Rose of Fire

the Gate of Santa Ana, and because he had travelled during his youth, knew more languages than it was prudent for a good Christian to know. Under threat of torture, Sempere the printer was made to swear he would keep the secret of what was revealed to him. Only then was he allowed to inspect the notebook, in a heavily guarded room above the library of archdeacon’s house, next to the cathedral. Jorge de León watched over him avidly. ‘ I think the text is written in Persian, your Holiness ,’ murmured a terrified Sempere. ‘ I’m not a saint yet ,’ clarified the Inquisitor. ‘ All in good time. Continue . . .’ And so it was that the printer spent the entire night reading and translating for the Grand Inquisitor the secret diary of Edmond de Luna, adventurer and bearer of a curse that was to bring the beast to Barcelona.
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    Thirty years earlier, Edmond de Luna had set sail from Barcelona, bound for the East, in search of wonders and adventures. His sea voyage had taken him to forbidden islands that did not appear on navigation charts, to lie with princesses and creatures of an unmentionable nature, to learn secrets of civilizations buried by time and to initiate himself in the science and art of building labyrinths, a talent that would make him famous and provide him with employment and fortune at the service of sultans and emperors. As the years went by, the accumulation of pleasure and wealth no longer meant anything to him. He had satisfied greed and ambition beyond the dreams of any mortal, and upon reaching maturity, aware that he was fast approaching the twilight of his life, he told himself that he would never again offer his services to anyone unless it were in exchange for the greatest of rewards: forbidden knowledge. For years he refused invitations to build the most prodigious and intricate labyrinths because nothing offered in payment seemed desirable to him. He thought there could be no treasure in the world that had not already been presented to him, when news came that the Emperor of the city of Constantinople required his services, for which he was prepared to reward him with a thousand-year-old secret to which no living soul had been privy for centuries. Bored and tempted by a last opportunity to revive the flame of his soul, Edmond de Luna visited Emperor Constantine in his palace. Constantine was utterly convinced that sooner or later the siege of the Ottoman sultans would bring his empire to an end and all the knowledge that the city of Constantinople had built up over the centuries would be banished from the face of the earth. He therefore wanted Edmond to plan the greatest labyrinth ever created, a secret library, a city of books hidden beneath the catacombs of the cathedral of Hagia Sophia, where forbidden works and the prodigies of centuries of thoughts could be preserved forever. In exchange, Emperor Constantine offered Edmond no treasure, but only a flask: a small cut-glass phial containing a scarlet liquid that shone in the dark. Constantine smiled strangely as he showed Edmond the bottle. ‘ I’ve waited many years to find a man worthy of this gift ,’ the emperor explained. ‘ In the wrong hands, this could be an instrument for evil. ’ Fascinated and intrigued, Edmond examined the bottle. ‘ It’s a drop of blood from the last dragon ,’ murmured the emperor. ‘ The secret of immortality .’
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    For months on end Edmond de Luna worked on the project for the great labyrinth of the books, making and remaking the plans, never satisfied with them. By then he had realised than that he no longer cared about the payment, for his immortality would be secured by that prodigious library and not from some legendary magic elixir. The emperor, patient but concerned, kept reminding him that the final siege of the Ottomans was drawing nigh and there was no time to waste. When, at long last, Edmond de Luna solved the mighty conundrum, it was too late: the troops of Mehmed II the Conqueror had besieged Constantinople. The end of the city and of the empire were imminent. The emperor marvelled when he received the plans, but realised that he would never be able to build the labyrinth under the city that bore his name. So he asked Edmond to try to escape the siege together with so many other artists and thinkers who were about to set out for Italy. ‘ Dear friend,’ he said, ‘ I know you will find the perfect place to build the labyrinth .’ In gratitude, the Emperor handed him the