Key of Knowledge k-2

by Nora Roberts

But could she just go home, fall on the bed, and sleep for ten hours? Oh, no, she thought with a hiss as she moved on to the dairy aisle. No, indeed. She had to attend a big meeting at Brads place on the river.

  She really needed about two solid hours of absolute solitude and quiet, but shed had to trade a portion of that for groceries if she didnt want to starve to death in the coming week.

  On top of that, she no longer had any confidence that she would find the answer to the key in the stacks of books shed accumulated. Shed read and read, followed every lead, but she didnt seem to be any closer to a concrete theory, much less a solution.

  And if she failed, what then? Not only would she let down her friends, her brother, her lover. Not only would she disappoint Rowena andPitte , but her inadequacy would doom the Daughters of Glass until the next triad was chosen.

  How could she live with that? Depressed now, she tossed a quart of milk in her basket. Shed seen the Box of Souls with her own eyes, ached to watch those blue lights battering frantically at their prison walls.

  If she couldnt find the key, slide it into the lock as Malory had done with the first, everything theyd done would be for nothing.

  And Kane would win.

  “Over my dead body,” she declared, then jolted when someone touched her arm.

  “Sorry.” The woman laughed. “Sorry. It looked like you were arguing with yourself. I usually dont get to that point until I hit the frozen dessert section.”

  “Well, you know. Whole milk, low fat, two percent? Its a jungle in here.”

  Then the woman angled her cart so another shopper could get through.

  Pretty, brunette, late thirties, Dana observed, trying to place her. “Sorry. I know you, dont I? I just cant place it.”

  “You helped me and my son a couple of weeks ago in the library.” She reached for a gallon of milk. “He had a report due the next day for American history class.”

  “Oh right, right.” Dana made the effort to tuck her dark thoughts away and answer the smile. “U.S. history report, Mrs.Janesburg , seventh grade.”

  “Thats the one. Im Joanne Reardon.” She offered her hand. “And the life you saved was my son, Matts. I stopped back in the library last week to thank you again, but I was told you werent there anymore.”

  “Yeah.” That brought some of the dark thoughts back into play. “You could say I retired abruptly from library service.”

  “Im sorry to hear that. You were terrific with Matt. And you made a big difference. He got an A. Well, an A-minus, but anything with Matts name on it that includes an A is cause for wild celebration in our house.”

  “Thats great.” And particularly good to hear at the end of a long day. “He mustve done a good job. Mrs.Janesburg doesnt pass out the As like doughnuts.”

  “He did, which he wouldnt have done if you hadnt pointed him in the right direction. More, if you hadnt found the right key to turn in his head. Im glad I got the chance to tell you.”

  “So am I. You picked up my day considerably.”

  “Im sorry about whatever happened with the job. Its none of my business, but if you ever need a personal reference, you can sure have mine.”

  “Thanks. I mean that. Actually, some friends and I are starting our own business. Im going to be opening a bookstore in a month or so. Probably a little more „or so, but were putting it all together.”

  “A bookstore?” Joannes hazel eyes sharpened with interest. “In town?”

  “Yeah. A combination thing. A bookstore, an arts and crafts gallery, and a beauty salon. Were fixing up a house over on Oak Leaf.”

  “That sounds fabulous. What an idea. All that in one place, and in town. I only live about a mile and a half from there. I can promise to be one of your regular customers.”

  “If we keep up the pace, well have it up and running for the holiday season.”

  “Terrific. You wouldnt be hiring, would you?”

  “Hiring?” Dana eased back, considered. “Are you looking for a job?”

  “Im thinking about slipping back into the workforce, but I want something close to home, something fun, and something with fairly flexible hours. What youd call a fantasy job. Especially when you consider I havent worked outside the home in over a decade, have only recently become computer literate—actually, it may be a stretch to say that—and my main job experience was as a legal secretary for a mid-level law firm in Philadelphia—where I did not shine—right out of high school.”

  She laughed at herself. “Im not giving myself a very glowing recommendation.”

  “You like to read?”

  “Give me a book and a couple hours of quiet, and alls right with the world. Im also good with people, and Im not looking for a big salary. My husband has a good job, and were secure, but Id like to pull in a little of my own. And Id like to do something to earn it that doesnt have anything to do with laundry, cooking, or browbeating an eleven-year-old into picking up his room.”

  “I find those excellent qualifications in a potential employee. Why dont you come by the building sometime. Its the house with the blue porch. You can take a look at the place, and well talk some more.”

  “This is great. I will. Wow.” She let out a laugh. “Im so happy I ran into you. It mustve been fate.”

  Fate, Dana mused when theyd parted ways. She hadnt been giving enough credit to fate. Needing to restock her pantry had brought her here, to the dairy section of her local supermarket.

  A small thing, she thought as she continued through the aisles. An everyday sort of thing. But hadnt it put her here at just the right moment? Bumped her right into a woman who might become another spoke on the wheel of her life?

  And more than that. Shed bumped into the woman whod said exactly what shed needed to hear.

  You found the right key to turn in his head.

  Was it just coincidence that Joanne had used that phrase? Dana wasnt going to blow it off as coincidence. No, her key—the right key—was knowledge.

  She would find it, Dana promised herself. She would find it by keeping her mind open.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IN Danas opinion, there were a lot of things you could say about Bradley Charles Vane IV.

  He was fun, smart, and great to look at. He could, depending on his mood and the circumstances, present a polished, urbane image that made her think of James Bond ordering a vodka martini in Monte Carlo—and then turn on a dime and become a complete goofball ready to spray seltzer down your pants.

  He could discuss French art films with the passion of a man who didnt require the subtitles, and be just as fervent in a debate over whether ElmerFudd or Yosemite Sam was a more worthy adversary for Bugs.

  Those were just some of the things she loved about Brad.

  Another was his house.

  Townerscalled it the Vane House, or the River House, and indeed it had been both for more than four decades.

  Brads father had built it, a testimony to the lumber that formed the foundation of the Vane empire. Using that lumber, and with a skilled eye for the surroundings, B. C. Vane III had created both the simple and the spectacular.

  The golden frame house spread along the riverbank, edging itself with spacious decks and charming terraces. There were a number of rooflines and angles, all of them balanced into a creative harmony that showcased the beauty of wood.

  It offered lovely views of the river or the trees or the clever hodgepodge of gardens.

  It wasnt the sort of place you looked at and thought, Money. Rather, you thought, Wow.

  Shed spent some time there, tagging along after Flynn when she was a kid and tagging along with Jordan when she was older. It was a place where shed always felt comfortable. It seemed to her it had been created with comfort as its first priority and style running a close second.

  Another thing you could say about Brad, she decided, was that he didnt skimp on the refreshments when he had a gathering.

  It wasnt anything fancy, at least it wasnt presented that way. Just some sort
of incredible pasta salad that made her contemplate going back for more, a lot of interesting finger food, ham slices, and some dense, dark bread for sandwich making.

  There was a round of Brie skirted by fat red raspberries, and crackers nearly thin enough to see through that crunched with satisfying delicacy at every bite.

  There was beer, there was wine, there were soft drinks and bottled water.

  She already knew she wasnt going to resist the mini cream puffs mounded in a tempting island on a platter the size of New Jersey.

  All this was spread out casually in the great room, where a fire snapped and sizzled and the furniture was the kind you could happily sink into for weeks at a time.

  Not fancy, not so you felt like you couldnt rest your feet on the coffee table. Just classy. That was Bradley Vane, right down to the ground.

  Conversation buzzed and hummed around her, and she was drifting into a happy coma brought on by good food, warmth, and contentment.

  Or would, she thought, ifZoe would stop squirming beside her.

  “Youre going to have to do something about those ants in your pants,” Dana told her.

  “Sorry.”Zoe shot another look toward the archway. “Im just worried about Simon.”

  “Why? He had a plate with enough food piled on it to feed a starving battalion, and hes hunkered down in the game room. A nine-year-oldswet dream.”

  “Theres so much stuff in this house,”Zoe whispered. “Expensive stuff. Art and glassware and china and things . Hes not used to being around all of this.”

  Neither am I, she thought, and struggled not to squirm again.

  “What if he breaks something?”

  “Well.” Lazily, Dana popped another raspberry into her mouth. “Then I guessBradll beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  “He hits children ?”Zoe exclaimed.

  “No. Jesus,Zoe , get a grip. The place has survived nine-year-old boys before—at least three of them are alive and in this room. Relax. Have a glass of wine. And while youre at it, get me some more raspberries.”

  Half a glass,Zoe thought and got to her feet. But even as she reached for the bottle, Brad lifted it.

  “You look a little distracted.” He poured the wine into a glass, handed it to her. “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” Damn it, shed only wanted half a glass. Why didnt he stay out of her way? “I was just thinking I should check on Simon.”

  “Hes fine. He knows where everything is in the game room. But Ill walk you back if you want to take a look,” Brad added when she frowned.

  “No. Im sure hes fine. Its very nice of you to let him play.” She knew her voice was stiff and tight, but she couldnt help it.

  “That, rumor has it, is what a game rooms for.”

  Since Brads voice echoed her tone,Zoe simply nodded. “Um. Dana, she wanted some more. Of these.” Mortified for no reason she could name, she scooped some of the berries into a bowl, then carried them and her wine back to the couch. .

  “Pompous ass,” she said under her breath and had Dana blinking at her.

  “Brad?” Dana snatched the bowl of raspberries. “Sorry, honey, you got the wrong number.”

  Jordan wandered over, sat on the arm of the couch beside Dana and stole a couple of berries before she could stop him.

  “Get your own.”

  “Yours are better.” He reached out to play with her hair. “So, howd you get this blond stuff in here?”

  “I didnt.Zoe did.”

  Nipping one more berry, he eased forward to look past Dana, wink atZoe . “Nice job.”

  “Any time you need a haircut, its on the house.”

  “Ill remember that.” He sat back again. “So, Im sure youre all wondering why weve brought you here tonight,” he began and made Dana laugh.

  “Now theres a pompous ass.” But she laid a hand on his thigh. “I guess since were here to talk about the key, and Im the one whos supposed to find it, Ill start.”

  Handing Jordan what was left of the berries, she pushed herself off the couch and snagged her wineglass from the coffee table. Even as she took the first step, Jordan slid down into her seat. He gave her a quick grin and draped his arm behindZoe over the back of the couch.

  “Come here often?” he askedZoe .

  “I would have, if Id known youd be here, handsome.”

  “You guys are just a riot,” Dana muttered, then eased past a frowning Brad to the wine bottle. What the hell, she wasnt driving.

  “Now, if everybodys all comfy and cozy?” She paused, sipped her wine. “My key deals-with knowledge, or truth. Im not sure the words are interchangeable, but both, either, or a combination of them applies to my quest. Theres also a connection to the past, the now, the future. Im taking this, after some fiddling around and dead-ending, to be personal, as applies to me.”

  “I think youre right about that,” Malory put in. “Rowena stresses that were the keys. The three of us. And mine was personal. If were going to consider a pattern, thats part of it.”

  “Agreed. The male-type people in this room are part of my past, and of my now. Odds are, Im probably going to be stuck with them one way or the other, so theyre part of my future as well. We know, too, there are connections among all six of us. My connection to each of you, and yours to me, to each other. There are the paintings fromMals part of it that added a link.”

  She, as did the others, glanced at the portrait Brad had hung over the mantel. Another of Rowenas works, it showed the Daughters of Glass, after the spell that had taken their souls. Each lay pale and still in their crystal coffin.

  “Brad bought that at auction, without knowing what was going to happen here, just as Jordan bought one of Rowenas paintings, the young Arthur on the point of drawing the sword from the stone, at the gallery where Malory used to work. Also years before we knew what we know now. So… this, in turn, connects all of us with Rowena andPitte and the goddesses.”

  “And Kane,”Zoe added. “I dont think its smart to leave him out.”

  “Youre right,” Dana agreed. “And Kane. Hes messed with most of us already, and its pretty clear hell mess with us again. We know hes bad. We know hes powerful. But those powers arent without limits.”

  “Or someone or something limits him. He took a slice out of me,” Jordan continued. “Then Rowena sends a little potion home with Dana. You guys saw this yesterday.” He opened his shirt. The cuts were now only fading welts. “They started healing minutes after we slapped the stuff on them. The point is, whatever he did couldnt hold up against Rowena. And whatever she did to counter it couldnt erase it completely.”

  “To which we conclude,” Dana finished for him, “that theyre pretty evenly matched.”

  “He has weaknesses.” Absently Jordanrebuttoned his shirt. “Ego, pride, temper.”

  “Who said those were weaknesses?” Dana wandered over, sat on the arm of the chair Brad had taken. “Anyway, its more. He doesnt really get us—the whole human or mortal thing. He doesnt get us as individuals. He skims the surface, picks up on our little fantasies or fears, but he doesnt really get to the core—or hasnt. Thats how Malory beat him.”

  “Yes, but when he has hold of you, its hard to see clearly, hard to know.” Malory shook her head. “We cant underestimate him.”

  “Im not. But up to now, I think, he has underestimated us.” Thoughtfully, Dana studied the portrait. “He wants them to suffer, simply because part of them is mortal. Rowena talked of opposing forces: beauty and ugliness, knowledge and ignorance, courage and cowardice. How without one the other loses its punch. So hes the dark, and you cant have light without dark. I figure hes essential to the whole deal, not just an annoyance.”

  She hesitated, then took a drink. “Its no secret that Jordan and I were intimate. I dont think its any secret that were… intimate now.”

  Jordan waited a beat. “Ive never known you to get flustered talking about sex, Stretch.”

  “I just want to make it clear to… people. To you, that Im not sleeping with yo
u as a way to find the key. Even if that has something to do with it,” she continued quickly, “because as somebody told me recently, sex is powerful magic—”

  “If you do it right,” Jordan interrupted.

  “So lets see what we know,” Brad said, trying to get back on track. “None of this would have happened—past— without Kane.” Brad tapped his index fingers together, “His presence and manipulations influence the search for the key. Present.” He held up a second finger, “And theres no finish to the spell without him.” And a third. “Hes a necessary factor. Theres no reward without work, no victory without effort, no battle won without risk.”

  “Its another traditional element of a quest,” Jordan added. “An evil to be overcome.”

  “I understand all this,”Zoe said. “And its important. But how does it help Dana find the key?”

  “Know your enemy,” Brad told her.

  “Thatnutshelled it,” Dana agreed.

  “But theres more,” Flynn noted. “Blood has been shed. Another traditional quest element. I can read, too,” he said. “Why was it Jordans blood? Theres a reason for it.”

  “Might be because Jordan pissed him off, which hes really good at doing,” Dana said. “But more likely its because I need Jordan to find the key.”

  “Stretch, you need me for so many things.”

  “Lets ignore the ego burst and stay focused.” Dana gestured with her glass. “The keys knowledge. Something I know, or have to learn. A truth that has to be sifted out from lies. Kane mixes his truth and lies. What is it hes said or done thats truth? Thats one of the angles Im playing. Then theres the last bit of the clue. Where one goddess walks another waits. Thats a stumper so far. Malorys goddess was singing, and she re-created that moment, and the key, by painting it. Following that, my goddess,Niniane , should be walking. But where, why, when? And which goddess waits? Would that beZoes ?”

  “Maybe youre supposed to write it,”Zoe suggested. “Like a story, I mean. The way Malory painted hers.”

  “Thats not bad.” Dana considered. “The thing is, I never wanted to write, not like Malory wanted to paint. But maybe its something Im supposed to read, and God knows Im not hitting on anything in the six million books Ive gone through so far. So maybe I have to write it myself, first.”