him, pulling their coats tight about them, stamping their feet to start their circulation.
The old man's eyes never left them as they walked the short distance to the fencepost. Up close, the most startling quality was the colour of his eyes, which were as blue as a summer sky, and given more power by the brownness of his skin. Church couldn't tell his exact age, although he guessed from the wrinkles on the man's face that he was in his sixties.
'Morning,' Church said.
'Morning,' the man replied impassively.
'Early start,' Church noted.
'Aye. Same as you.'
Church wished he had some idea of exactly what they were trying to unearth. Although the lantern had brought them to Avebury, it didn't seem to be much help in establishing an exact location. 'Seen anything strange going on round here recently?'
'Depends what you mean,' the old man said slyly. 'I see lots of strange things in my travels. I've covered the country from Orkney to Scilly a hundred times in my life and every place I've stopped there's been something strange.'
'You're not a local?' Church gave the man a renewed examination; there were none of the slightly odd features or waxy skin that disguised what the woman in the Watchtower had called the Night Walkers, but Church felt suspicious nonetheless.
'I'm local wherever I go.'
Church was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable in the old man's presence. There was a faintly threatening air about him and his gaze was becoming more dissecting, as if he knew exactly who Church was.
The old man glanced away across the stones and when he looked back, his eyes were cold and hard. 'You cause any trouble here and there'll be hell to pay.'
'Who are you?' Ruth asked.
'I guard the old places. Keep an eye on the hidden treasures, the undisturbed burials, the sacred spots. From the Scottish Isles to the South Downs, Land's End to the Fens.' He grabbed his staff tightly with hands that looked much stronger than his years suggested. 'Sleeping under the stars, watching out for the grave robbers and the sackers and the vandals. Tending to the land, you might say. Some call me the Stone Shepherd-'
'The Bone Inspector.' Ruth recalled Tom's account of the man who had first alerted him to the crisis. 'Tom mentioned your name.'
'And where is he?' he said gruffly.
Church and Ruth glanced at each other uncomfortably.
'He's fallen already, has he? And you are the ones he was looking for?' His expression suggested he wasn't impressed.
'Who are you exactly, and what do you know about what's going on?' Church insisted.
'And who are you to ask questions of me?' As Church began to answer, the old man waved him silent dismissively. 'There's been a Bone Inspector since these stones were put up. When one dies, there's always another ready and waiting to take over. In the old days there were lots of us. The keepers of wisdom, we were, worshipping in the groves, tutoring the people. Now there's just me.'
In his eyes, Church saw the flat, grey sky over Callanish and the green fields around the Rollrights. In his voice there were echoes of the solemn chant of ancient rituals. But there was the hardness of nature in him too, and Church knew he would be a fool to cross him. The old man held the staff more like a weapon than a walking aid, and his lean limbs were sinewy and powerful.
'How did you find out that everything had changed?' Church asked.
'I felt it in the land. In the force that sings to you if you're of a mind to listen.'
'The blue fire?'
'Aye, that's one way of seeing it.' He banged his staff gently on the turf. 'It's all changing, going back to the way it was. The cities haven't felt it yet, but out in the country they're starting to know. People are keeping clear of the quiet places, specially after dark. There've been a load of disappearances and a few deaths, all put down to accidents so far. They'll know the truth soon enough. I was up at Arbor Low in the Peaks the other day and I saw a wolf that walks like a man. Just a glimpse, mind you, away in the wild. But when I went to look I found an arm. Or what was left of it.'
'Gross!' Laura made a face.
'That's when I knew for sure, even though I'd felt the change long before. Soon they're going to have to redraw all the maps. No one will know this land, see. It will be all new, and terrible. Even some of the lost places are coming back. I saw …' He caught himself and looked into the middle distance. 'Well, there'll be time enough for that later.'
There was an uneasy note in his voice that made them all feel uncomfortable. They shifted from foot to foot, not really knowing what to say.
Eventually he broke his reverie and turned back to them, his face dark. 'And now you three rabbits are here. You look like troublemakers to me. Maybe I should be seeing you off.' He raised his staff menacingly. Church held up his arm in instinctive protection and instantly the staff was performing a deft, twisting manoeuvre that was so fast it was almost a blur. It flicked Church's arm to one side, then cracked him obliquely on the elbow, too gently to hurt. But in an instant fiery lances of pain ran up to his shoulder and he crumpled at the waist in agony. Ruth stepped in to help, but the Bone Inspector thrust the staff between her calves and twisted, knocking her to the floor. In one fluid movement, the staff came up to point directly at Laura's throat. 'Now you better be telling me what you're doing here,' he said in a voice like flint.
Church drew himself upright, rubbing his elbow furiously, and then took a sudden step back when the staff was levelled at him. 'Take it easy,' he said as calmly as he could muster. 'We're not here to cause any trouble for you.'
'We're looking for something,' Ruth added hastily. 'One of the four talismans.'
The Bone Inspector knew exactly what she meant. 'You'll never find them.'
'We have to,' Church said. 'Or else- Well, you tell me the or else bit.'
The Bone Inspector lowered the staff and looked at them slyly again. 'Who are you to think you can do something about it?'
A thought jumped in Church's mind. 'We're the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons,' he said.
It was the confirmation for which he was obviously waiting. 'So Thomas did find you,' he said thoughtfully. 'You don't look like much. How do I know you're who you say you are?'
'Wait here.' Church returned to the car and came back with the lantern. 'Would I have this if I wasn't?'
The Bone Inspector laid down his staff and approached, almost deferentially. Gently, he reached out his hands until they were on either side of the lantern, though being careful not to touch it. The flame flared brightly, painting his skin blue. 'The Wayfinder,' he said in awe. 'I'd heard it was no longer of the land.'
'It wasn't,' Church said. 'I brought it back.'
The Bone Inspector cursed under his breath. 'And you don't know what you've got, do you? Leaving it in the bloody car! Are you mad, man?' Church shifted uncomfortably. 'Keep it with you at all times,' the Bone Inspector said with irritation. 'Don't ever let it fall into the wrong hands.'
Now it was out in the open, close to the circle they could see the flame was gradually rotating. 'That must mean we're in the right place,' Ruth said. 'But where do we start looking? And what exactly are we looking for?' she added with exasperation.
'And why here?' Church said.
The Bone Inspector shook his head, contemptuous of their lack of knowledge. 'Stonehenge may be better known, but this is the place. It doesn't look like much now, thanks to those Bible-obsessed fools in the last century who pulled all the stones down because they thought they were the Devil's work. But it's the most important place in the land, the source of all the power. That's why I'm here, now, to be in the most important place at the time when I'm most likely to be needed.' He knelt down and marked out a wide arc with his arm. 'Imagine it getting on for five thousand years ago-a sacred site stretching three miles. Here was the main temple, two stone circles surrounded by a circular ditch twenty-five feet deep with a bank fifteen feet high. And approaching it from either side were two gently curving avenues, a mile and a half long, each of them, marked out by ten-foot-high stones. Can you imagine the work that went into that? And they wouldn't have done it if they didn't have a reason.'
