Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,50

where no one would notice them: Ile Notre-Dame-des-Ecailles. Thus the prey would corner the hunters — concluding the first part of her scheme. Next, discover their lair before they discovered hers. And finally, having achieved all that, carry out the third and last part of a plan that had been carefully thought out in advance . . .

There was a knock at the door.

Surprised, Alessandra leapt to her feet, at a loss for a moment before she recovered her wits. She shut Scylla in the cage, threw the shawl over it and barely had time to slide beneath the bed sheets before the chambermaid came in. It was a typical technique used by domestic servants who were overly curious, either professionally or as a personal vice: knock, open the door, catch sight of something by surprise and, if necessary, excuse themselves, lie, and pretend to have heard permission to enter.

'Get out!' cried Alessandra, feigning to still be half-asleep.

'But, madame—'

'I said, get out!'

'But it's already late, madame!'

'You pest! Leave at once or I shall beat you!'

The chambermaid was in full retreat when La Donna's slipper hit the door.

How much time did I gain? La Donna wondered. Probably less than an hour. The chambermaid will knock at my door once more, and then it will be Leprat. And I won't be able frighten him away by throwing slippers . . .

Despondent, Alessandra got up and walked to the window, taking care to remain far enough away so as not to be seen from the garden. Wasn't she supposed to be keeping to her bed out of laziness?

Eyes narrowed, she peered up at a sky that was now clear blue . . .

. . . and held her breath when she saw Charybdis.

He was coming back to her.

His flight was erratic, to be sure. But it was her little dragonnet approaching with a great deal of valiant if clumsy flapping of his wings, no doubt too tired to maintain the spell that made his body translucent. Alessandra was unconcerned by that, however. Right now, all that mattered to her was that Charybdis was still alive and, throwing caution to the winds, she opened the window to gather the dragonnet in her arms.

He took refuge there, trembling, exhausted, with a slight wound on his flank, but quite alive.

Moreover, he had succeeded in his mission.

'Yes?' Guibot enquired, opening the pedestrian door within the great carriage gate by a few inches.

'Captain La Fargue, please.'

'Are you expected, monsieur?'

'I believe so. I am Arnaud de Laincourt.'

The little old man, to whom the name meant nothing, nevertheless stepped back to allow him entry.

Then, having carefully closed the door behind him, he hurriedly hobbled on his wooden leg to precede the visitor into Hotel de I'Epervier's courtyard. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon.

The sun shone in a cloudless sky and its white heat crushed everything beneath it.

'Might I trouble you to repeat your name, monsieur?'

'Laincourt.'

'This way, monsieur.'

La Fargue received Laincourt in the saddlery, a small room which could only be entered by crossing the stable. He isolated himself there on occasion to work leather with sure, precise gestures, the movements of a conscientious artisan that fully occupied his attention, sometimes for hours on end.

Today, sitting on a stool before the workbench, he was re-stitching the seams of an old saddle bag.

Without raising his eyes from his task, he asked:

'Do you work with your hands?'

'No,' replied Laincourt.

'Why not?'

'I don't have the skill.'

'Every man should know how to do something with his hands.'

'No doubt.'

'Good artisans know what pace they should work at if they want to do things well. It requires patience and humility. It leaches you about time . . .'

In response to this, the young man held his tongue and waited. He didn't understand the meaning of this preamble and when in doubt he always preferred not to express an opinion.

'There!' La Fargue declared, having assured himself of the solidity of his final stitch.

Rising, he called out:

'Andre!'

The groom, whom Laincourt had seen in the stable upon arriving, appeared in the doorway.

'Captain?'

'Here's something that could still be useful,' said the old gentleman, tossing him the repaired bag.

Andre caught it, nodded, and went away.

La Fargue filled a glass with wine from a bottle that was waiting in a bucket of cool water and offered it to Laincourt. It was quite warm in the saddlery. The sun beat down on the roof and the nearby heat of the horses in the stable did not help matters. The two men toasted, Laincourt