Free Chameleon by Cidney Swanson Page B

arrived. Du Lac threatened Waldhart and myself before my Lady; she flinched not, neither did she reveal aught when they began to prick and draw forth her blood.
    Helisaba, my little cousin, however, could not watch this unmoved. She came solid from her chameleon–safety. Our enemies did not notice. They merely saw a child appearing seemingly from nowhere, as children do.
    Du Lac placed the blade at tiny Helisaba’s neck; still Lady de Rochefort revealed not whether her husband’s men would come by valley or by mountain. I did not, at that time, believe any of us in mortal danger.
    In short, I misjudged.
    Du Lac changed tactics and released Lisaba, placing the blade at my Lady de Rochefort’s own white neck. My cousin shrieked and could only be calmed by Du Lac insisting he had no wish to kill her lady–mother. Lisaba quieted and Du Lac asked her, upon pain of executing her mother, from whence would her father’s soldiers issue?
    Helisaba held her tongue as we all had been taught. Du Lac rose, sighed as one who rises from a good dinner, and swiftly spilled Lady de Rochefort’s lifeblood. Lisaba whitened as though her own lifeblood ebbed with that of her mother. I ran, desperate to shield my little cousin, who fainted into my arms. For my weakness, we paid dearly.
    Du Lac, sensing my affection for Helisaba, put the knife to her throat and asked me the question.
    “Swear first that you will not harm her,” I demanded.
    Behind the soldiers, Waldhart cursed my name, calling all manner of dire blights upon me should I reveal what I knew and upon Du Lac should he harm Lisaba. The soldiers clapped his mouth shut.
    “You have my word,” said Du Lac.
    I hesitated, uncertain as to the value of the word of a traitor. “Call down Heaven’s curse should you break your word.”
    Du Lac laughed softly, straightened, and crossed himself. “May God damn my soul to the everlasting flames of Hell should I break my word and harm this child.” He crossed himself again. “But I swear she dies if you do not speak, boy.”
    Helisaba, recovered from her faint, shook her head: No, Girard.
    “They come by way of the mountain,” said I.
    Du Lac released Lisaba and lifting me by my shoulders, he stared into my eyes. “Swear it by the same oath I invoked.”
    This I could not do, for fear of my soul’s well–being. I spoke the truth. “By the valley, then, may God bar me from Heaven should I lie.”
    By the frailty of my human heart, I had saved Lisaba. The battle, we lost.
    I vowed never again to allow weakness to rule the day.

Chapter Eleven
PARIS
    We departed the Loire Valley the following morning with translations of Helmann’s Nazi–era journals in hand. Sir Walter did not travel with us, promising instead to meet us in Paris. As I read the translated journal, I couldn’t decide which disturbed me more: the experiments Helmann had designed or his musings upon the results. I put the translation down after one quick read–through, but Mickie pored through it again and again, making notes in the margins. What would Sir Walter make of the journal we had stolen from Helga? I itched to know if we had wasted our efforts, but I had no desire to break my word to Will. So far Mickie had always accompanied us when Sir Walter showed up.
    We arrived at our Paris hotel in time for an 8:30PM dinner at an Auvergnois restaurant where every last student opted for cheesy potatoes, passing on the dish involving intestines. Tomorrow would be our first of four full days in Paris, and Sir Walter said he’d join us, invisibly or solid, for most of our group field trips. Our fourth day, the French Club trip free day , he instructed us to reserve for a special day–long outing; his eyes twinkled but he refused to reveal our destination.
    At the Hotel Georges IV, I received a closet–sized single room, which suited me fine, but Mickie’s room had been upgraded to a two–room suite.
    “Gorgeous!” was how Mickie described the rooms she shared