Page 133 of Edge of Yesterday

“So a man thinks,” she said, but he detected the humor in her voice. Still, after half a dozen steps, Cailean discerned a tug on the back of his plaid and realized she’d grabbed on for support.

The descent seemed to go on forever. At last, they reached a maze of stone pillars and vaults. Rushing water cut between the pillars and disappeared to their right. Cailean would bet the underground river ran the length of the abbey.

“Come, lass.” He took Julianna’s hand and started along the central aisle of the passageway. “Now we just need to find a way up to the scriptorium.”

“I think we will.” She tugged on his hand and pointed toward the stone pillar they approached.

Their rushlights illuminated the ancient walls and the carving on the pillar’s side: a simple etching of a rabbit, a cluster of carrots, and a kettle. And just beyond the pillar was an opening with steps leading upward, obviously to the kitchen.

“Do you see it?” She glanced at him, her eyes glittering in the firelight.

“Aye.” Cailean chuckled, shook his head. “By all that’s holy, lass, have I told you how smart ye are?”

Lennox let out a low whistle, holding his light to better see the carving.

“Now we only need to find a pillar with scrolls or a quill,” she said, quickening her step.

They passed a pillar with table and trestle benches clearly intended to note the steps to the refectory, while another pillar carving showed rows of narrow beds, surely indicating that the abbey guesthouse was just above. Then, at last, they came to a pillar with an inkpot and quill. Cailean’s heart rate kicked up as they hurried up the narrow steps to a simple wooden door. It opened onto a small garden with the scriptorium to the right—and nary a soul in sight.

At the scriptorium door, they pushed inside. Candles burned on a lone table where an old man sat, bent over an open book, a quill in hand. This had to be Father Symon. They blew out their rushlights and set them on the nearest table. As planned, Julianna hurried ahead. She neared the priest, but he remained intent on his work. She stopped beside him and touched his shoulder. His head snapped up and he started.

“Forgive me, Father,” she said.

“Lady Julianna?” He blinked at her, as if uncertain.

“Aye, ‘tis me.”

The old man looked past her at Cailean and Lennox. “Is that ye, Lennox?”

They reached him and Lennox smiled. “It is I, Father.”

Julianna wrapped an arm around Cailean’s arm. Sadness squeezed his heart. All too soon, he would lose forever her sweet touch on his body.

She looked up at him, eyes trusting, and said, “This is my husband, Father.”

“Husband?” The old man’s jaw dropped open.

Father Symon frowned, as if he hadn’t understood, then his expression cleared and he stood. “I didnae know ye had married. That is wonderful.” He kissed her on the cheek, then grasped Cailean’s hand and squeezed. “She is a fine woman. Ye are well blessed, my son.”

Cailean nodded, unable to reply.

Father Symon looked from them to Lennox. “What brings ye here?”

“We wanted to look at a few books,” Julianna said.

He blinked. “No’ many people come here to see our books. But ye are welcome to read anything ye like.”

“In fact,” he added, “I had been meaning to eat. I will fetch us some food.”

“Father,” Julianna laid a hand on his arm, “we would prefer no one know we are here.”

He frowned, but this time a shrewd light gleamed in his eyes. “There is much to learn here.” He indicated the room with a wave of his hand. “It is a wise man and woman” –he tweaked her chin— “who searches in the right places for answers. I have had a long day,” he said. “I believe I will retire for the evening. Be sure that the fire doesnae go out.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank ye.”

Cailean glimpsed pleasure in the old man’s eyes an instant before he turned and crossed the room.

When the door closed behind him, Lennox said, “Where do we begin?”