It revealed a drawing room, not quite dark, separated into two unequal parts by pillars and a half-drawn curtain. Saskia concentrated hard on processing the image that fell on her retinas. In the smaller, raised part was a bed. The room was furnished in mahogany. Holland linen hangings covered the walls. Otherwise, the room was empty.
Saskia hurried through the house. She passed the Countess’s reception room. The paintings were dark, colourless smudges. The piano lid was closed and silent. As Saskia regained her breath, she listened for footsteps in the interstices between the steady click of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Other clocks, other clicks, rattled the house. Within her, a mechanism sampled those clicks, noted their regularity, and subtracted them from her perception. Now the silence deepened. She heard a servant blackleading a stove in the basement; mice; a cat; wood contracting; water lapping; a cough; a sigh.
As she moved to leave the room, a small glow scored a line on her vision. It came from a shelf near the chimney. She took the object, a pocket watch, and touched her thumb to the Imperial Eagle on the front of the case. The reverse indicated that it was produced by Pavel Buhre, Imperial Watchmaker, for the occasion of the Countess’s birthday. Saskia opened it. The dials and hands exhibited a fierce glow. Saskia frowned at the contraption and closed it. Radioactive luminescent paint. She slipped it into her waistband.
Saskia ascended the floors, keeping to an uncarpeted third of the marble staircase. Her footsteps were soundless. She passed a descending cat. It did not stop but slowed to give her a polite blink before moving on.
In the corridor on the second floor, Saskia paused as a clock reached the hour: something spun inside it as a prelude to a chime, but the chime did not come. It was as though a breath had been taken and held. Slowly, Saskia turned her head. She noted a line of brass samovars; a Bible with a metal clasp; a framed map based on the Draft Of Moscovia. The shadows rolled back under her regard.
Nobody there.
She opened the door of Pasha’s room and stepped inside, closing it behind her. This room was completely dark, too. For a moment, she had difficulty seeing. Then she moved to the edge of his bed and sat on the corner.
‘Hello, Pavel Eduardovitch,’ she whispered.
‘Hello, Ms Tucholsky,’ he replied. The words were precise, even rehearsed. In Saskia’s heightened vision, his eyes were black crescents in a milky face. He was sitting up against pillows and his fingers were laced. The thread of his initials, PAB, sparkled on the breast pocket of his pyjamas. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘For an hour or so after one of my spells, I need to sleep. But then I’m fine.’ He paused. There was a measured aspect to his tone. Saskia guessed that he was unsure how to play their conversation. ‘Mother likes me to stay in bed, though, so I do.’
‘I’m glad you’re better.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now return to me what you have stolen.’
‘I’m sorry?’ he asked. The surprise was almost genuine.
‘Don’t apologise, Pasha. Just hand it over.’
Pasha reached under his pillow and withdrew a folded handkerchief. He held it out for Saskia to take. When she unfolded the handkerchief, she saw the band. In the darkness, its finish was marbled. She passed it over her stump and pushed it into the crook of her left elbow.
‘Why did you take it?’
His head tilted back. The pride of a nobleman was there, nascent.
‘Because I wanted to see you again.’
‘And yet the darkness here is complete, Pavel Eduardovitch. Bad luck.’
‘Yes.’
She yawned.
‘Turn on your bedside light, if it pleases you.’
‘The filaments are broken ever since Monday, when I had the bad dream.’
‘I see.’
‘Are you angry?’
‘Do I sound angry?’
Pavel swallowed.
Don’t tell me you want to marry me, she thought.
‘I stole the band as you carried me to the taxi in the Tsar’s Village.’
‘I thought you were unconscious.’
‘It comes and goes.’
Saskia said nothing for a long minute. Then she said, ‘Your English is excellent.’
Pasha sighed and said, exasperated, ‘It didn’t do anything, you know. It didn’t glow or buzz.’
Saskia removed the pocket watch from her waistband and opened the lid. Its green light reached her face.
‘Now you have your wish,’ she said. ‘You see me again.’
‘Hardly. What is that?’
Saskia passed him the watch. He closed it, then opened it.
‘But this is my mother’s watch. Did you steal it?’
‘English idiom: “Two can play at that game.” Yes, I stole it a moment ago. I advise you to dig a hole and bury it.’
‘Why?’
‘The luminescence is caused by the gradual decay of the material, a metal called radium. Each particle of radium comprises smaller particles. Some of these particles are called electrons. We derive the word electron from the Greek for amber, ήλεκτρον. The electrons, as well as some other particles, emanate away from the material. Some of this energy takes the form of visible light. This emanation is dangerous. It can cause sores and other, more serious diseases.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ said Pasha. ‘If what you say is true, she can decide what to do about it.’
‘She won’t think it’s true.’
‘Then I’ll tell her to listen to the scientists.’
‘They don’t know about the dangerous emanation.’ She paused for effect. ‘Nobody does.’
‘How do you know these things?’
‘I’m your tutor,’ said Saskia. The shape of the words betrayed her smile, and Pasha smiled, too. ‘It is my job to know things that will give you an advantage.’
Pasha placed the pocket watch in the pocket of his pyjama top. ‘I wish you still worked for us.’
‘So do I.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Ms Tucholsky, there are some things that a man must do even though they are difficult. Sometimes they are futile. I am not a man yet.’
‘Pasha—’
‘Wait. Yesterday, I would have died a man. I knew that the horse guard wanted to kill you, and I placed myself between his sabre and your—’ He flicked away a run of sweat from his forehead. ‘Yourself.’ He sniffed in that noble manner again. ‘One may earn the right to be called a man if one acts as a man.’
‘We have a similar expression where I come from. “Stupid is as stupid does.”’
‘Alexander Pope?’
‘Forrest Gump.’
‘Oh.’
Saskia leaned forward. She was still smiling. ‘Give me your hand.’
‘Ms Tucholsky …’
She could feel the heat from his body. His hand was clammy. She guided it towards her body. ‘Here.’
In a disappointed voice, Pasha said, ‘It’s a bottle.’
‘Yes.’
He paused, then repeated, ‘It’s a bottle.’
‘Are you taking any medication prescribed by a doctor?’
‘Some teas. Nothing else.’
‘Then I want you to take one of these tablets each day. Never, ever take more than one. They’ll take about a week to become fully effective. Stop taking them if you feel overly dizzy, if your eyes feel as if they’re moving randomly, or if you get excessively clumsy.’
‘What happens if I take more than one?’
‘You’ll die. It’s a poison; but some poisons can help in non-fatal doses. Your seizures should stop. Hide the bottle where nobody can find it. There is a scientist at the Military Medical Academy with a great knowledge of physiology and medicine. He’s called Pavlov. If you need to see him, tell him that Penelope sent you.’
Saskia lay across the bed, parallel to the foot rest, and put one arm beneath her head.