"He died in 1745 while at sea in a tragic accident. It would have been quite impossible."

"Did he have a son? The coat-of-arms would have descended to him."

"Sir Henry did have a son, but he was only eight at the time Carolyn was born."

"What about brothers?" Annja kept trying to make sense of the puzzle. The image of the lozenge wouldn't leave her thoughts. Someone had initially thought to put the inscription on the charm, then had decided – or been told – not to. It had to be important.

"Sir Henry did have two younger brothers. The youngest brother died while fighting the French in 1747."

"What about the other brother?"

"I've not found anything out about him. He seems to have disappeared," the professor said.

"No family fortune to care for?"

"Remember, dear girl," the professor said, "this is Britain. We had the law of primogeniture here. Only the eldest male issue shall inherit family estates. Once Sir Henry had a son to carry on the family name, the rest of the family got nothing."

"Then who would use his heraldry?"

"I don't know. I shall keep looking and endeavor to find out. But as it stands at the moment, I'm at a loss to explain it."

"Thanks, Graham," Annja said.

"Of course, dear girl. I am yours to command. I have only one request."

"Yes."

"Once you decipher this puzzle, come to England and share the story with me. It's been too long since I've seen you."

"I will," Annja said, and hoped she survived the encounter with Lesauvage to do that.

Chapter 26

"ANNJA."

Waking with a start, Annja lifted her hands in front of her in a defensive move. She blinked, focused and saw Roux standing in front of her.

"What?" she asked. Her throat was dry.

"We're descending. We'll land in a few minutes."

Annja felt the shift in the jet then. "Thanks." She put her seat belt on again.

Roux looked guilty. "I feel bad for waking you. You've hardly been asleep at all."

"I'll be fine." Annja uncapped a bottle of water and drank. The truth was, she didn't know how much longer she could keep going. It seemed as if the past few days had all turned into one exhaustive blur.

"May I?" Roux gestured to the seat next to her.

"Sure."

Roux sat and belted himself in. "I plan on accompanying you." He paused. "Unless you have an objection."

Annja thought about it. She really didn't want to be on her own facing Lesauvage and possibly the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain.

"It's going to be dangerous," she warned.

Roux favored her with a small smile. "Now that you have the sword, I should wonder if you will ever know peace again."

Annja lay back in the seat. "I hope you're wrong."

"You could give up the sword." He regarded her with idle speculation.

For a quiet moment, Annja thought about it. She could give up the sword, simply lay it down and walk away. But she knew she wouldn't. That wasn't her way, and… the sword had felt entirely too right in her hand.

"No," she said. "I can't."

"I'm not going."

Standing at the door of the jet, the noise of the airport loud in her ears, Annja looked at Garin.

Hands clasped behind his head, he lounged, barefoot, on the sofa.

"I thought you couldn't wait to see me get killed," Annja said.

Mirthlessly, Garin grinned at her. "If I go with you, I might be tempted to help you. If I did, I wouldn't be helping myself, would I?" He shook his head. "No. I'll sit on the sidelines for this one, and wait to see how it turns out."

Without a word, Annja ducked through the door and went quickly down the steps to the tarmac. Roux followed her, carrying a slim, dark wood walking stick. He exchanged no words with Garin. After more than five hundred years of being mentor and student, then enemies, what was left to say?

A jet screamed through the air overhead. Annja looked up into the night and adjusted her backpack over her shoulder.

Eyes were watching her. She was sure of that. She wondered if she would ever see Garin again.

Three men waited outside the gates, near the baggage-claim area. They were better dressed than the motorcycle riders but they were the same kind of stock.

"Miss Creed," one of them said.

Annja stopped. "Who are you?"

"Mr. Lesauvage sent a car for you."

"I prefer my own car," Annja said.

"Mr. Lesauvage," the man said more harshly, "insists."

"He can call me and arrange a meeting place." Annja stared at him. "I insist."

The man stepped forward and grabbed Annja's upper arm. She reacted without thinking, opening her fist and popping him in the throat.

Buckling, gasping for breath, the man staggered away. The second man reached for her, but she shifted, grabbed his arm and bent it behind him, then lifted his arm high between his shoulders and rammed him into the nearest wall. Senseless, he collapsed.

The third man took one step, then Roux swung the walking stick up between his legs. Mewling with pain and grabbing himself, the man dropped to the floor.

Roux adjusted his collar and tie. Frowning, he gazed at the rapid approach of the security people. "Well, so much for the quiet arrival."

It took almost an hour to straighten out the mess with airport security. In the end, one of Lesauvage's men claimed to have staggered drunkenly into Annja and caused the misunderstanding. Annja had supported that by saying she might have overreacted. The security chief let them go with a stern warning, and probably because he didn't want any further paperwork than he already had.

"Have you always been this way?" Roux asked while they stood at the car-rental desk.

Annja was quiet for a moment. Then she looked at him. "I grew up in an orphanage. You learn not to let people push you around in there. If circumstances were different, if I didn't already know that Lesauvage was slime, maybe I would handle this a different way."

The agent brought a set of keys to a Nissan Terrano 4X4. The cost was extra, but Annja wanted the off-road capability.

"But Lesauvage is a criminal," Annja went on, "and circumstances aren't different. I'm preparing for war."

Roux smiled and shook his head. "You remind me so much of her at times. So focused. So deliberate. So convinced of your own righteousness."

"Of who?" Annja signed the agreement and left the desk. She knew whom Roux meant, but for some reason she wanted him to say it. That way maybe he'd remember that he'd been too late last time and would put forth greater effort.

Roux fell into step beside her. "Of Joan."

For a moment, the image of the burning pyre filled Annja's head. "Joan's dead."

"I know," Roux said. "I was going to remind you of that."

Annja was keying the ignition when her cell phone rang. Fumbling it from her backpack, she answered.

"Miss Creed," Lesauvage said.

Annja paused with the Terrano in gear. All around her, people arrived and departed the busy airport even this late in the evening. All of them had places to go, were starting journeys or ending them.

And what are you doing? she wondered. Starting one or ending one? She didn't know.

"We'll meet outside Mende," Annja said with cold deliberation. She tried to sound as though she weren't about to throw up.