"You and I are allied for a common purpose. The vault is outside in the garden, deep under the Tree, we must find a way into it, you comprehend, without the knowledge of these others."
"Yes, but how?"
"That we shall devise. I will find a way." At the sound of voices he glanced toward the door. "Meanwhile," he whispered, "say nothing."
Rowland nodded and they drew apart as Madame Rochal and Shestov entered the room.
"Ah, Machiavelli," she said, coming forward with a smile--"already wrapping your tendrils around the Tree of Nemi."
Khodkine laughed uneasily.
"My tendrils perhaps do not grow so far or cling so tightly as yours may do, Madame."
Zoya Rochal glanced at Rowland who caught her look.
"For the wild rose, Madame," said the new Priest quietly, "the oak always bears a life-long friendship."
"Ah, Monsieur, who has taught you to make pretty speeches? But be sure that I am no poison vine," she said with a shrug.