communication was silent, but deeply expressed; powerful emotions united them, of respect and trust, friendship and faith, even love. It was even harder to believe the Celtic spirits' accusation that one of them was a traitor.
'Are you going to be okay here on your own?' he said.
Veitch grinned with fake confidence. 'No, but fuck it.' He stripped off his shirt to feel the sun on his skin, his tattoos gleaming across his torso. 'See this?' He pointed to a pentacle picked out in an intertwining Celtic design. 'I always wondered what that was. But it's us, innit? See, five points, all separate, but all joined together, and stronger for it.'
Church gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. 'You're a smart bloke, Ryan. You shouldn't hide it so much.'
'Yeah, smart like shit.' He fumbled for Church's hand and shook it awkwardly. 'You know, I never thought I'd ever be a part of something like this… fuck it!' He shook his head, embarrassed. 'You better get going. It's time to go to work.'
Church set off down the hill. Halfway down, where the trees began to close in around the path, he glanced back to see a figure silhouetted against the dawn sky, framed by the soaring Athenian columns. It was such a sad, lonely sight he quickly turned and hurried after the others.
It was already early afternoon as Shavi and Laura made their way south. The sun had started to give way to the sea mist the locals called the haar. It swept in from the northeast, obscuring Arthur's Seat and the castle, rolling out across the rooftops and clinging hard to the streets. They had considered hiring a car, but Church had cautioned them about keeping a low profile, so Shavi had convinced Laura to walk the six and a half miles towards the misty, purple bulk of the Pentland Hills. She refused, however, to carry any of the camping gear which was mounted on a framed rucksack on his back. As they set out through Tollcross the Old Town seemed uncomfortably close; Laura was convinced she could feel a wintry chill radiating out from the streets that emptied on to Lothian Road. They kept to the other side, near to the comforting modernity of the new financial district, until the blackened, ancient buildings of the Old Town were far behind.
Although it was not raining, the haar infused the air with so much moisture their clothes soon became damp and Laura's spikey hair sagged on to her forehead.
'You can probably remove your sunglasses now,' Shavi said wryly.
'When you get the pomposity out of your arse.' She looked around. 'Not much traffic for a capital city.'
'People are only making journeys when they feel it is absolutely important. They subconsciously sense the danger that is all around.'
'And it hasn't got so bad yet.'
The street rode the rolling hills, past rows of smart shops where a few people seemed at ease enough to hover outside the windows, up towards the ring road. Laura leaned over the barrier, still curious to see such little transport.
'Well, the airport is shut now all the flights have been grounded,' Shavi pointed out. 'And with the Old Town closed off I suppose they have lost the parliament, the newspaper offices, many businesses-'
'Don't they realise they can't carry on with their lives?'
'I think they probably do. But it is human nature to carry on with routines in an attempt to maintain normalcy, often in the face of all reason.'
A little further on Laura began to complain of aching feet, and from then on, as they left the city behind and wound out into the countryside, they had to take numerous long breaks while she nursed her burgeoning blisters.
'I've never walked this far in my life,' she moaned.
'I once walked the entire length of Kashmir-'
'Oh, shut up.' She was limping away before she had to listen to any more of his tale. 'It hurts enough already,' she muttered.
It was late afternoon before they reached the Rosslyn Chapel sign which pointed down a lane off the main road. Between wet fields and under a slate-grey sky, it took them in to the village of Roslin.
'Did you know,' Shavi began, 'that the Roslin Institute is nearby, where they cloned Dolly the sheep. A place of mysteries both old and new.'
'Whoop de doo.'
They were barely in the village when another tiny lane led them off to the right. A little way down it they reached the chapel car park; they could tell they were nearing their destination from the stark change in atmosphere: it grew oppressive and brooding, as if the mystery that lurked there was potent enough to affect the air itself. The chapel was completely obscured by trees, a visitor centre and high fences which made it difficult for anyone to get inside. The custodians had already locked up for the day.
Shavi checked the sky and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but before he could speak, Laura said, 'Pull yourself together. We're not going in there today. I'm not going to be caught anywhere near the place after night has fallen.'
Shavi smiled. 'Then we make camp.'
They needed to find somewhere where they wouldn't be stumbled across or reported to the authorities. Picking their way down a steep path, they came to the graveyard, with its neatly tended plots, ancient and new stones mingling together. Another footpath led off to one side where the trees grew thickest. The whole area was still. No traffic rumbled, no birds sang.
'Maybe it's just the weather, but I can feel something like… despair.' Laura glanced into the thick vegetation beneath the tree cover where the water dripped from the leaves in a steady rhythm.
Shavi nodded, said nothing.
The path wound around until the graveyard was lost behind them and the branches closed over their heads, sealing them in a gloomy, verdant world. A rabbit started at their approach and dived into the undergrowth. Eventually they could hear the splashing water of a stream or falls, and then they were out of the trees again, suddenly confronted by the breathtaking view of a treeclustered glen far beneath them. The haar drifted eerily in white tendrils among the treetops. Everywhere was still, waiting.
'It's beautiful,' Laura said. 'But there's something not natural about the place. Which is a pretty stupid thing to say about the countryside.'
The path wound round until it crossed a tiny stone bridge which soared high above the glen. On the other side, hanging over the steep sides of the valley like some fairy-tale fortress, were the majestic stone ruins of Rosslyn Castle. Just beyond the broken turrets and fallen walls they could see lights; part of the building was still in use. They picked up a rough track just before the bridge which led them scrambling down into the glen and then the trees were closing over them again. Oak, ash and elm mingled all around, hinting at the great age of the woodland, and this was reflected in the diversity of the undergrowth that prospered beneath the tree cover: wood sorrel, ransoms, golden saxifrage, dog's mercury and wood-rush.
The place was so lonely Laura couldn't help but feel unnerved and when she glanced at Shavi she could see it reflected on his normally stolid face too; it was in the air, in every tree and rock. They trekked along the floor of the glen by the banks of the white-foamed North Esk until they found an isolated clearing where the smoke from any fire would not be seen from the castle.
'Are you sure we shouldn't go back and find a B amp;B?' Laura ventured. She was even more disturbed when she saw Shavi almost considered it.
They pitched the tent with its rear end in an impenetrable cluster of undergrowth to prevent anyone approaching them from behind. To Laura's growing anxiety, the flora all around was so dense, the noise from the swishing leaves and the thundering river so great, it would have been impossible to discern strangers until they were almost upon them.
'If this was a movie,' Laura began, 'I'd say, `I can't shake the feeling there's somebody watching us.'' Shavi nodded. 'You're supposed to say, 'Don't be so stupid, it's just the trees,'' she added irritably.
'I think we should take a chance and light the fire now.' He looked up at the streaks of drifting white in the gloomy treetops. 'It will get dark here much quicker than if we were out in the open.'
'You can build a beacon they could see in Holland for me.'
Shavi spent the next half hour collecting enough wood to last them all night while Laura sat morosely in the mouth of the tent. Her anxiety eased a little when he finally had a small fire glowing in the clearing a few feet away from them. They boiled up a little rice while Shavi roasted kebabs of peppers, onions and tomatoes, which they ate
