"You will quit France, if you wish. You can vanish, and in the new regime you will be forgotten. I can secure you a position in Florence, Venice, Vienna-someplace you can pursue your studies."

Now the king was climbing back into his sedan chair. All traces of her earlier compa.s.sion were gone. Torcy was right. Louis must die. She did not trust the minister, but that was beside the point. If this was a trap, it had been set and baited too well.

And she knew a thing or two the foreign minister did not, things that might make all of the difference or none at all. She smiled brightly at Torcy. "Tell me what I must do," she said, "and I will do it."

Torcy grimaced. "It is more complicated than that," he said. "I told you the king was protected.""You implied I need only have him naked, away from Bontemps.""I am afraid that I hedged. I wanted to persuade you before I told everything.""I see.""As I said, he is protected. I do not know how far that protection extends.""Do you mean you do not know how to kill him?""Yes, Mademoiselle, that is exactly what I am saying. When fully dressed he wears certain garments that repel bullets and render neutral the energies of such weapons as kraftpistoles."