We strolled through the courtyard as we spoke. The atmosphere was a bit more subdued than usual, and the sky had grown gray overhead.
"We cannot," Annie stated. "I hadn't a chance to explain earlier. But you see, it appears that Prince Prospero cannot match the offer Templeton and Goodfellow have made to Von Kempelen for his transmutation secret."
"You want to know something, Annie?" I said. "I don't really give a tinker's damn who finally amasses the most gold in the world. My only reason for making this journey was to get you out of here—and then to give Poe a hand, if we can. I am grateful to Seabright Ellison for his part in this, but he isn't going to starve to death if gold should suddenly be worth, say, half its present value. This morning's incident shows me just what a willful and capricious man Prospero is. I conclude that it is unsafe to be around him. And outside these walls the plague is doing its dance of death throughout the realm. The smartest thing we can do is to get out of this place right now and keep going till we're out of the kingdom."
She laid a hand on my arm.
"Perry, dear Perry," she said, "if only it were so easy. I care nothing about the gold either. Did you not know that gold is but the least part of alchemy? It is a game played for spiritual stakes as well. If Von Kempelen makes the deal with Templeton and Goodfellow, we will not be able to help Poe. Their involvement will result in his exile becoming permanent."
"I do not understand."
"It has to do with probabilities, and with key connections among individuals. Believe me, this is how it would turn out."
"You failed to mention Griswold," I said. "What of him?"
"He's gone back to America, I believe."
"What for?"
"I do not know."
We paced in silence for a time. Then, "Ligeia told me that Griswold may be something more than an alchemist or a mesmerist," I said. "She suggested he might be some sort of sorcerer."
"It's possible," she said. "Yes, that would explain many things. There is that about him which is unusual, and dark."
"Then I still say we should flee now," I said. "It does not seem to me that it matters so much whether Von Kempelen makes the deal with Templeton and Goodfellow here and now, as it does whether they actually get together with Griswold and perform whatever processes are involved. I say we flee now and foil them later, in America. Ellison could probably bankroll a private army for us back home, if that's what it takes."
She shook her head.
"We don't know why Griswold left," she said. "But there is no need that he be present for the process to occur. What if Templeton and Goodfellow come to terms with Von Kempelen here, and they decide actually to conduct the work here? If they succeed in transmuting any substantial amount of metal we will never see Poe again."
"They won't do it. Poe is still safe," I told her. "No one in his right mind would make gold while in the power of someone like Prospero. And don't tell me they'll do it in secret. Gold is heavy stuff. It would be ridiculous to manufacture it in a place like this, and then face all the perils of transporting it. Let them make their deal if they must. We'll stop them later."
"I am sorry," she said. "We cannot afford to take the chance. I would feel personally responsible if I left and it came about. If I stay I may well be able to stop it."
"If you're drugged? Mesmerized?"
"I'll be careful what I eat and drink. And I'm stronger than Templeton. They won't be able to use me again, as they did in the past."
"If you're no longer of use they may decide to dispose of you. These are ruthless men."
"No," she stated, "I'm certain they need me for something else. Later."
I recalled Ligeia's words about the sacrifice of her personality, and I shuddered. But there was nothing I could say on this count, since I didn't understand it and I'd no way to back it up with an explanation.
At that moment, I recalled killing a man. It was in the line of duty, under battle conditions. What difference does it really make whether you're wearing a uniform, or whether he is? Dead is dead. Why should the state have a monopoly on deciding who deserves it? It occurred to me that the simplest answer to our problem would be for me to kill Von Kempelen. Let the secret die with him. Annie would be safe, Poe would be safe, Ellison would be happy. I recalled the stout, popeyed man who had given us tea, who bade us good night and wished us good luck as we fled across the rooftop. He'd seemed decent enough and I could not bring myself to dislike him for the trouble he'd caused. Still, if letting him live meant that Annie would be destroyed, I guessed that I could steel myself to the task. I'd make it as painless as possible, of course. One quick saber thrust—
"Perry!"
Annie had halted and was staring at me, a look of dread upon her face.
"Please don't. Please don't do it," she said.
"What— What are you talking about?" I asked.
"I saw you with a bloody blade, standing above Von Kempelen," she said. "You must promise me that you will not kill him. Please! We must find another way."
I laughed.
"Please," she repeated.
"I just had a vision myself," I said, "of what it might be like living with someone like you. A man could never have an affair, or sneak off for a few pints with his friends."
She smiled.
"I only see things with a terrible urgency about them," she explained.
"Just what I said. Do you see my promise, too?"
She nodded.
"I'll have to find another way," I said.
"Thanks," she told me. "I'm sure you will."
We walked some more, and she took us into the north building, giving us the general layout of the place, showing us where Templeton's, Goodfellow's, and Von Kempelen's rooms were located, showing us the great dining hall with its enormous ebony clock making a dull thunder where it stood against the western wall. Annie told me that its chiming was so loud and so peculiar a thing that if a musical entertainment were in progress when it marked the hour, the musicians must perforce halt in their playing until it had completed its task. We saw her to her own room then, and I arranged to meet her again in the afternoon.
Later, I suggested to Peters that we kidnap her, spirit her out of there that very night, for her own good.
We could head back home then and hunt down Griswold.
"No, sir," he said. "She's another'n—like Ligeia. There's a ghostwind blowin' past 'er. She knows better'n you 'bout these things, an' I'll not be crossin' the likes of 'er."
"People like that aren't always right about everything, Peters."
"You've my last word on it, Eddie."
"All right," I said. "We'll wait and see what develops."
After that, I met with Annie every day and she was eventually able to point out Goodfellow—bluff, beefy, and smiling—and Templeton—tall, thin, possessed of eyes like pits under heavy brows. Peters and I went out of our way to avoid Von Kempelen, being uncertain where he stood in our regard. It was agreed among the three of us that we would interfere—physically, if necessary—should he attempt to create gold. The days fled quickly toward spring and he did nothing along these lines. Nor did he seem to have reached agreement of any sort with anyone, according to Annie. I wondered what kind of game he was playing, and how long he might tease someone like Prospero before he found himself in new quarters with a pit and pendulum of his own for company. I'd a feeling that something must break on this front before too long. Perhaps Templeton and Goodfellow might suffer accidents, leaving him with but the one customer and no way out. Or perhaps we were all waiting, for something—what?—that Griswold was checking into. I wondered whether Annie would object to my killing Griswold if I did it in a fair duel?
I wondered several times, in the days that followed, whether Peters might not have some secret command from Ellison, to follow Annie's orders rather than mine under certain circumstances. Though the issue never came up, I was curious whether he would actively oppose me should I attempt to take Annie away from that place against her will. I wouldn't try it, though. She was simply too persuasive and I too anxious to please her.