72

Rue Saint Jacques de la Boucherie

March 21, 1355

Flamel heard heavy footsteps. The doctor stopped smiling and shot a glance at the head guard. The door opened, and an older man in court clothes came in. He was tall and bearded, and he had sharp eyes. Flamel recognized Bernard de Rhenac, the king’s minister of justice, one of the most powerful men in France. He was the king’s henchman. Rhenac sat down on a bench.

Guy de Pareilles bowed with calculated stiffness. The doctor nodded. Flamel supposed they had crossed paths at court, and maybe the doctor had even treated Rhenac.

Rhenac eyed the three men. “I’ll be brief. Where is the book?”

“What book?” the doctor asked. “All we have here is a body.”

Rhenac glanced at the doctor and then out the window. “How are things in the street?”

“We’ve blocked access on both sides and are guarding the house,” Pareilles said.

“Good. Go tell your guards to leave. We don’t need them or you any longer. My men will take over.”

“But I represent the king’s justice,” Pareilles said.

“Enough. One more word, and I’ll order you to tend to some matter in a province nobody ever hears about.”

Pareilles clenched his jaw and left.

“You opened the body. What did you find?” Rhenac asked the doctor.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I only examined his face, which is where I found the cause of death. Someone removed his eyes and—”

“Replaced them with mercury and sulfur. I know. I knew that before you did.”

The doctor looked like he was about to choke.

The king’s henchman continued. “There’s no point in talking or asking questions, my dear doctor. Be content to just sit down. The same goes for you Master Flamel, our scribe.”

Flamel’s hand started shaking.

“Why such emotion, Master Flamel? What difference does it make that I know your name?”

Flamel willed his hands to stop shaking. “Please excuse me. I was surprised. For a moment I thought that—”

“That we knew? But of course we know.”

Flamel felt his legs weaken.

“We know everything, because we instigated everything.”