Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,46

well. But let's be twice as prudent, all the same.'

'I am never lacking in prudence, or in determination. So apply yourself to reassuring our masters of the Grand Lodge and remind them that it is only a matter of days now before the destiny of France takes a . . . different turn.'

The Ile Notre-Dame — later known as the Ile Saint-Louis -for a long period had remained in a wild state. Until fairly recently there had been no bridges permitting access to the island, either from the quays along the Seine or from Ile de la Cite, so it was rarely visited except by anglers or, on sunny days, by amorous couples whose rowing boats rocked gently among the tall rushes and beneath the weeping willows' drooping branches. Occasionally, it was the scene of murders. The first dracs settled there during the reign of Henri IV. They built scattered huts for themselves on its banks which soon grew into a village. The king allowed this, against his ministers'

advice. He knew that the dracs posed a problem for Western societies that would not be resolved on its own, and he realised that the capital's gates could not shut them out, any more than could the borders of his kingdom. Lastly, he understood that dracs and men were forced to co-exist now that the dracs had freed themselves from the millennial tutelage of the dragons. But Henri IV was also aware of the danger these creatures, with their ferocious, violent nature, represented. So he let them establish themselves on this marshy island, in order to live there by themselves and be contained as far as possible. And when the canons of Notre-Dame protested the king responded by purchasing their island, to do with it as he saw fit.

Under the aegis of Henri IV, the drac village prospered. By 1633, it had been transformed into a neighbourhood built entirely of wood, whose damp lanes, dark alleys, lopsided houses, and shacks built on stilts covered the entire island, which Parisians had renamed as Ile Notre-Dame-des-Ecailles, or Our Lady of the Scales. As for the neighbourhood itself, it was nicknamed Les Ecailles with a mixture of scorn and fear. Although the king's authority still prevailed there, Les Ecailles did not form part of the commune of Paris. It was a faubourg in the very heart of the capital, exempt from municipal taxes and visits from the city watch. During the day, the presence of humans was more or less tolerated, although it was understood that anyone who ventured onto the island did so at their own risk. At night, on the other hand . . .

Between dusk and dawn Les Ecailles revealed its true character, that is to say: it was both bewitching and deadly. For at night the neighbourhood became the theatre of a life animated by the primitive energy that heated the blood in the dracs' temples and dug into their bellies. Once night fell, fires were lit; fiery red braziers glowed on street corners; torches sputtered outside tavern doors. Along the winding alleys, dracs jostled one another at almost every step due to their dense numbers. The night air was filled with heady scents. Faint melodies met and became intertwined. Brawls broke out: sudden, violent, and always bloody. Warlike chants rose from smoke-filled cellars. Tribal drums beat and their disturbing rhythms sometimes carried across the Seine to disrupt the sleep of ordinary Parisians. On the island, even the dreams of humans were unwelcome.

Here a human being was a stranger, an intruder, an enemy.

Prey.

But a half-blood?

Night was falling when Saint-Lucq crossed, alone, over the small southern branch of the Seine by one of the three rickety wooden bridges which had been built to link Ile Notre-Dame-des-Ecailles to the capital. Four grey dracs were killing time around a big fire. They saw his solitary silhouette arriving and supposed that providence had supplied them with a cheap way to entertain themselves.

One of the dracs, urging the others to watch him perform, strutted forth to meet Saint-Lucq and deliberately planted himself in his path with an evil grin on his lips.

The half-blood did not slow down or veer aside by even an inch.

But he halted just before bumping into the drac who surpassed him in terms of height, weight, and strength.

And he waited.

The drac, who until then had been exchanging nods and winks with his companions at a distance behind him, suddenly looked perplexed. This wasn't going as planned. The man should have tried to