“A key to unlock the mystery of the numbers,” said the professor. “For unless we know to what the coordinates correspond, the information provided by the numerals will remain meaningless.” He passed the scrap back to Douglas. “Do you possess such a key?”
“I confess that I do not. But might a sample be provided which I can take away with me for further study at the abbey? I know my brothers would be grateful for even that much.”
“For a certainty,” replied Master Bacon. He crossed to his worktable, took up a quill, dipped it into his inkhorn, and began scribbling quickly on the parchment. When he finished, he handed the still-wet copy to Douglas. There were now rows of numbers beside a dozen or so of the small glyphs—numbers that Douglas recognised as longitude and latitude coordinates.
“I am in awe of your erudition,” said Douglas with a bow. He thanked him and took his leave.
“My greetings to your abbot,” called Roger Bacon from the door of his tower. “We will speak again when next you return to the city.”
Once outside, Douglas paused to rouse the sleeping Snipe, who was curled in his cloak at the foot of the stairs. “Wake up,” he whispered. “I have work for you.”
The boy awoke, instantly alert.
“There is an iron box in the corner of the room . . .” He described the strongbox and where the key was kept. “Inside the box is a document tied with a red band.”
Snipe gave a shrewd and silent nod.
“Steal it.”
PART FIVE
A House Made All of Bone
CHAPTER 28
In Which Feeling Good and Strong Is Not Enough
Kit landed with a jolt that rattled his bones from ankle to skull, then crashed headlong onto a path soft with alder leaves and pine needles. Heart racing, blood pounding in his temples, his breath coming in gulps and gasps, he braced himself for the wave of nausea that, when it came, was a mere ripple that passed through his gut and disappeared. Not so bad, he thought. Maybe I’m getting used to this.
He lay for a moment, listening. Bubbling up from somewhere below, he could hear running water—a stream peacefully slipping and sliding over smooth stones—a calm, agreeable sound. Mixed with intermittent birdcalls from the trees round about, it immediately put Kit at ease. There was neither sign nor sound of pursuit. He had succeeded in eluding Burleigh and his mob.
When his vision cleared, Kit lifted his head and looked around. A woodland path lay arrow straight before him, slanting down at a fairly steep angle. Rising in the distance, directly opposite, was a curtain of grey-white rock, mottled green with moss, shrubs, and small trees—the sheer wall of an enormous limestone gorge a few hundred yards away. It was, he decided with considerable relief, the very place Wilhelmina had told him about.
The air was crisp and cool, the sun directly overhead, but pale in a sky of silver haze. It felt like autumn to him—something about the scent of dry leaves and the tang in the breeze put him in mind of October, a month he had always ranked high among his favourites. He climbed to his feet, thinking, Now, to find a comfortable spot to wait for Mina to show up. The way the girl played fast and loose with time, he reckoned he would not have to wait long.
Glancing around, he made a quick survey of the immediate vicinity and spotted a rock ledge jutting out from the sloping wall beside the trail; dry and flat, it seemed as good a place as any. He walked over, brushed off the fallen leaves, and sat down. The ley lamp, still warm in his hand, was dark now, and the animating warmth fading fast. An intriguing device made of burnished brass, with a row of little lights along one gently curved side, it was about the size and shape of the average potato, and it looked more than a little like an ocarina—one of those funny little musical instruments introduced in middle school music class. The smooth metal surface was incised with ornate swirly lines radiating out from a button-sized knob below a slightly larger circular hole covered by a crystal lens. Resisting the urge to twist the knob to see what would happen, he instead stuffed the device back into his pocket and settled himself on the stone bench, where his thoughts soon turned back to the harrowing chase he had just endured: Burleigh on