a TV set made the place feel almost homely.
‘Would you like coffee?’ Oscar asked, his dark eyes twinkling within his deeply tanned face. ‘Or. . maybe something a little stronger.’ He shot a look towards the door. ‘Between you and me, I’ve got a flask of whisky in my jacket.’
‘Coffee’s fine,’ Liv said, sitting on a chair next to a desk containing a stack of paperwork and a computer.
She turned slightly as Gabriel came in. He had his arm round the beautiful woman and his head dipped low. He spoke softly but rapidly, a look of earnest concentration on his face. The woman closed the door as Gabriel finished speaking, then looked up at Liv and moved round the desk to sit down opposite her, a smile softening her face. ‘I’m glad you’re safe here with us,’ she said. ‘I’m Kathryn. I left you the warnings. My son’s just been filling me in on what’s happened.’
Liv’s eyes flicked between her and Gabriel.
Gabriel pulled two chairs over from the far desk and sat on one of them, slipping the black canvas bag to the floor as he settled and opening it up. Seeing them side by side Liv could now see a strong physical similarity between them — though the woman hardly looked old enough to be his mother. Gabriel pulled something from inside the bag and handed it to her. It was her holdall. She smiled, feeling such gratitude for his simple yet thoughtful act. It was like being reunited with a piece of normality. She found the paper envelope in the outside pocket, lifted the flap and looked at the top photo of her and Samuel.
‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ Kathryn continued. ‘And for the trials you’ve endured since you learnt of your brother’s death. I would not have chosen for you to be caught up in our ancient struggle, but fate had other plans.’
Oscar appeared by her side and placed a mug of black coffee on the desk by Liv before sitting in the last remaining chair. As his face lined up with theirs Liv noticed he too resembled them.
‘Your brother was a member of an ancient brotherhood of monks,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘Their sole purpose, to guard and protect the Sacrament. We think his death was an act of supreme self-sacrifice to send a message revealing its identity.’ He fixed Liv with his bright eyes, the deep wrinkles surrounding them suggesting a lifetime of laughter. ‘We think he sent that message to you.’
Liv stared at him for a moment then slowly lifted up her notebook and laid it on the desk between them. She looked down and turned to the second page where she had copied the symbols from the seeds.
‘This is what he sent to me,’ she said, sliding the notebook across the desk towards them. ‘I’ve re-arranged them every which way to try and make sense of it. Then I met Dr Anata, and found this on the spot where my brother fell.’ She slipped the card from between the pages and showed them the cryptic message:
T
MALA
MARTYR
‘From that I managed to re-arrange the letters into this — ’ She pointed at the last thing she had written:
T +?
Ask Mala
‘That’s when you arrived,’ she said, glancing up at Gabriel and discovering he was already looking at her. He smiled a small smile that travelled all the way to his eyes. She looked away, feeling the heat of a blush rising beneath her skin. ‘So,’ she said, looking instead at the old man. ‘You’re the Mala. I guess I’m asking you — what is the “T”?’
Oscar looked at her, his eyes suddenly tired and sad. ‘It was ours once,’ he said, ‘and is sometimes referred to as the Mala T. But as to what it is — I’m afraid we don’t know.’
Liv stared at him for a beat, not trusting what she’d heard. ‘But you must,’ she said, ‘my brother staked his life on it. Why would he send me to find you if he didn’t think you’d be able to help?’
Oscar shook his head. ‘Maybe this isn’t the message.’
Liv stared down at the phrase at the bottom of the page. She’d pulled every combination of words she could from the letters. This was the only thing that had made any sense. She reached out for her notebook and flicked to the first page. ‘Look,’ she said, pointing at the rough drawing of her brother’s body where the T was burnt on to his arm. ‘He had the same thing branded on to his body as well as these other scars. Maybe the message is in them!’
A sudden ripping sound made her look up. ‘The scars are not the message,’ Oscar said, pulling open another Velcro fastening on his flight suit, ‘they are merely a badge of office. They are part of the ritual associated with the Sacrament, but they do not reveal what it is.’
He shrugged his arms out of the green one-piece and rolled it down over the white turtleneck sweater he wore underneath, then pulled his shirt up over his head. Liv stared at his body beneath. It was the colour of mahogany and covered with the dark, puckered lines of old scar tissue. Her eyes traced the familiar shapes they made. All of them precise. All deliberate. All of them identical to the scars she had seen on the body of her dead brother.
Chapter 101
The Angelus bell was still echoing softly through the dark corridors of the Citadel as Father Thomas passed through the airlock into the great library. The bell marked the end of Vespers and the start of supper. Most of the mountain’s inhabitants would be heading to the refectories now for their evening meal. He didn’t expect to find many in the library.
The second door slid open, disgorging him into the entrance hall, and he glanced round at the few circles of light bobbing in the darkness with the dark form of a monk at the centre of each, like a tadpole ready to hatch. They were black cloaks mostly, librarians come to tidy up after a day of messy scholarship. He spotted Brother Malachi, the head librarian, seated by the entrance to the main chambers. He looked up as Thomas entered and immediately rose from his chair. Thomas had expected him to be here. Nevertheless, seeing him now, walking towards him with his sharp, serious face set wings of fear fluttering against the walls of his chest. Thomas was not used to keeping secrets. It did not suit him.
‘Father Thomas,’ Malachi said, leaning in close and conspiratorial, ‘I have removed those scrolls and tablets from the prehistoric section as requested.’
‘Ah good,’ Thomas replied, aware of the strain in his voice.
‘Might I ask what purpose their removal serves?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Thomas said, fighting to keep his voice low and under control. ‘The sensors have registered some anomalous moisture peaks in that section of the cave. I’ve isolated it to a specific area and need free access to the shelves there to check the tanking and run some diagnostics on the climate-control systems. It’s just a precaution.’
He saw Malachi’s eyes glaze over. The introduction of the printing press was the height of technological sophistication as far as he was concerned. Anything more recent baffled him. ‘I see,’ the librarian said. ‘Let me know when your work is complete and I will arrange for the texts to be re-sited.’
‘Of course,’ Thomas said. ‘Shouldn’t be long. I’m just going to run the diagnostics now.’ He performed a shallow bow then turned and headed, as casually as his racing heart would allow, over to a small door opposite the entrance which he opened and slipped gratefully inside.
Beyond the door was a small room containing a desk, a computer terminal and a man wearing the burnt- earth-coloured cassock of a guard. He looked up.
‘Evening, Brother,’ Thomas said cheerfully, continuing past him towards another door set in the far wall. ‘Any problems?’ The guard shook his head slowly. He was chewing on a piece of bread someone had brought him. ‘Good,’ Thomas said as he arrived at the door and tapped a code into the security lock next to it. ‘I’m just running some checks on the lighting matrix. There’s been a delay in some of the follow lights. Your terminal might go offline briefly,’ he said, pointing at the computer on the monk’s desk. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’ He twisted the door handle and
