flickered to life. A heretofore unrecognised row of tiny holes lit up with a pale yellowish glow. On closer examination, Mina saw that the series of holes in the brass carapace ran completely around the perimeter of the instrument. The light was weak, and would have been almost imperceptible in stronger sunlight, but in amongst the trees she could make it out well enough.
Even as the thought passed through her mind, the little yellow lights faded and died.
She stared at the thing, resisting the urge to shake it gently, and instead began walking again to see if that would bring them back. It did not. Motion, then, was not the trigger. She then began to try out various combinations in walking, touching, and direction as they occurred to her. This went on for a fair amount of time, but produced no result at all; the perimeter holes resisted any attempt on her part to coax them back into life.
Finally frustration got the better of her and, fed up, she turned around and started back to retrieve the mule and wagon. “Gus,” she muttered aloud, “what have you given me?”
At the mention of the alchemist’s name, the yellow lights sparked with a faint gleam. The effect was so quick and so definite she did not fail to discern the connection. She stopped and took a deep breath, clearing her mind of all thought. Then, very deliberately, she brought the image of Kit to mind and held it.
The pale yellow glow faded and the tiny holes went dark.
“That’s it!” cried Wilhelmina. “It works on sound.”
Gazing at the device, she raised it before her face and, speaking slowly and clearly, said, “Kit.”
But the holes remained unlit. “Kit,” she said again, but to no avail.
“Bother,” she grumped. “Just when I thought… ”
On a sudden inspiration, she brought an image of Etzel to mind once more-Etzel as she had last seen him working in the kitchen. Immediately, the row of lights took on the looked-for gleam.
Wilhelmina stared at the instrument in amazement. “Not sound, but thought,” she whispered. Still holding Etzel’s pleasant round face before her mind’s eye, she turned in the general direction of the city, and the row of lights grew gently brighter, with those pointed more directly towards the city taking on a deeper, warmer hue. Then, as a test, she switched the mental image back to Kit, and the little lights immediately dimmed and went out.
“I am gobsmacked.” She raised the ley lamp and pressed it to her lips. “You clever little thing.”
She tried the same small experiment a few more times, and each time obtained the same result: the lights winked on when thinking of Etzel- whom she knew to be in Prague-and blinked off the moment she shifted her attention to Kit. For a more difficult trial, she thought of Thomas Young, the archaeologist she had sought out to help Kit excavate the tomb containing the Skin Map. Again, the yellow lights came up, fainter this time; the marginally brighter area shifted along the perimeter, pointing vaguely towards the southeast. Directional signs… nice touch, she thought.
Instantly, the lights went out.
“Now what?” She stared at the gizmo. What had she done to make it behave that way? She decided to try again and consciously drew up the image of Dr. Young once more; the lights flicked on, as intense as before. Then, on a whim, she dismissed the doctor and thought instead about Giles. Again the little lights flickered slightly, then glowed, but the ring around the edge moved, the brighter lights indicating a different direction. “In-bloody-credible,” Wilhelmina murmured, shaking her head in wonder.
She tested this theory a few more times to be certain-each test with a different person-and it did seem to be the case that whenever she thought of someone she knew, whether in a separate dimension or not, the device reacted. But as soon as the mental link with the desired object of her attention was broken, the lights faded-as if, connection severed, the line went dead.
Head swimming with the implications of her discovery, she stood in the narrow gap between the trees gazing at the device, only stirring from her contemplation when she heard the rooks calling in the trees surrounding the adjacent fields and smelled pungent wood smoke on the air-hearth fires were being lit in nearby farmhouses. The short day was swiftly fading; evening was moving in. Stowing the ley lamp safely in her pocket once more, Wilhelmina hurried back to the mule and wagon and returned to the city, her mind filled with questions and half- formed possibilities. Indeed, it would take her some time to fully appreciate, let alone comprehend, the capabilities of the new instrument and what it all meant.
That could come later. There was something she had to do first. Right away. Before she did another thing.
Mina drove the mule and cart straight back to the city. The torches and smudge pots were being lit for the night as she passed through the gates; with a wave to the gatemen she rambled up the long street that led into the Old Town Square. She left the wagon outside the Kaffeehaus and went inside. The air was warm and full of the yeasty scent of dough on the rise. Mina drew a breath deep into her lungs. A few patrons idled over their coffee and strudel in an atmosphere of peace and calm. The warm scent of fresh coffee and rising dough mingled in the air. I love this place, she thought. Is there anywhere better than this?
She called a breezy greeting to her patrons and staff as she swept through the dining room and headed straight for the kitchen, where Etzel was instructing two of his young helpers about the next day’s preparations.
“We will make braided raisin bread tomorrow,” he was saying. “See that the baking trays are clean and ready before you leave tonight.” He half turned as Wilhelmina entered the room. “Ach, mein Schatz,” he said, breaking into a smile when he saw her. “There you are. Hilda was looking for you.”
“I will see her later.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned to one of the assistants. “Hans, the wagon is outside. Take it to the stable, please, and see the mule’s water bucket is full. Give him an extra handful of grain.”
“ Jawohl, Fraulein Mina,” replied the young baker smartly.
“Barthelm,” she said to the other helper. “Go with him. I wish to speak to Herr Stiffelbeam alone.”
The two kitchen aides left the room. “Come, Etzel,” she said as soon as they were gone. She took his hand in hers and led him to the worktable. “I want you to sit down.”
“Mina, what is it? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she assured him. “But I have to tell you something.”
She drew a stool from beneath the table and perched him on it, then paused, thinking how to begin. Concern and curiosity wheeled across his good-natured face. Wilhelmina smiled.
“Dear Etzel,” she sighed. “What will I do without you?”
“I hope you will not have to do without me, Herzerl,” he said.
“But that is what I have to say.” She took his hand again and, clasping it in both of hers, raised it to her lips. “I think I may have to go away for a while, and I want you to know the reason so you won’t worry about me.”
“Go away?” His expression grew puzzled. “Why? Where will you go?”
“I have a confession to make,” she said. “This will not be the first time I have gone away.”
“I know you go out into the country,” he said. “To talk to the farmers and the beekeepers.”
“That is true,” she allowed, “but there is more. I have been travelling to other places too. Many other places.”
He stared at her in baffled silence.
“Etzel,” she said softly, “it is time you knew the whole truth. Some of the places where I go are not of this world.”
He continued to gaze at her until at last the light of understanding shone in his eyes. Nodding slowly, he replied, “ Ach, mein Schatz, we are none of us belonging to this world.”
CHAPTER 5
Archibald Burley walked, as he walked everywhere these days, with a sprightly spring in his step. Life, in all its unique and unqualified splendour, stretched before him in glittering vistas of happiness, success, and unstinting prosperity. As the-man-alsoknown-as Lord Archelaeus Burleigh, Earl of Sutherland, his acumen in finding and
