Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,127
the duchesse managed to evade the full severity of the punishment she deserved in the Chateauneuf affair, La Fargue deemed that the greatest dangers of the Dampierre case had been averted. The queen was safe and the Black Claw mercenaries who had not been killed would never again see the light of day. To be sure, Savelda had escaped and could not be found. But the Alchemist was behind bars. As for the Blades, they had come out of the whole matter quite well, They had even acquired a new member, Laincourt, whose shoulder wound had not proved serious.
Also slightly injured, Marciac was torn between two sentiments: joy at having held a queen of France in his arms and frustration at not being able
to boast about it. Saint-Lucq had disappeared again and Agnes was occupied elsewhere after receiving a letter from the Former Superior General of the Sisters of Saint-Georges. In the end, the captain was only worried about Leprat, who had returned from his mission looking much the worse for wear, Physically, but also mentally speaking.
At Le Chatelet, a gaoler opened a door on the level con-taining individual cells and stepped aside to allow La Fargue and Almades to enter. The room was cool, quite dark and sparsely furnished with a table, a stool and a bed. They found the Alchemist there, looking through an arched window lefended by thick bars. As solemn and sinister as ever, he was dressed in grey, with a bandaged shoulder and his wrists bound by shackles made of a steel alloy containing draconite, the alchemical stone that inhibited the power of dragons.
The Alchemist's thin, scarlike mouth twisted into a strange smile as he turned towards his visitors.
'How kind of you to accept my invitation, captain.'
The first person to raise an alarm was a ditch digger who, poking up at the sky, could not at first believe his eyes, but then ran to the nearest village. He arrived frightened and out of breath, hammered at the door of the presbytery, and then had trouble making himself understood by the parish priest.
The latter also had difficulty believing the news. The man's eyes had played a trick on him. Or he had been drinking. But other witnesses arrived soon afterwards.
They had also seen it.
They were also afraid.
The priest decided to ring the church bells.
Looking out the window of his private office, the comte de Treville looked out over the courtyard of his mansion in the rue du Vieux-Colombier for a long while. Then he turned away and asked Leprat:
'Have you truly made up your mind?'
'Yes, monsieur.'
The captain of the King's Musketeers seated himself at his desk and granted himself a few more moments of reflection. He used this time to examine Leprat who stood at attention without blinking, with his ivory rapier at his side and his right hand wrapped in a bandage.
'Don't misunderstand me,' Treville said at last. 'I ask for nothing more than to see you wear the blue cape once again. Indeed, no one is more worthy of wearing it . . .'
'Thank you, monsieur.'
'But I know what the Blades represent in your eyes. And I also know the respect and the friendship you have for monsieur La Fargue . . . Have you told him of your decision?'
'I shall tell him this evening, along with the other Blades.'
'It won't be easy.'
'I know.'
At the Hotel de Chevreuse, Arnaud de Laincourt joined the duchesse on the large terrace. Still looking pale, he had his arm in a sling. As for the duchesse, she was no less beautiful or less elegant than usual, but she was alone and wore a grave expression on her face. She stood beneath a canopy that shaded chairs and a table bearing untouched delicacies: crackers, cakes, marzipans, fruit jellies, preserves and syrups. In her hand she had a liqueur glass filled with golden henbane and, from the gleam in her eye, Laincourt guessed she had already been partaking of it immoderately.
She held out her hand to be kissed and then said:
'So, you never stopped being an agent of the cardinal, nonsieur de Laincourt . . .'
'No, madame.'
"Well, it's only fair, I suppose ... In contrast to the marquis de Chateauneuf, who wanted to recruit you, monsieur de Mirebeau never believed it would be possible to win you over to our cause. He said the cardinal is a master one never ceases to serve.'
'No doubt he's right.'
'Do you know what became of him? Was he arrested?'