Upon seeing their patriarch, Ian and Carl rushed forward to take the grave-looking man from her and ease him over to a mattress they had wrestled from the wreckage of their flat.
Their patriarch’s complexion was gray and he seemed much thinner than he’d been only a few days earlier. He lay back on the mattress with a sigh, and Theo brought forward a blanket to cover him.
Behind him, Adria said, “Enough!” in a voice that brokered no argument. Madame Lafitte and Océanne fell silent at once, but the tension in the shop remained. “The first place the Germans will go will be the hospitals,” Adria said into the silence that followed. “They’ll be looking for wounded soldiers and rounding them up. They will also be making a record of everyone there, and I hardly think the Earl of Kent would escape their notice.”
Madame Lafitte hurried over to the earl’s side and tucked the blanket around him. “Even so,” she said. “He should not be moved for several more days!”
Adria eyed the earl and then all of them one by one. Ian agreed with Madame Lafitte. It was clear that the earl was still too weak and too injured to attempt to leave Paris. “We’ll stay here until he’s better,” he told Adria. “We’ll hide until he’s well enough to travel and then we’ll sneak out of Paris.”
With a long sigh Adria nodded. “Very well, Ian,” she said. “We’ll wait until he’s better.”
It didn’t take long for the Germans to arrive. Ian and Carl saw them first, when they went to collect some food for the group. The Germans paraded through the capital of France as if they’d always owned it, and the sight was enough to crush Ian’s spirit.
Once the Germans began patrolling the streets, Adria hardly allowed them out of doors, reasoning that it was only a matter of time before the Germans began looking for subverts and people whom they felt were a threat to their cause.
“Your travel documents were lost during the air raid,” she said to Ian, Carl, and Theo, “which will not make them suspect you initially, but they will want you to replace your identification papers with the French government immediately. As you have no former proof of your identity within the official record books here in France, you will all be identified as potential spies and turned over to the German authorities at once.”
Ian felt their situation was quite desperate and without much hope—especially for the earl. If the Germans discovered that he was the Earl of Kent, well, Ian couldn’t imagine what the Nazis would do to his beloved patriarch.
All around the city, large red flags with black crooked crosses were hung. Rumors abounded that Adolf Hitler himself would be making an appearance, and Ian shivered at the thought of having the hated Führer so close by.
Each time he and Carl went out for food and supplies, Ian could see the intense anxiety on the local civilian faces. Everywhere he looked he found the haunted eyes and anxious posture of Parisians who were terrified of the Germans crawling all over their homeland.
He had heard the rumors of German brutality in the other cities they had conquered, and he shivered at the thought of it continuing here.
Two days after the Nazis paraded down the Champs-Élysées, Ian and Carl came back to the shop after an early-morning food run to find the earl lying on his mattress and Madame Lafitte busy fussing over him, attempting to get the earl to drink some soup. “Hastings,” she said with a laugh, “it does not taste like day-old smelly stockings!”
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but it smells exactly like them,” replied the earl with a grin.
When the earl saw them in the doorway, he quickly cleared his throat and sat up with a grunt. “Hello,” he said. “What news have you to share?”
“The streets are overrun with Germans,” Ian said. “They’re everywhere, my lord.”
Behind him the door opened and Adria stepped through too. “The city is surrounded,” she announced.
Madame Lafitte lost all hint of merriment and turned starkly pale. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “How will Leopold ever get back to us?”
The earl had not yet shared the news that her husband had been captured by the Germans in Belgium, and he’d strictly forbidden Ian, Carl, Theo, and Jaaved from saying anything about it. “We must find a way out of the city,” he said gravely.
“I know of a way out,” Adria said confidently. “There are tunnels that run under Paris. Ancient tunnels which have dozens of unseen exit points, well away from the major roadways where the Germans are likely to look for anyone attempting to escape notice.”
“Are you well enough to travel?” Theo asked the earl. Ian could see that his color had returned, and although he was still in some amount of pain and a bit weaker than before, his condition had greatly improved in just a few short days.
“Almost ready, Theo,” he assured her. “I’ll be quite well enough in a day or two. As long as Madame Lafitte doesn’t force this awful concoction on me.”
Madame Lafitte’s smile returned a bit. “Oh, Hastings. You exasperating man!”
“When should we leave?” Carl asked, looking to Adria again.
Adria eyed the earl carefully, as if assessing his condition. “As soon as the earl is ready to travel,” she said. “I will lead your group through the tunnels at midnight and leave you at the edge of the city. If you travel by night and stay away from the main roads, you should be able to reach Le Havre. If your boat is swift and you leave the harbor under the cover of darkness, you will likely escape detection.”
At that moment Iyoclease and Jaaved came into the shop. Ian realized belatedly that they had not been there when he and the others had returned.
“We’ve been scouting the city,” Jaaved told them. “The German guard is everywhere, and they’re putting up posters announcing a nightly curfew and requiring all French citizens to report to the German registration stations to have their identification papers recorded. Anyone caught without proper identification after Friday will be brought before a tribunal and imprisoned.”
“It is as I suspected,” Adria told them. “We must get you out of the city tomorrow.”
POTION POISONED WITH DARK INK
The next morning, as Ian and Carl were returning from the market with enough food and supplies to see them to Le Havre, Theo came dashing over to them. “Thank heavens you’re back!” she said, waiting only as long as it took for Ian to set his sack of food down to throw her arms around him.
Ian smiled and ruffled her hair. “It’s a bit tricky with so many Germans about, but we managed, Theo.”
When he looked at the other faces in the room, however, he knew immediately that all was not well. “What’s happened?” he asked to no one in particular.
“The earl has come down with a fever,” Madame Lafitte said.
“I’m fine,” the earl said, his voice weak and strained. And then he began to cough and his whole face flushed red. He clutched at his ribs and Ian knew he must be in terrible pain.
They all waited for the spasm to pass, and when it did, the earl was left spent and wheezing. “He needs medicine,” Adria said. “There is an apothecary not far from here. I will go.”
But Ian stepped in front of her, knowing he should be the one to take the risk. “Let me,” he said. “Tell me where it is and what to get and I’ll go.” Adria eyed him with surprise, so Ian explained, “We can’t risk anything happening to you, Mistress Adria. You’re the only one who can lead the others out of the city. If something happened to you, we’d not last the day.”
“We can’t lose you either, Ian,” Carl said, stepping up to volunteer. “I’ll go.”
Ian knew it was just like his friend to step into the face of danger and take the risk from everyone else.
“All right,” Adria said. Moving over to her satchel, she retrieved a scrap of paper and scribbled both a map and the address of the apothecary along with the name of the medicine to get. “Pierre will know exactly what to give you,” she said. “And give him a few of these for his trouble.”
Adria dropped three small gold coins int
o Carl’s hand and he stared at them in wonder. “Gaw,” he said. “All that for the medicine?”
Adria smiled at him. “No, young man, all that to seal his lips about who came to visit and what they were asking for.”
Carl tucked the coins into his pocket and moved to the door. When he went outside, however, Theo looked urgently at Ian and whispered, “Go with him!”
Ian was puzzled. “You think he won’t find it?”
Theo’s fingers went to her crystal. “He’ll need you,” was all she said.
Ian knew enough about Theo’s gift not to question it, so he put his cap back on and hurried out the door. “Carl! Wait for me!”
The friends traveled stealthily through the city, using alleyways and side streets as much as possible. They reached the apothecary without incident and waited for two patrons to leave before going inside. “Are you Pierre?” Carl asked the weathered-looking man behind the counter.
“Yes,” he said. “Who are you?”
“We’re friends of Adria,” Carl told him, fishing the paper from his pocket. “Mistress Adria said you’d know what this is?” For emphasis he pointed to the word scribbled across the top of the paper.
Pierre’s eyebrows rose. “Someone have a fever and a cough?”
“Yes, monsieur,” Carl said.
“This is an expensive request,” Pierre observed, looking shrewdly at Carl as if wondering if the young man could afford it. Carl took out his three gold coins and displayed them to Pierre. “Mistress Adria said she is more than happy to pay for your cooperation.”
Ian had to hand it to his friend. The meaning in Carl’s choice of words was clear and Pierre nodded and quickly got to the task of preparing the medicine. Once he was finished, he folded the fine powder into a paper envelope and handed it to Carl in exchange for the gold. “You will need to make a tea of this,” he said. “Use three teaspoons every four hours until the fever breaks and the cough subsides.”
“Thank you,” Carl said, tucking the envelope under his cap.
He and Ian then left the shop and traveled along the same path they had taken coming. Along the way they encountered no difficulty, and Ian began to wonder why Theo had insisted he go along. Carl seemed quite capable of returning with the earl’s medicine, but no sooner had he finished that thought than the young men rounded a corner and walked right into a pair of German soldiers.
“Bah!” yelled one of the men. “Stupid boys!” Then he paused and spoke in halting words as he probably thought through the French translation. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
Ian and Carl both backed up quickly. “We’re terribly sorry,” Ian said in a rush, raising his hands to show they’d meant no harm.
“Where are you off to?” demanded the other soldier.
“We’re returning to our orphanage,” Carl told him. “Our headmistress sent us on an errand and we were just returning.”
“What errand?” asked the second soldier, an evil glint in his eye.
Ian gulped. He could sense that they were in terrible danger, but if they could simply keep their wits about them, he and Carl might be able to talk their way out of it. “We’re retrieving some medicine,” he said in a rush. “One of the orphans has come down with fever and a cough, and our headmistress is worried it will spread to the other children. In fact,” Ian added, forcing a slight cough, “I do believe I myself might be coming down with it.”
Carl caught on quickly and raised his own hand to his forehead. “My brow feels awfully warm,” he said. “Might not want to get too close to us, sirs. We could be contagious.”
The first soldier narrowed his eyes at them as if he was on to their ruse. “Show us this medicine,” he demanded.
Ian looked at Carl. He knew that if they showed the soldiers the medicine, they risked having it confiscated. Thinking quickly, he pulled Laodamia’s small vial of black liquid out of his pocket and wiggled it for the soldiers. If they took the poison and left them alone, then he’d be quite glad for it.
To his surprise, however, the second soldier crossed his arms and said, “Drink it.”
Ian stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Drink the vial,” the soldier ordered, drawing his gun and pointing it at Ian so there could be no misunderstanding.
“But it’s for the other orphan!” Carl protested. “If he drinks it, there’ll be none left for the poor girl who is quite ill.”
The soldier pulled back the hammer on the gun, his eyes never leaving Ian’s. “You will have to get more, then,” he said. “After you are made well by taking your medicine.”
Ian’s mind raced with the possible outcomes. Laodamia had predicted that if he drank the potion, he would die. If he didn’t drink the vial, the German soldier would certainly shoot him. It seemed he would die either way.
As he worked the stopper from the vial, he could only hope that death by poison was at least fast and relatively painless.
He was about to raise the vial to his lips when Carl reached over and snatched it away from him. “My fever is higher than yours!” he said angrily. “I should drink the medicine first!”
Ian stared at him in shock and tried to grab back the vial. “Carl!” he shouted. “Don’t!”
But it was too late. In one very fast move, Carl raised the vial and sucked down the liquid. Once he’d finished, he shook his head and said, “Blach! That was awful!”
Ian could see the inky black residue on Carl’s tongue and he waited for signs of the poison to appear. He didn’t have long to wait. As the soldiers began to laugh cruelly at what they’d forced Carl to do, Ian’s best friend swayed on his feet.
Ian reached over just as the one soldier holstered his gun, slapping his companion on the back. The two walked away still laughing. “Carl!” Ian whispered urgently, reaching out to catch him when his knees buckled and he crashed into Ian.
“Are they gone?” Carl mumbled, his face growing paler by the second.
“Why?” Ian asked him desperately. “Oh, Carl! Why did you drink it?”
Carl’s head lolled back on his neck and his cap fell off. “Had to be done, Ian,” he said. “ ‘Ian Wigby must not drink, potion poisoned with dark ink.’ ”
Ian bit his lip and felt an awful terror sweeping through him. He well knew the prophecy too. “ ‘Force the choice upon another, he will save his loyal brother.’ ”
Carl nodded dully. “Right,” he said. “You’re my brother, mate. Through and through.” And those were the very last words he spoke before his lips turned blue and he stopped breathing altogether.
Ian held Carl and searched the street with wide panicked eyes, looking for anyone who might help him. No one was on the quiet street so near to the block that had been all but completely destroyed. The shop was merely two blocks away, so Ian grabbed Carl’s cap with the earl’s medicine, tucked it into his coat pocket, and with the speed and strength reserved for desperate moments, lifted Carl’s limp and lifeless body onto his shoulders and began to run.
He was heavily weighed down, but his feet still pounded quickly over the pavement. Rounding the corner to the block where the green door was, he cried out desperately for help and a moment later saw Adria dash out of the shop and hasten down to meet him. “What’s happened?” she asked, helping Ian ease Carl off his shoulders.
Theo came hurrying up to them as well, along with Océanne, Iyoclease, and Madame Lafitte.
Ian could barely speak, he was so overcome with grief, panic, and exertion. “The … vial!” he said. “He drank the vial!”
Theo sank to her knees and clasped both hands to her chest. “The one from Laodamia’s treasure box?”
Ian nodded, staring forlornly at Carl, willing him to take a breath. “A German soldier ordered me to drink it, and I was going to, but Carl grabbed the vial and drank it instead!”
Océanne began to cry. “Carl!” she wailed, clutching at his hand before turning to Adria. “Can you help him?”
Ian looked at the Phoenic
ian woman too. Perhaps she would know what had been in the vial and could suggest an antidote? He already knew where the apothecary was, and he was quite certain he could run very, very fast there and back.
But Adria was gazing at Carl with a bit of an odd look. “There is nothing to do for him,” she said simply.
Ian was so choked with emotion that his next words were hoarse. “Please!” he cried. “You can’t let him die!”
Adria’s head lifted and she eyed the streets around them. “Come,” she said. “We must move him into the shop, away from prying eyes.”
Ian swallowed hard and allowed Iyoclease to lift his friend and carry him into the shop. He laid Carl down on one of the mattresses. Carl still had not taken a single breath, and Ian laid his head on Carl’s chest, hoping for a miracle and the sound of Carl’s heartbeat.
To his immense surprise he heard one lone bah-bump and felt a tiny rise to Carl’s rib cage. He sat back and stared. “There’s still some life in him!”
Adria came forward with a ladle of water. “Drink,” she ordered.
Ian almost rudely pushed it away. He didn’t care about his own thirst when his friend was lying so perilously close to death. But Adria’s expression was firm, so Ian reluctantly took the ladle. As he was sipping it, he saw another tiny lift to Carl’s chest.
Theo must have seen it too, because she placed her hand over Carl’s rib cage and said, “He’s not lost.”
“No,” Adria agreed. “But right now he is somewhere very far away.” She then did something curious. She moved outside and came back with a set of iron numbers, which had marked one of the addresses on the now ruined street. After placing these near Carl’s head, she sat back and watched the iron numbers for several moments without comment.
“Pardon me,” Ian said with a hint of irritation in his voice, “but might I ask what those are for?”
Her reply was cryptic. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Just then they heard a voice from the corner of the room ask, “What’s happened to Carl?” Ian turned to see the earl looking weak and sickly but staring with focused attention at them all.