Will now propelled himself around a corner and dropped to street speed. The steering instantly felt heavy again and he concentrated in order to ride smoothly through the maze of medieval lanes. He’d twice stalled the bike while learning her idiosyncrasies, and she was petulant if you didn’t give her due attention. Slipping through the restricted zones as though he belonged there, he ignored the invitations to park in a designated site and glided toward the spires. The rumble of his Testastretta engine broke the cloistral quiet of the town as he cruised through the Place Billard and along the Rue des Changes. He sidled up to the curb at the south side of the cathedral, and hooked out the kickstand in a pay-and-display area. It must have been nearing noon, and the powerful aroma of moules marinières and French onion soup from a bistro just opposite reminded him that he must eat something after his visit. There had been a long space between proper meals.

He glanced up at the familiar sight of the two unequal spires, then his helmet was off in a gesture of knightly courtesy as he walked under the shadow of the impressive west portal. While his eyes adjusted to the womb-like darkness, his ears picked up the whispers in different corners and in different languages from various tour groups, as the flocks all stared openmouthed at the beauty of the stained glass above his head. But although this was what Will thought he had come to see, his gaze was immediately distracted by a sight he didn’t ever remember noticing in the dozen or so times he’d come into the cathedral over the years. Many of the chairs were removed and Will’s eyes drank in the enormous black and white circle of marble stones, inlaid in the paving of the great Gothic nave, between the pillars. Splashed with the odd jewel-bright colors from the glass, the maze breasted the whole of the width of the huge church. In the center a girl was standing with eyes closed, but he could clearly see the flower shape that marked the middle of the pattern. He must have walked across it toward the altar many times, and never looked down to see it.

Nearby there was a young French girl informing her tour group about it, in good English and at a respectful volume. He smiled: a student with a summer job.