came face to face with a statue of a minotaur. The moon was bright on its polished marble and for a moment she froze, recalling the beast-headed figures from her dream. Then she recognized it for what it was.
"Hi," she said softly, lifting her hand. "How's tricks?"
The minotaur kept to its stony silence and, smiling, Sara walked on.
Through the same trick of acoustics that let a window be open but none of the outside street sounds in, she could still hear Blue's record. It was a far-offish sound that had as much volume as the last of autumn's leaves rustling overhead, but was clear enough so that she could follow the melody. Humming along with it, she ambled on, nodding to statues when she came upon them, going where her feet led her and trying not to think anymore. The walking and humming were easy. Stopping herself from thinking was less so.
She reached the center of the garden and sat down on one of the benches. It was quiet here. Not even the guitar music reached this far. The fountain was still, turned off with the coming of colder weather. She looked up into the night sky, found Orion, Canis Major and the Little Dipper without much effort. The moon was too low for her to see now, lost somewhere in the west.
Gazing skyward helped calm her. Or at least it put things into perspective. She went over the day's events, from finding the painting and medicine bag through her evening in the House to her dream. Laid out before her like that, she saw that she'd been letting herself get carried away. Or at least letting her imagination run a little too freely. Which explained her nightmare.
There was something special about this afternoon's find. She twiddled the ring on her finger as she pondered it. There was no denying that this was one of those treasures that Jamie was always harping on about. The painting was a prize. The bag was a fascinating riddle. Its contents were both curious and, in the case of the ring, valuable. But that was as far as it went.
Still, she couldn't shake the niggling thought that it was all connected and that something else was about to happen, that some final key would appear to join all her half thoughts into something that, while it might not be understandable, would at least be in its entirety. Remembering her dream-monster, she had second thoughts about how desirable that might actually be. Now she understood a little better what kept Jamie at his studies. There was always that moment of sensing that an answer lay just within reach. Was it worth trying for?
Back in her bedroom, she exchanged her clothing for a fresh nightgown and climbed into bed. Was it worth trying to understand? She remembered a line of Francis Bacon's that Jamie loved to quote: "Whatever deserves to exist, deserves to be known." Well, she thought sleepily as she curled up against her pillow, what she had to find out was whether anything did exist in the first place. Then she could go about trying to understand it.
She knew that in the morning everything would be, if not clearer, at least not so intense. Too tired to worry about a repetition of her nightmare now, she searched for sleep and found it with a suddenness that dissolved any further thought. And, thankfully, it was deep and dreamless.
Chapter Three
Kieran Foy woke just as his train pulled into Ottawa Station. He gathered up his knapsack, bedroll and guitar case, and propped them up on the seat beside him. Shrugging into his old pea jacket, he waited patiently for the hiss and clatter of the train to stop and the announcement that they'd reached their destination to crackle over the train's intercom.
He hoped Jean-Paul had driven out to meet him like he'd said he would. He didn't feel like taking a bus and didn't think he had enough for cab fare left over after the price of his ticket. That was the trouble with not paying attention to money. It was never there when you needed it. If it was nice tomorrow, he'd go up to the Mall and busk for a few hours. If
"Hi," she said softly, lifting her hand. "How's tricks?"
The minotaur kept to its stony silence and, smiling, Sara walked on.
Through the same trick of acoustics that let a window be open but none of the outside street sounds in, she could still hear Blue's record. It was a far-offish sound that had as much volume as the last of autumn's leaves rustling overhead, but was clear enough so that she could follow the melody. Humming along with it, she ambled on, nodding to statues when she came upon them, going where her feet led her and trying not to think anymore. The walking and humming were easy. Stopping herself from thinking was less so.
She reached the center of the garden and sat down on one of the benches. It was quiet here. Not even the guitar music reached this far. The fountain was still, turned off with the coming of colder weather. She looked up into the night sky, found Orion, Canis Major and the Little Dipper without much effort. The moon was too low for her to see now, lost somewhere in the west.
Gazing skyward helped calm her. Or at least it put things into perspective. She went over the day's events, from finding the painting and medicine bag through her evening in the House to her dream. Laid out before her like that, she saw that she'd been letting herself get carried away. Or at least letting her imagination run a little too freely. Which explained her nightmare.
There was something special about this afternoon's find. She twiddled the ring on her finger as she pondered it. There was no denying that this was one of those treasures that Jamie was always harping on about. The painting was a prize. The bag was a fascinating riddle. Its contents were both curious and, in the case of the ring, valuable. But that was as far as it went.
Still, she couldn't shake the niggling thought that it was all connected and that something else was about to happen, that some final key would appear to join all her half thoughts into something that, while it might not be understandable, would at least be in its entirety. Remembering her dream-monster, she had second thoughts about how desirable that might actually be. Now she understood a little better what kept Jamie at his studies. There was always that moment of sensing that an answer lay just within reach. Was it worth trying for?
Back in her bedroom, she exchanged her clothing for a fresh nightgown and climbed into bed. Was it worth trying to understand? She remembered a line of Francis Bacon's that Jamie loved to quote: "Whatever deserves to exist, deserves to be known." Well, she thought sleepily as she curled up against her pillow, what she had to find out was whether anything did exist in the first place. Then she could go about trying to understand it.
She knew that in the morning everything would be, if not clearer, at least not so intense. Too tired to worry about a repetition of her nightmare now, she searched for sleep and found it with a suddenness that dissolved any further thought. And, thankfully, it was deep and dreamless.
Chapter Three
Kieran Foy woke just as his train pulled into Ottawa Station. He gathered up his knapsack, bedroll and guitar case, and propped them up on the seat beside him. Shrugging into his old pea jacket, he waited patiently for the hiss and clatter of the train to stop and the announcement that they'd reached their destination to crackle over the train's intercom.
He hoped Jean-Paul had driven out to meet him like he'd said he would. He didn't feel like taking a bus and didn't think he had enough for cab fare left over after the price of his ticket. That was the trouble with not paying attention to money. It was never there when you needed it. If it was nice tomorrow, he'd go up to the Mall and busk for a few hours. If
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