She spoke with slow deliberation, working it out as she went. “We are peregrinatori,” she said, meaning to indicate that they were travellers.
“Peregrinatori?” wondered the khan, raising his eyebrows in amazement. “Without horses, or tents, or supplies—” He pointed to the chalices in their hands. “Without water even?”
Haven held his gaze and nodded. “It is so, Khan. We have lost our way.”
The khan threw back his head and laughed. “Truly, you are lost.”
“Truly, my lord,” agreed Haven, failing to see the humour. No doubt she had misspoken.
“The scout told me he found you hiding among the dead of the Yellow Horde.”
“It is so.” Haven hesitated, trying to think of a version of the truth that would satisfy both the facts and her inquisitor. “We were . . .” She hesitated, then lunged for “captivus.”
“Captivus,” echoed the khan, nodding.
“We were captive and made to run with them. The attack came and we hid ourselves.”
Khan Simeon accepted this with a thoughtful nod. “I am persuaded that all travellers have come from someplace. Where is your home?”
It took a little longer for Haven to work out what he was asking. “What did he say?” whispered Giles. “My lady?”
“Shh! Let me think.” To the waiting king, she said, “We have come from England . . .” Haven began, then paused and corrected herself. “A land called Britannia.”
“Truly?” wondered the khan. “I have heard of this Prytannia, but I have never met anyone who travelled there.”
“It is very far away,” Haven told him. She paused and relayed to the bewildered Giles what had been said. Then, turning back to the khan, asked, “My lord khan, allow me to ask how you know of my land?”
“As a child I was schooled in Constantinople,” answered Simeon. “There were many Gauls and Saxons in the city. Is it true that your Prytannia is a land of endless water?”
“It is so,” said Haven. “It is an island surrounded by a sea and watered by much rain.”
“Your sheep and cattle must be very fat.”
“Very fat, my lord.”
“What is he saying?” whispered Giles.
“I think he says Britain must have fat sheep.”
Mystified, Giles merely shook his head.
“Have you travelled to Constantinople?” asked Khan Simeon. His voice took on a coaxing tone.
“No, my lord khan. We have not,” she replied. Sensing something more was required, she added, “God willing, we hope to visit there one day.”
This last part was not strictly true, but she hoped it might satisfy whatever unspoken expectation the king held.
It must have worked, for the king cried, “God wills!” Then, with a clap of his hands, he signalled an end to the audience. “Your wish is soon granted. We are even now on our way to Constantinople.”
The king rose, and his servants produced silk slippers to replace his fine leather boots. “You will come with us,” Khan Simeon decreed, stepping into the silk shoes. He regarded his two guests with an expression that invited no questions and concluded, “I have spoken.”
With that he turned and strode from the room, accompanied by his silent bodyguard and the two white-clad servants, leaving Giles and Haven in the care of the yellow-garbed one, who led them from the tent.
“My lady?” asked Giles as they moved to the entrance. “What has happened here?”
“I believe the king is taking us to Constantinople.”
CHAPTER 27
In Which a Rendezvous Is Arranged
Did he see you?” asked Mina, surreptitiously scanning the near-empty square.
“Don’t turn around,” said Kit. “Keep your head down.”
“Which one is it?”
“I don’t know. The smart one—Tav, I think. We can’t go back to the coffeehouse. That’s the first place they’ll look.”
“I agree,” said Wilhelmina. “How about Cass’ place?”
“Okay. Turn around slowly and let’s move along.”
“We’ll have to get word to Gianni to meet us there.”
“I could go get him,” offered Cass. “So far as I know, none of these Burley Men have ever seen me.”
“I don’t know,” hedged Kit. “It’s better we don’t get separated. We can send someone with a note.” He risked a furtive look around. “That might be safer.”
Mina and Cass anxiously watched his face. “Anything?” asked Cass.
“Still just the one. But you know he’s not alone.”
“What’s he doing?” said Mina. “Has he spotted us?”
“Not yet. He seems to be watching the coffee shop.” Kit turned his face away and lowered his head. “Come on, we’ve got to move—walk, don’t run. Last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves.” Kit glanced at Cass’ stricken expression and put a reassuring hand on her arm. “It’s going to be all right. Ready? Whatever happens, just keep moving. Let’s go.”
The shop fronted the same side of the square as the church, so the three changed course, retreating slowly towards the church and then moving quietly along the row of buildings to the Apoteke. They slipped in quietly and filed silently upstairs to Cass’ room and closed the door.
“I’ll light the candle,” offered Cass.
“Wait,” said Kit. “Let’s not show anyone we’re around.”
“That was close,” sighed Wilhelmina. “I hate running into those guys. Burleigh won’t be far away.”
“We can’t stay here,” said Kit, moving to the room’s single window; he closed the shutters quietly and stepped away again. “We’ve got to get out of town—the sooner the better.”
“How dangerous are these Burley Men really?” wondered Cass.
“Dangerous enough.”
“Kit’s right. We should clear out as soon as possible,” said Mina.
“Where do we go?” Cass looked from Mina to Kit, their faces pale and shadowed in the darkness.
“That’s the question.” Kit stepped away from the window. “I’m thinking that since we want to test the sample for the shadow lamps, we should head to Rome where we can make use of Gianni’s contacts.” He glanced at the others in the dim light. “Make sense?”
“Fine with me,” agreed Cass. “But could I make one suggestion? I need to get to the Zetetic Society—they’re waiting for me to report on what I’ve found out.” She brightened as a new thought occurred to her. “Also, they have all those books and manuscripts—who knows? Maybe they could help us find out what to make of those symbols in the photographs.”
“Good idea,” said Mina. “You should definitely go there.”
“Splitting up . . .” Kit pursed his lips in a frown. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll be much harder to track that way,” Mina pointed out. “I definitely think you and Cass should head to Damascus, and I’ll go with Gianni to Rome and get the stuff tested. We’ll catch up with you in Damascus when we’re done.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Cass.
“Then Damascus and Rome, here we come,” agreed Kit. To Cass he said, “Are you sure you can find your way back?”
Cass nodded firmly. “Brendan gave me detailed directions. I’ve still got them. But—” She paused uncertainly. “I’m afraid we have to go by way of London—that’s the only way I know. But if you can get us there . . .”
“Not to worry,” Kit replied lightly. “I know how to get to London, no problem—it’s where all this began.”
“Right,” said Mina. “You two stay here. I’ll go arrange for a message to be taken over to Gianni right away.” She left the room, saying, “We’ll need some money too and . . .”
When they were alone, Kit said, “It’s going to be fine. Really, it is.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I’m still trying to get used to this, is all.” Cass forced a brave smile. “It can be a little overwhelming.”
“Tell me about it.” He crossed
to the window and cracked open the shutters and put his eye to the slit.
“See anyone?”
“No.” He closed the shutter again. “Just a kid and a dog.”
There was a soft tap on the door and Wilhelmina reentered. “Okay, I sent little Hans over to the shop with a message for Gianni, telling him to wait ten minutes after Hans leaves and tell Etzel we’ve all had to leave for a few days. Then Gianni will make his way down to the Rathaus. We’ll head that way ourselves.”
“That’s too risky,” said Kit. The image of what happened the last time he tried to flee the city sprang instantly to mind. Getting chased out of town and pistol shot held no appeal. “We’ve got to expect that one of Burleigh’s goons is watching the square. They’re probably watching the gate as well.”
“We’ll take the wagon,” Mina countered. “We can hide in the back and get Etzel or someone to drive us out.”
“Not Etzel—that would make them suspicious. Who else?”
Mina paused for a second to think. “I know! The wagon is at the hostler’s—we’ll get Albert to drive us out.”
Kit frowned, assessing the viability of this hastily concocted plan. “Okay, but what about Gianni?”
“I’ll have Albert stop and pick up Gianni—as if he’s offering a lift,” replied Mina. “That should work.”
A few minutes later they heard the Apoteke door close and went downstairs where Hans, the apothecary’s boy, stood with a tin box in his hands. Wilhelmina met him, took the box, and exchanged a few words; she thanked him and, opening the box, fished out a shiny coin, which she dropped into his hand.
“Vielen Dank,” she told the boy, then turned to the others. “Message delivered. I’ve got money.” She rattled the coins in the box. “We’re good to go.”
At the back of the shop, Wilhelmina called for the apothecary. The two spoke briefly, embraced, and Mina turned to the others. “If anyone comes sniffing around here, our secret is safe. Anya will see to that.”
They left the shop by the back door and hurried down a very dark alleyway, moving as quickly and quietly as possible along a passage that was not only exceedingly narrow but filled with all manner of rubbish: empty crates and boxes, cast-off furniture, heaps of mouldering garbage, broken glass and crockery. They went single file, edging their way around the obstacles until coming to the entrance to the alley in a side street off the main square. After a quick check to confirm that there were no sharp-eyed Burley Men lurking about, they entered the street and, using one back street after another, proceeded to the hostler, who kept a stable and mews in the street at the far end of the Old Town square.
The stable doors were barred and locked, and the little yard was dark and quiet. The hostler’s cottage formed one side of the yard; no light showed in the single window, but Wilhelmina hurried to the door, knocked, and kept knocking until the summons was answered.
“Es tut mir leid, Albert. Sie zu wecken,” she said. “Wir brauchen die Wagen—und Sie.”
“Jetzt? Es ist Nacht!”
Kit glanced at Cass, who whispered, “I’m not entirely sure, but I think she just apologised for waking him and told him we need the wagon and she wants him to drive it.” She listened to the following exchange and added, “Mina’s telling him that she’ll pay three times . . . something . . . I didn’t get the rest.”
The exchange ended with Albert the hostler disappearing inside to put on his work clothes and ready the team and wagon.
“He’ll do it,” Mina reported, returning to Kit and Cass. “No questions asked.”
Engelbert’s wagon was soon ready—a big, boxy, high-sided vehicle that tonight would be pulled by two heavy-footed mares; the size was surplus to requirements, to be sure, but Wilhelmina explained, “The gatemen know Albert and they know the wagon. And if we hunch up together near the front of the box and scatter the straw sparsely around the back it will appear emptier—in case anyone takes an interest.”
This is what they did, throwing a few bundles of fresh straw into the box before climbing in themselves. Kit covered Wilhelmina and Cass with straw in one corner of the front wall, then concealed himself in the other. He banged on the box to signal that they were ready, and the wagon rumbled out of the yard and into the empty street. By the time they passed in front of the Rathaus, Gianni was there, waiting. Huddled under the straw, the passengers felt the vehicle stop and heard the conversation between the priest and the driver; a pause, a snap of the reins, and the wagon trundled off once more.
Kit felt the wagon bed tilt slightly as the vehicle started down the long slope that ended at Prague’s main gate and held his breath as it rolled to a halt at the guardhouse. “Quiet, everybody,” he heard Mina whisper. There was a brief word with the night guard, and then the wheels were turning and they were out of the city. After what he estimated to be a suitable interval, Kit risked a look out the back of the wagon, but all he saw was the dark mass of the outer wall rising like a featureless cliff behind them. There was no one else on the road that he could see from his limited vantage point.
“Gianni,” he called, keeping his voice low. “Don’t turn around. Just tell me if you see anyone on the road.”
“I see no one anywhere, my friend,” came the reply a few moments later. “I think it is safe to come out.”
The three emerged from hiding, brushing straw from their hair and clothes. Wilhelmina stood up and conducted a quick survey of the road and countryside to assure herself they were not being followed. Leaning over the wagon box between the driver and his bench mate, she thanked Albert for getting them safely out of the city, then addressed Gianni in English. “I hope we didn’t scare you with that note. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more notice. I’ll explain later.”
“You must have no concern for me,” the priest reassured her. “We know each other well enough, I think—if you say the need is urgent and dangerous, then I believe and obey.”
“You’re a prince, Gianni,” she told him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
The passengers settled back to endure a ride that lurched and jostled so much that none of them could relax, much less sleep. In time the moon appeared, illuminating the world with a thin, watery light. The countryside seemed quiet; they had the road to themselves. They talked a bit, planning strategy, maintaining a wary watch all the while. But no Burley Men swooped down from the hills or raced from the city on horseback to cut off their escape. By the time Albert reined the horses to a halt, they were miles outside the city in the quiet countryside.
Wilhelmina paid and thanked Albert, warning him to say nothing to anyone about the journey, and then waited while he turned the wagon and rumbled off back to the city. “The ley is beyond that hill,” she said. “It is the one I’ve discovered most recently and one of the best—it’s saved me all kinds of time on the England route. It shouldn’t take you more than a day to get to London—providing you calibrate it correctly.”
By the light of the moon the four travellers climbed the hill, moving easily through the lower meadows to the upper grazing lands. The night was still and bright, the air cool but not uncomfortable, and the walking easy. As Mina had indicated, the ley was contained in a low fold between two hills and ran east to west. An old stone well marked one end, and the other lay a kilometre or more from where they stood.
“This is it?” asked Kit.
“This is the place,” Wilhelmina confirmed.
“Remarkable,” observed Gianni. “As if the earth has shaped itself to accommodate the line.” He walked a few paces away and knelt, putting his hands flat on the ground. “Or perhaps it is the work of human agents.” He strolled away, examining the physical manifestation of the ley.
“Okay, so where do we go from here?” Kit gazed down the length of the line. “Give us directions.”
“Starting from the well head, count off fifty steps and jump,” instructed Mina. “You’ll end up in a forested hill path somewhere on the southern Polish border—depending on what year you arri
ve, of course—but if you have timed it correctly, it should be Poland. Then walk out of the hills towards the south until you come to a plain with lots of farms and smallholdings. There is a road leading to the village of Probdy. The ley line is beyond the village to the west—the road follows it for a while. You can’t miss it. The best time to make the leap is early morning, although the evening works okay too. Make the leap anywhere between thirty-three and forty-three paces and you’ll end up in Stane Way.” She regarded Kit and Cass. “Any questions?”
“However did you find this Polish ley?” wondered Kit.
“Because, dear heart”—she patted his cheek—“that is where I ended up the first time you tried to show me how to make a ley leap.” She smiled with mock sincerity. “Remember that little incident?”
“Am I ever likely to be allowed to forget?”
“What about you guys?” asked Cass.
“We’ll head up the line towards the other end of the ley and make our jump from there. That will take us near another ley that leads to the southern Alps. From there we can get a post coach to Italy and work our way down to Rome.”
Wilhelmina opened the tin box and divided up the money, dropping coins into each outstretched hand. “There,” she said, closing the lid with a snap. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Kit looked at his handful of loot: silver coins of various sizes, and quite a few gold coins mixed in as well. “Why do I feel like a schoolboy who’s just been handed his lunch money?”
“Lunch and then some,” Mina told him. “That should be enough to get you around the world and back with change left over. You’ll be surprised how far it goes.”
“Thanks, Mina,” said Cass, pocketing her share.
“It’s nothing.” Mina stashed the box beside the base of the well. “Now all that remains is for you to tell us how to get to Damascus.” She turned and called, “Gianni, you should listen to this so you can help me remember.”
He returned, and the three put their heads together and conferred over the directions. “Okay, got it,” declared Wilhelmina after a moment. “We’ll meet you in Damascus.”
The Shadow Lamp Page 24
