The Bone House - By Stephen R. Lawhead Page 0,119

self-serving, Lady Fayth was telling the truth—at least insofar as Kit and Giles were concerned. About her involvement with Burleigh, Mina still had doubts about the young woman’s sincerity.

“The Black Earl was not best pleased with his minions,” Haven continued. “They have been consigned to outer darkness with much weeping and gnashing of teeth—until such time as they can redeem themselves in His Lordship’s sight.”

“Then I suppose we all owe you a debt of gratitude, my lady,” ventured Wilhelmina.

“Pray, not so!” she objected. “Kit lost and poor Giles wounded—that is hardly a result worthy of commendation or merit.”

“It could have been much, much worse,” Wilhelmina conceded. “Thanks to your timely warning, they were able to get away. As to that,” she continued, “what was that package you gave Kit just before he fled the coffeehouse?”

“Package?”

“That little parcel . . .” Mina described a small square with her fingers. “What was that?”

“It was a book.”

“A book? That’s all?”

“Oh, not just any book, mind you,” Haven said, then lowered her voice. “It was the green book—that is to say, Uncle Henry’s private journal of his investigations into ley leaping.”

“By ley leaping, you mean—”

Haven nodded. “I believe you know well enough what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Do you not?”

“I do.”

“I knew it!”

Lady Fayth took a sip of coffee and resumed her confession. “The Black Earl knows about the green book. He has read it, in fact . . .” She allowed herself a sly smile. “That is to say, he has read the portions I permitted him to read. Certain pages of Sir Henry’s book I thought best to keep to myself.” She finished her coffee and pushed her cup aside. “Do you have any idea where Kit has gone?”

“Across the river,” Mina hedged. “That’s what they’re saying. No doubt he’ll turn up again once Burleigh has gone.”

“Yes, well, we must hope and pray he remains out of sight. I do not expect the Black Earl will allow him to escape a third time.”

“It must have been a sight. What will Burleigh do now?”

“Resume his search for the map,” replied Haven. “What else can he do? It is clear that neither Cosimo nor Uncle Henry possessed the map; it was not passed on to Kit. So Cosimo’s portion remains to be found.”

The young woman stood and brushed her hands down the front of her dress. “I must go. His Lordship will be wondering what has become of me.” She smiled nicely. “Thank you for the coffee, and for your confidence. The knowledge that I have a secret ally in this fight—and mark you it is a most desperate fight—renews my faith and courage.” She took Wilhelmina’s hand. “May I call you my friend?”

Wilhelmina was taken aback by the question. “Of course.”

“Good. I like that. I have no other friend in which to confide,” she said. Then, still gripping Wilhelmina’s hand, added, “The burden of the quest is ours now. It falls to us to see it through—for better or worse.”

Lady Fayth took her leave, and Wilhelmina saw her to the coffeehouse door. “For better or worse,” echoed Wilhelmina, watching as her new ally sailed into the great market square. “We’re in it up to our eyeballs, girlfriend. Be true to me, and I will love you like a sister,” she said under her breath. “Betray me, and you will wish you’d never been born.”

CHAPTER 33

In Which Formal Introductions Are Made

The trees all along the river turned spectacular shades of red, orange, and yellow, and one morning Kit arose to the sight of the leaves falling at once in a silent golden storm. The next day rain came to the valley. A chill north wind stripped the remaining leaves from the trees. The clan gathered all the weapons and tools—the stout spears and axes, the scrapers and pounders, the short, stone-bladed knives—and bundled up their skins and sleeping mats and coils of woven fibre rope, and moved out.

This happened, as so much else, without any discussion that Kit could detect. They simply understood that today was moving day, and everyone began packing. Kit pitched in by rolling the skins he used for sleeping and shouldering the spears. He had learned that whatever he did by way of helping with the chores was always remarked on by the clan, who more and more seemed to regard him as an exotic and unexpectedly useful pet.

When everything had been gathered, Big Hunter led them back through the valley. They followed the river downstream and, owing to the mostly bare

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