“Do not go gentle into that good night.”

—Dylan Thomas, to his father

“It is a common misconception to think that most people go into the night, gently or otherwise. The night takes what it will, whenever it will, however it will. The only difference between a lord and a beggar is what games the government plays with the corpse afterwards. A beggar, I’m sorry to say, leaves the world with much more dignity.”

—Von Schmidt, harassing a public speaker at the funeral of a lord

Martina did not look well. Her lips were purple and dark veins could clearly be seen through her porcelain skin. However, almost all signs of the previous day’s violence were gone. The regenerative capacity of Von Schmidt’s people was uncanny. A boy sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, looking too serious and composed for his age.

As the Princess entered the room, he hopped off the bed and left the room, leaving her with Martina. The room’s bareness gave it the air of a storage closet rather than a bedroom. The cleanest, most orderly storage closet she’d ever seen. Come to think of it, the only storage closet she’d ever seen.

“Are the modifications to your uniform satisfactory?” Martina asked, sitting up with a groan.

“Very much so. I simply came to check on you. I heard you were under the weather.” The Princess looked for a chair or a stool and, finding none, took a seat on the spot previously occupied by the boy.

“This is very kind of you, but we are not subject to the caprices of the proverbial weather. I am sure a new maid will be provided for you if you speak with the master.” The Princess tried to identify some expression on Martina’s face, but it was easier to read the facial expressions of a vase than of one of Von Schmidt’s servants.

“I am concerned about you,” the Princess repeated angrily. “I do not know if you’ve heard, but a maid collapsed in the kitchen today and …”

“Yes, I was informed of Martina’s passing. It is unprecedented. The master must be most upset. I’m sorry if you’re upset too.”

“Have you seen a doctor yet?” the Princess asked. “Surely, this deserves a more thorough examination than a glance by bored aristocrats seeking light entertainment before breakfast.”

“There are no doctors on this planetoid as both we and Von Schmidt are immune to any poison and disease known to postmodern science or to the alien species of trans-Neptunian space. Any injury that doesn’t kill us outright is regenerated within several days. However, as my condition is becoming progressively worse and in light of recent news from the kitchen, it is my belief that any further emotional investment in my person would be counterproductive for mein fraulein’s objectives.” Still, not a hint of emotion. Even in the old fairy tales, the stoic heroes were not that stoic.

“Do not presume to dictate my objectives, Martina. Do you have any theories as to possible causes of your condition?”

“My husband suspects nanotechnology or highly focused radiation. He has informed Von Schmidt and the butler of his concerns.”

“Do you have any enemies among the staff?” The Princess realized her question was absurd even before she finished articulating it but, as she’d learned long ago, there are no brakes on the stupid train.

“No, we are immune to all forms of disease. Homicidal urges are a form of disease as well, according to Von Schmidt.” The Princess had to admire Martina for coming up with a reply that didn’t make the Princess feel even dumber.

“So it must be one of the guests. Can you think of a reason why?”

“Far be it from me to presume to know the objectives of my master’s guests.” The Princess could swear she saw the hint of a teasing smile on the maid’s impassive face, but maybe it was just her hopeful imagination. As a kid she often saw facial expressions on pets, a fact she later learned was a physical impossibility. However, when one is desperate for a smile, one can see it even in a bowl of soup or a Norwegian ambassador.

The Princess sighed. “Loath as I am to admit it, Von Schmidt is right. We really are terrible detectives.”

“Von Schmidt is always right,” Martina said. “Our master is a genius without equal. Despite your current conflict of interests, I recommend that you trust him to address this matter in the most effective and level-headed manner.”

“I will take your advice to heart. Meanwhile, keep the old battle spirit strong and high. I still plan to have you in my retinue as soon as I leave this wretched mansion.”

“Very good, mein fraulein,” Martina said and leaned back, sinking into her pillow. The Princess knew she was too good a maid to do this on purpose. If she sunk back, it was because she no longer had the strength to remain upright.

“This is unacceptable,” the Princess announced. “I will get to the bottom of this and if my family’s honor is worth anything, I will rescue not one, but two damsels from this sinkhole of depravity.”

“Far be it from me to presume to dictate the objectives of a princess.” Again, the Princess could swear she saw a hint of a smile, as brief as a blink. “Alas, in my present condition, far be it from me to presume to provide her with any service either.” Martina winced, and of this there was no doubt.

“You already have,” the Princess said and squeezed Martina’s shoulder. “We will speak soon and that’s a royal guarantee.”

“I hope mein fraulein will not be disappointed,” Martina said, staring at the ceiling and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

The Princess walked out of the room and immediately ran into Martin, but not the Martin from before. There was something more subdued about this man. The butler was an unstoppable spirit of efficiency. This fellow gave the Princess a strong urge to punch him just to see what would happen.

“Thank you for helping my wife and myself during the chornoi invasion,” the man said. “I apologize for not thanking you earlier … I lost my composure, I’m afraid.”

“It’s quite all right. Try to keep her nice and comfortable while I get to the bottom of this. I trust I can rely on your assistance in this matter.”

“Mein fraulein, I think—”

“If I cared what you thought, I’d have asked you, wouldn’t I?” the Princess snapped. She did not expect an answer and somehow found herself even more annoyed when she didn’t receive one. She decided it was best she created some distance between herself and the man as soon as possible. The man possessed an abundance of some quality that was the opposite of charisma and the Princess wasn’t sure she had the force of will to avoid giving in to the demands of this quality, which she made a mental note of naming and defining someday.