The phenomenon known as ley leaping or ley travel is an endeavour fraught with complication and error. Far from being an exact science, using ley lines to travel among, between, and across the various known dimensions of the multidimensional Omniverse is at best an art that can only be perfected through long apprenticeship, and even the most expert of explorers is likely to go astray—a fact that Kit Livingstone knows only too well. Using a ley line discovered by Wilhelmina, his former girlfriend, Kit has succeeded in eluding capture by Lord Archelaeus Burleigh, a ruthless and violent man determined to possess the fabled Skin Map at any cost.
In Kit’s desperation to escape Burleigh’s clutches, however, something has gone amiss; for although he landed in the right place, it seems to be entirely the wrong time. At least, the epoch in which Kit finds himself is definitely not the one Wilhelmina had in mind when she advised him to use that particular ley line for his getaway. Suffice it to say that for the time being, and perhaps the foreseeable future, Kit seems to be stuck in the Stone Age. Making the best of his predicament, Kit has stumbled upon a discovery that could prove important to the ongoing proceedings. It would appear that against all odds he has discovered the fabled Well of Souls or, as it is perhaps better known to readers of these pages, the Spirit Well.
Meanwhile, back in seventeenth-century Prague, Wilhelmina’s enterprises go from strength to strength; her Grand Imperial Kaffeehaus is a rousing success and a boon to the city’s population. Engelbert “Etzel” Stiffelbeam, Mina’s business partner and a baker by trade, provides tasty pastries and invigorating coffee to a wildly appreciative public, as well as stalwart support to Wilhelmina. Her material welfare thus guaranteed, Mina now has time and money to spend in pursuit of the quest to find the scattered pieces of the Skin Map. To this end, she has formed a shaky alliance with the mercurial Lady Fayth against the same Lord Burleigh and his gang of base ruffians, the nefarious Burley Men. Yet, we ask ourselves, can Lady Fayth be trusted?
It should be remembered that Giles Standfast, the late Sir Henry Fayth’s footman and driver, was sorely wounded in the attempt to flee Burleigh on the night Kit vanished and was taken to the Kaffeehaus for medical attention. The unfortunate Mr. Standfast has been returned to his home in England to convalesce. What lies in store for Giles remains to be seen, but it is expected that he will make a full recovery.
Half a world away in Egypt, Dr. Thomas Young and his new and enthusiastic assistant, Khefri, are deeply engrossed in their work. We last saw them beginning the task of cataloguing an astounding trove of treasure recovered from the sealed tomb of Anen, High Priest of Amun and brother-in-law to Pharaoh Amenhotep III. One of the items retrieved from the tomb was a portion of the Skin Map. Our Dr. Young, we may recall, is also in possession of a meticulously rendered copy of the map and, with Khefri’s help, will endeavour to decipher its unique symbology. We wish them well, and hope they continue to occupy themselves to good effect.
Unbeknownst to the others, a rival questor has been quietly making progress in the search for the ultimate treasure—none other than Douglas Flinders-Petrie. For those who may be sensing difficulty with the expanding Flinders-Petrie line, there is a simple alphabetic mnemonic. The line begins with A for Arthur, followed by B for Benedict, C for Charles, and D for Douglas. The last in line, Douglas, the great-grandson of the intrepid Arthur, possesses a purloined section of the map and is diligently applying his considerable talents in learning how to read it. To this end, he has succeeded in locating and suborning an unsuspecting aide to the cause in the person of Friar Roger Bacon, a thirteenth-century scholar, philosopher, theologian, and scientist. Careful readers may recall the audacious assault on the British Museum by Douglas and his young associate, the surly and taciturn Snipe. The two forced entry into the venerable institution’s Rare Book Room after opening hours and, following a brief search, made off with a prize volume plucked from the collection.
To allow a slight digression, it can now be reported that the book in question had long been part of a minor southern aristocrat’s family library, which at the disposition of the deceased’s estate had come to the museum along with his collection of Roman glass and Tudor silver. The volume was thought to be from the late 1500s; it was a small, neat, leather-bound tome handwritten by its author and entitled Inconssensus Arcanus, or Forbidden Secrets.
This particular work was prized not for its historic value, which was minimal, nor for its educational value, which was even less because it was wholly unreadable. The book was kept merely because all that could be deciphered in page after page of dense, cryptic text was the name Roger Bacon, who was none other than the famous professor of Oxford University in the early medieval period. Priest and scientist, the renowned “Doctor Mirabilis” was the author of many learned volumes, including the legendary Opus Minus Alchemaie.
Every page of the Book of Forbidden Secrets, as it is known, is filled with strange pictograms resembling the letters of an unknown alphabet, an alphabet serving a language no one on earth had ever heard spoken. A secret code? An occult language? Who could say? Douglas Flinders-Petrie had a fairly solid hunch that it was not a language, neither was it a code. Rather, it was, in his considered opinion, a wholly symbolic script devised by Friar Bacon sometime around the year 1250—the same symbology that had inspired his own greatgrandfather, Arthur Flinders-Petrie, in the making of the Skin Map.
In short, it was Douglas’ belief that the archaic manuscript was a catalogue of experiments and coordinates. The experiments detailed alchemical processes. The coordinates were those of ley line destinations. Ergo Roger Bacon, in addition to his other more highly lauded achievements, had also discovered ley travel.
More could be said about these matters, but one feels this is quite enough for now; in any event it is enough to be getting on with. So, keeping these details firmly in mind, we return to our tale in which Friday takes a holiday.