The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

Chapter 22

Chapter XXII

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Music can noble hints impart,

Engender fury, kindle love,

With unsuspected eloquence can move,

And manage all the man with secret art.

~Joseph Addison

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On catlike feet, Celeste crept down the narrow hall of the north wing lit on both sides by high torches spaced far apart. She felt both curious and fearful of what she might find. Each time she heard a noise she hurried ahead to the next patch of darkness and pressed her back against the stucco wall.

Two soldiers spoke within her hearing earlier, and she learned that the fearsome Don kept his prisoners that those soldiers called "los desafortunados" in this wing of the villa. She hoped she might find her new friend here since, when asked, another gypsy told her Jaelle did not live in the slave quarters.

Rounding the corner, she almost walked into sight of an old man shuffling toward a closed door, a tray quivering in his gnarled hands. Before he could spot her she ducked behind an urn at the bend of corridors and peered around its brass curve to watch.

Old Juan, assistant to the cook ... she had spoken with him twice and knew he was feeble in mind, often unable to recall memories of recent occurrences. He withdrew a skeleton key from his pocket, slid it into the lock and turned, pulling the key away.

Summoning courage in a deep, shaky breath, Celeste abandoned her place of concealment and walked around the corner, as if she had every right to be there.

The old man started, dropping the key.

She jogged forward and plucked it up. "Pardon, Señor," she hurried to say, "Señor cook sent me to find you." She didn't know what else to call his superior, so used the title of his trade. She hoped her smattering of Spanish would be enough and was grateful her skill in the language increased with each day.

Old Juan's mouth thinned in censure.

"What are you doing in this wing, Cedric? No one is allowed."

"Señor cook sent me to find you," she repeated. "He said to come at once. It's about the banquet tonight, I think. He didn't look happy." Often the soldiers ordered her to do any number of odd tasks. She had run errands for the cook, as well, since she went to his kitchen to collect food and wine for the soldiers and he would sometimes give her a chore when she returned empty dishes. With this in mind, she hoped Old Juan wouldn't find her explanation for her presence there suspect.

He muttered something, sounding reproachful as he spoke the cook's name then asked her a question. She shook her head in confusion. He lifted the tray higher, nodding to the covered dish, then the closed door.

"You want me to take the tray in for you, Señor Juan?" Without hesitation, she grabbed it from his aged hands, noting his surprise at her speed. "I will help. I am a good helper. Ask any of the soldiers."

He frowned and wavered, clearly uncertain. Her heart pounded fast with worry that he might refuse.

"Si, go quickly then. Do not look or speak. Lock the door and bring me back the key."

Celeste nodded, watching as he shuffled off as fast as his old, arthritic bones could manage. In the event he returned, his sluggish pace would give her plenty of time. Her attention turned to the tall, carved door.