“Do you hear me?” shouted the emperor. “What’s happening?”

Shut up, you lunatic. I’m working.

Kelley began to pull levers. The lenses lowered, surrounded the table. Overhead, gears meshed. Powered by the waterwheel, they began to spin. The big lens in the middle lowered until it was directly over the emperor’s cousin, three feet from his chest. Portals opened overhead. Sunlight from above, reflected and re-reflected through lenses and mirrors, poured through the shafts, struck the lenses brilliantly white.

Kelley had expected it, but he flinched anyway.

Rudolph stuck his head around the corner, squinted into the light. “Damn you, alchemist. Don’t you hear me talking to you?”

“If you want to live, Highness, get back behind the protective barrier.”

Rudolph frowned but ducked back behind the lead wall.

Hatred and resentment swelled within Kelley. Who was this insane ruler to defy the will of God, to squander the resources of an empire for his mad schemes? How many had died and suffered for Rudolph’s vanity? Kelley’s need to defy the emperor compelled him at that moment like no other force on earth, his need to rebel palpable.

Since the emperor and his men were behind the lead wall, nobody saw the terrible thing Kelley did next.

When his act of defiance had been completed, he pulled another lever, rechecked the lenses, and retreated back behind the lead wall with the others. Here there was a final lever. He pulled it. Gears spun overhead. He could not see, but he knew what was happening. The lead box opened, and the stone’s rays flooded the prism beneath it. The rays emerged from the other side of the prism and struck the lens directly above the emperor’s cousin. The ceiling of the cavern jerked and danced with colored lights. Rudolph and his men cowered. A few crossed themselves.

The final lens bathed the emperor’s cousin in warm red light. The waterwheel spun. A crack like thunder.

Kelley shoved the lever back into place, closing the lead box. He rushed up the dais, shut off the waterwheel. He pushed another lever, and the lenses encircling the dais retreated back to the ceiling.

He glanced at the table, jumped back, startled, eyes wide.

The emperor’s cousin was up on one elbow. He glanced around the cavern. “Am I in hell?”

“Yes,” Kelley said.

Rudolph and his men rushed up to the dais. “Cousin!”

“I remember the river,” the cousin said. “What happened?”

“Resurrection!” Rudolph said. “Nothing less than resurrection.”

Kelley studied the cousin’s face. Warm and alive. It had worked.

They crowded around the young man, slapped him on the back. The mood in the cavern became boisterous and celebratory. They escorted the cousin out, talk of a banquet leading the way.

Rudolph looked back at Kelley over his shoulder. “Good work, alchemist. Secure things here before you come up.”

And they were gone.

Kelley blew out a sigh, then sat down on the steps up to the dais. The only sound in the cavern was the flowing water, which had slowed again to a trickle.

He sat awhile.

Then he stood, again pulling the lever that lowered the apparatus with the circle of lenses, prism, and lead box. He climbed up on the table and unfastened the lead box from its place. He was surprised by its sudden weight and almost dropped it. He carried it down the steps to the bottom of the dais, then set it down hard, breathing heavily.

The morbid need to open the box and look inside nearly overwhelmed him, but the urge passed quickly.

He picked up the box again, grunted, and began the long climb back to the surface.

On his way back to the White Tower, he met the old nun who worked in the infirmary. She told Kelley that Roderick the astrologer had died.

Allen flipped another page carefully with the plastic stirs. “According to this, Edward Kelley was the only one to attend Roderick’s funeral. Not even a priest.”

“How awful,” Penny said.

“Oh, no.” Allen looked at the page, flipped back, read again.

“What is it?” Amy asked.

“Kelley put the philosopher’s stone in the grave with Roderick,” Allen said. “He said it seemed fitting. And he wanted to keep it hidden from Rudolph. A final act of defiance.”

“Wow,” Amy said. “And it’s still there?”

“I don’t know.” Allen flipped another page, kept reading.

“Then we’re good, right?” Penny said. “I mean, that solves the problem, doesn’t it? The stone is buried. Nobody evil gets it. All is right with the world.”

“It’s not that simple,” Amy said. “There’s the Kelley diary, for one thing.”

“Destroy it,” Penny said. “Burn it.”

“It’s too late for that. We all know about it. The right spells would make us talk, even good old-fashioned rubber hoses and bamboo under the fingernails.” Amy turned to Allen. “We’ve got to call the Society.”

Penny frowned. “How the hell would that help?”

“If they have the stone for safekeeping, then Allen’s out of danger. Making him talk won’t matter.”

“Then let’s call in the Vatican,” Penny said. “They can protect it better than your people.”

“You’re still forgetting I don’t trust either of those organizations,” Allen said. “We’ve come this far. I say we get the stone ourselves.”

“Dammit,” Amy said. “That’s exactly what Cassandra wants you to do.”

“Except I won’t be fetching it for her,” Allen said. “Ladies, I’m getting to the bottom of this. Are you with me or not?”

“You’re Indiana Jones all of a sudden?” Penny said. “I’m not sure I like this side of you.” A pause. “Or maybe I do.”

“We don’t even know what cemetery this astrologer guy is buried in,” Amy pointed out.

Allen shook his head. “I know. I can’t find anywhere in the manuscript where Kelley mentions the cemetery by name, and-” Allen sat up, eyes going unfocused, a strange expression on his face. “Cemetery.”

Penny reached for him, stopped short. “What is it?”

“In my dreams,” Allen said. “I’ve been seeing images of a cemetery.”

Amy asked, “Would you recognize it if you saw it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s make that our priority,” Penny said. “We’ll put his name into Google and find out where he’s buried. There’s an internet café upstairs.”

“And after we find out, then what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A mischievous smile spread over Penny’s face. “We go grave robbing.”

Ninety minutes later they had nothing. None of the popular historical websites or Wikipedia mentioned Roderick by name, although accounts of alchemists and astrologers and other occult figures at court were plentiful. Amy brought up pictures of various graveyards around Prague, but Allen could not say for sure that any one of them matched his dream images.

“And the diary doesn’t say either,” Allen said. “Kelley says Roderick was entombed, and that he put the stone in with him. And he calls Rudolph a madman. But nothing about the name of the cemetery.”

Penny turned away from the computer screen, rubbed her eyes. “This is useless.”

“If I had all the time in the world, I could find it,” Allen said. “But if I have to dig up a grave, I’d like to be in and out of the cemetery before nightfall.”

“Why before nightfall?” Penny asked.

Amy put her fingers up to her mouth and mimed a set of fangs.

Penny blanched. “Oh, yeah.” Amy’s recent revelation still troubled her.

The three of them sat there. A minute passed.

“There might be somebody who can help,” Amy said.

Penny crossed her arms. “If you say somebody from your precious Society, I’ll scream.”

“No. Somebody freelance. The Society puts him on specialized errands from time to time.”

“This person is safe?” Allen asked.