In Which an Event of Great Significance Is Overlooked
Had he but known that the cosmic link between the shadow lamp and the Skin Map lay at his fingertips, Kit might have marked the day as one of the most significant in his life. But human consciousness is flighty, awareness fleeting, and important facts are often ignored; items of value remain unappreciated; vital information goes unremarked. In the heat of the moment, details of great significance are often overlooked. So it was that Kit failed to see what was right in front of him, and consequently the quest in which he and so many others were engaged failed to progress as it might have. Instead, this is what happened:
The day had faded to mellow gold and the sun had slipped behind the buildings surrounding the square. As the marketplace folded up around him, Kit returned to the upstairs room where he had left Gianni and Cassandra discussing the finer points of star-exploded elements. He gave the door a rap with his knuckles and received an “Enter if you dare” in reply.
“It’s only me,” he announced, pushing open the door. Gianni had gone, and Cass was resting on her bed. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you were napping.”
“Thinking, not napping,” she said. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”
Kit took a chair from the table and spun it around to face her as she struggled up out of the hollow in the centre of her feather bed. “Well? What did you decide?” he asked. “About the rare earth stuff, I mean. Any ideas?”
“We agreed that we won’t be able to tell anything at all with the equipment we have on hand, and we dare not waste the material we’ve got trying things that probably won’t work,” she told him. “Our sample needs analysing with pretty sophisticated gear if we’re going to get a definitive result.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Fortunately, Gianni knows a place where we can get it tested properly.”
“Here?”
“Not hardly. He wants to take it to Rome.” At Kit’s raised eyebrows she laughed and said, “The Vatican.”
“The pope has a microscope?”
“I doubt the pope has much experience with exotic thermonuclear materials—if he does, he’s definitely hiding his light under a bushel. But the Vatican maintains a state-of-the-art lab, and Gianni knows how to get there in the twenty-first century, which is essential.”
“Being a priest probably doesn’t hurt either,” Kit surmised.
Cass nodded. “He can get access there faster than probably anywhere else and no questions asked. So we’re good to go.”
“That Gianni.” Kit shook his head in admiration. “He’s a pip!”
She laughed again. “I like you, Kit.”
“I like you too.” He smiled and then ran out of things to say. “So, um—want to head over to the coffeehouse and see what everybody else is up to?”
Cass swung her legs off the bed and gracefully angled one stockinged foot into an empty shoe.
“We’d best take this with us,” said Kit, reaching around to retrieve the glass vial of rare earth from the table behind him. Preoccupied by the sight of a young lady’s shapely leg, his hand failed to connect with the little jar and instead upset the brass carapace of the shadow lamp containing the powdery residue of the burnt-out material. Black dust scattered over the handkerchief Cass had spread out as a work area.
“Oops! Sorry. No harm done,” he said and began sweeping the grainy ash back into the half shell of the lamp. When he had retrieved as much as he could, he shook the powdery remainder off the white square of fine-woven cloth.
It was at this moment that Kit might have noticed something extraordinary. Had he not been distracted, he would have seen that the grey smudge left on the handkerchief had formed a highly distinctive design: a spiral whorl with an unaccountably straight line directly through the centre and three separate dots along the outer edge.
The image, though faint, was well defined and far too precise to be the result of mere chance. Yet in the waning afternoon light stealing through the room’s single window, the inimitable pattern—which would have fitted perfectly with those Kit had seen scrawled on the wall of a Stone Age cave, painstakingly rendered in the inner burial chamber of High Priest Anen’s tomb, and, most notably, tattooed on the half-bare torso of Arthur Flinders-Petrie at the Spirit Well—remained unregarded and unrecognised.
And so Kit simply shook out the handkerchief and handed it to Cass, who promptly tucked it into the cuff of her blouse as she finished putting on her shoes. Then, blithely unaware of the secret they now possessed, Kit pocketed the ruined shadow lamp and vial of rare earth and escorted Cass from the Apoteke. Alas.
The two started across the market square, the crowd rapidly thinning as twilight deepened and lights began to glow in windows. Silvery smoke threaded from the chimneys clustered on the rooftops all around, tinting the air with an autumnal scent. Halfway to the coffeehouse, they met Wilhelmina coming the other way. “Hey, you two—I was just coming to find you.”
“Did you see Gianni?”
“Yes, he told me the jury is still out on the mystery powder.”
“He wants to take the sample to Rome for testing,” Kit told her.
“That’s what I hear. I think it’s a good idea.” As she was speaking, the church bells began ringing. She paused to listen.
“What church is that?” Cass asked, turning her eyes towards the dark façade of the imposing gothic church fronting the square.
“That’s Týn Church,” Mina told her. “Vespers is just starting. Actually, I was on my way to the service. Would you like to come along?”
“I’d love to,” said Cass.
“Let’s all go.” Wilhelmina continued across the square; Cass fell into step beside her and Kit followed. “I like it—especially when I’ve had a busy day and I need some peace. Etzel hardly ever misses a service. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see him there tonight.”
“Speaking of bumping into Etzel, I saw him today.” Kit went on to relate how he had seen the big baker in the square with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“He was probably on one of his missions. There are a lot of needy people in the back streets around here. Etzel is always doing something to try to help out—his Seele arbeitet, as he calls it.”
“His soul works?” wondered Cass.
“You know German?”
“Not really,” she allowed. “I run into it in an academic way from time to time, that’s all.”
“I’m impressed,” remarked Kit. “You also know how to test chemicals and read Latin. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Cook.” She gave him a sunny smile.
Týn Church loomed from the shadows, its twin multi-spired towers rising heavenward, each finger-thin pinnacle topped with a cross glinting in the last of the day’s dying light like golden stars. The lower panes of the enormous centre window, an elongated gothic design, shone with the ruddy glow of candlelight, and torches on either side of the imposing black iron-studded doors pooled light around the entrance. Kit cracked open the smaller door set in the larger one, and the three entered the venerable old church.
The service was well attended. “Standing room only, I see,” Kit quipped, then realised it was always SRO because there were no pews—only a row of chairs ringing the expansive sanctuary for the older members of the congregation. Mina shot him a stern glance. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll behave.”
They pushed in among those gathered at the back. The attending priests were chanting the voluntary. Though the service was an amalgam of Latin with a few instructions in German, it was fairly easy to follow, and Kit, who was not so well versed in religious rites, found the service at least unobjectionable if not actually enjoyable. One look at Mina, whose face gently illumined by candlelight appeared reverent, beatific even, gave Kit to know that she was enraptured by the majestic movements of liturgy and song. Posing as a nun at Montserrat Abbey, he concluded, had no doubt quickened in Wilhelmina a deeper appreciation.
For Cassandra, however, it was something more.
As the psalms and hymns echoed up through the great vaulted darkness and the incense rose in sweet, pungent clouds before the altar, Cass grew at first quiet, then pensive, and finally markedly subdued—head bowed and eyes not so much closed as clenched, her whole body tense, almost rigid. Finally, as the final notes of the great pipe organ rang in the air, Kit leaned close and whispered, “Are you okay?”
Cass nodded but did not lift her head; her hands remained clenched tightly over her chest. Worshippers began disbanding and streaming away around them, but she did not move.
Wilhelmina put her arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, Cassandra?”
When she failed to respond, Kit gently urged, “You can tell us. We’re here for you. Is it homesickness?”
“No,” Cass breathed at last. “Nothing like that.” She raised her face, and Kit saw she had been crying. “I don’t think I’ve told anyone what happened to me in Damascus.”
Kit and Mina exchanged a glance. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Wilhelmina told her. “It’s okay. We’ll understand.”
“It’s the reason I’m here,” said Cass, smudging away the wet tracks down her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “I saw something that scared me—a vision—and it frightened me so much I ran to the nearest shelter I could find, and that was in the Sisters of Tekla chapel.”
“What did you see?” asked Kit. Mina gave him a cautionary glance and he quickly added, “That is, if you want to share . . . or not.”
“No, it’s all right. I can tell you.” Cassandra drew a long breath and said, “I guess you could say I saw the destruction of the entire universe. That’s the only way to describe it.” She went on to relate more details of the terrifying vision—the insatiable, all-devouring darkness, the vast and mindless hatred of light and its manifold expressions, the pitiless obliteration of all creatures possessing the spark of life, the relentless desolating rush towards oblivion—that had driven her from sleep and into the embrace of the Zetetic Society. She finished, saying, “I sat there praying until it got light enough outside to see, and then I ran as fast as I could to join the society.” She glanced up with a sad, almost rueful smile. “I guess I have been running ever since. This is the first time I have actually had a chance to stop and reflect on what happened. The service tonight was beautiful, but it brought it all back to me.” She glanced from one to the other of them and drew a long, shaky breath. “I don’t really understand any of this.”
“Never mind.” Mina gave her shoulders a squeeze. “There’s a lot going on that none of us understand, but we’re all in this together.”
“All for one and one for all,” Kit added. “And we’re not about to let anything happen to you.” It was a brave but silly thing to say—an ultimately empty promise—and Kit knew it the moment the words left his mouth. Cosimo was right, this ley travelling was an exceedingly perilous business indulged at great personal risk—and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about that.
Cass seemed to understand but accepted the solace of his words all the same. “Thanks,” she sighed. “You’re both very kind.” She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I’m not usually such a basket case, honest.”
They joined the congregation making its way out of the church. Passing through the heavy oaken doors, they moved off towards the Grand Imperial Kaffeehaus across the way. Save for the departing worshippers, the marketplace was nearly deserted; the last of the day traders were tying down the coverings on their fully laden wagons. The great square was cast in darkness now, and the bright needle-points of stars were shining in a clear sky.
“How are you feeling now?” asked Kit.
“A little better,” answered Cass. “Still . . .”
“That must have been some bad vision to scare you like that,” remarked Kit.
“It was . . . harrowing.” Cass shivered at the memory, which even now had the power to chill her heart.
“If it would help to talk about it,” offered Wilhelmina, “I’d be happy to listen. That is . . .” She trailed off as she noticed that Kit had stopped walking. Both women glanced around to see him stock-still, as if rooted to the spot. He was staring into the middle distance as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Kit?” gasped Mina. “For Pete’s sake, what is it?”
“Burleigh is back,” he spat, his voice a low, rasping whisper. “I just saw a Burley Man.”