“Oh, don’t be stupid,” the man said almost impatiently. Palamedes’ sword suddenly turned into a length of wood, which quickly sprouted leaves. Vines immediately started to coil around the knight’s wrist and arm. He dropped the sword to the ground, where it was swallowed into the earth, leaving nothing more than a darkened patch in the dirt by his feet.

“That was my favorite sword,” the Saracen Knight muttered.

“This is my world,” the hooded man said. “I created it. I control it and everything in it.” He stretched his hook out over the water and moved it clockwise, and the pool instantly froze into a crackling sheet of ice. When he moved it counterclockwise, the ice transformed into foul-smelling bubbling lava. “And right now,” the man said, “you are here… which means that I control you.” His hand moved again and the lava turned back into crystal-clear water.

Will Shakespeare stepped closer to the water’s edge, then stooped to scoop up a handful of the liquid. He paused before he brought it to his lips. “I take it that it is safe to drink.”

“I can make it any flavor you like.”

The Bard sipped the water. “You’re not going to kill us, are you?”

“I am not.”

Shakespeare straightened slowly and looked closely at the hooded man. He frowned: there was something almost familiar about him. “Have we met before?”

The figure held up his left arm, tilting the hook so that it caught the sunlight. “If we had, I am sure you would have remembered this.”

“Still, there is something about you…,” Shakespeare said, squinting hard at the man. “I feel I should know you.”

The hooded man turned to Saint-Germain. “However, we have met before. It is good to see you again. You have prospered in the centuries since our last encounter.”

“All thanks to you.” Saint-Germain stepped forward and bowed. “It has just occurred to me that this is all your doing. You planned this. In fact, I think you’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” the man said, surprising the others. “For a very long time.”

“Flamel said he met you when he was traveling across Europe looking for someone to translate the Codex.”

The hooded man bowed. “I met him and Mistress Perenelle briefly.”

“And you taught me how to master the Magic of Fire.”

“It was necessary. If I had not taught you what I knew, then sooner or later your own Fire magic would have consumed you. I needed to keep you alive.”

“I’m grateful,” Saint-Germain said.

The hooded man looked at each of them in turn. “I have worked hard to keep all of you alive and in good health-even you, Scathach,” he added. “I have been waiting ten thousand years for this day to come.”

“Ten thousand years?” Shakespeare asked.

“Since the Fall of Danu Talis.”

“You were on the island?” Scathach breathed.