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“Pure self-interest,” said Gideon. “After all, otherwise I’m the one who’d look foolish dancing with you. Forgotten that?”
“No.” My good mood instantly passed off. Before I could prevent myself, I let my eyes wander to the wall with the chairs in front of it.
“Hey, we haven’t finished,” said Gideon. “That was very good, yes, but not perfect yet. What’s the idea of giving me such a dark look all of a sudden?”
“Why do you think Count Saint-Germain is so keen for me to go to a soirée and a ball? After all, he could just tell me to be here in the Temple, and then I wouldn’t risk making an idiot of myself in front of strangers. No one would have to wonder about me and maybe leave an account of my odd behavior for posterity.”
Gideon looked down at me for a little while before answering. “The count likes to keep his cards close to his chest, but there’s a brilliant plan behind every single one of his ideas. He has a definite suspicion about those men who attacked us in Hyde Park, and I think he wants to lure whoever was behind it out into the open by taking us both to large society events.”
“Oh,” I said. “You mean we’re going to have men with swords after us again?”
“Not while we’re in company,” said Gideon. He perched on the arm of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. “All the same, I do think it’s too dangerous—for you, anyway.”
I leaned against the table. “Didn’t you suspect that Lucy and Paul were mixed up with the attack in Hyde Park?”
“Yes and no,” said Gideon. “A man like Count Saint-Germain makes quite a few enemies in the course of his life. There are several accounts of assassination attempts on him in the Annals. I only suspect that for their own ends Lucy and Paul may have joined forces with one of those enemies of his. Or several of them.”
“Does the count think so too?”
Gideon shrugged his shoulders. “I hope so.”
I thought about this for a while. “I’m in favor of breaking the rules again. Take one of those James Bond pistols with you,” I suggested. “That would show those characters with their swords something! Where did you get it from, by the way? I’d feel better myself if I had a thing like that.”
“A weapon can usually be turned against you, if you don’t know how to use it,” said Gideon.
I thought of my Japanese vegetable knife. Not a nice idea to think of it being turned against me.
“Is Charlotte good at fencing? And can she use a pistol?”
Another shrug of his shoulders. “She’s had fencing lessons since she was twelve—of course she’s good.”
Of course. Charlotte was good at everything. Except being nice. “I’m sure the count would have liked her,” I said. “I obviously wasn’t his type.”
Gideon laughed. “Well, you can still revise his idea of you. The main reason why he wants to know you better is to see whether the prophesies may be right in what they say about you after all.”
“The magic of the raven and so on?” I felt uncomfortable. I always did when anyone talked about that. “Do the prophesies also say what it is?”
Gideon hesitated for a moment, and then said softly, “The raven red, on ruby pinions winging its way between the worlds, hears dead men singing. It scarce knows its strength, the price it scarce knows, but its power will arise and the Circle will close.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve come out in goose bumps.”
“It sounds so eerie. Specially the bit about the dead men singing.” I rubbed my arms. “Does it go on?”
“No, that’s more or less all. You have to admit it doesn’t sound much like you.”
He was probably right there. “Is there something about you in the prophesies as well?”
“Of course,” said Gideon. “There’s a prophesy about each of the time travelers. I’m the lion with the diamond mane at the sight of which the sun…” For a moment, he suddenly seemed embarrassed. Then he went on, grinning, “Blah blah blah. Oh, and your great-great-grandmother, our stubborn friend Lady Tilney, is a fox. Very suitable. A jade fox hiding under a linden tree.”
“Can anyone make any sense of these prophesies?”
“Oh, yes—they’re teeming with symbols. It’s just a question of how to interpret them.” He looked at his watch. “We have some time left. I think we ought to go on with our dancing lessons.”
“Will there be dancing at the soirée, too?”
“Probably not,” said Gideon. “Only eating, drinking, talking—and making music. You’re sure to be asked to play or sing something.”
“Hm,” I said. “I ought to have had piano lessons instead of going to those hip-hop classes with Lesley. I can sing all right, though. At Cynthia’s party last year I won the karaoke contest hands down. With my own version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Even though I was in costume as a bus stop, which didn’t suit me.”
“Er … yes. If anyone asks you to sing, you simply say you never have any voice when you have to sing in company.”
