“Bien sûr.No one. And we dismissed our cook and maid, as you instructed. It is only us here.”
Sharyn overheard all this, too. “I still don’t understand. Even as remotely connected as this place is to you, itisthe home to the Second Keeper. TheConfrériemight know about this estate, especially if there is a traitor in your group.”
Duncan nodded. “Is your plan to hide the book here? Like in the past?”
He pictured the alchemist’s diary shifting from Keeper to Keeper, until finally returning to the château, making nearly a complete circle. As he thought of this, he again felt that inkling of fate, of turning wheels, drawing them all to this place.
Still, he was mistaken in one regard.
“No,” Laurent said. “The book must move on. It will not stay here any longer than necessary.”
“Necessary for what?” Sharyn pressed him.
Laurent turned to their group. “I brought you all here for onefinalreason. Something that can only be done at this location.”
“Which is what?” Duncan asked.
The Frenchman’s hard gaze fell upon them. “We must open the book—and decrypt the Second Adage.”
30
9:23 a.m.
I’ve had dreams like this . . .
Despite the tension, Sharyn gaped at the breadth of the château’s library. It filled two floors, each towering fifteen feet in height. The second story, accessible by a spiral wooden stair, was broken into alcoves filled with more shelves. Higher still, centuries-old frescoes adorned the arched roof.
From the upper level, a massive antique grandfather clock loomed down at them, its mother-of-pearl face shining from a polished walnut case. Below, a small hearth crackled with flames, flanked by two deeply cushioned captain chairs, whose leather looked warmed by age to soft butter.
Sharyn inhaled deeply, trying to draw the space inside her. The air had a musty smokiness to it, tinged with notes of vanilla, the familiar balm of old books. She wanted nothing more than to wander these stacks, select a volume, sink into one of the chairs, and be transported away by the magic of ink on paper.
But that was not why they had come here.
“Be welcome,” an older woman greeted them, waving them all deeper inside, to where a walnut library table, stout-legged and circular, stood at the room’s center.
She placed down a platter of cheese next to a basket of baguettes, then wiped her hands on a blue toile apron tied over a simple white blouse and khaki slacks. Her dark hair, streaked with gray, was partially hidden under a headscarf of the same toile fabric. She struck Sharyn as a no-nonsense woman, someone who likely raised and killed her own chickens to makecoq au vin.
Laurent crossed to her and kissed both cheeks. “Merci, Anna.”
“Ça fait trop longtemps, Laurent,” she scolded, then switched to English. “You should visit us more. Charlotte and Amélie miss you.”
“Where are your girls?”
“Womennow, Laurent. That is how long you’ve been gone.” Anna waved toward the roof. “They are already in the towers, watching the hill with binoculars. None will approach without fair warning. As you instructed.”
“Merci. We will hopefully not overstay our welcome.”
Sharyn frowned at this statement but kept silent.
“I made your other arrangements, too.” Anna nodded to the spread on the table, which included tea and a mix of strawberries and grapes and a carafe of white wine. “You did not ask for this, but I will not tarnish the château’s reputation with a lack of cordialness.”
“You are too kind.” Laurent turned to them and urged Sharyn and the others closer. “We should take advantage while we can.”
Anna pointed to the wheels of crusted cheese, sliced open to reveal a tender softness. “Brie de Meaux.Produced locally. Also, that small pot holds a mushroom spread that’s a longstanding family recipe. But be warned, it does contain cognac.”
Archie shifted that pot closer to him and sat down. “I’ll take my chances.”
Sharyn and the others joined him. As she sampled what was offered, she grew to recognize how hungry she was. The same must have been true for the others. They fully partook of the château’scordialness.
