The Magician

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

J osh Newman stopped and swallowed hard. Any moment now, he was going to

throw up. Although it was cool and damp underground, he was sweating, his

hair plastered to his skull, his shirt lying icy and clinging along the

length of his spine. He had gone beyond frightened, past terrified and

straight to petrified.

Descending into the sewers had been bad enough. Dee had wrenched the manhole

cover out of the ground without any effort, and they d jerked back as a plume

of filthy, foul-smelling gas vented into the street. When it had drifted

away, Dee had slipped into the opening, followed a moment later by Josh and

finally Machiavelli. They d climbed down a short metal ladder and ended up

standing in a tunnel that was so narrow they had to march single file and so

low that only Dee could walk upright. The tunnel dipped, and Josh gasped as

ice-cold water suddenly flooded his sneakers. The smell was appalling, and he

desperately tried not to think about what he might be wading through.

The rotten-egg stink of sulfur briefly masked the smells in the sewer as Dee

created a globe of cold blue-white light. It hovered and danced in the air

about twelve inches in front of the Magician, painting the interior of the

narrow arched tunnel in stark ashen light and deep impenetrable shadows. As

they sloshed forward, Josh could hear things moving and glimpsed sparkling

points of red light shifting in the blackness. He hoped they were only rats.

I don't , Josh began, his voice echoing distortedly in the narrow tunnel.

I really don't like small spaces.

Neither do I, Machiavelli added tightly. I spent a little time in prison,

a long time ago. I ve never forgotten it.

Was it as bad as this? Josh asked shakily.

Worse. Machiavelli was walking behind Josh and he leaned forward to add,

Try and stay calm. This is just a maintenance tunnel; we ll get into the

proper sewers in a few moments.

Josh took a deep breath and gagged on the smell. He had to remember to

breathe only through his mouth. And how is that going to help? he muttered

through clenched teeth.

The sewers of Paris are mirrors of the streets above, Machiavelli

explained, his breath warm against Josh s ear. The bigger sewers are fifteen

feet high.

Machiavelli was correct; moments later they came out of the cramped and

claustrophobic service tunnel into a tall arched sewer wide enough to drive a

car through. The high brick walls were brightly lit and lined with black

pipes of various thicknesses. Somewhere in the distance, water splashed and

gurgled.

Josh felt the claustrophobia ease a little. Sophie sometimes got scared in

wide-open spaces; he was afraid of tightly enclosed spots. Agoraphobia and

claustrophobia. He took a deep breath; the air was still tainted with

effluent, but at least it was breathable. He lifted the front of his black

T-shirt to cover his face and breathed in: it stank. When he got out of

here if he got out of here he d have to burn everything, including the fancy

designer jeans Saint-Germain had given him. He quickly dropped the shirt,

realizing that he d nearly exposed the bag he wore on the cord around his

neck containing the pages from the Codex. No matter what happened now, he was

determined that he wasn't going to give up the pages to Dee, not until he was

sure very, very, very sure that the Magician s motives were honest.

Where are we? he wondered aloud, looking back at Machiavelli. Dee had

walked out into the center of the sewer, the solid white ball now spinning

just above the palm of his outstretched hand.

The tall Italian glanced around. I ve no idea, he admitted. There are

about twenty-one hundred kilometers of sewers around thirteen hundred miles,

he amended, seeing the blank look on Josh s face. But don't worry, we ll not

get lost. Most have their own street signs.

Street signs in the sewers?

The sewers of Paris are one of the great wonders of this city. Machiavelli

smiled.

Come! Dee s voice cracked out, echoing in the chamber.

Do you know where we re going? Josh asked quietly. He knew from experience

that he needed to keep distracted; once he started thinking about the

narrowness of the tunnels and the weight of the earth above him, his

claustrophobia would reduce him to a wreck.

We re going down, into the deepest, oldest part of the catacombs. You re

going to be Awakened.

Do you know who we re going to see?

Machiavelli s usually impassive face twitched in a grimace. Yes. By

reputation only. I ve never seen it. He lowered his voice to little more

than a whisper and caught Josh s sleeve, pulling him back. It s not too late

to turn back, he said.

Josh blinked in surprise. Dee wouldn't like that.

Probably not, Machiavelli agreed with a wry smile.

Josh was puzzled. Dee had said Machiavelli wasn't his friend, and it had been

obvious that the two men didn't agree. But I thought you and Dee were on the

same side.

We are both in the service of the Elders, it is true but I have never

approved of the English Magician and his methods.

Ahead of them, Dee turned into a smaller tunnel and stopped before a narrow

metal door that was secured by a thick padlock. He pinched through the hasp

of the metal lock with fingernails that stank of foul yellow power and pulled

open the door. Hurry, he called back impatiently.

This this person we re going to see, Josh said slowly, can they really

Awaken my powers?

I have no doubt about it, Machiavelli said softly. Is the Awakening so

important to you? he asked, and Josh was aware that Machiavelli was watching

him closely.

My sister was Awakened my twin sister, he explained slowly. I want I need

to have my powers Awakened so we re alike again. He looked at the tall

white-haired man. Does that make sense?

Machiavelli nodded, his face an unreadable mask. But is that the only

reason, Josh?

The boy looked at him for a long moment before he turned away. Machiavelli

was right; it wasn't the only reason. When he d held Clarent, he d briefly

experienced a hint of what it must be like to have Awakened senses. For a few

moments, he d felt truly alive, he d felt complete and more than anything

else, he wanted to experience that feeling again.

Dee led them into another tunnel, which was, if anything, even narrower than

the first. Josh felt his stomach clench and his heart start to thump. The

tunnel turned and twisted downward in a series of slender stairs. The stones

here were older, the steps irregularly shaped, the walls soft and crumbling

as they brushed past. In some places it was so narrow that Josh had to turn

sideways to slip through. He got stuck in a particularly confined corner and

immediately started to feel breathless panic bubbling in his chest. Then Dee

caught one arm and unceremoniously yanked him through, tearing a long strip

off the back of his T-shirt. Nearly there, the Magician muttered. He raised

his arm slightly and the bobbing ball of silver light rose higher into the

air, revealing the tunnel s pitted brickwork.

Hang on a second; let me catch my breath. Josh bent over, hands on his

knees, breathing deeply. He realized that as long as he concentrated on the

ball of light and didn't think about the walls and ceiling closing in on him,

he was OK. How do you know where we re going? he panted. Have you been

here before?

I was here once before a long time ago, Dee said with a grin. Right now,

I m just following the light. The harsh white light turned the Magician s

smile into something terrifying.

Josh remembered a trick his football coach had taught him. He wrapped his

hands around his stomach and squeezed hard as he breathed in and straightened

up. The feeling of queasiness immediately eased. Who are we going to see?

he asked.

Patience, humani, patience. Dee looked past Josh to where Machiavelli was

standing. I m sure our Italian friend will agree. One of the great

advantages of immortality is that one learns patience. There is a saying:

good things come to those who wait.

Not always good things, Machiavelli muttered as Dee turned away.

At the end of the narrow tunnel was a low metal door. It looked as if it

hadn't been opened in decades and had rusted solid into the weeping limestone

wall. In the white light, Josh saw that the rust had stained the off-white

stone the color of dried blood.

The ball of light bobbed in the air while Dee ran his glowing yellow

fingernail around the edge of the door, cutting it out of the frame, the

stink of rotten eggs blanketing the odor of sewage.

What s through here? Josh asked. Now that he d started to get his fear

under control, he was beginning to feel a little excitement. Once he was

Awakened, he d slip away and get back to Sophie. He turned to look at

Machiavelli, but the Italian shook his head and pointed to Dee. Dr. Dee?

Josh asked.

Dee broke open the low door and jerked it out of its frame. Soft stone

crumbled and flaked away around it. If I am correct and I almost always am,

the Magician added, then this will lead us into the Catacombs of Paris. Dee

leaned the door against the wall and then stepped through the opening.

Josh ducked to follow him. I ve never heard of them.

Few people outside Paris have, Machiavelli said, and yet, along with the

sewers, they are one of the marvels of this city. Over a hundred seventy

miles of mysterious and labyrinthine tunnels. The catacombs were once

limestone quarries. And now they are filled

Josh stepped through the opening, straightened up and looked around.

with bones.

The boy felt something twist in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard,

a sour and bitter taste at the back of his throat. Directly ahead, as far as

he could see in the gloomy tunnel, the walls, the curved ceiling and even the

floor were composed of polished human bones.