geometrical streets of the New Town to the clouded, chaotic and thunderous bulk of the Old. Above it, the winter clouds still churned.
'We will always remember this moment.' Shavi's voice was a whisper but it carried through the still air with a strength and clarity that sent a shiver down their spines. 'This is not just an age of darkness and anarchy. It is a time of wonder and miracles too. Never forget. Light in dark-'
'The best of times, the worst of times.' Church smiled.
'Sweet and sour,' Laura chipped in. 'Cabbage and chocolate-'
'All right!' Shavi laughed. 'You have no sense of occasion!'
'And you'd get on a pretentious spiral up your own arse if we'd let you.' Laura rolled on to her back, chuckling playfully.
For that brief time, Church forgot his brooding nature and turned to look through the twelve Doric columns of the National Monument towards the sun, pretending it was Athens, dreaming of Marianne-but no longer in a bad way.
Tom, stoned and grinning, looked more like a Woodstock refugee than he had done in weeks. When he smiled, the lines of suffering and despair turned to crinkles of good humour and his piercing eyes sparkled with a blissed-out hippie's playfulness. 'Shavi's right.' His voice, too, became less sombre, and more of its original Scottish brogue was evident. 'Make the most of it.'
'Okay,' Church said. 'Pop quiz. Favourite golden oldie. I'll start: `Fly'-'
'-'Me to the Moon,' you predictable Sinatra dickhead,' Laura chided. 'You hadn't mentioned the great elan for a while. I thought you'd grown out of that.'
'We haven't had much time to kick back and listen to music.'
'`Scooby Snacks.'' Veitch's voice surprised them all, floating out dreamily and distracted while he watched the sprites in the trees. 'Fun Lovin' Criminals.'
'`Strange Brew' by Cream,' Tom grinned.
Laura stared at him as if he was insane. 'No, wasn't that Beethoven?' she said sarcastically.
'Stop criticising and chip in so we can criticise your musical taste,' Church said.
She wrinkled her nose. 'Oh God, I don't know. `Hey Boy Hey Girl' by the Chemical Brothers. Or maybe something by Celine Dion,' she added with a sneer. 'What's yours then, Shav-ster?' Laura raised her sunglasses slightly to get a clearer view of his expression. 'Some Andean pan pipe music? Kashmiri drum and bass? Tibetan chants? Aboriginal didgeridoo solos?'
'`Move On Up' by Curtis Mayfield, if you must know,' he said with mock playfulness. 'The ultimate positivity in music.'
'Oh God, can't you just say you like the beat?' She pulled off her boot and threw it at him. He ducked with a laugh and crawled behind Tom, who suddenly looked very perturbed.
Church didn't want to break the mood, but it had to happen sooner or later. 'We need to talk about divvying up,' he began. Nobody looked at him as if he had only thought the words, but he sensed a change in the atmosphere, as if everything was suddenly hanging in stasis.
'I think it's up to me to go into Arthur's Seat-'
'And you said that with a completely straight face, Church-dude.' Laura's voice was suddenly weary. 'I always said you had no comic timing.'
11 — and I think Tom should go to Rosslyn Chapel-'
'No,' Tom said firmly.
'But you know the history of what happened there. You've been taught some of the knowledge of the people who did the binding. It's obviously yours,' Church protested.
'No,' Tom said again.
Laura scanned his face for a moment. 'He's scared.'
Tom glared at her. 'Yes, I am, and I don't mind admitting it, as any wise man would do. But that's not the reason. We've all got a part to play here and mine is as teacher, as guide to the ways of the land, the earth energy. I need to go with Jack to show him, tell him, teach him. I may not be the embodiment of the Pendragon Spirit like you, but I am bound to it for all time. It lights my way. And I, in turn, help it in any way I can.'
'So it's not about you being scared at all, then,' Laura said, with a false smile. Tom looked away.
'Veitch, Laura and I can go to Rosslyn Chapel,' Shavi began, but this time it was Witch's turn to refuse.
'I'm staying here.' He turned towards them, his face set.
'Why?' The fresh stitches in Church's finger began to ache.
'Someone has to get Ruth out.'
'On your own!' Church exclaimed. 'I know I asked you for a plan, but I expected it to be one you'd thought about for more than five minutes.'
'I know what I'm doing-'
'Right. So you're going to waltz into a stronghold filled with Fomorii out to tear you limb from limb, go directly to Ruth and carry her out like at the end of An Officer and a Gentleman.'
'Something like that.'
'And, of course, it'll be no problem that when the Well of Fire is ignited or redirected or whatever I'm doing, you'll be right at ground zero.'
Veitch shrugged. He obviously wasn't going to be deterred.
'Muscle boy's in love,' Laura mocked in a singsong voice. Veitch flashed her a cold, hateful stare, but said nothing.
'Ryan-' Church began.
'I'm going to find a way in to that place and I'm going to do my best to get her out. Because it's the right thing. Just like you're trying to do the right thing for everybody else. If I can get in just before the shit hits the fan, there's a chance-'
'How will you know the right time?'
'I'll know. I feel things. You know, the right way to act. The right thing to do at the right time. I don't know where it's coming from, but it's getting stronger. You said it yourself.' He stared into the middle distance, faintly uncomprehending. 'I'm different now. Better. I'm not going to let it go to waste.'
Church searched his face for a moment, then nodded. 'It's decided, then. I go to the Well with Tom. Laura and Shavi head south to Rosslyn Chapel. And Veitch-'
'Attempts Mission: Impossible. I don't fancy your chances, even for a big, tough, street boy.' Church heard a surprising note of concern in Laura's voice. 'A nest of Fomorii. Their biggest stronghold, protecting the thing most valuable to them. And you.' She paused. 'Shall I order the pine box?'
'I'll take my chances. Let's face it, I'm the only bastard who actually has a chance among you bleedin' lot. If I kick the bucket, well, you know, it was for the right reason. That's what this is all about, right?' He turned to Church. 'That's what you keep saying, innit? Do it for the right reason. This is nay right reason.' He seemed surprised to see admiration in their stares and grew uncomfortable.
Laura attempted to break the mood with some glib, mocking comment, but for once the words escaped her. Church watched her face sag as she bit her lip; he wondered what lay behind her sunglasses.
'Where are we gonna meet up afterwards?' Veitch asked optimistically.
'Greyfriars Churchyard.' Church had spent most of the previous afternoon planning, armed with a map of the city and the guidebook, while fighting back nausea from the pain in his finger.
'Why there?'
'Because I always wanted to see that statue of the little dog that sat by his master's grave. Greyfriars Bobby-what a great tourist attraction that is.' He tried to make light of the conversation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Veitch wouldn't be meeting them. 'I think we can pick a quick route out of town from there. And it's an easy place to find if the shit really is hitting the fan.'
They all thought about this for a moment.
Nobody wanted to be the first to go, but eventually Shavi shouldered the responsibility. He knelt beside Veitch and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze before setting off down the hill. Tom followed, resting one hand on Witch's head in passing, a restrained show of respect that was surprisingly voluble in a man normally so emotionally detached. Laura paused, but couldn't bridge the gap and hurried uncomfortably after the others.
It was only then Church realised how truly strong were forged the bonds that joined them. Their
