A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (17 page)

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but its simply not rational.”

“Are you honestly telling me that you feel nothing?”

Elle rubbed the back of her neck wearily. He wasn’t going to let the matter go and she was not about to start admitting to all the odd things that had been happening. There was no way she was going to do that.

She sighed. “Very well, you win. But only by erosion. What would I have to do? To be a Pythia, I mean?”

He squeezed her hand again. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

She straightened her shoulders. “I will go with you. But only to prove that you are wrong about me.” She picked up her new floor-length cloak with the hood from the coat stand.

“Oh, I think you might surprise yourself.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said, as he led the way.

CHAPTER 27

“Where are we going?” Elle asked under her breath.

“Cemetery Island,” he murmured. “Look grief-stricken. I told the boatman that you wanted to visit the grave of your long-lost relatives.”

“Oh,” she said, bowing her head.

Outside, the sky had turned gray. The air smelled damp and salty in the midday gloom. Elle looked up at the clouds. It looked like rain.

The boatman watched them from the corner of his eye as he stoked the coal furnace and boiler that powered the boat. It started puttering more vigorously, and with a lurch, it started ploughing through the gray water.

“He doesn’t look happy,” Elle whispered.

“The Venetians don’t like strangers poking around their dead. Now, keep your head down and pretend you’re grieving.”

She sat with her head bowed for the rest of the journey. Marsh handed her his handkerchief and she held it to her face. Inside the hood of her cloak she closed her eyes and inhaled his sandalwood smell. Her mind was reeling with all he had told her in the library. It was almost too much to take in at once. But the one thing that gnawed at her was the fact that he knew about the dream, but clearly the dream had meant nothing to him. His only interest was the Oracle and saving the Shadow. The little bit of hope inside her evaporated. She cursed herself for being so shallow. She should be worrying about her father and about the world coming to an end instead of gawping at this man like a mooncalf.

She felt the boatman’s gaze fixed on her and she stared back. He averted his eyes. The dull ache inside her hurt like grief. Perhaps it showed.

After what felt like ages, they neared a stone jetty that jutted out into the sea. The boat bumped against it with a gentle thud, and the boatman doused the engine. He muttered something in guttural Italian and gestured for them to disembark.

Marsh had a word with the man and after a few more coins were exchanged, the fellow seemed content to wait. He drew his hat down over his face and settled down on the seat.

Marsh helped Elle out of the boat. He put his arm around her as they stepped out onto the jetty.

“I can manage, you know,” she said.

“I know, but you are supposed to be a grief-stricken, remember?” He started walking up the gravel path that led to the cemetery. In the distance, the cloisters of the church and monastery on the island came into view.

“The monks here are allies the Council,.” They passed a group of novices on the gravel path.

“I thought the Shadow and the Church were enemies.”

He laughed. “We are. But we also have a mutual understanding.”

She studied the crumbling edifice of the monastery. These buildings were ancient. The pink stone was veined with gray damp, like a wedge of old cheese.

“The monks have protected our sanctuary here, along with their own, for a very long time.”

“This used to be a Warlock sanctuary?”

He nodded. “And a monastery. The place only became a cemetery because Emperor Napoleon ordered it during the wars.” Another group of brown-robed monks approached them on the path. A few of them inclined their heads at Marsh as they passed.

“Let me guess, Venice was founded by Warlocks.”

“The Phoenicians actually, but there were Warlocks among them.” They stepped through a pink-tinged archway and the stone cloisters rose up around them.

Elle looked around. “Won’t they mind?”

Marsh shook his head. “They are used to Warlocks visiting here from time to time.”

“But how do they know you’ are a Warlock?”

“Only a select group of Warlocks and the monks know of this place. And the monks control who enters and leaves. Look around you. It’s a small island. There is nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.”

“Hmm,” Elle said. The corridor became progressively less opulent as they walked. She noticed that the stone walls and floor were worn shiny with age.

They reached a set of steps. Marsh lifted a spark lantern off one of the walls and lit it. He turned and placed his hand on the smooth stones that framed a small wooden door. The wall rumbled softly as he opened the door.

“In here. Whenever you are ready.” He bent down to avoid hitting his head on the low doorpost and disappeared into the dark room. She could see the light from the lantern fight with the shadows inside.

She looked at the door and her breath quickened. A gentle pressure settled inside her chest. Something beyond the door radiated out at her like tendrils. They curled around her, drawing her into it.

She took a deep breath. If this was the only way to find her father, then this was what she would have to do. Saving the world could come later.

She stepped through the door and blinked in the gloom. She was standing in a small circular room. The walls were built from rough-hewn stone that had later been carved in places in intricate detail. A row of little windows circled the roof, allowing for light to shine in. But it was the floor that made Elle stop and stare. Under her feet was the most exquisite mosaic she had ever seen. Thousands of precious stones, gold and silver were laid to form the image of a woman and a large snake in an elaborate embrace.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Marsh said softly.

“It is,” she breathed. “Those look like real rubies and sapphires?” Her fingers strayed to the bracelet still stuck around her wrist. “The picture—what does it mean?”

“It is the legend of Pythia.”

“The same as the text we found?”

He nodded. “The very same. At your feet is the first Cybele. She is daughter of Gaia—Mother of all. Gaia is the one on to the right.”

Elle looked at the figures at her feet. They were dressed in classic Grecian robes.

“The story continues in the pictures around the edge. Look there. One day Gaia met Python, the snake-god. She was very beautiful and Python fell in love with her. As a token of his love, he gave her the gift of sight and the gift to reach into the layers of the universe to bring harmony and peace. Out of their love, a daughter was born. But Gaia was jealous of her daughter and fought with Python. The arguments became so violent that Gaia left Python, taking her daughter Cybele with her. But Cybele loved her father and she was angry with her mother for taking her away from him. So, when Cybele grew into a woman, she changed her name to Pythia to spite her mother. Pythia means ‘of Python.’ She did it so she could remember her father’s name until she joined him in the afterworld one day. And Python, in recognition of his daughter’s loyalty to him, gave her the same gift of sight as her mother. He also gave her the ability to hold the universe together.” He paused. “That is Pythia’s greatest gift: Wisdom and the ability to hold the world and everything in it together.”

Elle shrugged. “Strange story. I’m still confused though. What’s the difference between Cybele and Pythia?”

“A woman with the gift is called Cybele until she undergoes the transformation. Once this happens, she forgoes all of her other names to become Pythia. Pythia is the Oracle until the day she departs for the underworld.”

They studied the mosaic in silence. The women in it had long hair that flowed over their shoulders and down past their waists.

“So what do I do?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’ve not had the privilege to witness Pythia speaking in situ in my lifetime. I was an apprentice when your mother left to be with your father.” He gestured at the floor. “I think perhaps you should stand in the middle of this floor and see what happens.”

“Very well, but I had better take my boots off. The floor looks so delicate. I’d hate to damage it.” She bent over and pulled off her boots and stockings.

CHAPTER 28

Marsh watched Elle step onto the mosaic. They stared at one another for a few tense moments. Nothing happened.

Elle spread out her arms and let them drop to her sides. “See. Nothing,” she said. “I told you, I wasn’t your girl.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I knew nothing would happe—”

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees buckled and she sank to the floor.

Marsh started. “Elle!” He stepped forward to help her, but a wall of pure energy met him. Fearing that he might harm her, he drew back.

“Elle,” he said. “Elle, can you hear me?”

She stirred and sat up. It was a strange type of sitting up, almost as if her spine moved her into an upright position all on its own, without help from her arms and legs. She opened her eyes.

Marsh gasped. The whites of her eyes had gone very white and the irises were dark, almost black. They reminded him of the eyes he had seen on the murals and vases of ancient Greece.

“Who seeks the counsel of Pythia?” Her voice sounded different. It resonated against the walls.

“I do, honorable one,” Marsh said, frantically trying to recall the ritual words.

“And what is it which you seek to know, Warlock?”

Fear gripped him. He needed to ask the question carefully. Oracles were notorious for their cryptic and strange answers. They also had the tendency to stop answering whenever they felt like it. He decided to start with the most important question first.

“We seek the whereabouts of the man known as Professor Charles Chance. We need to know where to find him.”

Elle’s head rolled back. The hood of her cloak had slipped and her hair had worked its way loose. The auburn waves spilled down over her shoulders. She remained like that, with her head tilted back, for a few long moments.

Suddenly her head jerked back up and she stared straight at him. Marsh felt a tremor of awe laced with fear shoot through him. Legends of how frightening Oracles could be were not far wrong. He felt as if he was looking into the eyes of the wisdom of ages itself. And he was terrified.

“The man you seek is in the city of Constantine. The tracks that the iron beast follows to the City is fraught with shadow. You will find him among the lords of the dead of the forests.”

“And will our endeavors be successful?” he asked.

The Oracle looked straight at him.

“You will find more that you bargained for, Warlock. Beware of those you trust when the moon is almost full.” She closed her eyes and dropped back onto the floor, where she lay very still. Marsh reached out. The energy that had surrounded her was gone. He bent over her.

“Elle. Elle, wake up.” He touched her face.

CHAPTER 29

The coolness of mosaic tiles seeped through the fabric of her clothes. Elle opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Her hair fell in a curtain around her. It had come loose from its knot somehow. She looked about. “What happened? Did I faint?”

“You did, in a manner of speaking. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine.” Marsh was staring at her with great concern.

She stood rose to her knees and gave her hips a pat. “See, I told you that this was a waste of time. No prophesy.” She pulled her hair back and started tying it into its knot.

Marsh was staring at her as if she had sprouted another set of arms. “You truly have no idea what just happened, do you?” The expression on his face was very odd.

She smiled at him. “Of course not, silly. How would I remember if I fainted?”

“How extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary? I think it’s more a case of I shouldn’t wear my underwear laced so tightly.” She patted her midriff. “What is wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“And you honestly don’t remember anything?”

“No, I’ve already told you so. You are acting very strangely. What is it?”

Marsh crouched down next to her and gripped her shoulder. “Constantinople,” he said. “Your father is in Constantinople. The city of Constantine. It has to be.”

“Excuse me?” Elle said.

He let out an incredulous laugh. “The most important event in two generations and no one to confirm what I witnessed,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair.

“Marsh, have you completely lost your mind?”

He recovered himself and stepped away from her. “Elle, you spoke as the Pythia. Pure and clear, just as was done in the legends of old. The volume of power you accessed and channeled a few moments ago was astonishing. I’ve never seen anything like it. You told me where your father is.”

Elle felt herself grow excited. It felt like some part of her—the part that had always felt wrong—had clicked into place inside her. And it felt right. “Do you honestly believe that?” She eyed him.

“I do.” He grew serious.

“Well, then we need to go to Constantinople as soon as possible.”

He sighed. “There is one more thing you need to know.”

She frowned at him “What?”

“It is said that Pythia should live out her days in silent contemplation and devotion,” he said.

Elle dropped her arms. “You have got to be joking,” she said.

“The Pythias of old lived in chastity in the temples, learning and meditating. Now that we know you are the Oracle, you must devote your life to your calling. We can stay at the hotel until the Council has prepared a place for you.”

“But my mother lived with us. I was born after all.”

“Vivienne ran away from the sanctuary to be with your father. And away from our protection, she went to her doom.” A look of sorrow crossed his face. “Elle, you are too important. We cannot afford to take any risks. You have to come with me so the Council can take you into their protection.”

A terrible feeling of dread filled her. “Let me make sure I understand this correctly: I am to be locked away like a nun in a cloister, to live out my days in isolation so a council of old men can ask me things in order that they may further their political power?”

“Not if I have any say in the matter,” he said. “I will make sure that you have every luxury and comfort you desire.”

“So it’s to be gilded cage with velvet draperies then?”

“Your life will be no different to the lives of other women. But instead of devotion to your husband you will be devoted to the Council. And they will revere you like a goddess. We should go. There is no time to waste.”

Elle felt like the floor had given out from under her. She had to fight the urge to scream and hit him. “You!” she said, prodding his shoulder. “You have been plotting to bring me to this place all along, haven’t you?”

He looked away. “Elle, it’s complicated. I needed to make sure that I was correct about you being the Oracle before I took any further steps,” he said.

She shook her head. “Patrice was right. This has all been a conspiracy to drag me here. To this place. I bet my father’s abduction was just a ruse to get me here. Wasn’t it?”

He looked shocked. “No, it’s not like that.”

She folded her arms. “Then what
is
it like, Hugh Marsh? Tell me. Tell me that you haven’t been working towards recruiting me for your precious Council all along. Tell me you haven’t been plotting to get me here so they can use me as they wish.?”

He remained silent.

“Elle, you don’t understand.” He shook his head.

She snorted. “I understand enough, it seems. And I’m not moving from this spot until you tell me the truth.”

He sighed with exasperation. “Yes. The Council knows you are the Oracle. I notified them from Oxford.”

“And how long have you known?”

“Since the night we drove up from London. And our shared dream confirmed it. But many can walk the Shadow realm. I wanted to make sure, so I brought you here.”

“So you have been stringing me along, cleverly leading me into your trap, haven’t you? And now I suppose I’m to be handed over like some prize to a life of slavery and servitude.”

“I’m trying to find a way that will satisfy everyone. And you’re not making it easy for me.”

“Easy for you?” She felt her anger rise. “And what if I don’t want to go?”

“What you want is irrelevant. Don’t you understand? You alone have the power to ensure that order in our world is kept in balance. This is an awesome responsibility. You have a duty. A calling. You need to be trained. And I am here to help. And the Council will help too.”

“And what about what
I
want,” she said softly.

His expression grew gentler. “You need to think of the greater good, Elle. It’s not only about you anymore.”

“But I would have to give up flying. My studies in physics. My father … Mrs. Hinges, Patrice. Everyone I love. This is my whole life you are talking about.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but in time you will see that I am right. You will be safe and cared for. I am sure that you’ will find contentment over time. You just have to give your new life a chance.”

Elle folded her arms. “I am
not
going with you,” she said.

He started. “Why on earth not?”

“Why? You have to ask that?”

He frowned. “You should be overjoyed. This is the biggest honor that there is for a woman. Even in these modern times,” he said.

She felt herself grow angry. “ ‘For a woman.’ Is that what you think?”

“You are making it sound all wrong.”

She lifted her chin. “I won’t do it then. Only two people in the world know what I have just done. If you push me any further, I shall scream blue murder. I shall deny all knowledge of this business. You can’t make me.”

He stared at her. “Elle, the Council
can
make you do this. I have fought hard with them to allow me to bring you to them of your own free will. The alternative does not bear thinking about.”

She stepped away from him. “Don’t you dare. And if you do, then you will find that you have some careful explaining to do to the police as to why you lured a young woman unaccompanied into a room, with utterly improper intentions. I am sure the London papers would love a story about Viscount Greychester and his lascivious occult activities.”

Marsh’s face grew still, his eyes hard with anger.

Her insides trembled, but she held his gaze. She was bluffing of course, but right now bluffing was her only weapon. She was not going to allow herself to be dragged off to this new life without a fight.

“I should remind you Miss Chance, that you are a thousand miles from England and entirely at my mercy for your survival.”

Elle felt little waves of fear break inside her. This situation was becoming dangerous. Underneath her cloak, she reached for her Colt and took it into her hand. Carefully, she slipped the safety catch loose. The mechanism that loaded the bullets into the firing chamber clicked.

Marsh frowned at the tiny sound.

“I must say that it is nice to finally see your true colors, Mr. Marsh. Now that we both know what it is that you want.” Elle raised her arm and pointed the gun at him.

“Take one step closer to me and I will shoot you where you stand. I am not bluffing.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

“Now take me back to the hotel. I wish to move to other accommodations. Without you.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but his face grew even stonier and angrier. The silence stretched between them and Elle felt her bravado evaporate. He was bigger and stronger than her. Her little revolver only held three bullets. And there were many monks about, prepared to protect the Warlock amongst them. About a hundred other fearful thoughts flashed through her mind as the tense seconds ticked by.

After what seemed like an eternity, he broke their standoff. “Very well, then,” he said. “What are your demands?” A deep sense of pain in his eyes accompanied his words.

“I want to know where my father is. When I know he is safe, I wish for safe passage back to England.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“A dispatch will be written and sent to The Times in London. If you or any Warlock comes anywhere near me, the paper will receive instructions to publish a full expose about the truth behind the Council, the lies they are telling. For added measure, there will also be information about Viscount Greychester and his lascivious occult fetish for forcing young women to do things against their will.”

“As you wish.” All the friendliness and familiarity they had built up since Paris was gone. “I shall accede to your demands. But the Council of Warlocks does not have your father. The Alchemists have him and he is in Constantinople. I also cannot bind the Council in respect of your demands. The current Oracle is old and frail. She grows weaker every day. If you do not rise up and take the position, the Council must wait for you to die so a new Pythia may complete the process. And I cannot promise that they will wait for nature to take its course.”

Elle shook with fear, but she forced herself to stay still. She needed to get out of this place, and the only way to achieve this was to remain in control. She would worry about the rest of the things he’d said as soon as it was safer. Right now, all she wanted to do was get off this island.

“Let’s go. You first.” She motioned with the gun barrel.

“There is one more thing you need to know about being the Oracle,” he Marsh said.

“No, there is not. I don’t want to learn anything more about this. It is over.”

He pressed his lips together. “Very well. May it be on your head then, Pythia who will be Oracle.”

“And stop calling me that. My name is Eleanor.”