Quest for the Secret Keeper (15 page)

With great dismay Ian listened to the thunderous booms still echoing from above. He knew it was suicide to go dashing through the streets of Paris as it was being bombed, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about Theo. He was nearly beside himself with fear.

Nearby, Carl moaned, and Ian’s attentions were diverted temporarily to his injured friend. “What’s happened?” Carl said, attempting to lift his hand up to the large cut on his head.

“Stay still,” said the woman.

She got to her feet then and regarded Ian, who could barely make out her features within the folds of the cloak. “I must get water and a fresh cloth for your friend’s wound,” she told him. “You must promise to stay here.”

Ian was so dismayed he didn’t have the ability to reply. Instead, he merely nodded.

The woman moved away from them, down a long corridor and beyond the ray of light from the lantern.

Carl opened his eyes, squinting through his lids with a pained expression on his face. “Where are we?”

“Belowground,” Ian told him.

“How’d we get here?”

“A woman helped us.”

“What woman?”

Ian shrugged. “Dunno. You were hit on the head by some rubble and knocked out, and a woman came and helped get you here.”

Carl looked about. “Where’d she go?”

“To get you some water and cloth for your head.”

Neither of them said a word for a time after that, but then Carl seemed to read Ian’s troubled mind. “Theo,” he whispered.

Ian balled his hands into fists. He was angry at himself for leaving her behind. “I should have listened to my instincts,” he said. “I nearly invited her with us but then I remembered what the earl had said, that she would be safe at the flat, so I left her there.”

Carl coughed and rubbed his watery eyes. “She might be perfectly safe, Ian,” he said. “And being with us hasn’t proven itself to be free of trouble, you know.”

Ian knew his friend was right but he couldn’t let go of the guilt for leaving Theo on her own. “How’s your head?” he asked, changing the subject.

“It bloody well hurts.”

“What can I do?”

Carl tipped his head back against the brick. “Stop feeling so responsible for things you have no control over. If Theo’s crystal had told her she’d be in danger, don’t you think she would’ve mentioned it?”

Ian hadn’t considered that. “She didn’t say that we’d be in danger either, did she, Carl?”

Carl sighed. “When
haven’t
we been in danger, Ian?”

The cloaked stranger returned shortly thereafter, carrying a small bowl of water, several torn strips of cloth, and a second lantern. She sat down in front of Carl and wiped his hair from his temple to have a look at his wound. “Glad to see you’re awake,” she said.

“Thank you,” Carl said.

“We’re quite fortunate you came along when you did,” Ian said to her.

“I was racing home to get to my flat and out of danger when I practically tripped over the two of you in the street.”

“You live here, ma’am?”

The hooded figure dipped a cloth in the bowl of water and wrung it out before answering him. “I live down that corridor,” she said.

Ian watched her as the hood of her cloak fell away to reveal the lovely face of a beautiful middle-aged woman. With great care she dabbed at Carl’s wound, and as she lifted her hand, Ian could see a thin bronze cuff hugging her wrist.

It reminded him slightly of the ones General Adrastus wore, and he was surprised to realize that in the four days they’d been in Paris, this was the first time he’d thought of the general since spying him on the train in Boulogne.

He wondered at the coincidence, especially when the woman wrung out the cloth again and Ian saw a second cuff on her other hand. “You see something you like, young man?” she asked, and Ian started. Her voice was slightly
deeper than most women’s, and there was a hint of a foreign accent there too.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve seen cuffs like the ones you’re wearing before.”

The woman’s hands stopped wringing the cloth and she looked sharply at him. “Where?”

Ian was taken aback by her tone, and the question was more a demand than an inquiry.

It was Carl who answered. “Oh,” he said, looking at the woman’s jewelry. “They’re just like the general’s.”

The kind stranger sucked in her breath, gazing at Carl. “The general?” she repeated. “What do you know of the general, boy?”

Carl must have realized that her attention had become acute and perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling very dizzy,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

Their savior frowned and laid the cloth gently over Carl’s forehead before swiveling to face Ian. She did not say a word, but her expression and arms folded across her chest demanded explanation.

“We met a man last year in Spain named General Adrastus,” he told her, feeling nervous under her glare. “He wore two bronze cuffs just like yours. One on each wrist.”

To Ian’s surprise the woman closed her eyes and sighed with relief. “How did you meet him?” she asked softly.

Ian had a sense that the woman meant the general no harm, and wondered if the cuffs each of them wore meant
that they were related. “He saved our lives,” he explained. “Carl and I were being chased by someone very bad, and this man helped us. He prevented us from being harmed, in fact.”

The woman’s eyes snapped open again. “This man who saved you,” she said to them, dabbing again at Carl’s wound. “Will you describe him for me?”

Carl opened his eyes and gave Ian a warning look, but Ian shrugged. What had they to lose, really? “He was very tall, and appeared quite strong. He had black curly hair and a beard and an accent like yours, but not quite so pronounced.”

The woman nodded, and Ian thought she looked sad. “Yes, that is my general,” she said.

Carl was staring at the woman, apparently fascinated. “Who are you?” he asked boldly.

“I am his wife,” she told him simply. “My name is Adria.”

Ian and Carl exchanged looks. “It couldn’t be,” Carl said, knowing immediately what Ian was thinking.

“Couldn’t be what?” asked Adria.

Ian shifted uncomfortably. “I believe we’ve heard of you,” he said.

Adria appeared surprised. “Heard of me?” She laughed, separating the strips of cloth she’d brought along to bandage Carl’s head. “However could you have heard of me?”

“You were one of Laodamia’s attendants, were you not?” Carl asked. “The one who crafted the silver boxes for her prophecies?”

Adria’s hands froze. It was a moment before she spoke, and when she did, her tone was sharp, almost accusing. “How do you know of Laodamia and the boxes?”

Ian waved his hand wearily to get her attention. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Ian Wigby, and my sister is named Theo.”

Adria stared at him with incredulity and it was another several seconds before she could speak again. “By the gods,” she whispered when she’d found her voice. “Is it really you, then?”

Ian nodded.

“How many treasure boxes have you collected?”

“Three so far,” he said. “We’re working through the prophecy of the third box.”

“And the Oracles?” she asked.

“Well,” Ian said, “we have Theo, our Seer; Jaaved, our Seeker; and Eva, our Healer.”

Adria let out a long relieved breath. “Laodamia would be quite proud,” she told him. “You’ve done well, Ian. She was right to choose you.”

“I’ve a question,” Carl said into the silence that followed.

Adria seemed to struggle to tear her eyes away from Ian. “Yes?”

“How is it that you came to know General Adrastus? Wasn’t he born something like a thousand years after you?”

Adria’s features softened into something of a smile. “As you are by now aware, the portal makes even a thousand years immaterial.”

Carl nodded. “So, where is the general?” he asked, squinting down the passage into the dark.

Adria moved closer to Carl and wrapped a long piece of cloth around his head. He flinched a bit but otherwise held still. When she was done, Adria said, “I don’t know.”

Ian was confused. “You don’t know what?”

“Where my husband is,” she clarified.

“How long have you two been separated?” Ian asked.

Adria shrugged. “Again, the portal makes time immaterial. I have been searching for him for what feels like many long years, but I cannot be certain.”

“You’ve been going in and out of the portal?” Ian said, his eyes wide with amazement.

“Yes.”

“But why aren’t you two together, then?” Carl asked. “I mean, how did you become separated in the first place?”

Adria stood and collected her bowl of water and the bits of cloth that remained after Carl’s bandaging, and said, “It’s a long story. One that I do not yet know I can share with you.”

Ian frowned. “Why not?”

“Because there are things in your world that have yet to take place, Ian, which may affect the past. The more you know, the more you could alter both the future and the past. I must consider carefully what to tell you.”

“Do you hear that?” Carl asked abruptly.

Ian listened, grateful that the ringing in his ears had finally subsided. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Which is what he means,” Adria said. “The bombs have stopped.”

Ian got to his feet and stared up the stairwell. “We’ve got to go back to Theo,” he told her.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll accompany you, but first let me take this back to my room and gather a few things.”

Adria hurried down the dark hallway as Ian helped Carl get to his feet. Carl swayed a bit as he stood. “You all right?” Ian asked him.

“Slightly banged up but otherwise fine,” Carl assured him. Ian was hardly convinced, and decided to keep a close watch on his friend.

Adria returned with a small bundle of belongings, and after she took up her lantern and motioned to Ian to bring the other, they made their way to the steps.

As they climbed the stairs, the air became thicker, clogged with dust and smoke, and all three of them were coughing and squinting into the murk when they eventually pushed their way into the open.

Out on the street the air was not quite so thick, but the shock of what they saw made them all gasp anew.

Nothing about their surroundings looked even remotely familiar. Most of the buildings on the street were demolished, and several of those remaining were on fire.

Their building had miraculously been spared a direct hit, but all the windows were blown out, and the face of it was scarred and pockmarked from flying debris.

A piano sat in the middle of the street, almost completely intact, while all around it were strewn bits of furniture,
broken glass, and torn fabric. The patch of sidewalk where they stood seemed to be the only area not completely covered with debris. And just down the cluttered way, Ian saw the figure of a man, lying facedown.

Ian’s stomach lurched, and reflexively he took a step in the man’s direction, but Adria’s arm shot out and she said, “Wait! I will go and see to him. You two stay here.”

Before he could protest, she was hurrying away. “Do you think he’s alive?” Carl asked.

Ian stared at the man with dread in his heart. “No.”

A moment later his fears were confirmed. Adria bent down, pulled up on the man’s shoulder, then quickly laid him back down. Standing, she looked back at Ian and Carl and shook her head.

Ian tore his eyes away from the figure in the street and stared round again, his heart now hammering hard. All he could think of was Theo and how impossible it would be for her to live through something like this. If the building where they’d been staying had been hit, how would he ever find her amid the rubble? How could she possibly survive?

And then Carl brought up something he hadn’t even thought of. “Do you think the earl’s all right?”

“I’ve no idea,” Ian admitted, feeling even more distressed now that he’d been reminded of the earl.

Adria joined them again, her face rigid and grim. “I fear that if we stay here, we will be recruited for the rescue efforts,” she said. “As much as these people need our help, we must honor your quest and see to your sister’s safety.”

Ian nodded dully. He hated to turn his back on anyone
nearby who might need his help, but there was far too much at stake for them to be delayed in returning to Theo.

He was just about to take a step away when Carl reached out for his arm and whispered, “Océanne!”

Ian’s heart dropped again. Quickly, he dug into his pocket and let out a relieved sigh when his hand touched the familiar disk. Pulling it out, he observed the dial; the shadow across its surface was the only thing marring the otherwise bright face of the bronze relic.

Adria stepped close to them. “The sundial!” she said, staring at it with obvious affection. “What have you asked it to locate?”

“Our friends,” Ian said quickly while he tried to sort through whom to go to first. “Madame Lafitte and her daughter, Océanne.”

Adria looked at him quizzically. “How did you lose track of them?”

“Monsieur Lafitte was captured in Belgium,” Carl said. “He was named as a spy and Theo suspects he’s been killed. His wife and daughter have been in hiding here in Paris, and if it weren’t for Laodamia’s prophecy, we might not be here searching for them at all.”

Adria’s eyes became large. “The prophecy?”

Ian sighed impatiently. They were standing about, wasting time. “The Oracle told us to cross the sea to save two souls, one of which had the name of open water.”

Adria’s face shone with understanding. “Océanne,” she
said. Then she looked again at the surface of the dial. “It’s pointing but a short distance away.”

“How can you tell that?” Ian asked her, wondering how she could possibly gauge the distance.

Adria pointed to the surface of the dial. “See how fat the shadow is? The closer the thing you’re searching for is, the fatter the shadow becomes.”

Carl turned to Ian and asked, “Who do we go to first?”

But Ian couldn’t decide. He felt torn in half by the weight of the decision. It was Adria who helped him determine the answer. “What does your heart say, Ian?”