And there was no reason not to nod off...
They had come to the plateau.
Liz stood some distance back, watching.
Clay stood at the edge of the remaining ground, and Liz suddenly found herself imagining the scene that legend had pa.s.sed down-a beautiful woman, on her knees, her executioner ready, her lover fighting to reach her...
And then fate, or nature, stepping in. The earth rumbling, and the ground disintegrating beneath them. Casting them all to their deaths.
Or had they all died?Clay was tense, eyes closed, teeth grating. Tension gripped the length of him.
"Here... G.o.d, yes, the center is here... there is so much that I feel... and can"t quite touch!" he said in frustration.
"There is a difference here," she murmured.
He turned and looked at her, eyes vividly red-gold at that moment.
"It"s Stephanie," he said.
"But we don"t know enough!" she protested.
"It"s her. And I"ve waited too long," he said.
"No... it"s too soon," Liz protested.
"No. The time has come."
Stephanie awoke with a start.
Looking toward the hill and plateau, she saw no sign of Clay and Liz.
She glanced toward the area of the encampment, but saw no sign of Grant, either. She stretched, wondering if she shouldn"t just head toward the tents and find him.
She realized then that she wasn"t really growing restless. She liked being where she was. There was a very gentle breeze that day. The streaks of color in the sky as the sun began to settle in the west were magnificent. The nap had been deliciously refreshing.
She surveyed her surroundings again.
The ground around her had been well trampled, and she noted the spot where Maria Britto"s body had been found.
By Grant.
Near it, there were other areas where bodies had been discovered. Some had been taken away. Some remained, shielded by tarps and the plastic cords that designated a find. Most of the bodies found had been reduced to bone, but some had yielded sc.r.a.ps of clothing, remnants of weapons, and, something that had deeply excited Carlo-an almost perfect pair of leather shoes circa the late eleventh century.
Bodies... bones...
It was growing dark.
She had an absurd vision, of the bones suddenly rising from the graves, coming together, and staring at her from empty eye sockets.
She stood suddenly, having unnerved herself.
Still, she managed to laugh as she did so. Her vision hadn"t really been all that terrifying; rather like a remake of Ray Harryhausen special effects; she saw Jason and the Argonauts battling the bones as they pursued their way through Greek myth. And still...
She decided that it was time to find Grant.
She started along the path, then paused, certain that she"d heard her name being called.
"Stephanie!"
"Grant?" It was his voice, wasn"t it?
But there was no reply.
"Stephanie!"
The voice was slightly different.
She turned around. "Liz? Clay? Are you two around here somewhere?"
Stephanie... Steph... Stephanie. Where are you?
Puzzled, she stood her ground for several minutes. She looked toward the encampment, and then toward the trail where Liz and Clay had gone. Once again, she was certain that it was Grant"s voice.
"Just head to the encampment," she told herself aloud, irritated.
But she felt the overwhelming desire to go the other way. Maybe one of them was in trouble.
Stephanie!
The last sounded like a weak and desperate cry of pain.
Was someone hurt, or was she imagining it? There was still just a bit of light remaining. She wasn"t frightened. There were actually many people in the vicinity-the camp was not far away at all. Tempted, she started toward the trail.
"There is always a balancing act between the needs of the living, the present, and the discovery and preservation of history,"
Carlo said. He was deeply pleased, showing Grant a muddied piece of metal that meant nothing to him. "Much work was destroyed as well as delayed when the police were here, but... then there was this!"
Grant wanted to be as impressed and pleased as Carlo apparently wanted him to be. He nodded, looking at Carlo, waiting.
"This is a boot buckle!" Carlo told him.
"That"s great."
"Not just any boot buckle."
"No, of course not. It"s a medieval boot buckle, right?"
Carlo nodded, tenderly holding the piece. "Look... here. That is the coat of arms of the king of France, and there, beneath, the arms of Francois de Venue! Believe it or not, the police unearthed this gem for me in their search for clues to the circ.u.mstances of Maria"s death and burial.""It"s a fine discovery," Grant said.
"It is your work area," Carlo murmured. "I realize that events here have been disturbing, to say the least, and, of course, now you are involved with the theater. But hopefully, you will continue to work with us, and it"s important that you realize just how dear every little discovery is. This means that Francois de Venue was definitely fighting right in this very area, and if he was killed, his remains must be very near."
"He was killed in the battle, wasn"t he?" Grant asked.
"That is the a.s.sumption, yes. He, Valeria, and Conan de Burgh were all reported to have died that day. They disappear from history, that much is certain, and de Burgh was hailed as a hero by the locals, who apparently went on to live for years in peace and prosperity. So far, we have found little proof of the fact that these men indeed came to great blows right here. And we have found many bones. But, ah! If we could just find the remains of the key players, then, what triumph!"
Carlo"s eyes glowed.
"Well, you"ve just begun. I"m sure you"ll find what you"re seeking."
"Um, yes, well, you"re right. We"ve only just begun. The excavations here could go on for years, and, of course, I know you haven"t that kind of time, but your work is deeply appreciated. I know as well, of course, where your true vocation lies."
Something about the way Carlo spoke was disturbing, but Grant wasn"t sure why. He should have understood the man"s pa.s.sion. He knew what it was to have a feeling for a line of work that was a dedication and desire, far more than just a job.
"I do intend to spend my time working here as well," Grant said.
Carlo nodded then, apparently pleased. "Well, I have kept you from your friends far too long. You"ll forgive me for not including them-you have been a part of this, they have not. And we are scholars here, of course, determined to give our finds to the world. Every now and then, however, we have moments of selfishness and pride!"
"Of course. And thank you. I am honored to be working here," Grant a.s.sured him. "If you"ll excuse me, though... I"ve been away some time now."
"Certainly!"
With a smile and a wave, Grant started back down the trail to where he had left Stephanie. When he reached the site, he wasn"t alarmed at first when he didn"t see her.
"Steph?" he called her name, but there was no answer.
He looked around, and the first unease filled him. It was growing dark.
He could see the trail up the little cliff that led to the precipice and decided she must have gone that way-though it occurred to him there were many places she might be. But he had to start somewhere.
He started up the trail. It was steep in a few places, but not dangerously so.
"Stephanie!" He called her name, waited, and heard nothing.
He quickened his pace, and was panting when he reached the top.
Stepping out, he saw that there was a spectacular view of the region. Great castles and walled cities could be seen from here, and at this distance, the ruin wasn"t visible as it would be up close. From here, he might have entered a different world. Then, as he stood there, he experienced the oddest sensation.
He"d been here before.
He"d climbed the trail...
He"d felt a terrible sense of urgency, and he"d come here, and...
The wind picked up. It whispered first, then whistled. It wasn"t that strong, he tried to tell himself, and yet...
It even seemed to be screaming.
"Stephanie!" He shouted her name in growing panic.
The light was beginning to fade in earnest.
He needed to hurry, to find her. And yet...
For a minute, he couldn"t force himself to move. The sense of deja-vu was more than he could stand. a.s.s, you"ve been working in the area! he reminded himself.
And yet...
It took the most ridiculous effort to fight the urge to stay, to turn away and start down again. Fear suddenly fueled anger.
Where the h.e.l.l had she gone?
Stephanie realized that she should have been growing a bit uneasy.
She thought she had taken the trail upward-but at some point, her trek had taken her down again. She had left the area where trees and foliage surrounded the path. The terrain was growing rockier. The cliff had become rugged stone, rising almost straight to the sky.
"Liz? Clay?" she called.
Against the rock, it seemed that the wind was stronger.
She swore softly, turned around, walked what she thought was the way she had come, and encountered only more rock and cliff.
"Grant!" she shouted, and waited.
The last sun slipped out of the sky, and she was surrounded by darkness. Too bad she wasn"t home, she told herself. Her key chain had an alarm, and a flashlight.
But she wasn"t home. She was in the hills in Italy, and like an idiot, she had wandered off alone.
There was a moon out, providing a touch of light, but...
What if she just kept wandering, endlessly? What if she couldn"t find her way back? She didn"t know the area to begin with, and now, in the dark... She wasn"t going to panic, she a.s.sured herself. She wouldn"t starve, and she wouldn"t even die of dehydration. Even if she had to just stop and sit here, eventually, someone would come for her. Grant would never just leave her.
And even if he did, Clay and Liz were here.
That thought shamed her; Grant would never leave her.
Grant was very strange these days.
Carlo Ponti even knew that she was here! And if Grant was so strange, dangerously strange, her intuition would have warned her by now. She was still sleeping with him!
But that might be because...