Dragonfly in Amber - Diana Gabaldon [145]
He smiled mischievously at me, as the cabinet door swung open. I could see that it was in fact a double cabinet; if a nosy person ignored the warning of the symbols and merely opened the door, he or she would no doubt see only the harmless contents of an apothecary’s closet. But if the proper sequence of hidden catches was pressed, then the inner shelves swung out as well, revealing a deep cavity behind them.
He pulled out one of the small drawers that lined the cavity, and upended it into his hand. Stirring the contents, he plucked out a single large white crystalline stone and handed it to me.
“For you,” he said. “For protection.”
“What? Magic?” I asked cynically, tilting the crystal from side to side in my palm.
Raymond laughed. He held his hand over the desk and let a handful of small colored stones trickle through his fingers, to bounce on the stained felt blotting-pad.
“I suppose you can call it so, madonna. Certainly I can charge more for it when I do.” One fingertip nudged a pale greenish crystal free from the pile of colored stones.
“They have no more—and surely no less—magic than the skulls. Call them the bones of the earth. They hold the essence of the matrix in which they grew, and whatever powers that held, you may find here as well.” He flicked a small yellowish nodule in my direction.
“Sulfur. Grind it with a few other small things, touch it with a match, and it will explode. Gunpowder. Is that magic? Or is it only the nature of sulfur?”
“I suppose it depends who you’re talking to,” I observed, and his face split in a delighted grin.
“If you ever seek to leave your husband, madonna,” he said, chuckling, “be assured that you won’t starve. I said you were a professional, did I not?”
“My husband!” I exclaimed, paling. My mind suddenly made sense of the muffled noises coming from the distant shop. There was a loud thump, as of a large fist brought down with considerable force on a countertop, and the deep rumble of a voice inclined to brook no interference made itself heard amid the babble of other sounds.
“Bloody Christ! I forgot Jamie!”
“Your husband is here?” Raymond’s eyes went wider even than usual, and had he not already been so pale, I imagine he would have gone white, too.
“I left him outside,” I explained, stooping to cross back through the secret opening. “He must have got tired of waiting.”
“Wait, madonna!” Raymond’s hand gripped my elbow, stopping me. He put his other hand over mine, the one that held the white crystal.
“That crystal, madonna. I said it is for your protection.”
“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently, hearing my name being shouted outside with increasing volume. “What does it do, then?”
“It is sensitive to poison, madonna. It will change color, in the presence of several harmful compounds.”
That stopped me. I straightened up and stared at him.
“Poison?” I said, slowly. “Then…”
“Yes, madonna. You may be still in some danger.” Raymond’s froglike face was grim. “I cannot say for sure, or from which direction, for I do not know. If I find out, be assured I will tell you.” His eyes flicked uneasily toward the entrance through the hearth. A thunder of blows sounded on the outer wall. “Assure your husband as well, please, madonna.”
“Don’t worry,” I told him, ducking under the low lintel. “Jamie doesn’t bite—I don’t think.”
“I was not worried about his teeth, madonna” came from behind me as I walked duckfooted over the ashes of the hearth.
Jamie, in the act of raising his dagger-hilt to hammer again on the paneling, caught sight of me emerging from the fireplace and lowered it.
“Och, there ye are,” he observed mildly. He tilted his head to one side, watching me brush soot and ashes from the hem of my gown, then scowled at the sight of Raymond peeping cautiously out from under the drying table.
“Ah, and there’s our