The Bone House be-2

by Stephen Lawhead

  The press and confusion of people were daunting, the cacophony of voices alarming. The carriage slowed to a crawl. Thomas bought a bag of dates from one of the sellers and some onions from another; the carriage did not stop for these transactions, but squeezed through the heaving throng of merchants and customers at a pace slower than walking.

  Dr. Young’s boat was moored a little distance downriver, away from the noisy centre of the town. Once away from the crush, the coach rolled briskly past a row of large and very ornate colonial-style buildings that housed government administration offices.

  “It isn’t time travel,” said Kit, repeating to himself what Cosimo had told him. Why was that so hard to keep in mind? “Ley travel is not the same as time travel. We have to keep remembering that-at least, I do.”

  “You are right, of course,” agreed Thomas.

  “What you said about being dead and buried and everything being worthless and all-that’s not exactly true.”

  “I suppose not. Forgive me, I was not thinking very clearly and spoke in haste.”

  “You were right about time being out of joint. The different worlds overlap somehow, and history gets a little slippery. But just because Wilhelmina found your book already published in one world doesn’t mean that what you’ve done in this one is worthless. None of us ever knows what impact we have on the world around us.” He shrugged. “We can only live the life we’ve been given, and we have to do the best we can with it-no matter what is happening in any other world or universe. Just do the next thing-that’s all we can do. Anyway, I expect the work you’ve done here is just as valuable to this world as it was in the world where Mina picked up your book.”

  “That is a gladsome thought,” observed the doctor. “I shall accept it in that generous spirit.” He thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you suppose that if I were to visit that world-where our Wilhelmina retrieved my book-I should meet myself composing it?”

  Kit frowned. “Is it possible to meet yourself in another world?” The thought had crossed his mind, but he had never asked Cosimo for clarification on this precise point. There was still so much to learn. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Cosimo never told me one way or another. I don’t know.”

  “Well,” allowed Thomas, “we shall add that to the growing list of questions to be investigated when we are more at leisure to do so.”

  They talked on, and soon the carriage rolled to a stop at a large mooring. “It is called The Blue Lotus,” said Thomas, gazing down the line of low feluccas and stately dahabiyas tied up along the riverbank. “It is just here.”

  He charged off along the riverbank. Kit followed, falling into step beside him. “There is still one thing you haven’t told me-why Wilhelmina wanted us to get together.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Things got a little rushed. She didn’t exactly have time to fill me in on everything,” reflected Kit. “In fact, she didn’t tell me very much.”

  “Then allow me to enlighten you.”

  “Please.”

  “The young lady was, as I say, most intent on recovering a certain artefact.” He peered at Kit with a hopeful expression. “Am I right in assuming you know the object in question?”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “This artefact, she believed, was to be found in a particular tomb of which she had a certain knowledge. She wanted me to organise the excavation of said tomb-an experience, she suggested, that would prove invaluable to my ongoing work.” He glanced at Kit for confirmation. “She also said you would be my guide. Am I to take it you know the location of the tomb of which she spoke?”

  “I’m pretty sure I could find it again.” Kit felt his stomach squirm, and a clammy feeling washed over him.

  “And you will show me?”

  Kit nodded. The thought of returning to the scene of his recent ordeal-and the decaying corpses of Cosimo and Sir Henry-filled him with dread, but he did not see that he had any choice in the matter just now. And then he saw it: the sheer beauty of Wilhelmina’s plan, and it brought him up short.

  Dr. Young saw him stop and turned to ask, “Is anything the matter?”

  “Call me a slow coach, but I just realised that Wilhelmina is some kind of genius.” Now that he saw it, her plan was as obvious as the nose on his face. How many times did he have to remind himself: this was not the same world he had left behind. Mina had sent him to an alternate Egypt where, in the year 1822, the tomb of Anen had not yet been discovered, much less excavated. The notion of snatching the map from the tomb before it could be found by anyone else was a shrewd bit of guile. The girl was canny, give her that. “I think we’re in for a real treat,” Kit said. “We can leave whenever you like.”

  “Is it far, this tomb?”

  “Not too far. With transportation, less than a day.”

  “Splendid!” The physician rubbed his hands, his steel-rimmed glasses glinting in the pale evening light. “Ah, here, we are! The Blue Lotus.” Dr. Young stopped beside a low-slung, rather boxy-looking boat with a broad open deck and twin red sails, which were furled to the masts for the night. A gangplank extended from the bow, at the foot of which three sailors in pale blue kaftans squatted around a hookah pipe, which gurgled as the smoke bubbled up. A most acrid smoke drifted on the soft evening breeze.

  “Salaam!” called Thomas. He greeted the captain and crew of his vessel by name, and then climbed the gangplank. “This way. Watch your step!”

  A servant appeared bearing a tray with a jar and glasses.

  “Welcome aboard, my friend,” said Thomas, pouring fresh lemonade into the glasses and passing one to his guest. “Please, make yourself at home. Mehmet, here, will show you to your quarters. I have only the one guest cabin. All the others are filled with the accoutrements of my work.”

  Kit gulped down his lemonade and followed the servant to the companionway below deck, and to the guest quarters. “Please to refresh yourself, sir,” said Mehmet, ushering Kit inside. “I will sound the gong for dinner.”

  The cabin was snug and contained two narrow beds at one end and a small water closet at the other. There was a round porthole window and, between the beds, a night table with two candles. The beds were laid with clean white sheets, and there was a lace curtain at the porthole. The floors and walls were teak with brass fittings-all in all, a trim and tidy little stateroom.

  “Well, Kit, old son,” said Kit, gazing around with approval, “it looks like we’ve landed on our feet.” A basin of fresh water sat on a stand. Stepping to the porcelain bowl, he dipped his hands and washed his face, then wet the linen towel and, kicking off his shoes, stretched out on the bed with the damp cloth over his eyes.

  “Thank you, Wilhelmina,” he sighed. At the invocation of her name, he mused, “What was it she called Dr. Young?” The phrase from her letter came back to him: The last man in the world to know everything .

  CHAPTER 18

  In Which a Visit to Prague Is Wangled

  Lady Haven Fayth sat on the edge of the bed and laced up her shoes-good sturdy high-top boots to protect her feet from the hazards of unfamiliar roads in lands and times unknown. Burleigh had promised to teach her the intricacies of what she called ley leaping, and so far the Black Earl-as she thought of him-had been as good as his word. He had taken her on several of his journeys to various worlds and shown her how to recognise some of the more subtle elements of ley lines. Under his somewhat haphazard tutelage she had begun to master a few of the basic skills necessary not only for making such leaps but for finding her way around strange new places.

  If not exactly a fount of valuable wisdom, at least the earl was reliable in that the things he chose to show her worked. Even so, it was clear to her that there was much more to be learned, and that he was withholding far more than he was telling. For example, she knew from her long association with her uncle that there was a prize of inestimable value associated with the cause, and which Burleigh and his men were determined to find. The earl was careful n
ever to make mention of this fact directly, and Haven thought best to pretend ignorance of it too. She let on that, so far as she knew, it was only ever about the exploration of the other worlds connected by the leys-about discovering and mapping.

  She also knew Burleigh was desperate to get his hands on the Skin Map, but that he had not yet achieved even so much as a glimpse of the genuine article-a fact that surprised her, given his enormous expenditure of money, time, and energy. Then again, the only two people she knew who had ever possessed a piece of the fabled map were now lying in an Egyptian tomb-dead at the Black Earl’s hand.

  And for that, Haven Fayth would loathe him to the end of time.

  As for the rest-abandoning Kit and Giles… well, regrettable as that might be, it had been simple expediency and could not be helped. In that dreadful, tragic situation-made prisoners and entombed with poor dead Cosimo and her dying Uncle Henry…

  To remain locked up with the others would have been death. To stay alive gave her a fighting chance. It was as simple as that. And if she were able to stay alive long enough to master the technique of ley leaping, and gain the necessary knowledge, there was every chance that she could return to the tomb in time to rescue her friends.

  So far as Haven was concerned, there had been only one choice. She did not regret making it, but she hated Burleigh for forcing the issue. The man was a dastard and a brute.

  Outwardly she pretended to be a compliant accomplice-a willing ward to his stern and watchful warden. She feigned a friendly regard for him and, in a mildly coquettish way, led him down the primrose path towards a belief that, given time and the right incentives, she could become something more-a paramour, perhaps. She appealed to her darkly handsome companion’s ego and vanity, allowing him the impression that he as the older and wiser master was winning her admiration. She used her beauty and her feminine wiles to appeal to his innate masculine pride. And Haven Fayth, as she had learned long ago, could be very, very appealing.

  Just now was a case in point, for Burleigh, against his initial reluctance, was allowing her to accompany him to Bohemia. This was not the first time he had gone there, and he much preferred going alone. The precise destination, Haven had yet to learn. That was no matter. The bare fact that Burleigh wanted her to stay home made her all the more determined to go. And through charm alone she had won her way.

  “This will not be a simple journey,” he told her as they climbed into the carriage later that morning. “Three leys are employed. The first is some miles from here, and the second and third require a strenuous march. In point of fact, we’ll have to walk a fair distance before we get there. Are you certain you want to put yourself to all that? It is not too late to change your mind.”

  “And miss the wonder that is Prague?” she said, smiling sweetly as she handed him her rucksack.

  “Who told you we were going to Prague?”

  “No one,” she snipped. “I deduced it on my own. Am I correct?”

  “Get up there,” Burleigh said, opening the carriage door.

  “Are we to expect any of your hirelings to attend us, as well?” she asked as she settled in the seat facing him.

  “Not now. They will meet us there later.” He knocked the top of the carriage, the driver cracked the whip, and the coach lurched into motion. Burleigh regarded her doubtfully. “I only allow the men to come when they can be of use. In fact, I should not have let you talk me into allowing you to come.”

  “Oh”-she pulled a pretty pout-“where would be the fun in that? It is so stultifyingly tedious when you are away. And you are forgetting that you promised to teach me everything there is to know about ley leaping. I intend to hold you to that promise.”

  “Well,” he huffed, “see that you make the most of the trip. We will not be there very long.”

  “Then why go at all?” she challenged. “If it is putting you to so much bother as all that, what, pray, is the point?”

  “Because,” he said, growing irritable, “it is an errand of some importance. If you must know, I have commissioned a special instrument to be made, and I am going to pick it up. Straight in and straight out again.”

  She had pushed him far enough; it was time to retreat and leave him the field. “The merest possibility of seeing such a fabulous city is satisfying enough for me,” she said, favouring him with a smile. “I am certain that it will be worthwhile-however much time we have to spend.”

  “We shall see,” he said, softening somewhat. Beguiled by her winsome and innocent smile, he added, “Perhaps we can do better than that. The palace is impressive, and the Rathaus. Then there is the emperor himself, of course-Rudolf is an enthusiast of the first order, very grand, extremely generous, and also a complete ninny. You will enjoy meeting him if the chance should come your way. And, would you know it? There is now a coffeehouse in the old square. The first one in Europe, I believe.”

  “I believe we have coffeehouses in London. Yes, I am sure of it. Of course, I have never visited such an establishment myself, but I would dearly love to see such a place, and taste some of this coffee for myself.”

  “We shall see,” he allowed. “We shall see. Did you bring a change of clothing as I told you? We cannot have you traipsing around Prague dressed as you are.” He meant in her travelling clothes, which consisted of a simple drab linen dress and high-topped boots. “You cannot be presented at court looking like a milkmaid.”

  “To be sure,” she agreed blithely. “As instructed, I have packed silk and lace suitable for just such an occasion.”

  A short while later they reached the first ley, and Burleigh sent the carriage away. The first leap took place in the usual way and, as usual, Haven experienced the acute disorientation and nausea resulting from such sudden and violent dislocation. They landed in a rural landscape that seemed to be a wooded river valley in some remote place devoid of any sign of human habitation.

  “Where are we?” she asked when she could speak again.

  “I have no idea whatever,” Burleigh replied impatiently. “Are you quite finished? We have a fair way to walk.”

  “I am truly sorry if my discommodious behaviour has inconvenienced you, my lord,” she replied tartly. She dabbed her mouth with her sleeve. “I assure you it cannot be helped.”

  Although she was growing more used to what she thought of as the seasickness accompanying the leaps, it still had the ability to momentarily immobilise her, and Burleigh had little patience for such weakness.

  “Come along when you are ready,” he said, striding off.

  “Are there people about?” she asked when she had caught up with him.

  “None that I have ever seen.”

  “How odd.”

  “Not at all. If you care to think about it rationally for a moment, there is nothing remotely unusual about it. See here,” he said, stumping along, “our world has not always been so populous as it is at present. Indeed, the reverse is more the rule, since for long epochs of human history vast areas of landscape-whole continents-were devoid of human presence. Thus, I suspect that we have arrived in this world at a particular time in its history where this place is still virgin territory. In short, there may be people on this world-I should be surprised if there were not-but there are none around here.”

  “And you have never undertaken to explore this world at all?”

  “A bloody waste of time,” he sneered, waving a hand at the empty plains. “There is nothing of interest here.”

  “So it is only a connecting place, then-a station on the way.”

  “A way station, yes. In my experience, there are many such places,” he told her. “While they may have other uses, to me they merely serve as a means of getting from one ley to another.” He walked on a little farther, then continued, “The next ley is a few miles distant, and between the one we have just used and the next one there are no towns or villages, farms, or what-have-you that I have ever seen.”

  “How did you know to come here?”

  “My dea
r,” he said, offering her a sardonic smile, “I am not without resource, you know. I have been about this business for some considerable time. The parts I know, I know very well.”

  “Such as those in Egypt.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Egypt in several of its epochs-at least, the ones that interest me.” He walked on a few steps, then added, “So far.”

  Although Lord Burleigh did not use any external references for travelling to places he knew, Haven was making her own map. Using Sir Henry’s green book as an inspiration, she had begun writing down descriptions of the places she had visited, the locations of the leys, and any salient features she deemed important to remember. As yet it was a fairly wordy affair with directions and orientations for setting and location and such, but she was working on a way of coding the information in a more compact and precise form.

  It was a good mental exercise, and she had the distinct feeling that it would prove useful in days to come. If nothing else, it filled the idle hours when she was alone-which happened more frequently than she liked. Burleigh did not take her everywhere; most of his journeys were made without her and for reasons he kept to himself. For despite whatever he might say to the contrary, the earl maintained a fierce secrecy around his plans and doings. Far from discouraging her, it only made her the more determined to discover what he knew that he did not care for her to know, or was not prepared to share.

  What Burleigh hoped to gain from their liaison was also something of a mystery. As yet, he had not made any untoward demands or advances on her; he seemed content to allow their rapport to develop in its own good time-an expectation Haven was happy to encourage so long as it proved a useful ploy.

  They walked along beneath a low grey sky into a freshening wind. The air was clean and cool and laden with the scent of rain. At the edge of the wood they came to a rise, which led up and out of the shallow river valley and onto a grassy plain. Far in the distance a range of low hills rose in a ragged line, but on the plain itself there was nothing to be seen save the grass undulating in waves like a wide green ocean.