Alai’s rose to her feet. “What of the board?”

Pelletier smiled at her persistence. “I will give it some thought, Filha.”

“But does its presence here mean someone in the chateau knows of the existence of the books?”

“No one can know,” he said firmly. “If I thought there was any question of it, I would tell you. On my word.”

They were brave words, fighting words, but his expression gave them the lie.

“But if-”

“Basta,” he said softly, raising his arms. “No more.”

Alai’s let herself be enveloped in his giant embrace. The familiar smell of him brought tears to her eyes.

“All will be well,” he said firmly. “You must be brave. Do only what I have asked of you, no more.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come bid us farewell at dawn.” Alai’s nodded, not daring to speak.

“Ben, ben. Now, make haste. And may God keep you.”

Alai’s ran down the dark corridor and out into the courtyard without drawing breath, seeing ghosts and demons in every shadow. Her head was spinning. The old familiar world seemed suddenly a mirror image of its former self, both recognizable and utterly different. The package concealed beneath her dress seemed to be burning a hole in her skin.

Outside the air was cool. Most people had retired for the night, although there were still a few lights shining in the rooms overlooking the Cour d’Honneur. A burst of laughter from the guards at the gatehouse made her jump. For a moment, she imagined she saw a person silhouetted in one of the upper rooms. But then a bat swooped in front of her, drawing her gaze, and when she looked again the window was dark.

She walked faster. Her father’s words were spinning around in her head, all the questions she should have asked and had not.

A few more steps and she started to feel a prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Who’s there?”

Nobody answered. She called out again. There was malice in the darkness, she could smell it, feel it. Alais walked faster, certain now she was being followed. She could hear the soft shuffle of feet and the sound of heavy breathing.

“Who’s there?” she called again.

Without warning, a rough and callused hand, reeking of ale, clamped itself over her mouth. She cried out as she felt a sudden, sharp blow on the back of her head and she fell.

It seemed to take a long time for her to reach the ground. Then there were hands crawling all over her, like rats in a cellar, until they found what they wanted.

“Aqui es.” Here it is.

It was the last thing Alais heard before the blackness closed over her.

Pic de Soularac

Sabarthes Mountains

Southwest France

MONDAY, 4 JULY 2005

“Alice! Alice, can you hear me?”

Her eyes flickered and opened.

The air was chill and damp, like an unheated church. Not floating, but lying on the hard, cold ground.

Where the hell am I? She could feel the dank earth rough and uneven beneath her arms and legs. Alice shifted position. Sharp stones and grit rubbed abrasively against her skin.

No, not a church. A glimmer of memory came back. Walking down a long, dark tunnel into a cave, a stone chamber. Then what? Everything was blurred, frayed around the edges. Alice tried to raise her head. A mistake. Pain exploded at the base of her skull. Nausea sloshed in her stomach, like bilge water at the bottom of a rotting boat.

“Alice? Can you hear me?”

Someone was talking to her. Worried, anxious, a voice she knew.

“Alice? Wake up.” She tried to lift her head. This time, the pain wasn’t so bad. Slowly, carefully, she raised herself a little.

“Christ,” muttered Shelagh, sounding relieved.

She was aware of hands beneath her arms helping her into a sitting position. Everything was gloomy and dark, except for the darting circles of light from the torches. Two torches. Alice narrowed her eyes and recognized Stephen, one of the older members of the team, hovering behind Shelagh, his wire-framed glasses catching in the light.

“Alice, talk to me. Can you hear me?” said Shelagh.

I’m not sure. Maybe.

Alice tried to speak, but her mouth was crooked and no words came out. She tried to nod. The exertion made her head spin. She dropped her head between her knees to stop herself passing out.

With Shelagh on one side and Stephen on the other, she edged herself back until she was sitting on the top of the stone steps, hands on her knees. Everything seemed to be shifting backward and forward, in and out, like a film out of focus.

Shelagh crouched down in front of her, talking, but Alice couldn’t make out what she was saying. The sound was distorted, like a record played at the wrong speed. Another wave of nausea hit her as more disconnected memories came flooding back: the noise of the skull as it fell away into the dark; her hand reaching out for the ring; the knowledge that she had disturbed something that slumbered in the deepest recesses of the mountain, something malevolent.

Then nothing.

She was so cold. She could feel goosebumps on her bare arms and legs. Alice knew she couldn’t have been unconscious for very long, no more than a few minutes at most. Such an inconsequential measure of time. But it had seemed long enough for her to slip from one world into another.

Alice shivered. Then another memory. Of dreaming the same, familiar dream. First, the sensation of peace and lightness, everything white and clear. Then plummeting down and down through the empty sky and the ground rushing up to meet her. There was no collision, no impact, only the dark green columns of trees looming over her. Then the fire, the roaring wall of red and gold and yellow flames.

She wrapped her bare arms tight around herself. Why had the dream come back? Throughout her childhood, the same dream had haunted her, always the same, never leading anywhere. While her parents slept unawares in their bedroom across the landing, Alice had spent night after night awake in the dark, hands gripping the covers tightly, determined to conquer her demons alone.

But not for years now. It had left her alone for years.

“How about we try to get you on your feet?” Shelagh was saying.

It doesn’t mean anything. Once doesn’t mean it’s going to start all over again.

“Alice,” said Shelagh, her voice a little sharper. Impatient. “Do you think you can manage to stand? We need to get you back to camp. Have someone take a look at you.”

“I think so,” she said at last. Her voice didn’t sound like her at all. “My head’s not so good.”

“You can do it, Alice. Come on, try now.”

Alice looked down at her red, swollen wrist. Shit. She couldn’t quite remember, didn’t want to remember. “I’m not sure what happened. This-” She held up her hand. “This happened outside.”

Shelagh put her arms around Alice to take her weight. “Okay?”

Alice braced herself and allowed Shelagh to lever her to her feet. Stephen took the other arm. She swayed a little from side to side, trying to get her balance, but after a couple of seconds, the giddiness passed and feeling started to come back to her numb limbs. Carefully Alice started to flex and unflex her fingers, feeling the pull of the raw skin over her knuckles.

“I’m all right. Just give me a minute.”

“What possessed you to come in here on your own anyway?”

“I was…” Alice broke off, not knowing what to say. It was typical of her to break the rules and end up in trouble. “There’s something you need to see. Down there. On the lower level.”

Shelagh followed the line of Alice’s gaze with her torch. Shadows scuttled up the walls and over the roof of the cave.

“No, not here,” said Alice. “Down there.”