The Queen's Necklace (34 page)

“I am more determined than ever.”

“It is well,” he said, bringing their progress to a sudden halt, “for we have reached the first stage of your ordeal.” He released her hand. “If you will turn to your right, you will discover a niche in the wall. Inside that niche is a drinking vessel. Before we proceed any further, you must pick up that vessel and drink the contents.”

Lili turned and groped in the darkness; her hands brushed against cold stone, then found emptiness. A moment later, her fingers closed around the stem of a cold metal goblet. As she lifted the cup to her lips, she could not resist taking a cautious sniff.

Wine, she decided, but also something more. The draught was
bitter and slightly salty. No sooner had she swallowed it than a queer drowsy warmth began to spread through her veins. She put down the cup, turned, reached for the hand of her guide. But as their fingers touched, Lili gasped and drew back.

That brief contact had caused a thrill to pass through her like a shock,
a shock that made her aware of every inch of her own skin, of every nerve-ending
. At the same time, she had been intensely aware of him, his powerful body, his masculine solidity—aware, too, that he had shared in everything she was feeling. She knew if she allowed herself to touch him again, it would be an act more intimate than anything she had ever shared with Wilrowan.

“You have nothing to fear, Mrs. Blackheart. I am aware of your present condition and will not take advantage. It is necessary for me to hold your hand a little longer, but I can assure you there will be nothing worse than that between us.”

Lili swallowed hard. This was very like the moment when she had been obliged to trust Sir Bastian and go up to his room at the tavern.

“I beg your pardon. I was merely—startled.” She forced herself to take his hand again. This time the shock was less, but her pulse leaped, the sweat started out on her skin, and it seemed as though she could not possibly get enough air into her lungs.

“Breathe as I breathe,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Match your breaths to mine, and regulate your pulse in the same way.” He adjusted her grip so her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, so she could feel the ebb and flow of blood under his skin. “You have done this thing many times before.”

Yes, she had done it, when her patients were weak, when their spirits were failing, in order to keep them alive. But never before with a strong and virile man, standing in the dark. Yet, if she did not do this, she knew she was the one who was going to be sick, who was about to fall into a deadly swoon. Reluctantly, she did as he told her. Focusing her mind, she took a long, slow, deep breath.
She drew
in the
pneuma,
which was the breath of the cosmos, and sent it coursing through her body to purify the blood
.

“If you are feeling better now, we will proceed.” He did not wait for Lili to answer; linked as they were, he knew as well as she did that the effects of whatever drug or poison had been in the cup were under control.

As Lili and her escort moved down the corridor, the sound and scent of running water increased. A moment later, their footsteps rang hollow over wooden planks; she realized they were crossing a bridge over the underground river.

When they stopped on the other side, he spoke in her ear. “We are now entering the innermost regions of the Temple of Mysteries. From this point on, there is no turning back. I urge you, Lilliana, to follow my directions exactly.” He spoke roughly, hoarsely. Nor did Lili fail to notice how he had abandoned the polite “Mrs. Blackheart” for her given name.

She thought that he must be trying to frighten her, that it was another test. She forced herself to answer confidently. “I have followed your instructions so far, sir. I am happy to continue doing so.”

“That is just as well,” he said, leading her forward again. “For I tell you now that your very life depends on it.”

I
t seemed to Lili that she must have been walking for many miles. Thanks to the draught she had swallowed, the exalting warmth running through her veins, she was far from weary, but the time she had spent under the ground seemed to stretch back days, weeks, even years, into some immeasurable past.

“Here I take leave of you,” said her escort, coming to a halt. “But I will tell you what you must do and you must listen very carefully. A wrong step or a wrong turn could be fatal. Twelve steps from the place where we stand, this corridor opens on another. You will take the right-hand turning and proceed for thirty paces more. At that time you will find yourself at the junction of two corridors. Turn to your left and walk for one hundred and thirteen paces, counting the numbers backward. Can you tell these instructions back to me?”

“I believe I can,” said Lili, and repeated them as she remembered them.

“Very good,” said her invisible guide. “When you have done all this, you will find yourself facing a door. Knock three times on that door and wait for an answer.”

Suddenly, his hand was no longer there; Lili could hear his rapid footsteps moving away. She felt oddly bereft, though she had known
him such a very short time. She wondered who he was, if they would ever meet again.

Lili turned her thoughts back to the task at hand. She must remember the numbers: 12, 30, 113. Was there some sort of significance? No, she must not think about that, she must concentrate on what she must do, mind her steps very carefully, as she had been warned that a false one might prove fatal.

She took twelve slow, measured paces, turned to her right, and began to count again. After another thirty steps, a draft of cold air indicated she had reached the cross corridor. Turning away from the draft, she started to count backward, starting at one hundred and thirteen.

As she moved slowly forward, a great wind came sweeping down the dark passage, nearly knocking her off her feet. The wind became a tempest, shrieking and tearing at her clothes, swirling around her on all sides, until she felt that she stood at the heart of a hurricane. It became more and more difficult for Lili to concentrate, harder and harder not to lose count. But she was determined. The Centrifugal Wind continued to roar in her ears, to buffet her on all sides.

“Three, two, one,” she shouted above the blast. There was a sudden silence; the tempest died away. Lili realized that she was drenched in cold sweat and her hands were trembling.

Reaching out with her left hand, she felt the grain of a rough wooden panel. Raising her fist, she rapped three times. There was no answer at first, except that a dim light began to grow in the inky blackness behind her, as if someone slowly uncovered a dark lantern.

<
Look back the way that you have come
.> The words seemed to create themselves out of the increasingly bright air; they had no apparent source, though somehow Lili had the impression of a woman's voice, high and sweet.

Obediently, she turned, gave a gasp of surprise. She was not in
an underground tunnel, but in a vast cavern. Two short steps from the place where she stood there was a wide chasm, a deep cleft in the floor of the cave, cutting straight across the path she had just travelled.

And the depths were unfathomable. Had she fallen, she might well be falling still.

I
should
have fallen
, thought Lili. It would have been impossible for her to step across so great a distance. But how on earth had she managed to reach this place without walking on—nothing? The question was still burning in her brain when' the light went suddenly out, leaving Lili once more in impenetrable darkness.

The disembodied voice spoke again. <
Lilliana.
> Lili turned away from the chasm. <
That is right, Lilliana. The door is before you. Do not hesitate to enter the Inner Sanctum.
>

Lili reached out with both hands, searching for a knob or a handle. When she found neither, she pushed on the wooden panel, first lightly, then with all her strength. The door would not budge.

<
Why do you wait?
>

“I wait because the door will not open.”

“I—but how am I to do that?” Lili was willing, but uncertain how to proceed.

how
to pass through solid wood, you must simply do it.>

“Yes, I see.” And it was true. Though later Lili would search her mind in vain for the means to accomplish this, for now the way seemed perfectly clear. Squaring her shoulders and stepping confidently forward, she moved right through the oak panel and into the chamber beyond.

She stood inside a great eight-sided tomb. In niches all around the vault there were iron torches, each one producing a blue flame, each one filling the air with a thick, faintly sweet odor. Was it naphtha? Lili wondered. The walls were covered with inscriptions, and a long line of empty marble catafalques stretched before her—empty, that is, except for one, where a body lay on the white marble slab draped in a veil of thin yellow silk. With a deep sense of dread weighting her footsteps, Lili moved in that direction.

With trembling hands, she raised the veil, half expecting to see her own face. It was not her own face, it was Wilrowan's: cold, still, and pale. She let out a cry of pure horror, and shrank back, covering her eyes with her hands.

But it is only a wax effigy—it must be
. Again Lili forced herself to look. The face changed—it melted and reformed itself in another likeness: Llli's father. Then, in swift succession, it became Allora—Sir Bastian—Dionee—Lib's cousin Nick.

Was this a vision, a premonition? Were all these people soon to die?
No, it can't be
, something inside her insisted stubbornly.
But it may be a sign for me to interpret. What does it mean?

“I must let the past bury the past. I must be prepared to enter into a new life.”

said the same sweet voice that had spoken outside the door.

Taken for a moment by surprise, Lili hesitated. Then she remembered the lessons that Allora had taught her. “Through Spirit, Matter, Motion, and Rest.”

“Past, Present, and Future,” Lili recited. “But there is a fourth mystery that will only be revealed in the Final Days.”

Lili began to feel more confident. “The body is made of four elements: Spirit, Flesh, Bone, and Humor. The soul is made up of three: Passion, Desire, and Reason.”

There were more questions, growing more and more difficult, until at last, after a long pause:

said the voice, and part of one wall seemed to melt away, letting in a sudden blaze of yellow firelight.

There must be some mistake
, thought Lili, as she stumbled through the gap in the wall and into the brilliant chamber beyond. It was an ordinary room, lit by dozens of candles—at least, it seemed like an ordinary room, until one remembered that it was not located in an ordinary house upon the earth, but was situated hundreds of feet under the ground. There were several chairs and tables, a sofa upholstered in crimson velvet, a painted screen. Occupying that room, gathered in sociable-looking groups by the sofa and the fireplace, were a number of perfectly ordinary-looking people.

Lili blinked. It was like blundering into some formal gathering without an invitation. It was like—it was
very
like a dinner party, or some equally mundane occasion.

Whatever the occasion, it seemed that Lili was the guest of honor. Her Aunt Allora detached herself from one of the groups, and everyone else turned in Lili's direction with smiles and greetings. “You have done well to come so far,” said Allora, standing on tiptoe to brush a kiss on Lili's cheek. “You have passed through even greater dangers than you know, and the best part is yet before you.

“But in the meantime,” she added, “allow me to present—” and Allora went on to name a great many names. Feeling very much as though she had wandered into some bizarre dream, Lili caught only a few. “—Sir Bastian, you already know. But you will be pleased to
be made acquainted, I know—with Miss Chloe Hunt, Mr. Horace Powers-Payne—and especially Sir Frederic Tregaron-Marlowe.”

Sir Frederic was a stern, stout, professorial old gentleman, who bowed coldly. “Doubtless, Mrs. Blackheart, you have many questions, but the time for you to ask or for us to answer them is not yet. Doubtless, too, you are famished, and that will be attended to shortly. For now, we congratulate you on your courage.”

There was a flutter of excitement among the younger women. Moving across the room, Sir Frederic lifted a purple velvet drapery along one wall, revealing an open door on the other side. “I will leave you, now, in the hands of these young ladies. Under Miss Hunt's direction, they will prepare you for the ceremony. We will meet again presently.” He stepped through the door, and Allora and all of the men followed him out of the room.

The young women swarmed around Lili, exclaiming how tired she looked, offering to help her to bathe, to dress before the ceremony.
But how very odd—they are treating me just like a bride
, she thought, remembering a young cousin's wedding two years before.

Still feeling dazed, she yielded to their ministrations. Chatting among themselves, they removed her cloak, her muff, and her shoes. Miss Chloe Hunt was the one who unhooked her gown. Someone moved the painted screen and a large marble bathtub was waiting on the other side. Lili blushed at the thought of bathing before so many people, but the young ladies were determined. Before she knew it, they had stripped off her clothes, were ruthlessly pulling the hairpins out of her hair—then she was dressed in a coarse linen bathing gown, and seated in the water.