A Sojourn in Bohemia Read online

  “No, I fear I cannot,” Varanus said. “I have an appointment this morning that I am very interested in keeping, now more than ever. But we should have dinner together, just the two of us. And soon, now that you are looking rather more…well.”

  Friedrich knew that she meant “more presentable”, which was certainly true, but he appreciated her not putting it so frankly. He must have been frightful to see when she first visited him in Prague, especially with that horrible beard. But now that he was finally fit to be seen in public again, it would be nice to spend time with his only surviving family.

  “I would like that, Mother,” he said, grinning at the suggestion. “Tomorrow, perhaps? I know a delightful place near the Wenzelsplatz.”

  Varanus smiled, pleased at the news. “Tomorrow, then,” she said. She reached up and brushed Friedrich’s cheek, wiping away a speck of something only she seemed to see. “You really are looking much better, Friedrich. I am glad that you are finally sleeping properly.”

  Friedrich laughed and embraced her. “Thank you, Mother. I am quite well, I assure you.”

  “And no more of this getting into fights nonsense,” Varanus reminded him. “Your revolutionary friends might enjoy a brush with the law, but I don’t want you getting involved in that sort of thing.”

  Friedrich was about to protest, but he knew better than to make an argument of it. “Of course, Mother.”

  He saw Varanus out the door and gave her a parting wave. But as he went to join the others in the parlor, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror and suddenly remembered his mother’s words. Frowning, Friedrich studied his reflection, gently pushing the skin of his face this way and that to get a better look at it.

  “Oh God…” he murmured, as his stomach twisted with a sudden realization.

  He did not merely look healthier; he looked younger. Younger by five years at least, possibly as much as ten. Having become so accustomed to seeing himself exhausted and gaunt from his poor habits, he had not thought to differentiate between the fading of the dark circles under his eyes and the fading of the very lines and wrinkles that had begun to form here and there. It was not merely the color that had returned to his skin, but its very liveliness as well, its firmness and elasticity. The structure of age was still there—the strong cheekbones, the sharp chin—but the skin and the muscles beneath it were those of a man at the very peak of vitality, upon the threshold between youth and maturity.

  “No…” Friedrich gasped.

  He had done it. He had done it! There could be no mistaking the signs. That night of drunken risk-taking had actually fulfilled its purpose. The last formula had been correct. It had made him younger.

  Friedrich ran a hand across his mouth, shivering at this realization as if from a chill. He felt sweat beading upon his forehead and on the back of his neck. He was suddenly faint. He had never actually considered what might follow. Would he succumb to an insidious cancer? Would his cells begin to decay inside his very body?

  On the verge of toppling over from a heady mixture of astonishment, triumph, and fear, Friedrich steadied himself with a hand on the wall and forced himself to keep ahold of his senses.

  “Pull yourself together,” he whispered to his reflection, staring himself directly in the eyes.

  If he were going to suffer the corruptive effects found in the previous formulae, they would have begun to manifest themselves by now. Most of the rats had fallen victim within days, if not hours. Perhaps he had been right about needing a larger, stronger body to withstand the cellular distortion. Or perhaps the successful formula was simply free of all such side effects. This was incredible! To think that he had been right all along!

  And then the cold feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach again.

  “Oh God.… My notes!”

  Friedrich rushed up the stairs frantically and made for his laboratory. It was much cleaner now than when he had been working. The rats were all gone, of course. He had set the ones who still lived free when he had abandoned the work.

  “My notes, my notes,” he mumbled, searching through every last drawer, pile of paperwork, journal, and heap of rubbish. “Oh God, let something of my work remain!”

  But of course, nothing remained. Only fragments of failures and lists of unimportant scribbling.

  Friedrich sank to his knees in front of the stove that had obliterated his life’s work and clutched his head in his hands. He had succeeded and yet utterly failed. Unable to realize his triumph through a haze of premature despair, he had destroyed any hope of reproducing his results and sharing whatever scientific fountain of youth he had discovered.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Varanus left Friedrich’s decrepit home for a much more fashionable neighborhood across the river, located in the shadow of the glorious Prague Castle. Her destination, the Von Steiersberg house, proved to be an old and majestic building, something bordering on a palace. This was the sort of place she wished her son was inhabiting during his stay in the city. And if it was true that he had not fallen on hard times, why had he chosen his current decaying domicile instead something far more fashionable?

  After announcing herself to the footman at the door, Varanus was shown into an opulent sitting room and waited patiently for her host. It was only a few minutes before Julius arrived, smiling at the sight of her. Varanus rose as he approached her and extended her hand in greeting, but she suddenly halted when a second man entered behind Julius.

  Count von Steiersberg.

  Varanus was surprised to see him. Of course, there was nothing odd about it. It was his house after all. But she had always assumed that, though Julius was staying as a guest, his host would not in fact be there with him.

  “Princess Shashavani,” Julius said, taking her hand warmly. Though in the presence of his friend, he felt no need to conceal his familiarity behind a veil of formality.

  “Count von Raabe,” Varanus replied politely. She looked at Von Steiersberg. “Count von Steiersberg, it is a pleasure to meet you again. Thank you both for your kind invitation.”

  Von Steiersberg bowed stiffly, but his tone was friendly as he replied, “You are most welcome, Princess Shashavani. Sadly, I will not be here for long.” He motioned to Julius. “I am simply seeing my dear friend settled and attending to some business in the city before I depart for Vienna.”

  Varanus smiled. “Of course. I would thank you for offering Count von Raabe accommodations, but I fear that might be regarded as self-serving.”

  “Oh?”

  “Because otherwise my husband and I would have offered him a room in our house,” Varanus explained, “which might be regarded as presumptuous. It would appear you have saved us a guest.”

  “Stolen one from you, surely,” joked Von Steiersberg, and the three of them had a pleasant laugh at this.

  But while the conversation that followed remained light and appropriately superficial, there was something in Von Steiersberg’s manner that troubled her: something lurking around the edges of his tone and in the way his eyes looked at her. She was not entirely certain what to make of it until, quite unexpectedly, Von Steiersberg asked:

  “And how is your son, Princess Shashavani?”

  “My son?” Varanus asked.

  “Friedrich, your eldest,” Von Steiersberg said, his smile never wavering. “From your first marriage.”

  “What about him?”

  “Why, it is only that I understand he is in Prague,” replied Von Steiersberg. “One naturally assumes that you have had word of him. I thought it would be polite to inquire.”

  Varanus was silent for a moment, her eyes darting between Von Steiersberg and Julius as she considered her reply. Von Steiersberg might be entirely innocent in asking, but under the circumstances, it seemed unlikely.

  She felt her pulse quicken—to the point where she actually felt it—as Korbinian stepped from be
hind Von Steiersberg and into the empty space between him and Julius. Korbinian’s face was pale and his eyes were bloody with tears, but he seemed remarkably composed when compared to how he had recently revealed himself.

  “What a question,” he murmured, his voice echoing from the corners of the room. “To inquire after strangers is so very presumptuous, especially after one’s servants have tried to beat them.” He shook his head like an aging master of etiquette despairing at the declining morals of a younger generation. “And when he was so rude just to be here.…”

  That much was true. Varanus could hardly ask Julius discreet questions about his friend when that same friend was in the room with them.

  “I must say, this is quite the surprise,” Julius remarked. “I wish I had know that your eldest was here, Princess. I would have extended an invitation to him as well.” Julius paused and asked rather slyly, “Is he married at the moment?”

  “No,” Varanus answered, the corner of her mouth tilting into a smile. Julius was clearly speaking in jest, but there was still a degree of sincerity behind the question.

  “Neither is Mechtilde,” Julius said, again keeping his tone mirthful while still allowing the remark to carry the option of seriousness.

  Von Steiersberg laughed aloud at Julius’s words and Varanus chuckled. She glanced at Korbinian to see his reaction, but Korbinian was gone again. There was nothing left but shadows.

  “Regrettably, Friedrich is ever engrossed in his studies,” Varanus said, dismissing both Julius’s concern at a missed matchmaking opportunity and Von Steiersberg’s…well, whatever he had hoped to accomplish by mentioning Friedrich in the first place. Had it been a threat? A test to see if she was involved with Friedrich’s foolish friends as well?

  Whatever the reason, Varanus was insulted by it. But two could play such a game.

  “If I may ask, Count von Steiersberg, how goes the search for your errant fiancée?”

  Von Steiersberg turned pale, and he tilted his head as he studied her. “How did you know about that?” he demanded.

  “I thought it to be common knowledge,” Varanus answered innocently. “Someone made mention of it at the soiree. Count Erdelyi perhaps. She is his daughter, is she not?”

  “She is,” Von Steiersberg confirmed, his voice little more than a growl.

  “I do apologize,” Varanus said. She looked at Julius. “Should I have not spoken of it?”

  “I have known since the beginning,” Julius said. He quickly raised his hands to calm Von Steiersberg. “ And we will find her, do not fear.”

  “Of course I will,” Von Steiersberg snapped. “I have loyal men scouring Europe in search of her!”

  Varanus raised an eyebrow at this revelation—though she already knew it, it was prudent to feign ignorance. Julius looked similarly surprised, and he exclaimed:

  “Franz, no! You swore that you would leave it to the authorities!”

  “I know what I said, Julius,” Von Steiersberg replied, “but this is my wife we are speaking about!”

  “Not yet,” Varanus heard Korbinian murmur in her ear. But when she turned her head to look, she saw him lurking just behind Von Steiersberg, watching Varanus over the count’s shoulder. His crimson lips smiled. “She is his fiancée, not his wife.”

  Varanus smiled slightly at this, but the look in Korbinian’s eyes chilled her and made the smile fade away again. He had found his humor again. He had not found his warmth.

  “Count,” she said to Von Steiersberg, focusing her attention on the man’s face while Korbinian’s pale visage hovered just where she could not quite look away from it. “I do apologize if I have caused you distress. If there is any assistance my husband or I can render in the search for your fiancée.…”

  Von Steiersberg clearly did not expect this. He looked at her, confused. “Pardon?”

  Varanus did her best to present an expression of wide-eyed innocence. She had meant to provoke Von Steiersberg—partly to see his reaction, partly to unbalance him after his own probing remarks about her son. But she did not intend to let him realize her hostility.

  “My husband’s family is influential throughout the Russian Empire,” she explained. “As you are investigating the matter privately, we may be able to offer some assistance.”

  Von Steiersberg looked dubious at the offer, but Julius smiled a little.

  “That is a most generous offer, Princess,” he said.

  “Anything for a friend’s…friend,” Varanus replied.

  Julius frowned and said, “Still, I must caution both of you against taking any sort of rash action in this matter. I do feel that the proper authorities ought to be left to manage this. Who knows what sort of danger might arise otherwise!”

  “It was a kidnapping, was it not?” Varanus asked. “Again, it was only briefly mentioned to me at the soiree. I cannot clearly recall the details.”

  Von Steiersberg and Julius exchanged looks and coughed over their words for a few moments.

  “Essentially, yes,” Julius replied.

  “Erzsebet was lured away by a young man of questionable character,” Von Steiersberg explained. “She may have gone willingly at the time, but I am certain that she now regrets the decision. I only hope that she remains unharmed.”

  Varanus cleared her throat softly to avoid either laughing or commenting, whether at the euphemism for Erzsebet’s virginity or the great certainty that it was gone, given away far more willingly than it would have been on her wedding night.

  She quickly laid a hand on Von Steiersberg’s arm, still consciously keeping her eyes away from Korbinian, who had begun to circle the three of them as he observed the conversation.

  “I understand your concern, Count von Steiersberg,” she said. “And surely time must be essential in this. I do not mean to pry into so private a matter, but is it known where she might be?” She paused long enough for it to seem that a thought had just come to her. “Vienna, perhaps? Is that why you are departing so soon?”

  “Uh…no,” Von Steiersberg said.

  He studied her, his face friendly but his eyes suspicious. Of course he did not trust her sincerity: he knew, or at least suspected, that her son was in league with Erzsebet’s lover. But if Varanus could keep him unbalanced with what appeared to be sincere goodwill.…

  “No,” Von Steiersberg continued, seeming to make up his mind about her. “No, I have it on good authority that the kidnappers were until recently here in Prague—”

  Varanus gasped softly and Julius exclaimed, “My God! So near?”

  “—but that they have fled to Rome. And from Rome, they must surely plan to continue to…well, to God knows where.” Von Steiersberg exhaled. “You understand why I must depart so abruptly.”

  “Of course!” Julius cried. “Honestly, Franz, I wish you had told me all of this sooner.”

  “So that you could caution me to leave this in the hands of the authorities?” Von Steiersberg asked sourly. “Which authorities should I now consult, Julius? The Austrian or the Italian? Or both? I am certain they will coordinate very effectively.”

  Julius sighed. “Your point is understood, Franz. Does Istvan know you are doing this?”

  Von Steiersberg hesitated. It was brief, but long enough that Varanus knew his reply would be a lie.

  “No, certainly not. He is troubled enough by what has befallen his family for him to worry about finding Erzsebet. I have undertaken this task myself.”

  “I despise people who lie,” Korbinian murmured in Varanus’s ear. “Don’t you?” There was a pause. “I wonder if Count von Raabe hates it too.”

  Varanus did not answer him. Instead, she gave Von Steiersberg her most sincere of sympathetic looks and said, “I am certain we all understand Count Erdelyi’s distress. If such a thing had befallen my child.…”

  “Quite so,” agreed Julius. “I can only imagine i
f Mechtilde had been lured away by some strange man.”

  “Again, if my husband or I can help in any way—” Varanus continued.

  “And Friedrich,” Korbinian murmured in her ear. “What does he say to that?”

  “Or my son,” Varanus added. “He possesses many friends throughout Europe. If there is a city where these villains have fled with your daughter, I am certain Friedrich knows of a person who may investigate on your behalf.”

  As she expected, Von Steiersberg stiffened at the mention of Friedrich. It confirmed what Varanus suspected. He knew that Friedrich knew Erzsebet. He knew that Friedrich had suffered an encounter with his thugs earlier that week. Even with Von Steiersberg leaving Prague to pursue some Roman fabrication, Friedrich might still be in danger.

  But Von Steiersberg kept a sincere expression as he smiled with relief. His eyes betrayed his true sentiments, of course, but everything else looked honest. He was a good liar, that was certain.

  “Thank you, Princess Shashavani,” he said. “If there is anything that your husband’s family—or your son—can do to aid me in my search, I will send word at once.”

  Another threat? Varanus wondered. Or simply a dismissal. It was so difficult to be certain sometimes. When a person veiled his words, one had to assume they were veiled always. That which seemed innocuous was safer to be assumed a deception.

  Von Steiersberg glanced at a nearby clock and frowned. “I have a train to meet,” he said.

  “Yes, of course,” Julius said. He put a hand on Von Steiersberg’s arm. “I will see you out. And thank you for your hospitality.”

  Von Steiersberg nodded and gave Julius a slight smile. “Do not worry about me, Julius. I will sort this out. Erzsebet will be where she belongs very soon.”

  “Of course she will, Franz,” Julius said softly. “Do not worry so. Erzsebet will be safely home with her family, and soon. I am certain of it.”

  “I shall trust my actions more than your feeling, Julius,” Von Steiersberg answered. “But…but I do thank you for it.”