About a year after Mother died, Sage thought. Father must have brought them here while he figured out how to care for them. She couldn’t imagine that a chateau of monks would have been much help with caring for three rambunctious girls.
Brother Nicolas nodded. “Of course, you came back for visits. But not often.” He gazed at Willow through narrowed eyes of thought. “You must be Willow.”
Willow beamed, pleased.
He laughed and swatted at his knee. “I remember those golden ringlets. Cried all night for your father. We didn’t know what to do with you! You drove Brother Peter mad.”
“She still drives some people mad,” Raven muttered.
Sage grinned.
“I’m so pleased you came to visit again,” Brother Nicolas said.
Sage glanced at Willow, urging her to show him the book with an insistent nod.
“Well, actually, we came to ask a favor of you.” Willow untied the pouch and opened it to remove the book. “We would like you to read this to us.” She handed him the book.
Brother Nicolas took the book. He angled it toward the light of the torch ensconced on the wall, studying it for a moment. He opened it and scanned the parchment pages. “Where did you get this?” The merriment had left his voice.
“It was a gift,” Willow explained.
“A gift?” Raven echoed, staring at her with a hard look.
Obviously, Willow had forgotten they had told Raven she found it. Sage stepped up to the desk, waiting anxiously to hear him read.
“Hmmm.” He turned to the first page, moving forward until his nose all but touched the page. All his good-naturedness evaporated, and a deep frown etched into his weathered forehead. He straightened and leaned toward them. “Who gave you this book, child?” he asked in a soft, almost whispered voice.
“A man,” Willow answered evasively.
Raven rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Leave this book with me. No good will befall you if you keep it.”
The sisters all looked at one another.
No good would befall them? Sage’s curiosity was enflamed. Her insides clenched tightly, and she mentally begged Willow not to leave it. She shook her head slightly.
Willow wondered, “Why do you say that?”
He pointed one of his crooked fingers at the first page, moving from one figure in the text to another. “I’ve been around for far too long. I’ve seen every kind of book there is. You can’t read this. It is babble.”
“Babble?” Sage echoed, frowning in confusion. “Why would someone write a book that you can’t read?”
“Oh, you can read it. After you figure out the code.”
“Code?” Sage glanced at the book on the desk with a new thrill gripping her.
“It has a hidden code.”
“A hidden code?” Raven echoed.
Sage leaned forward eagerly. “Can you decipher it?”
“It will take time,” Brother Nicolas admitted. “But I can decipher it.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sage!” Raven objected. “We don’t have that much time.”
