Page 30 of Atlas of Unknowable Things

SKY GODS AND EARTH MAIDENS

Astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another.

—PLATO

The next morning, I awoke to a crisp blue sky and the heavenly freshness of recently fallen rain.

I had a new plan and was ready to implement it.

When I’d mentioned writing an article, that had clearly flustered all of them, so I decided I would keep on plying them with invasive questions until one of them cracked.

I took a hot shower, had a light breakfast of toast with butter and honey, and then filled a to-go mug I found in the cabinet, setting out to find Aspen.

After a short and pleasant search through the rain-kissed grounds, I found her working in one of the greenhouses, her gloved hands deep in the soil.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I can see,” I said, setting down my coffee and taking out a notebook. “But we can just chat casually, can’t we?”

“About what?”

“Like I said at lunch, I’m writing an article about Hildegard, and I wondered if I could interview you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously writing an academic article about Hildegard?”

“Yes,” I said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “This place is such a unique institution. I was wondering about the faculty’s social life.”

“None of us have a social life.”

“Okay,” I said, pretending to look down at my notes. “But someone mentioned that Isabelle might have been friends with one of the custodians who worked here?”

Aspen frowned. “Who mentioned that?”

“Maybe not a custodian, maybe kitchen staff?”

Aspen looked confused. “No. Who told you that?”

“I can’t recall.”

“Sure you can,” she said, pulling her hands out of the soil and removing her gloves. “You must have it in your notes. Look through them and figure out who said what.”

“I don’t want to waste your time with that,” I said with what I hoped was professionalism.

“I’ll wait,” she said, crossing her arms with an air of great patience.

She had me there, so I just stared at her, unsure how to get out of this.

“You know,” she continued, “whatever it is you’re trying to do right now, you are exceptionally bad at it. Is there something you want to ask me?”

I tried to seem casual, but she was right. I was bad at this. I was an academic, not a spy.

“How do you know Paloma?” I asked at last, realizing that bluntness was probably my only option at this point.

Aspen shook her head slowly, her eyes searching me. “I don’t think I know anyone named Paloma.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“The relic—” I started to say, but she cut me short with an exasperated breath.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with obvious exhaustion, and then all but ignoring me, she turned her attention to some startlingly yellow blooms.

“Marigold?” I asked, and she looked at me like I’d just spread mud all over a new carpet.

“Dianthus. For someone who studies herbalism in any fashion, you know shockingly little about plants.” She tilted her head and stared at me like a doctor trying to diagnose a puzzling disorder. “Robin, do you know what the doctrine of signatures is?”

“The doctrine of signatures?” It was an ancient theory that the physical appearance of a plant gave an indication of what it would treat. I’d heard of it, but knew very little about it. “Was that Plato?”

“It was put forth by Paracelsus and taken up by myriad scholars, including Thomas Browne. I am something of a fan myself. You know,” she said, gently touching the dianthus, “according to the doctrine of signatures, the color of a plant can signal its use. For instance, yellow corresponds to urine and phlegm, so you could use a yellow plant to treat diseases of the kidneys or lungs.”

“If I’m not mistaken, using plants that way has killed people.”

“True,” said Aspen. “But the theory itself isn’t wholly without merit. Think about ginseng. It’s a whole-body tonic. And it’s especially effective as a virility enhancer.”

I shook my head. “Next you’re going to tell me that ginseng looks like a man?”

“Because it does.”

“So does that tree,” I said, pointing at a vaguely human-shaped sapling in the near distance.

“I’m not saying that it’s a replacement for modern scientific study. I’m just saying it’s hubris to think that just because we have more knowledge now that we should obliterate all past thought.”

“Well, if I get pneumonia, I’ll come straight for your dianthus.”

She stared down at the flower and then smiled back up at me, a sly twist to her lips. “I think it’s time that we stopped fucking around, don’t you?”

“What?” The word came out garbled and strange. This was not what I was expecting. “Stop fucking around how?”

With a cold smile, she climbed up to sit on the edge of one of the planters, her face suddenly shifting, looking much older and more dangerous than the person I’d thought she was.

The woman sitting before me wasn’t the same person I’d first encountered in the apothecary garden, all friendly smiles and just call me Aspen. She was calculating and cold.

I could barely move, but I tried to smile, my lips quivering as I managed a poor simulacrum of the real thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” she asked, leaning back again, crossing her legs like a university lecturer congratulating herself on a job well done. “You’re telling me you really have no idea what’s actually going on?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

She laughed. “Let me ask you this, Robin. What exactly do you think we do here?”

“Well, Hildegard College is obviously a college. It’s in the name.”

“Tell me the truth. What do you really think?”

I exhaled, my breath shaking as I thought back to the darkened building in the woods and to the plans I’d found in the conference room, to the state of disarray I’d found the rooms in, to the blood on the island.

“Is this some kind of cult?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Apparently you all grew up here. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me more. I’d love to follow your thought process.”

“I’m sorry, but why play games? If you’re just going to tell me some big secret, then just tell me. There’s no reason to be coy.”

“Testy!” she said with approval. “It’s nice to see this feisty side of you start to come out. But I’m not being coy. I’m genuinely interested to see how much of the puzzle you’ve pieced together.”

Tingles traced my spine as she said that. This was what I needed. Just play it cool, Robin. Don’t scare her off.

“Okay, I’ll play,” I said carefully. “What have I pieced together? I think you’re up to something here, something covert. Hildegard College is a cover of some kind. I think you do research, but I’m not sure it’s what you say it is. Maybe you work for the government.”

“Ah, but which one?” She raised her eyebrows.

“So I’m right, then?”

“I didn’t say that. Tell me more. Do you suspect espionage? Do you think we’re in the Company?”

“I can tell you’re making fun of me, but I don’t think my suspicions are completely unfounded.

I mean, the remoteness, the secrecy, all the tech.

This place could easily be some kind of government-run enclave where you do testing.

And Isabelle, she was your best research scientist. I think she discovered something she wasn’t supposed to.

Or maybe she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see. ”

Aspen scratched her chin. “Is that really honestly what you think?”

I thought for a moment. Deep down, that was pretty much exactly what I thought. “Am I close?”

The edges of her lips crept up into a hint of a smile. “Not even remotely,” she said, fighting back obvious laughter.

“I give up, then,” I said, unable to hide how annoyed I felt.

“Listen, Robin, I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

“To tell you the truth. Meet me tonight at Isabelle’s office on the island. Seven-fifteen.”

“The island?”

“Don’t play dumb. And there’s no need to swim this time. The boat will be tied up at the dock. Go back to your cabana and rest up. Tonight is the final act. We’re going to lay all our cards on the table and so, I hope, will you.”

“But I don’t have any cards,” I said, doing my best to hide my panic.

“Sure you do,” she said. “Don’t be late.”

“Can you give me a hint?”

“Let’s just say there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Aspen picked up her gloves and put them back on slowly. “Now get the hell out of my garden.”

With a mixture of excitement and annoyance, I returned to my cabana. I was just walking in the door when I got a notification that Guillaume étienne had entered my Zoom meeting.

“Shit!” I’d forgotten about Guillaume and his grandmother.

I grabbed my notebook and set up my computer. Trying to appear professional and prepared, I logged in and entered the room. When they turned on their video, the image on the screen made me feel like I’d been transported to a fairy-tale cottage.

“My apologies for being late. I was having problems with the internet,” I lied. I didn’t like lying, but I’d found recently that I was curiously good at it.

The old woman who sat beside Guillaume was ninety if she was a day, but there was glimmer to her cat’s eyes that hinted at a much younger woman lurking somewhere inside.

Around her shoulders she’d wrapped a mint-green shawl that sparkled when the light hit it just right, and a large amethyst hung pendulous from a chain around her neck.

“We weren’t waiting long,” said Guillaume. “Can you hear us all right?”

“Just fine. Thanks for agreeing to talk with me, Madame étienne.”

“My pleasure,” she said in a deep, husky voice.

There was nothing overtly frightening about Jeanne étienne, but as I looked at her, I noticed fear blossoming in my chest. This woman had elements of Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother and the big bad wolf all rolled up into one.

“Grand-mère, this is Robin,” said Guillaume. “She wants to ask you about Sabine.”