Twist of the Blade (23 page)

“Did you sleep well?” Major said, leading him to the elevator.

“Not long enough,” Wally said. He yawned again. “I hate jet lag.”

“Coffee and a croissant will do wonders,” Major assured him.

What polite conversationalists we are
, Wally thought,
considering he’s a millennium-old wizard, I’m a kid from Saskatchewan and just a couple of weeks ago he was trying to kill me
. Descending into the Lady’s watery chamber had had much the same effect on his life as falling down the rabbit hole had on Alice’s.

A few minutes later he felt much more like himself, thanks to an almond croissant, another filled and drizzled with chocolate and his first espresso ever. He smacked his lips, wondering which would fade first: the bitter aftertaste or the buzz of caffeine.

Major glanced at his watch. “7:20,” he said. “My car should be out front. Shall we?”

The car, a long black Mercedes, was indeed waiting. As he slid across the butter-soft leather of the rear seat, Wally thought,
I could get used to this
.

“Allons-y,” Major said. (Wally smirked, wondering if Rex Major had ever seen the David Tennant incarnation of
Doctor Who
.) The chauffeur touched his black-visored cap with a black-gloved hand, then drove them smoothly into the narrow street in front of the hotel. Tires squealed behind them and Wally turned in his seat to see the driver of a green delivery truck shaking his fist furiously. Wally gave him a cheerful wave and turned around again.

It took half an hour to get out of Lyon, but soon they were zipping through farmland along a smooth highway. A bit more than an hour after they had left the hotel, though, they turned off that main road onto a winding secondary road, still paved, but much narrower, that led them up into the blue, stony ridges that paralleled the highway. Grey stone, green trees, lakes and rivers...it looked a little bit like northern Ontario to Wally, who was keeping his eyes on the scenery to avoid having to talk to Rex Major.

Ariane hadn’t bubbled up in his tub in the middle of the night. She also hadn’t phoned, and he’d checked his e-mail that morning, discovering nothing but the usual spam.

Wally couldn’t figure out how anyone could fall for the obvious scams that flooded e-mail boxes.
Everybody wants something for nothing,
he thought.
But TANSTAAFL. There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. Everything costs something. It’s just a question of how much you’re willing to pay for it.

He stole a glance at Major. The software magnate appeared to be asleep, head tucked into the corner of the seat,
mouth slack, breathing softly.
What’s Major willing to pay for what he wants?
Wally wondered.
What’s Ariane?

Or more to the point
, he thought,
what are Major and Ariane willing to make ordinary people pay...people like my sister?

He wondered how Flish was doing. She’d be in the hospital for a few more days. He wondered if he’d see her again.

He wondered how she’d feel about it if he didn’t.

He tried to put that rather morbid thought out of his head and concentrate on the landscape outside. They flew past a tiny village whose name Wally missed as the sign flashed by, though he thought it said something about an Abbey. Moments later they turned off the secondary road onto a route that barely deserved to be called a road at all. Unpaved, rough and rutted, it ran so close to the trees on either side Wally thought if he rolled down the window he could probably grab the branches. They were moving much more slowly now, but still the car rocked and bounced so much it worsened his headache and unsettled his insides. He swallowed hard.
Hope we get there soon
, he thought.
Be a shame to throw up all over this nice black leather.

Ahead he saw nothing but the tall green-and-brown fence of the forest, broken occasionally by looming walls of grey stone. When he looked back, everything was blotted out by the cloud of dust marking their passage. If it had been raining, he suspected the road would have been thick, impassible mud. But it was dry, dry, dry.
Not much for Ariane to work with, even if she’s here
, he thought. But then they rumbled across an ancient stone bridge and he looked out and saw a broad river, winding between limestone cliffs.

Ten minutes later, they rolled to a stop in a clearing. A Renault SUV sat in front of the kind of trailer you’d see outside a construction site, and two smaller cars were parked near a couple of metal-sided prefabricated huts and a green portable toilet.

As the Mercedes pulled in behind the Renault, the door of the trailer opened and a man emerged. A little on the short side, a little on the rotund side, and a lot on the bald side, he wore a dapper grey suit and a huge smile. He came around to Major’s side of the car, swung open the door, and stepped back with an expansive sweep of his arm. “Monsieur Major, welcome!”

Major climbed out and offered his hand. “Dr. Beaudry?”

The man shook his hand vigorously. “Oui. And may I say, monsieur, it is a great honour. A very great honour.” His English was excellent; Wally had no trouble understanding him at all. “The Ministry is thrilled by your interest. And I do not think you will be disappointed.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Major.

Wally got out of his side of the car and stared around, trying to figure out where they were, and what this well-dressed Frenchman was doing in what looked like a construction camp. “I have always been intrigued by antiquities,” Major continued, “and I confess the tale of the discovery of this cavern –” Wally’s interest was piqued – “has captured my fancy.”

“Oui, yes, a wonderful discovery! Three schoolteachers, spelunking on a weekend in a tunnel, just about to leave. But then, ahead in the helmet light, a flash of colour...quite remarkable. Had they left even two minutes earlier, these paintings would still be unknown to us.” Dr. Beaudry spread his hands. “But with the discovery comes responsibility. They are very fragile. If we do not protect them, they could be lost forever. We have done what we can, and we will do more, but resources are limited. Your support would....”

“Of course, of course,” Major said. “And I certainly have every intention of supporting your work. But you understand I can’t make any firm commitments until I have seen the paintings myself?”

Wally finally made the connection: caverns and paintings.
Cave paintings?
He felt a surge of excitement that had nothing to do with Excalibur.
Cool!

Dr. Beaudry nodded vigorously. “Mais certainement!” He gestured behind him, off to the left. “If you will follow me?”

Wally took a deep breath as they crossed the clearing. The air smelled of pine and dust, a smell that instantly made him think of vacations in the Rockies.
You’d think French trees would smell different
, he thought.

The scientist led them to a set of stone steps carved into the lip of the cliff. They descended those, and then turned right, onto a narrow path. Wally kept close to the cliff face; the far side of the path fell away into nothingness, a sheer drop all the way to the pointy tops of pine trees far below. As he looked out over the forest he paused, hand on the rock wall, feeling dizzy for a moment. Major glanced back at him and Wally straightened and continued the descent, the dizziness already fading.

Beyond the pines was another ridge of limestone, and as they went on down, Wally caught a glimpse of water through a gap in that ridge and guessed it must be the river they had crossed earlier. Eventually they descended below the level of the treetops, and a few moments later followed the path off the cliff and into the forest. After about twenty metres it led them to another clearing, nestled in a kind of box canyon formed where the cliff they had come down jutted out to join the ridge closer to the river. At the far end of the clearing, close to the rock face, squatted a blue tent, surrounded on three sides by a chain-link fence. Two beefy men in grey uniforms sat on lawn chairs just inside the closed gate, which they jumped up to open when they saw Dr. Beaudry and his guests.

Wally, jet lag dogging his footsteps, trailed a good five metres behind Rex Major as they approached the fence. Major had eyes only for the tent, gaze locked on it as though trying to see through the blue nylon walls. But as Major strode ahead, Wally slowed still more, suddenly conscious of something odd.

Every mile they had driven on the dirt road, every step they had taken on the descending path, had raised a cloud of choking dust. The whole region seemed gripped in drought.

So why, then, were there patches of drying mud and even a few shining puddles of water covering half the clearing?

A freak rainstorm?
Wally thought.
Or maybe they haul water from the river, and their water tank burst on the way up.
But only a
very
freakish rainstorm could wet such a tiny portion of the forest, and only a very large spill of water could wet so much of it.

Wally could think of only one other reason there might be water out of place near the cavern. He raised his head and scanned the silent forest. Nothing moved; even the birds seemed to have been discouraged by the unseasonable heat.

But whether or not she was there, silently watching him walk up to the cavern with her archenemy, or whether she was long gone with the second shard, or whether she was even then in the cavern, of one thing Wally was certain: Ariane had arrived.

She couldn’t have retrieved the shard
, he thought.
Major says he would know.

Unless she
has
, and he
does
know, and he just hasn’t told me.
His suspicion rushed back.
What if that was his plan all along – to use me as a hostage again, to force Ariane to give him the shard?

But no, that didn’t make sense. If Ariane already had the shard, she wouldn’t still be
here
, and in that case, why would Major bother coming? Wally didn’t believe for a second he was really interested in ancient cave paintings.

He glanced at those out-of-place puddles of water, and felt a twinge of anger. If Ariane had already been here, then she really
had
set out to retrieve the shard on her own, without waiting for Wally to arrive.

But nipping at anger’s heels came anxiety. If Ariane had made it this far, and the shard really was in the cavern just ahead, why hadn’t she recovered it yet?

Wally scanned the surrounding woods a second time. How would Ariane react if she saw him with Rex Major, not as his hostage, but apparently in cahoots?

Serious though the situation was, his mouth twitched.
Cahoots? Does that mean I’m turning into a...a minion?

His smile faded.
Or maybe a lackey.

He shook his head wearily. He was too tired, too jet-lagged, and his head still hurt too much for him to think clearly.
I’m not a minion. I’m not a lackey. I’m just...confused. Ariane may have abandoned me, but I haven’t abandoned her. If she’s here, and she needs help, then I’ll help her. I have to.

Major had already gone through the gate with Dr. Beaudry. Wally hurried to catch up, reaching the flap of the blue tent just as it closed behind Major. He batted the nylon out of his face and stepped into the dim, stultifyingly hot interior.

Both Dr. Beaudry and Major were taking orange jumpsuits down from pegs on the tent pole. Wally glanced around but didn’t see any more. “Where’s mine?” he asked Dr. Beaudry.

The Frenchman looked discomfited. “I am sorry, but Ministry regulations...no minors are allowed into the cave...it is very dangerous....”

“The boy stays with me,” Major said, not as if he were angry, but just as if he were stating an incontrovertible fact. “Find him a jumpsuit. Please.”

Dr. Beaudry opened his mouth as if to protest, seemed to think better of it, and silently opened a trunk at the foot of one of the beds and pulled out a third jumpsuit, this one blue. It was two sizes too large, as were the steel-toed climbing boots he was given next, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of selection. Wally pulled on a belt festooned with hammers and pitons and clips, then topped his spelunking ensemble with a helmet, complete with lamp. His head almost rattled around inside it, but he pulled the chinstrap as tight as he could and, feeling like a little kid playing dress-up, followed the two men out the back flap of the tent and to the cavern’s mouth. Major stopped, reached out, and flicked a switch to turn on Wally’s helmet lamp, then turned back to the entrance, a vertical opening in the rock face, just wide enough for the men to squeeze through. Wally slipped through much more easily onto a level floor of dry stone, and tilted his head back to look up, his light revealing slabs of limestone forming a V-shaped roof seven metres above him. He wondered how the spelunkers had recognized the cave entrance for what it was. He was pretty sure he would have just walked past it, thinking it nothing more than a shadow.

He looked down instead of up, and saw that the floor extended only about ten metres, ending abruptly in darkness. They moved forward until they stood right on the lip of a sheer drop-off. Wally flashed his light around. Looking up, he saw that the roof had sloped down until it was only a metre or so above Rex Major’s head. Wally ran his helmet lamp over it; it continued to slope for as far as he could illuminate it. He peered cautiously over the edge of the cliff and saw a pale blue light where the roof appeared to meet the floor. If there were a path deeper into the cavern, it would have to pass beneath that giant slab of rock. But it didn’t look to Wally like he
wanted
to be beneath it. He looked up uneasily, thinking of the tonnes
of rock above their heads. What exactly was holding it up?