Chapter 5
They spent most of the next morning touring the institute and meeting anyone they encountered in the course of exploration. Elise knew every nook and cranny as one might expect from growing up there. The similarities with the Cornwall Institute were obvious, but built on a much larger scale. The armory especially, looked like it was set up to equip an army.
"Do not drool on the equipment dear, we will have time to outfit you in armor in due time," Elise told him.
Of the people they met, Charles was surprised how many people expressed acquaintance and affection with his father. Most of them were subtle enough not to say anything about the romance with Charles' mother, but a few pointedly said his leaving was a big loss to the Shadowhunters. Some went as far as saying "an unnecessary loss" before dark looks from Elise shut them up. She seemed to command a great deal of respect from those who knew her and seemed to grow in stature as she walked about the halls of her former home.
They walked into the library before lunch, but Nicollette was teaching a class so they sat and observed until she was done.
"Let us eat some lunch first," said her mother when the children had been dismissed. "I am not going to rush a tour of my baby because I am famished." So they ate a very informal lunch in the kitchen and met Stella, the head cook, who seemed to be very friendly with Elise's mother. They returned to the library and Nicollette showed Charles her work in organizing and growing the collection.
"I think every institute library needs to have a set of books that are standard," she began. "When I go to Jakarta and have a question, I want to be able to pull out a particular volume to refamiliarize myself with the rune for … well, whatever. Something. There is some knowledge out there that Shadowhunters have discovered that can be useful to the rest, if only they can get it out."
"How do you print books?" asked Charles.
"We have presses in Alicante," she said. "I have published three small volumes of research that were sent out to institutes throughout the world. Most of it is information I gathered traveling to institutes and looking through their libraries. You would be amazed at the things Shadowhunters in Iceland can do. Here, look at this..." she pulled out her stele and reached for Elise's arm. Elise said nothing but let her mother push her sleeve up her arm slightly to reveal the inside of her forearm. Nicollette traced a small rune and then stood back, looking at her daughter.
"Um, what was that supposed to do?" asked Elise.
"Wait for it," said her mother.
After a few moments, Elise began to look uncomfortable. "I am starting to sweat, Mother, and it is not the library that is getting warmer."
"Yes, they have a rune that can raise your internal temperature a few degrees," she said. "If you are trapped without shelter or other issues you can keep from freezing to death. Here, give me your arm again." Nicollette traced another rune.
"This is why you never seem to sweat, is it not, Mother?" accused Elise.
"Of course it is, but it is common knowledge if people would just read my books and make sure they are stocked in their institute libraries," said her mother.
"Mother, I had no idea," said Elise.
"I sent you a copy of all my books; did you read them?" Elise colored slightly and admitted she had not. "None of them are earth-shattering or so important I tried to have them included in the Codex, but they are useful."
"I promise I will give them a look, Mother," said Elise.
"Good," she said, "but you probably have a lot of other things Charles needs to learn first, so do not worry about it right now. Charles, I would invite you to attend some of my classes but I suspect my dear daughter can teach you as well as I and you would enjoy her undivided attention."
"You taught me first, Mother, so anything that I know came from you," said Elise.
"You are very sweet, my girl," said her mother and smiled fondly. Nicollette continued through the library and pointed out the sections she had organized and filed by subject. "I think this library has the best inventory of books outside of Alicante itself. For the most part, if you need it, I can find it."
They settled down to a discussion of what runes Charles ought to study first and Nicollette offered to teach him several personally. They were interrupted by John in mid-afternoon.
"Charles, my father has asked me to evaluate your skills to give us an idea how you might be used in our current situation, given your willing support," said John.
"Of course," began Charles before Nicolette rose quickly.
"Let us all go," she said. John did not look askance at her and simply nodded after they agreed to meet in fifteen minutes.
"Mother, what was that all about?" asked Elise.
"What do you mean?" asked her mother. "Cannot I go and see my future son-in-law at work?" Her tone was so neutral that Charles would not have suspected anything, but Elise dug a little further.
"Mother, you assume a little too much," said Elise.
"Oh, please, you are thirty; if you dither about, you will be too old to have five or six children like you need to," said her mother.
Elise could not even answer, but took a very long breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.
"Mother, you agreed a little too readily," said Elise. "What gives?"
"I thought a second opinion might be helpful," she said. "And I do want to see what Charles can do. You are not the only one who enjoys watching handsome men sweat."
"Why do we need a second opinion, Mother?"
"John is a solid Shadowhunter, but he tends to follow a little too closely to his father's advice," she said quietly. "If his father wants him to find you unsatisfactory, that report will make it back to Alicante and the Clave."
"Why would he want to do that?" asked Charles.
"Politics, of course," said Nicollette. "Discovering new Shadowhunters can gain a lot of attention. One who is already trained will be a big deal for Lamar as the director at Cornwall."
"But Father does not play at politics," argued Elise.
"No, but the directors of the big institutes, London, Paris, Madrid, pretty much any of the large European institutes, now New York, Moscow, Shanghai, Beijing, probably Tokyo, Jakarta and Hyderabad—all of those are very prestigious," she explained. "If you want to get a spot in the Gard, in any capacity, you have to be from one of the big families in Alicante or have to have a superior record at one of the major institutes. They are stepping stones for the ambitious. And Ely has some ambition.
"I would not be alarmed unless my daughter has exaggerated your skills," said Nicollette.
"We shall see, Mother," said Charles.
"Oh, heavens, never call me that again," she said. "Nicollette; I promise I will be nice to you if you do."
They parted and Charles went off to his room feeling a slight trepidation and remembering the words of his good Sergeant Elam: "If you are not nervous, then what you are doing must not be very important." This little test was bound to be important to his future.
He changed to fighting clothes and limbered up in his room before walking briskly to the training room to find quite a crowd there. Well, not a crowd, but certainly a lot of folks there trying to look busy. Elise and her mother were already there and he walked over to them, surprised that Nicollette was in fighting gear as well. It changed her from an attractive, middle-aged woman to something entirely else—she looked dangerous and competent as she fiddled with a thin, long-bladed sword and chatted with her daughter. Standing together they looked remarkably similar.
"Ah, here we are, my dear," said Nicollette, who noticed him first.
"I thought you were going to observe, Nicollette, but you appear ready to participate," said Charles.
"Did Elise not tell you it is a Shadowhunter tradition that the groom must defeat his future mother-in-law in a contest of arms before he can claim his bride?" she said with a smile.
"There is no such tradition," said Elise. "Do not be ridiculous."
"Actually, I kind of like that idea," said Charles. "You have to ask the father for permission, but you have to beat the permission out of the mother."
Nicollette's bark of laughter rang loud even in the training room and was perfectly timed with the arrival of John, with Jonas in tow.
"On your toes, Charles, Jonas looks to be in a sour mood," said Nicollette in a low voice.
When John's eyes fell on Nicollette in hunter gear, then the gathered crowd, his eyes tightened ever so slightly before he reasserted self-control and continued to the main training floor.
"Let the games begin," mumbled Charles and began to follow the brothers onto the training floor. Elise took his upper arm and whispered in his ear.
"Remember you do not have to defeat him with a two-hander, which is what he will start with," she said. "Just hold your own and then wow them with your saber work." She let go and he nodded to John as he entered the floor.
"Shall we start with broadswords?" asked John. "I prefer axes but broadswords with give a good baseline before we try some other weapons." They chose out practice weapons and warmed up slowly. After several minutes, John began to press harder and harder on Charles defense and he had to give ground steadily; his attempts to sidestep were skillfully cut off and soon enough he was stuck in a corner and had taken several 'wounds' on the arms and legs but nothing in vital areas. He focused tightly on his defense, no longer even putting up the pretense he could counter. Suddenly, John backed off and saluted him.
"Very good," he said. "You could pick one up and do just fine, though clearly something lighter would be more to your talents. What would be your preference?"
"Why are you asking him what he wants to use?" said Jonas. "This is your test, is it not?"
The look John gave Jonas was not complimentary. "He just proved more than capable with a weapon I chose. It only seems logical to let him show us his strength."
"My father trained me with the katana mostly, but I have far more experience with a saber," he suggested.
"Well, I suspect I would fare far worse with the saber than you did with broadswords, so let us try with the medium-size blade," said John.
The style with the katana was not so different than broadswords but it required much less strength and more speed, which did indeed play more into Charles favor. John was no slouch however, and while it was apparent Charles was clearly on the offensive, they both struck blows that would have caused wounds and were certain to leave bruises. This time it was Charles who backed off and nodded in respect.
"Do you have any skill with projective weapons or other ranged weapons?" asked John when he had caught his breath.
"I can use a bow and throw hatchets with some accuracy," suggested Charles. They opened up a space and he began throwing his tomahawks at a target from increasing range until he felt satisfied he had shown what he could do. The size of the armory did not really show his range with the bow, but he hit in the small ring of his target five out of six shots from the length of the training room, a distance of about 40 feet. John simply nodded and offered his hand.
"I did not expect anything else, but I find you competent and will so report to my father," began John before Jonas broke in.
"That is all? You are going to let him off that easy?" complained the younger brother. "You test me harder than that every day before breakfast."
"Or I would if you showed up every day before breakfast," said John quietly. "Do you really want to have this argument here again in public?" He met his younger brother's gaze and it was Jonas who looked away first and then stalked out of the room. John looked at Charles, nodded and then left after his brother. Others began to trickle out as well and some went back to actual training. Elise and Nicollette joined him with smiles.
"That was much more impartial than I expected," said Nicollette. "John wavers sometimes between being his own man and bowing to his father's wishes. In any case, I am next," she said. "And I would be more than happy to have a go with sabers."
"Be nice to my mom," whispered Elise while they chose a practice weapon.
"I am more worried about her being nice to me," said Charles.
They squared off with light practice swords and had a rousing bout, going back and forth with good defense on both sides and no 'scores.' They had put on practice breastplates and helmets with facemasks and neither of them managed to touch the other during the first few minutes. As she warmed up, Nicollette pressed harder and scored hits, but her aggressive attacks left her open to Charles counterattacks bringing them close to even. Her technique was very compact and free of flourishing or showmanship, making for an intense, quick-striking workout.
"Enough," called Nicollette finally, gasping for breath. "My age becomes increasingly painful to accept as the years go by. Still, I have not completely lost it."
"I am sure he is duly impressed, Mother," said Elise. "Are you done showing off yet?"
"I believe I am, my impertinent daughter," said her mother. "Not that you asked my approval before, but I must give my approval. He seems like a capable young man."
"Wow, all that in a day, Mother," teased Elise. "You did not give in to Hyrum for months."
"Well you were about twenty at the time, if you recall," she said.
"Oh, so now I am old," said Elise.
"Not so old as me, dear," she said. "I am off to the baths. Thanks for a good workout, Charles. You are a dear." She walked out with a brisk stride leaving only a few people left in the armory.
"Well, I would ask for my turn, but you look just a bit tired," said Elise.
"Oh, far from it," he said. "As long as we do not use broadswords."
"Fair enough," she replied.
Growing up on the frontier of America had not prepared Charles for the concentrated nature of a city that had stood off and on for two thousand years under the Romans, Franks and the occasional Viking raid until feudal lords decided to choose their own king. Since then Paris had grown to be a world center of many things and certainly a place where you could find just about anything.
"I cannot get over the smell of cities," mumbled Charles.
"Ah, yes, the sweet fragrance of thousands upon thousands of people," agreed Elise. "Well, you are lucky, even if you do not know it. It used to be much worse. Say what you want about Napoleon III, but his project to widen the streets and improve sanitation under Hausmann has been quite effective. It certainly used to smell a lot worse.
Charles scrubbed at his nose. He could not imagine it smelling worse, but Elise had grown up here, so she had to know what she was saying. She had been showing him the parts of the city near the Institute, but had insisted on rolling down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe.
"Paris is so much easier to navigate than when I grew up," said Elise who clearly enjoyed the Parisian history more than the typical Shadowhunter. "All of these wide boulevards that radiate out like a wheel considerably improve travel time."
They stopped for a picnic on the River Seine and enjoyed the cooling shade of the bridges when they could. Paris felt sticky, but not any worse than Missouri where he had grown up. The summer humidity made Charles nostalgic for the cool, dry air of the Rocky Mountains.
It took them three days to turn up anything on Charles' parents and then it proved nearly impossible to arrange any sort of meeting. Charles did meet a man with the last name of Duclot but it was very difficult to find out anything when there were certain questions you could not ask without arousing a great deal of suspicion. Finally, after three of weeks of searching, they found themselves on the doorstep of a very well-to-do widow by the name of Duclot who was purported to have lost a daughter around the time Charles was born.
"I really hope this is my grandmother," said Charles as they approached the house.
"I really hope you can talk you way in the door," said Elise. "I got the impression Ms. Duclot does not like people asking questions about her daughter."
They rang the bell and a tall, well-dressed man came to the door. He looked them up and down, must have decided they were not beggars and asked their business.
Charles said a silent prayer in his head and began. "Sir, my name is Charles and this is Elise Wright. I have come from very far in search of my family and I rather suspect that Mde. Duclot might be my grandmother." The man's expression turned down into a frown. "I have no real proof of it and I know this may seem … conspicuous, but I would like to meet with Mde. Duclot for a few minutes to discuss this."
The man now looked them up and down more thoroughly than he had the first time and his frown never changed. Charles was sure that he was going to slam the door in their faces, but then Elise gave him her most winning smile. He face softened and he looked at Charles again, squinting.
"I am Jarmaine," he said. "I have looked after Mde. Duclot since her husband's death and I was M. Duclot's bodyservant for twenty years before that." He stopped and stared at Charles again. "I have seen photos of the young M'selle Duclot and in truth, you seem to have something of her in your features, but let me warn you. If you upset the madame then I will make sure you regret coming to this house and stirring up demons that have been lying low for a long time. Am I clear?"
Coming from a typical middle-aged man with a bit of a pot-belly and a receding hairline, Charles might have found this amusing; instead, one look into the man's eyes told Charles that he was deadly serious and likely more capable than he appeared.
"I do not wish to upset anyone, sir," said Charles.
"It is Jarmaine, not sir," said the man. "Please come in and I will see if the madam will see you."
Madame Duclot sat in a high-backed, gilded chair and wore clothes that fit with the richness of the residence. Interestingly enough, she did not wear any make-up of the kind older women sometimes did to cover up wrinkles and lines that were increasingly hard to hide. She surveyed Charles and Elise as if she was judging whether their appearance and attire warranted being invited to sit down.
Finally, she nodded to two chairs across from her and the butler left them alone. Charles thought he heard the lock on the door turn and wondered why Madame Duclot was so interested in her privacy.
Up close she looked older than her purported years and not particularly pleasant. Her near-white hair was style in the latest Parisian fashion and her pale skin indicated she did not go out of doors much. Finally she spoke.
"I trust Jarmaine because he is very loyal and his judgment rarely lets me down," she began. Her French was very precise and spoke of education and manners. Her tone, however was neutral if not outright hostile. "Without giving too many details, he told me you wished to meet with me on a matter personal interest. Please elaborate."
A month in Paris had improved Charles French immensely, but he still felt very self-conscious speaking to this woman who was very likely his grandmother.
"Madame, I have come a very far distance looking to find clues to my past," he began. "Those clues have led me here. I call myself Charles Duclot, and my mother was Catherine Duclot."
The woman did not react at all beyond at slight widening of the eyes and a clenching of her jaw. Instead of some warmth or emotion her expression changed to one of anger and she began speaking so fast that Charles was not sure he caught every word.
"Do you know have many times people have come to me claiming to be related?" she said. "It is well known that my daughter disappeared and I receive regular visits from people trying to scam me out of my money. These are never very effective because I know she did not disappear. She left. With an Englishman."
"Miles Nichols," said Charles. That gave her a start. So apparently the romance had not been public knowledge. Charles had only one more card to play. He did not know what his mother might have told her, but it was worth a try. "The Shadowhunter."
That had shocked her, but again, her icy self-control took over until she once again look down her nose at him like the Queen of the World.
"Your research is very good, sir, since perhaps only I have heard that name before," she said. "Pray tell me where you found it out. I may pay you just to avoid this problem in the future."
"We did not come here for money, ma'am," said Charles.
"They never say they do," said the woman coldly.
Charles decided it was time to shaker her up. "I grew up in the American state of Missouri—you would probably consider it a hovel-and often wondered why my mother spoke to me in a language that no one else understood. At first, when I was conscious of doing so, I refused to answer her in French. I did not want to be different. I wanted to be like the other boys at my school. And then one day when I was eight or so, I had a nightmare and she sat by my bed and sang the song she always did to help me sleep. 'Dodo, l'enfant do, l'enfant dormira bien vite, dodo, l'enfant do, l'enfant dormira bientot,' That day I asked her why she spoke that way and she was crying and told me it was because it was the only thing she had left of her home, that she would never see again, or her mother that sang to her at bedtime and then kissed her on each cheek and said, 'Sleep my little treasure, so that we can discover each other again in the morning.'"
Whatever self-control the woman had possessed was gone now. She looked even paler than before and she covered her mouth with both hands. She was taking short, sharp breaths and looked on the verge of crying. Charles did not know what to expect now and he was again surprised by the woman's iron self-control. In less than half a minute she had conquered her shock and was again sitting with her hands in her lap as calm as if he had just told her it was time for lunch.
"Your name again, young man, if it pleases you," she said.
"Charles Duclot," he said. "My father took my mother's name when he left his own people behind."
"Please … Charles … come and sit by me," she said. "Let us speak of things that I never thought to ever be able to talk about again."
Charles nodded and rose to sit next to her, on her right, not quite touching. After a slight hesitation, Madame Duclot reached across and took his left hand in both of her. "I suspect you may be as curious about your mother when she was young as I am about what she did after she left. Shall we alternate stories then? You tell and then I will tell. And please … call me Mémé. I used to think it sounded ridiculous, but now that I find myself suddenly a grandmother despite all, I would love to hear you use it."
"It would be my pleasure … Mémé," he said.
They spent all afternoon exchanging stories; some brought laughs and others tears but throughout it all, Charles watched as the formerly stoic, humorless woman they had met opened up and recalled scenes from former years that had obviously brought her much happiness.
Eventually the subject of Shadowhunters was broached. Charles was surprised at how pragmatic she had become.
"Your father was a very impressive man," said Madame Duclot. "He was quite handsome and every bit the heroic figure after he saved her from a mugging, or so they initially claimed." They were all sitting with cakes and drinks in hand that had been brought in by Jarmaine without being asked. When he had met Charles eyes, the butler had simply nodded, as if in gratitude, and gone about his business quietly.
"It was only later that she admitted it had not been human attackers and had launched into a fanciful tale of vampires and demons," she continued. "Of course I thought it was rubbish, but coming from my daughter, well… I had to investigate. Lots of money can be useful at times and my people were able to turn up some surprising information. That is when one of your Clave showed up on my door and warned me to keep my nose out."
"I was fine with that until Catherine informed me she was getting married and they were moving away to protect me," she said. "Well, you can only imagine what kind of argument that caused." Madame Duclot paused for a long time as if she was remembering. "I told her she could not go, but she simply refused to obey. I think she felt trapped and your father was an escape." She trailed off and sighed. "It sounds like she was happy for a time … "
"I know she loved my father," said Charles. "And he loved her. There is something very powerful in a family that happens when children know how much their parents care for each other."
"And yet, she only lived for another thirteen years," said Madame Duclot.
"Would you rather live another ten years as you are now, or have a year with your daughter back again?" asked Elise.
Madame Duclot studied Elise very carefully before replying.
"You look like a woman who has seen loss and pain in her life," she said, "so you already know the answer to your own question. What would you give for a few moments with your deceased husband?"
The two women looked at each as if testing the other. His new grandmother was a very shrewd observer because neither of them had spoken of Elise being widowed or having lost a brother. Finally, they smiled at each other as if they liked what they had seen.
They ended the visit with the promise to returned again the next day and were shown out by Jarmaine.
"M. Duclot, I must tell you that your arrival is the best thing to happen to this house in a decade," said the butlet. "I believe the madam smiled more today than she normally does in an entire year. For that, I am happy I took a chance on you."
"I see that you love her and serve her well, Jarmaine," said Charles. "Thank you."
"Et merci a vous, aussi," said Jarmaine.
It was near dark when they left and the lamps in the streets were just being lit in this upscale neighborhood.
"I am so happy for you, Charles," she said and pulled him to her and kissed him in the middle of the street.
"Scandalous behavior," he said smiling as they broke apart.
They walked home hand in hand, but Charles other hand held his sword-cane and Elise her parasol. Fortunately they were not accosted and they reported privately to Nicolette that they had been successful. She seemed very happy for them and shared a hug with both of them before going to dinner.
The following day they returned and spoke of many things. Mde. Duclot had retrieved a photo album and portrait of her daughter and more tears ensued as they shared memories of her childhood and stories from the Duclot's life in Missouri. When they left on the second day, Mde. Duclot insisted on passing Charles a rather large purse. When Charles protested, she gave him a stern look and a lecture.
"Come, let us be frank," she interrupted. "I have a brother and two nephews that are waiting for me to die so that they can use my considerable fortune to invest further in their business interests. They all walk around concerned for my health, but really they are more impatient than anything, because I do not believe they need any more money to play with and won't give them any more right now. What they do not know is that I have invested heavily in children's orphanages in the city and there is considerably less money to spend than they believe.
"Now that you are here, I would be tempted to change my will, but I suspect I would have a rather long and drawn out legal battle and when I died, they would probably still pay the lawyers to give it to them anyway. Sooooo… take this, and buy your pretty rose something nice. What you have given me back these past two days is beyond price, but that does not mean I cannot give you a gift or two… from your mémé."
With the search completed, their time in Paris settled down into a comfortable routine. They trained, they visited the city, they studied with Nicolette and two or three times a week they went to visit Mde. Duclot. As they moved about the city, it became more and more apparent to Elise that something was definitely wrong in Paris. Rumors of missing persons, often children, abounded, and there was a general fear of going out at night, even in the 'City of Lights."
Charles decided that he was going to find himself a pistol, no matter what Shadowhunters said about firearms. It was another tool and not one to be discounted simply because it was not always reliable.