The Bone House
Stephen Lawhead
Previously
Our story thus far concerns an underemployed but agreeable young fellow named Cosimo Christopher Livingstone, who much prefers to go by the name of Kit. He is related by birth to an anachronistic old gentleman named Cosimo, who is in fact his long-lost great-grandfather: long lost in that, owing to circumstances arising from the phenomenon known as ley travel (about which, more later), he disappeared more than a hundred years or so ago while on a routine visit to the local shops.
Cosimo’s return was greeted by Kit with disbelief, astonishment, and chagrin. The elder relation’s insistence that Kit should accompany him on a quest of great significance was rebuffed and, after a fleeting taste of this heretofore unheard of ley travel, Kit retreated to the arms of his unpleasant girlfriend, Wilhelmina Klug. Due to the time drift involved in ley journeys, he arrived quite late for a long-promised shopping excursion.
When the explanation for his tardiness failed to convince this young woman, Kit endeavoured to provide her with a practical demonstration. Owing to his inexperience, the demo went horribly wrong and poor Wilhelmina was lost in the transition. However, Kit was found once more by Cosimo, who introduced him to a stalwart colleague by the name of Sir Henry Fayth. Together the three of them set out to find Wilhelmina and return her to her proper place and time.
Laudable as their concern may have been, it ultimately proved misplaced. Wilhelmina landed on her feet in seventeenth-century Prague, where she was befriended by a kindly soul named Engelbert “Etzel” Stiffelbeam, a baker from Rosenheim who had travelled to Bohemia to seek his fortune. The two joined forces and opened a bakery, the success of which remained elusive until they introduced an as-yet-unheard-of commodity to the capitaclass="underline" coffee. The Grand Imperial Kaffeehaus was an immediate success, and soon all of Old Prague was abuzz over the latest sensation.
The coffeehouse brought Wilhelmina into contact with members of the court of Emperor Rudolf II, and among these a coterie of alchemists who were dutifully employed in the pursuit of arcane studies in what is to this day known as the Magick Court.
Now we come to the concept of ley travel, or ley leaping as Lady Fayth, Sir Henry’s mercurial niece, is wont to call it. Ley travel consists of utilising, or manipulating, lines of electromagnetic force that are to be found embedded in the earth, thereby employing these lines of force by methods yet to be described by science to effect great leaps in not only distance but dimensional reality and, consequently, time as well. The reader is asked to bear in mind that ley travel is not the same as time travel, strictly speaking. Although it must be admitted that, owing to the fact that time is relative to the reality being visited, ley travellers do come unstuck in time, which leads to a sort of chronological dislocation-an unavoidable side effect of ley leaping. It would be pleasant to report that all times everywhere in the universe are the same and that each reality links up perfectly end-to-end, but that is not the case. For reasons described below, each separate reality has its own history and progression in its own time. Thus, travelling to a different dimension involves a sideways slip in time as well as place, but that is not the same as travelling backwards or forwards along a single timeline in a discrete reality.
How many ley lines there are and where they lead, nobody really knows. Nor is it known how they are produced, or why. But one man knew more than most: the explorer Arthur Flinders-Petrie, an intrepid soul who made countless trips to other worlds and meticulously recorded his discoveries on a map. So that he could always find his way home again and so that he could never be separated from his map, he had it tattooed onto his torso in the form of coded symbols-not the most original plan, of course, but highly effective and productive too, in that it allowed him to meet and marry his Chinese tattooist’s charming daughter, Xian-Li. Arthur shared with his new wife his passion for exploration, introducing her to the arcane secrets of ley travel. On one such early trip to Egypt, tragedy struck in the form of Nile fever, and the stricken Xian-Li succumbed and died.
At some later time, Arthur died also, and in order that his discoveries should not die with him the map was removed and carefully preserved; for among the many wonders he encountered in his travels there was one that was so amazing, so staggeringly important, that Arthur kept it a close-guarded secret from all but his nearest and dearest kin. Through circumstances yet to be explained, the map was divided into sections, and those sections scattered across the multi-verse. Happily, the Skin Map and its tantalising secret endure.
Flinders-Petrie has a nemesis-Archelaeus Burleigh, the Earl of Sutherland-an unscrupulous dastard who is wholly obsessed with possessing the map and learning its secrets. He and his nefarious crew will stop at nothing to discover the treasure.
At the end of our first instalment of this tale, Kit and his companion Giles were facing imminent demise in the tomb of Anen at the hands of Lord Burleigh-the same tomb that had already claimed the lives of dear old Cosimo and Sir Henry. Wilhelmina, whose presence in the chase had been understated up to that point, made a sudden and welcome appearance-all the more so because Lady Fayth had proved too fickle. Loyalty, it seems, is a rare and precious commodity in whichever reality one occupies.
With those things remembered, we return to our story, in which some things are best forgotten.
PART ONE
The Book of Forbidden Secrets
CHAPTER 1
From a snug in the corner of the Museum Tavern, Douglas Flinders-Petrie dipped a sop of bread into the gravy of his steak and kidney pudding and watched the entrance to the British Museum across the street. The great edifice was dark, the building closed to the public for over three hours. The employees had gone home, the charwomen had finished their cleaning, and the high iron gates were locked behind them. The courtyard was empty and, outside the gates, there were fewer people on the street now than an hour ago. He felt no sense of urgency: only keen anticipation, which he savoured as he took another draught of London Pride. He had spent most of the afternoon in the museum, once more marking the doors and exits, the blind spots, the rooms where a person might hide and remain unseen by the night watchmen, of which there were but three to cover the entire acreage of the sprawling institution.
Douglas knew from his researches that at eleven each night the head watchman retired to his office on the ground floor to make tea. He would be duly joined by his two underling guards, and the three would enter their observations in the logbook and then spend an enjoyable thirty minutes drinking their tea, eating pies, and exchanging gossip.
While they were thus occupied, he would strike.
The pub was quiet tonight, even for a damp Thursday in late November. There were only five other patrons in the place: three at the rail and two at tables. He would have preferred more people-if only so his own presence would not be so noticeable-but he doubted it would make much difference. In any event, there was nothing he could do about it.
“Everything all right, sir?”
Douglas turned from the window and looked up. The landlord, having little to do this evening, was making the rounds and chatting with his customers.
“Never better,” replied Douglas in a tone he hoped would dismiss further intrusion. But the man remained hovering over the table.
“Mr. Flinders-Petrie, is it not, sir?”
“Indeed so.” He offered a bland smile to cover his annoyance at being recognised on this night of all nights. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage. I was not aware that my name would be common knowledge.”