The Adept Book 3 The Templar Treasure (17 page)

Adam nodded, recalling his own experience and that of the Hunting Lodge in repairing damage caused to an innocent soul kept too long separated from its body.

“I quite agree,” he said. “My associates and I have had occasion to see at close hand what can happen to a soul when a summoning is abused. I hasten to add that the original separation was not of our doing, and that eventually we were able to alleviate the damage done.”

“It had not occurred to me to doubt that,” Sir John replied. “But back to practicalities. We should discuss the general form for what you propose. The three of you obviously will be most comfortable working in your own tradition, which somewhat differs from my own. This presents no problem for me, if it presents none for you. I have worked in a variety of esoteric traditions, over the years.”

“So have I,” Adam said with a nod.

“I thought that might be the case. Having said that, then, and because I will not be personally involved in the night’s work, perhaps it might be most helpful if I devise a ritual setting that will accommodate both our preferred traditions—if you agree. Weather permitting, this is the sacred space we use for most of our work here at Oakwood.” He indicated the interior of the gazebo with a sweep of his hand. “You may already have sensed that the resonances are—somewhat different from what you are accustomed to. That can be adjusted.”

Adam smiled in his turn. “You anticipate me. I had been hoping I might find the boldness to ask what you have already freely offered. The benefit of your wisdom and experience is beyond reckoning. In your house, and under your protection, we place ourselves unreservedly under your guidance.”

“Thank you,” the general said, as he closed the box with the cross and slipped it back into his pocket. “On that note, then, I suggest that we all adjourn to the library. Caitlin will be very cross if I keep you to myself much longer. We can discuss further details over tea. After that, I’ll have you shown to rooms where you can rest for a few hours before we embark upon tonight’s work.

Chapter Sixteen

SIR JOHN
led the way back out of the maze, moving briskly despite his stick. The psychic thrum of power did not accompany them on the way out, perhaps because they were in his company. As they set out across the lawn toward the house, he and Adam fell into step like two friends of long standing, conversing companionably about commonplaces. Bringing up the rear with McLeod, Peregrine paused briefly to give his head a shake, for just as they emerged from the maze’s gate, he had been assailed by a tantalizing whirl of impressions centered on their host. The action cleared his head, but also cleared away most of the details of what he had glimpsed.

“Noel, what do you make of him?” he whispered to the inspector, with a nod in Sir John’s direction.

The inspector’s blue eyes glinted with wry humor behind his aviator spectacles as he glanced sidelong at Peregrine. “Why ask me, when you can Look for yourself?”

“I did,” Peregrine said, “but there’s too much to See, and the images won’t stay put. I daresay I might be able to get some of it down on paper if I got the chance to try some sketching, but frankly, I wouldn’t dare try it without first asking permission . . .”

“I wouldn’t even ask, on his own turf,” McLeod murmured. “He’s—ah—a
very
senior Adept, Peregrine. Maybe even more senior than Adam. Certainly no less accomplished. Different tradition, though. Still, the two of them do seem to understand one another well enough. With any luck, we should get some interesting results before this night is out.”

As they approached the French doors leading back into the library, McLeod and Peregrine still trailing several yards behind their seniors, they saw Caitlin Jordan curled up with a book in one of the window seats overlooking the garden. As soon as she caught sight of them, she laid her reading aside and came to greet them at the doors. After saluting Sir John with a fond kiss on the cheek, she turned to Adam with a smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

“Well, you appear to have survived the labyrinth without too much difficulty,” she said, as Sir John turned back to usher McLeod and Peregrine inside. “How do you like our maze?”

“It has a character all its own,” Adam said with a droll smile. “Or perhaps I should say that, like this house, it reflects the character of its owners.”

Caitlin’s deep brown eyes registered a flicker of wry amusement. “I hope we may take that as a compliment.”

“Never doubt it,” Adam returned readily. “What has been achieved here is greatly to be admired.”

As their eyes met, he knew that she understood he was not speaking only of the architecture.

“I’m glad you approve,” she said, slipping her arm through her great-grandfather’s. “The maze can be daunting to those who aren’t at home here.”

Sir John’s low chuckle turned all their attention back to him.

“Well, they
are
at home, my dear, and I daresay that when they’ve had a chance to experience the maze in its full configuration, they’ll realize just how much at home they are. We’ll be working tonight.”

“Ah.”

“And I do hope you’ll stay the night afterwards, Adam,” Sir John went on. “I don’t know what plans you’d made, but of necessity, it’s apt to be rather late by the time we finish.”

“We’re entirely flexible,” Adam replied. “And if you’re certain it’s no trouble, we’ll certainly accept your invitation. But we can book a hotel or bed-and-breakfast in the area if that’s more convenient.”

“Nonsense. It’s settled, then. Caitlin, will you make the arrangements with Linton? They’ll want to rest for a few hours and refresh themselves after tea as well. Why don’t you put them in the east wing, if those rooms are made up? That way, they can have two baths to themselves.”

“Of course.”

Even as she turned to see to it, a discreet knock at the door heralded the arrival of Linton himself, pushing an elegant walnut service trolley on which reposed a fine tea set of translucent bone china. Peregrine, who had started to feel decidedly peckish, was gratified to see that refreshments included a selection of cakes and sandwiches. As Caitlin drew aside with the butler to give him her instructions, Peregrine moved in to inspect the offerings, helping himself to an egg sandwich at Sir John’s indulgent gesture.

They lingered over tea for perhaps half an hour, Adam and Sir John comparing theories of reincarnation and McLeod occasionally joining in with observations from his own experience as a medium. Caitlin mainly listened, so Peregrine, not being the focus of the conversation or its reason, had ample opportunity to study both her and their host. He still could not fathom Sir John, who seemed to blur before his eyes when he tried to focus his Sight on him, but Caitlin continued to intrigue him. He mentioned her to Adam as they followed Linton up the stairs to be shown to their rooms.

“I’d love to sketch her, Adam. Do you think she’d allow it?”

“Unless you mean to do it over breakfast in the morning, I don’t know where you’d find the time,” Adam said with a chuckle. “I doubt you’ll be up to it after we’ve worked tonight, and I want all of us to try to catch a nap between now and then.”

They had reached the east-wing landing, and Linton led them along a carpeted corridor hung with Victorian wallpaper and a series of eighteenth-century hunting prints.

“These are the rooms Miss Caitlin thought might be most suitable, gentlemen,” the butler said impassively, opening a bedroom door and the one directly opposite it. “This one has a bath en suite, Sir Adam, so I’ve put you in there. Inspector McLeod and Mr. Lovat will be in the two rooms directly across the hall, with the bath next to you, Inspector.” He had opened another bedroom door and now indicated a door beyond that. “I’ve had your bags brought up, and I believe you’ll find everything you’ll require; but if not, please ring.”

“I’m sure everything will be satisfactory,” Adam replied. “Thank you, Linton.”

As the butler bowed and retreated back down, the corridor, leaving the three of them congregated outside their rooms, McLeod glanced at his watch and moved into the doorway of the room he had been allotted.

“We’d better see about getting some sleep,” he muttered, glancing sternly at Peregrine. “And you, laddie, you’ve no business casting calf’s eyes at Miss Caitlin. Are you forgetting you’re engaged to be married?”

So taken aback was Peregrine by this comment that a snort of embarrassed laughter escaped him.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. Julia’s a super girl. I assure you that my interest in the lovely Caitlin is entirely chaste. I’m more fascinated by her past than by her present.”

“Well, if you’re going to dwell on the past, you’d be better advised to concentrate on Bonnie Dundee,” McLeod said, and closed his door behind him.

The abruptness of his retreat left Peregrine speechless, and he glanced at Adam for reassurance.

“Don’t take it personally,” Adam said. “He’s getting a bit nervous, and who can blame him? He doesn’t often have advance warning that he’s going to have to function as a medium, or knowledge of who it’s likely to be. No matter how experienced one is, it has to be somewhat daunting to know that, if we achieve what we’re setting out to do, an alien intelligence is going to take him over, body and soul. After all, what if the ‘guest’ chose not to leave? It isn’t likely, I’ll grant you, but the part of the human mind that isn’t rational—simply isn’t rational.”

Peregrine nodded. “I hadn’t thought about that aspect of it. I guess I’d be edgy too. “ He glanced at his watch. “What time do you think we’ll start?”

“Probably not until ten or eleven,” Adam replied, “so you have time for a substantial nap. I expect someone will be around to knock on our doors about half an hour before. Incidentally, in Sir John’s tradition, it’s customary to bathe before embarking upon a ritual, as much to cleanse the mind of inappropriate thoughts and distractions as to cleanse the body. It’s possible the bath will be lit by candlelight, so don’t be surprised. It’s intended to help create the proper mind-set.”

Peregrine nodded. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

“You will, indeed. Do try to sleep.”

Peregrine’s room was directly opposite Adam’s, a pleasant, airy chamber with walls panelled halfway up in seasoned oak the shade of dark honey. As he closed the door behind him, he saw that his overnight bag and his artist’s satchel had been set on a carved chest at the foot of the elaborate tester bed. He loosened his tie as he walked over to the wide, bow front window, glancing out at the walled Elizabethan herb garden below, fragrant with beds of sage and rosemary and thyme, planted around a green bay tree at the center. Even from two floors up, Peregrine could hear the drone of bees among the patches of sweet lavender along the borders.

Breathing deeply of the garden’s sweetness, he doffed his blazer and draped it on the back of a chair. Then he closed the curtains on the bow window and kicked off his shoes before lying down on the bed, setting his glasses on the table beside. With so much to think about, he was inclined to lie awake, but mindful of Adam’s instructions, he touched the stone of his dragon ring briefly to his lips, then closed his eyes and set himself to go through a series of breathing exercises designed to compose the mind and relax the body. After a while, his brain began to clear of questions and images. Not long after, he settled into dreamless and restful suspension between sleep and trance.

He was roused some time later to a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he called, sitting up and groping for his glasses, for the room was dark now.

“It’s Noel. I’m done in the bath, and yours is running.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right there,” he replied.

He turned on the bedside light to discover that someone, probably Linton, had been in the room while he slept, and had laid out a light blue terry-cloth robe at the foot of the bed. Taking that as a hint, he stripped down and donned it before poking his head into the corridor and then padding past McLeod’s door to the bathroom. It was, indeed, lit by a candle, and while he lay back briefly in the warm water, he spent several minutes gazing into its flame and letting the flicker focus his thoughts toward the work ahead.

When he returned to his room a quarter hour later, he found it lit by candlelight as well, his own clothes hung up in the wardrobe and a dark swath of black silk laid out on the bed that turned out to be a caftan-like robe with a hood. The cincture beside it, when he held it closer to the candlelight, proved to be red.

Since he clearly was intended to wear the garment, Peregrine doffed the terry-cloth robe and slipped on the black one, shivering slightly at the slither of the silk against bare flesh. Except for the hood and the color, it was similar in style to the soutanes of sapphire blue that members of the Hunting Lodge wore when working formal ritual in the chapel in Strathmourne’s cellar, but he was not sure he liked wearing black for working ritual. As he was knotting the cincture around his waist to close the robe, a light rap at the door made him look up. At his word of acknowledgement, the door opened and Adam entered, also robed in black.

“I see you’re about ready,” he said. “I expect we’ll be called downstairs very shortly. Have you any questions
before we go?”

“None that I can think of offhand,” Peregrine said. He indicated the cincture around his waist and added, “Does the red cord mean the same thing here that it does for us?”

“The scarlet cord of the Initiate,” Adam said, nodding. “That’s common to a number of esoteric traditions. You don’t look too happy about it.”

“I think it’s the black robe, actually,” Peregrine admitted. “Adam, is this all right? To wear black, I mean.”

Adam smiled. “Christian priests wear black cassocks all the time. Is that all right?”

“Well, of course, but—”

“Relax, Peregrine. I promise you, we aren’t violating any taboos in departing from our usual working regalia. Think of the robes we wear as frames around a picture. They don’t change the picture itself, but different frames can enhance the picture in different ways. What really matters in any ritual is the reality that underlies the symbolism.”

“I realize that,” Peregrine said somewhat ruefully. “I suppose I’m just feeling a bit out of my depth here.”

“Don’t worry, you aren’t going to get in over your head,” Adam said. “This is mainly Noel’s show tonight. I don’t expect that your part will be that different from what you’ve done dozens of times.”

As Peregrine finished running a comb through his damp hair, they were joined by a black-robed McLeod, who seemed to have recovered his customary sang-froid.

“Sorry I barked at you earlier,” he rumbled, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his robe. “It’s the premeditation. I cope a lot better when I don’t get to think about it ahead of time. “

“He knows that,” Adam murmured, laying a reassuring hand on the inspector’s shoulder.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, he then bade them sit to either side of him on the edge of the bed and close their eyes while he talked them through a short centering exercise. The sound of soft footsteps approaching in the hall ended the exercise, bringing them to their feet as the door swung wider and Caitlin appeared in the opening, candlelight spilling from her hand to light her face and the dark cloud of her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Like them she was clothed in black, with the scarlet cord.