The Book With No Name (36 page)

The book was in English – to her relief – most of it inscribed in black ink in a neat script, although there was evidence of other hands, as well as numerous emendations and marginalia. It began with a handwritten warning on the first page. The author had inserted what read a little like a disclaimer:

Dear Reader,

Only the pure of heart may look upon the pages of this book.

Every page you turn, every chapter you read, will bring you closer to the end.

Not everyone will make it. The many different plots and styles may dazzle and confuse.

And all the while as you search for the truth, it will be there right before you.

Darkness will come, and with it great evil.

And those who have read the book may never see the light again.

Unfortunately, the book had no list of contents, no chapter headings, and no index, and any information about the Eye was likely to be spread widely through its pages. To read the entire text, which was in manuscript throughout, from cover to cover would take her about three days with little or no sleep. Too long – with the Lunar Festival almost upon them, there certainly wasn’t enough time. Acutely conscious of this, she began scouring the book’s handwritten pages for any mention of the Eye. It took her an hour, until nearly ten o’clock, before she found the first mention of it.

Because she was merely scanning the book for mention of the Eye of the Moon, the Mystic Lady had not managed to learn much of the general gist of what the book was about. All she had managed to discover was that the author of the first few chapters hinted that he was one of Jesus Christ’s twelve Apostles, and had started writing the book as a journal after the crucifixion. Where others had begun documenting the life and times of Christ in the texts that would be assembled in the New Testament, this person had written only about what had occurred in the aftermath of the crucifixion. She found that her eyes and brain soon became accustomed to the handwritten script, and the pages were made of a thick, yellowish parchment that went some way to explaining the volume’s astonishingly good condition, given its antiquity.

At some time the journal had fallen into the hands of someone who had translated it into English, and later entries in the book were all in the same language. About a fifth of the way through the book, the handwriting changed and the story became the tale of a character named Xavier, a gentleman travelling around Egypt on a quest for the Holy Grail. It was an odd change of tack in the book, because the first section had been kept as a diary, whereas the adventures of Xavier reminded her nothing so much as a bad script for an Indiana Jones movie. But here, at last, was a reference to the subject of her own quest.

The story told how Xavier had stayed at a temple where he had come across a painting of a magnificent blue stone known
as the Eye of the Moon. The stone’s whereabouts, he learned, was a closely guarded secret that the monks of the temple were unwilling to share with him. The anonymous author became very passionate about this part of the tale, spending several pages expressing Xavier’s desire to know where it might be and what secrets it might hold. Apparently, the monks were forbidden by their vows to keep possessions, certainly those of any financial worth, so it fascinated Xavier that they would retain something so obviously valuable, and more importantly, keep it so well hidden. He had stumbled across the picture of it quite by accident one day while looking for Father Gaius, the principal monk. Gaius had become quite angry with Xavier and had even gone to the lengths of destroying the painting, which he had removed and ordered to be burned.

In the end, Xavier’s search for information about the Holy Grail took him to pastures new, and there was no other mention of the Eye again in the book for quite some time. The Mystic Lady had become so engrossed in the adventures of Xavier that she was very tempted to carry on reading about his quest for the Grail, but she knew that there would be time to read more later. She had to find out all she could about the Eye. That was her top priority.

It was almost eleven o’clock before she found some further information. The narrative was still centred on Xavier and was now set in the winter of the year 1537. While travelling around Central America, Xavier had stumbled across one of the monks from the Egyptian temple. The monk had been a young novice when they had first met, but was now a fully grown man. More importantly, as far as Xavier was concerned, this monk, Ishmael, had been banished from the temple after falling foul of Father Gaius. Although the book was annoyingly vague about the reasons, it was clear that Ishmael had broken one of the monks’ sacred vows, and in doing so had compromised the secret hiding place of the Eye of the Moon. The story then continued rather slowly, with Xavier and Ishmael becoming inseparable and travelling together in search of the Holy Grail. Again the Mystic Lady found herself getting sidetracked as it
became more and more apparent that Xavier and his newfound friend were extremely close to locating the so-called ‘Cup of Christ’. Then, just as it seemed they were within an ace of finding it, the author changed again, literally in mid-sentence. A completely different handwriting took up the narrative, and there was no more mention of the Holy Grail.

The new writer never referred to himself by name but was quite certainly a man. The Mystic Lady had sensed this from the way he spoke of a battle against the forces of evil, and a quest to find the Eye of the Moon before the ‘Dark Lord’. There had been no mention of any Dark Lord up to this point, or at least none that she had noticed. This author told exciting tales of adventure upon the high seas and expeditions through deserts. It was all good, heroic stuff, right up until the author suddenly fell in love. Bored by the sentiments that now swamped the tale, the Mystic Lady tried to flick past this part. The author droned on and on about how he had fallen for a girl named Maria, and how he had given up his right to return home because of his forbidden love for her.

The tediousness of the love story began to make the Mystic Lady feel rather drowsy, so shortly before midnight she made herself a mug of coffee. But the caffeine boost did little to stimulate her brain, and so she therefore decided to get a few hours’ sleep. She pulled a thin black leather bookmark from a drawer in her table and placed it on the page where she had stopped reading. However, as she went to close the book it fell open at a page with a drawing on it. She had come across several maps and diagrams, as well as artefacts and buildings, scattered intermittently through the book. All of the authors had been particularly good at recording such things, but this picture was different. It was a drawing of a happy couple. Beneath it was a caption written in a fine italic hand. Blinking hard to keep her eyes open, the Mystic Lady peered down to read what it said:

‘
The Dark Lord Xavier on his wedding day.
’

There came a knock at her door. A loud booming knock. Caught unawares, the Mystic Lady started like a frightened deer. Her initial thought was to get up and answer the door so that she could hurl a torrent of abuse at whatever idiot had come knocking so late at night. Usually the only people ever to knock on her door at such a late hour were drunken teenagers or travellers who wanted their fortunes told. However, it being Lunar Festival, she decided to show a little caution before opening the door to someone she had yet to see.

‘Who’s there?’ she called out.

There was no answer. This was not, in fact, unusual. It often happened that some of the comedians who came to visit her didn’t reply when she asked ‘Who’s there?’ It was an unoriginal prank that some of the more small-minded visitors liked to play. ‘I thought you’d know it was me,’ they would say when she answered the door. ‘What kind of a fortune teller are you if you didn’t know it was me?’ and so on – feeble jokes that she had heard a thousand times over the years.

It was with a little trepidation and a great deal of annoyance that she got up from her table and went to the door. As carefully and quietly as she could, she unlocked it and peered out, ready to fire off some abuse at whatever idiot was out there. What she saw came as her second surprise of the last few minutes.

Standing outside in the cold night was a young woman dressed all in black. The Mystic Lady almost didn’t see her in the dark. Had her face not been so pale, she would have been all but invisible in the night.

‘Do you know what time it is?’ she asked the young woman, crossly.

‘I am sorry. It’s just that I really need your help with something,’ her visitor replied.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Jessica.’

‘Well, Jessica, might I recommend that you come back tomorrow during the day? I’m closed right now, and I’m about ready to go to bed.’

‘Please, miss, I only need five minutes of your time,’ the girl pleaded.

She looked extremely cold and tired, as well as somewhat desperate. More importantly, though, she looked sober, and she had pleading eyes, so the Mystic Lady took pity on her. Surely this pretty and innocent-looking girl couldn’t be a prankster?

‘I was hoping you could tell me who I am,’ Jessica went on. ‘You see, I’ve been in a coma for five years, and I seem to be suffering from amnesia.’

Hmm,
the old woman thought to herself,
perhaps she was a prankster after all.
She replied crisply, ‘Oh, what rubbish. Honestly, couldn’t you come up with something better than that?’

‘Please, ma’am, you must believe me. I keep having visions … you know … flashbacks. I think a man called the Bourbon Kid may be coming to kill me. It’s all something to do with the Eye of the Moon.’

The Eye of the Moon! What were the chances?
Mention of the Bourbon Kid and the Eye of the Moon was just about the only reason for which the Mystic Lady would let anyone into her home at this late hour. She wanted as much information about the Eye as she could get, and felt that to turn this young woman away and risk never seeing her again was too big a chance to take.

‘All right,’ she relented. ‘Come in. Just five minutes, mind.’

‘Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.’

The Mystic Lady led the girl into her narrow room and gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs at her table. Jessica did as instructed.

‘What’s the book you’re reading?’ she asked.

‘Never you mind.’ The fortune teller scowled.

The Mystic Lady had no wish to become too heavily involved with the comings and goings of the people who were pursuing the stone. If Jessica turned out to be a fraud – or worse – then the last thing the fortune teller wanted was for
the girl to know that she herself was taking an over-zealous interest in the Eye of the Moon. She closed the book and placed it on the floor under the desk, then took up her usual position in the tall-backed wooden chair across the table from Jessica.

‘So, then, Jessica. What do
you
know about yourself?’

‘Not much. I’ve been too afraid to ask around in case anyone sees me as a soft touch and tries to take advantage. People see a young woman and find out she knows no one and no one knows her, they start to get ideas, you know?’

‘Well, that’s true,’ the Mystic Lady agreed. ‘So you know
nothing,
then?’

‘No, I do know a little. I know that a man called the Bourbon Kid tried to kill me about five years ago, and that’s why I was in a coma. Now I suspect he’s after me again, but I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is I’ve done to upset him. Do you think you can help me? My friend Jefe suggested I ask for your help.’

‘Jefe, you say?’ the Mystic Lady inquired, recognizing the name of the feared bounty hunter.

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘A little. He’s been here once or twice.’

‘So … is he right?
Can
you help me?’

‘Maybe. Let’s look into my crystal ball and see what we can find.’

The Mystic Lady leaned forward, lifted the black silk cover off the crystal ball on her table and dropped it on to the book on the floor at her feet. Then she began to rub her hands slowly over the ball, as if trying to warm it. The curious mist swirled around inside for a few moments, before slowly clearing. Gradually the silhouette of a man began to appear in the heart of the glass sphere.

‘Oh … I see the hooded man … the Bourbon Kid,’ the old woman gasped. ‘I think you’re right. I think he may be coming for you.’ She stopped peering into the ball and stared up into Jessica’s eyes to see how she reacted. ‘This man is bad news. Very bad news. He killed a lot of people in this town five years ago. If he’s coming after you, then I suggest you get
as far away from Santa Mondega as you possibly can.’

Jessica looked horrified, and deeply worried. There was no faking such a reaction.
So she’s not a fraud,
the fortune teller thought, as the girl spoke.

‘Do you know why he wants to kill me? Does your ball tell you that? Or can it tell you anything about me? Where do I come from? How did I survive last time?’

‘Please, dear, one question at a time,’ said the Mystic Lady, looking closer into the clouded sphere for answers. ‘This man, this Bourbon Kid, he has unfinished business with you,’ she said slowly, concentrating hard on the swirling images in the ball. ‘His desire to kill you is very, very strong. He’ll stop at nothing, and he’s been preparing himself for your return. My God, this man has foul intentions towards you. Only thing is, though, I can’t see why … No, hold on – something is coming to me.’

Very suddenly, she jumped back as if startled by something.

‘What? What is it?’ cried Jessica. ‘What have you seen?’ The old woman looked absolutely terrified. Her face had gone very white, and she was trembling slightly. Her voice quavered when she spoke again. ‘You say you really don’t know who you are?’ she asked Jessica.

‘Yes. Why? What have you seen? Who am I?’

‘I … I don’t know … I’m sorry. You should leave.’ All of a sudden it seemed that the fortune teller couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

‘Why? What did you see?’ ‘Nothing, I saw nothing, I tell you. Now go.’ The Mystic Lady was clearly lying. She knew it, and she knew that Jessica knew it. Normally she could cover up a lie as convincingly as the next fortune teller, but on this occasion she had slipped up. It was obvious from her reaction that she knew something, and the girl wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.