"What is it, my friends?" Marcel said, walking toward the front hall.
There was a tangle of vampires standing at the foot of the front steps, with Henri at the head. A few of them were holding a struggling figure. She made high-pitched squeals from a mouth that sounded covered, though it was impossible to see her in the throng.
"Master . . . " Henris eyes were wide. "Master, we have found . . . You will not believe, Master . . . "
"Show me. Bring it forward. What is it?"
The vampires ordered themselves a bit and threw the human into the cleared space on the ground. It was all Magnus could do not to make a sound of alarm, or give away anything at all.
It was Marie Antoinette.
Of course, the glamour he had applied did not affect the vampires. The queen was exposed, her face white with shock.
"You . . . ," she said, addressing the crowd in a shaky voice, "what you have done . . . You will-"
Marcel raised a silencing hand, and to Magnuss surprise, the queen stopped speaking.
"Who brought her?" he asked. "How did this happen?"
"It was I, monsieur," said a voice. A dapper vampire named Coselle stepped to the front. "I was on my way here, coming down the rue du Bac, and I absolutely could not believe my eyes. She must have gotten out of the Tuileries. She was just on the street, monsieur, looking panicked and lost. "
Of course. The queen would not have been accustomed to being out on the streets on her own. And in the dark it was easy to go the wrong way. She had made a wrong turn and crossed the Seine somehow.
"Madame," Marcel said, walking down the stairs. "Or should I say Your Majesty? Do I have the pleasure of addressing our beloved and most . . . illustrious queen?"
A low snicker from around the room, but aside from that no noise at all.
"I am she," the queen said, rising to her feet. "And I demand-"
Marcel put up his hand again, indicating silence. He descended the rest of the steps and walked to the queen, stood in front of her, and examined her closely. Then he gave a small bow.
"Your Majesty," he said. "I am thrilled beyond words that you could attend my party. We are all thrilled beyond words, are we not, my friends?"
By now, all the vampires who could fit had crowded into the doorway. Those who could not were leaning out of the windows. There were nods and smiles, but no reply. The silence was terrible. Outside Marcels courtyard wall, even Paris itself seemed to have fallen silent.
"My dear Marcel," Magnus said, forcing a laugh. "I do hate to disappoint you, but this is not the queen. This is the mistress of one of my clients. Her name is Josette. "
As this statement appeared to be plainly and glaringly false, Marcel and the others remained silent, waiting to hear more. Magnus walked down the steps, trying to look like he was amused by this turn of events.
"Shes very good, isnt she?" he said. "I cater to many tastes, much like you. And I happen to have a client who wishes to do to the queen what she has been doing to the French people for many years. I was hired to do a complete transformation. And I must say, at the risk of sounding immodest, that I have done an excellent job of it. "
"I have never known you to be modest," Marcel said without a hint of a smile.
"Its an overrated quality," Magnus replied with a shrug.
"Then how do you explain the fact that this woman claims she is, in fact, Queen Marie Antoinette?"
"I am the queen, you monster!" she said, her voice now hysterical. "I am the queen. I am the queen!"
Magnus got the impression that she was saying this not as a way of impressing her captors but as a way of assuring herself of her own identity and sanity. He stepped calmly in front of her and snapped his fingers in front of her face. She fell unconscious at once, slumping gently into his arms. "Why," he said, calmly turning toward Marcel, "would the queen of France be wandering down this street, unattended, in the middle of the night?"
"A fair question. "
"Because she wasnt. Josette was. She had to be complete in every way. At first my client wanted her only to look like the queen, but then he insisted on the entire package, as it were. Appearance, personality, all of it. Josette absolutely believes she is Marie Antoinette. In fact, I was doing a bit of work on her in this very regard when she became afeared and escaped from my apartments. Perhaps she followed me here. Sometimes my talents get the better of me. "
He set the queen gently on the ground.
"It also appears she has a light glamour on her," Marcel added.
"For mundanes," Magnus said. "You cant have a woman who looks exactly like the queen passing through the streets. Its quite a light one, like a summer shawl. She was not supposed to leave the house. I was still working. "
Marcel squatted down and took the queens face in his hand, turning it from side to side, sometimes looking at the face itself, sometimes at the neck. A long minute or two passed in which the entire assembled group waited for his next utterance.
"Well," Marcel said at last, standing back up. "I must congratulate you on an excellent piece of work. "
Magnus had to brace himself in order that his sigh of relief would not be seen.
"All of my work is excellent, but I accept your congratulations," he said, flicking a careless hand in Marcels direction.
"A marvel such as this, it would be such a success at one of my gatherings. So I really must insist that you sell her to me. "
"Sell her?" Magnus said.
"Yes. " Marcel leaned down and traced his finger down the queens jawline. "Yes, you must. Whatever your client paid you, Ill double it. But I really must have her. Quite stunning. Whatever you like, I will pay. "
"But, Marcel . . . "
"Now, now, Magnus. " Marcel slowly waggled a finger. "We all have our weaknesses, and our weaknesses must be indulged if they are to flourish. I will have her. "
It wouldnt do to imply that this fictional client was more important than Marcel.
Think. He had to think. And he knew that Marcel was watching him think. "If you insist," Magnus replied. "But, as I said, I was still working. I just had a few finishing touches left to do. She still has a few unfortunate habits left over from her previous life. All of those Versailles mannerisms-there are so many of them-they all had to be stitched in like fine embroidery. And I hadnt yet signed the work. I do like to sign my work. "