The Book of Beasts by John Barrowman Page A

exhibition at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. Malcolm’s vision for the Councils was brilliant and with her contacts and abilities she knew they would be unstoppable. It was almost unforgivable that she had let Renard’s weak character influence her view of her son’s and for that she was truly sorry. As a child, Henrietta had worried that Malcolm would grow up to be like his father, lacking any ambition beyond the world of the islands and the limits of the Rules. Certainly Renard never had any indication that Sandie was a mere pawn in their plan for power. She doubted that he was aware of her part in all of this, even today.
    Henrietta sighed and sipped her tea. Renard had been a handsome suitor, and such a delight to seduce.
    The waiter set two places opposite Henrietta before exchanging her tea for a fresh pot. Once the man left, Henrietta spread strawberry jam on a warm scone, added a dollop of fresh cream and bit into its sweet softness, catching a drop of jam oozing on to her chin with her little finger. Outside, the evening traffic was clogging Princes Street. Her guests were late.
    â€˜ Seul le coeur sait ce que le coeur veut .’ It was a favourite expression of Henrietta’s mother. ‘The heart knows what the heart wants.’ Despite the competition from the brooding Vaughn, Sandie had fallen deeply in love with Malcolm. It had made their plan for a union between an Animare and a Guardian almost too easy. And for that union to result in twins, and such powerful ones at that – ça c’était la cerise sur le gâteau! The cherry on the cake.
    Of course there had been setbacks over the years – Malcolm’s sudden disappearance the worst one of all. It was a betrayal Henrietta had finally coaxed out of Sir Charles, the conniving mercenary fool. Binding Malcolm was a treachery Renard and Sandie would pay for.
    The waiter led her guests to the table. Henrietta licked cream from her fingers, and carefully wiped her hands on her napkin before standing and greeting her fellow conspirators.
    â€˜It is not the way we had planned for our coup to begin,’ she said, picking up the silver teapot and filling her guests’ cups. ‘But the time has finally come.’
    â€˜A toast?’ inquired the handsome, green-eyed man.
    â€˜How delicious,’ said his beautiful dark-haired friend.
    â€˜To our sons and daughters,’ said the man, nodding at Henrietta as he raised his cup.
    â€˜May you never forget imagination is the real and the eternal,’ purred the woman, pushing her long ink-black hair away from her face.
    Henrietta smiled at Mara and Tanan and added the final line with flair.
    â€˜This is Hollow Earth.’

TWENTY-NINE
    Auchinmurn Isle
The Middle Ages
    â€˜In your time, Matt, are our kind worshipped?’ asked Carik, stretching her legs out in front of the flames.
    â€˜The opposite,’ replied Matt. ‘We must keep ourselves hidden.’
    â€˜Then things have not changed much at all,’ she said, pulling off her calfskin boots and drying her feet at the fire.
    Carik was right, Matt realized. For all the progress and the developments that human beings had managed to achieve, they still hadn’t worked out how to handle people who were different.
    There was an odd rumbling sound.
    â€˜I’m hungry,’ Matt said defensively as Solon and Carik looked at him. ‘It’s been a while since I ate anything decent.’
    Carik pulled her boots back on and lifted her bow from a nearby rock to look for more food. Solon followed her to the mouth of the cave. Matt concentrated on stabbing at the fire while doing his best to eavesdrop on their conversation.
    â€˜Go to the north from here, Carik. You’ll be safer away from the monastery and the monks. Matt’s father is growing more powerful every minute. I can feel it.’
    â€˜Will you be safe, Solon?’
    Matt sensed Solon glancing back at him. He