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Claire gratefully took that as an opportunity not to think about how disturbing this was, seeing him locked up like an animal in a cage, because of her. She read off her class schedule, and answered his questions, which were sharply worded and a strange mix of expert knowledge and complete ignorance. He understood philosophy and biochem; he didn't know anything at all about Quantum Mechanics, until she explained the basics, and then he nodded.
"Myth and Legend?" he echoed, baffled, when she read off the class title. "Why would Amelie feel it necessary ... ah, no matter. I'm sure she has reason. Your essay?" He held out his hand. Claire dug the stapled computer printout from her bag and handed it over. Six pages, single spaced. The best she could do on the history of a subject she was only just now starting to understand. "I'll read it later. And the books I gave you?"
Claire went to her backpack and pulled them out, then came back to her chair. "I read through Aureus and The Golden Chain of Homer."
"Did you understand them?"
"Not -- really."
"That's because Alchemy is a very secretive field of study. Rather like being a Mason -- are there still Masons?" When she nodded, Myrnin looked oddly relieved. "Well, that's good. The consequences would be quite terrible, you know, if there weren't. --As to alchemy, I can teach you how to translate the codes that were spoken and written, but I'm more concerned that you learn the mechanics than the philosophy. You do understand the methods outlined in the texts for constructing a calcining furnace, yes?"
"I think so. But why can't we just order what we need? Or buy it?"
Myrnin flicked the silver ring on his right hand into the bars of his cell, setting up a metallic ringing. "None of that. Modern children are fools, slaves to the work of others, dependent for everything. Not you. You will learn how to build your tools as well as use them."
"You want me to be an engineer?"
"Is it not a useful thing for one who studies physics to understand such practical applications?"
She stared at him doubtfully. "You're not going to make me get an anvil and make my own screwdrivers or anything, are you?"
Myrnin smiled slowly. "What a good idea! I'll consider it. Now. I have an experiment I'd like to try. Are you ready?"
Probably not. "Yes sir."
"Move that bookcase -- " He pointed to a leaning monstrosity of shelves that looked ready to collapse. It was groaning with volumes, of course. "Push it out of the way."
Claire wasn't at all sure the thing would hold together to be pushed, but she did as he said. It was better built than it looked, and to her surprise, when she'd pushed it aside, she found a small arched doorway. It was secured with a big heart-shaped iron lock.
"Open it," he said, and picked up the book he'd dropped upon her entrance, leafing randomly through the pages.
"Where's the key?"
"No idea." He flipped faster, frowning at the words. "Look around."
Claire looked around the lab in complete frustration. "In here?" Where was she supposed to start? It was all piles and stacks and half-open drawers, nothing in any order at all that she'd been able to determine so far. "Can you give me a hint, at least?"
"If I remembered, I would." Myrnin's voice was dry, but just a little sad too. She shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. He folded the book closed again and stared out of the cage -- not at her, not at anything, really. There was a careful blankness in his face. "Claire?"
"Yeah?" She pulled open the first drawer near the door. It was full of bottles of what looked like dust, none of them labeled. A spider scuttled frantically out of sight into the darker recesses, and she made a face and slammed it shut.
"Can you tell me why I'm in this cage?" He sounded odd now, strangely calm with something underneath. Claire pulled in a deep breath and kept looking in the drawers. She didn't look directly at him. "I don't like cages. Bad things have happened to me in cages."
"Amelie says you have to stay in there for a while," she said. "Remember? It's to help us."
"I don't remember." His voice was warm and soft and regretful. "I'd like to get out of here. Could you open it, please?"
"No," she said. "I don't have the -- "
--keys, except that she did. There was a ring of them sitting right there in front of her, half-hidden by a leaning tower of loose yellowing pages. Three keys. One was a great big iron skeleton key, and she was instantly almost sure that it fit the big heart-shaped lock on the door behind the bookcase. The other one was newer, still big and clunky, and it had to be the key to Myrnin's cage.
The third was a tiny, delicate silver key, like the kind that opened diaries and suitcases.
Claire reached out for the keyring and pulled it toward her, trying to do it silently. He heard, of course. He got up from the corner of the cage and came to the front, where he held on to the bars. "Ah, excellent," he said. "Claire, please open the door. I can't show you what you need to do if I'm locked in this cage."
God, she couldn't look at him, she just couldn't. "I'm not supposed to do that," she said, and sorted out the big iron skeleton key. It felt cold and rough to her fingers, and old. Really old. "You wanted me to open this door, right?"
"Claire. Look at me." He sounded so sad. She heard the soft ringing chime of his ring on the bars when he gripped them again. "Claire, please."
She turned away from him and put the key into the heart-shaped lock.
"Claire, don't open that!"
"You told me to!"
"Don't!" Myrnin rattled the bars of his cage, and even though they were solid iron she heard them rattle. "If you open that door, you'll die! Now get me out of here! Now!"
She checked her watch. Not enough time, not nearly enough; it was still at least an hour to sunset, maybe more. Michael was still stuck in the car. "I can't," she said. "I'm sorry."
The sound Myrnin made then was enough to make her glad that she was across the room. She'd never heard a lion roar, not in person, but somehow she imagined that it would sound like that, all wild animal rage. It shredded her confidence. She closed her eyes and tried not to listen, but he was talking, she couldn't understand what he was saying now but it was a constant, vicious stream in a language she didn't know. The tone, though -- you couldn't not get the evil undercurrents.
He'd kill her if he got hold of her now. Thank God, the cage was strong enough to ...
