Suddenly Aspen looked up from the book, her eyes flashing. “I think this book isn’t just about divination. I think it might be something much more important.”
“What do you think it is?”
She was smiling now, nearly shaking with excitement. “When esoteric knowledge is passed down, it needs to be steeped in secrecy, right? It has to be encoded so that if it falls into the wrong hands, it can’t be misused. Historically, there has always been a reliance on symbols. For instance, in alchemy, birds have always been important. Peacocks, for example.” She pointed to the key. “The peacock represents a key stage in the literal alchemical process during which a key substance became iridescent, but metaphorically, it also represents a spiritual pivot for the alchemist as well, like a transition to a different, higher realm of being.”
Suddenly I was struck by my choice of name. I’d named myself Robin, and Paloma meantdove. I’d named us after birds asif I was trying to enact an alchemical transformation on our very identities.
Aspen opened the book and turned it around to face us. “Our predecessors had to find clever ways of hiding information while still getting it across to the intended audience. So it absolutely makes sense that someone could hide information in images like these.”
“So it’s not a divinatory text?” asked Finn.
“It is. Very much so, in the vein of theI Ching,but if I’m not mistaken, it has a secondary purpose as well.” She looked at me. “Okay, show me the four symbols you drew.”
I pointed them out within the text, but because they only ever appeared in groups of three, they never appeared all together.
“Okay, now do you remember the recipe from the Joan of Arc–Gilles de Rais letter?”
Excitement pulsed through me. We were getting close now. “Of course. It was aconite, angelica, and hoopoe’s blood. But what doesThe Book of Widowshave to do with the letter?”
“I think it has everything to do with it, Isabelle,” she said. With a flourish, she set the book on the coffee table, her charm bracelet tinkling. “I think this is a recipe book. And I would bet that one of these entries corresponds to the recipe for the witch’s ointment in your letter.”
Shaking with excitement, I leaned over and paged through the book. “This is a recipe book? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She gave me a sly smile. “TheI Chingis actually what gave me the idea. It can be interpreted as an alchemical recipe book as well.”
“What?” A shock coursed through me. “How is that possible? TheI Chingis an ancient divinatory text based on cleromancy.”
“Yes, but it can also be interpreted as a recipe book. This is common knowledge. I’m not making it up.” Aspen smiled, the slant of her cheek almost breathtakingly beautiful. “And I’m also not vouching for the recipes, but there are some alchemical traditions where each of the trigrams in theI Chingis thought to stand for an element. The three unbroken yang lines stand for true lead, the three broken yin lines stand for true mercury, and so on. The same might be true here. Look, this crescent moon could stand for one substance, the full moon for another, and so on, and here it probably tells you what order you’re supposed to combine them in.”
Suddenly I understood what she was getting at. “And you think each of these symbols stands for a different medicinal herb?”
“I think it’s very likely. My guess is that depending on the combination of the herbs and the order in which they are decocted, each recipe will create a different effect. Isabelle, I think this is the key to breaking through your last barrier to remembering the code.”
Finn looked over at me. “What do you think that is, that barrier?”
Breathing deeply, I took a moment and looked around the room, stared at their eager faces, listened to the faint sounds coming from outside the window, to the creatures stirring, the night world coming to life.
“I think Symon wanted me to make the procedure permanent. But I found a loophole, a way to undo it. I think Aspen is right. I think it has something to do with the ingredients of the witch’s ointment, and something to do with the four symbols. Clearly my Joan of Arc–Gilles de Rais letter isn’t authentic. It’s an encoded message I created for myself. We just have to decode it.”
“Unfortunately,” said Aspen, “without something to tell us which herb corresponds to which symbol, we’re stuck with guesswork. And guesswork can be deadly when it comes to herbology.”
“So we’re back to square one,” I said, tapping my pen against the table. “There has to be a clue I missed somewhere along the line. Finn, check my work here.”
Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, I started working out the order of the clues, drawing a flow chart.
Light→Grave→Peacock Key→Divination / Clue to Desk→Photo / Book of Widows→Cabinet Key→Project Bluebird→Borges Coordinates→Owl Key→Relic.
“This is how I got from the light to the relic. Am I missing anything?”
He took the pen from me and drew an X in the flow chart.
Light→Grave→Peacock Key→Divination / Clue to Desk→Photo / Book of Widows→Cabinet Key→Project Bluebird—X—Borges Coordinates→Owl Key→Relic.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.Project Bluebirdwas the end of the game,” he said.
The room grew quiet. “No,” I said. “What about the Borges book?”
He shook his head. “Seriously, what are you talking about?”
