Dagger Magic

The light that betokened the Master's presence was fading. Sensing his superior's imminent withdrawal, Adam asked urgently, How can what sleeps be awakened?

The answer came faint and faraway, like an echo out of receding distances.

It must be called forth by one skilled in the reading of souls. The die is already cast….

The words faded away as did the Master's presence, amid a dissipating shimmer like the last gleam of a vanishing rainbow. Simultaneously, the corridor in which Adam was standing began to dissolve around him. Pinpoints of light shone through the thinning fabric of the walls, like jewels seen through a veil of fine gauze. Brighter they shone, and brighter still, until the walls disappeared altogether, leaving Adam suspended in space amid a firmament of stars.

The starry firmament turned on its axis. The sudden shift in the stellar configurations took Adam's breath away. For a dizzy moment he hung in limbo, surrounded by comet-blurs of wheeling lights. Then all at once he plummeted.

A supple skein of silver materialized in front of him, coiling round him as he fell. Recognizing the line of his own lifetime, Adam reached out and seized it with both hands.

His headlong plunge slowed to a floating descent. Below him now he could see the foreshortened outline of his physical body, sitting relaxed in its chair. He followed the cord down in an ever-tightening spiral until, with a slight, disorienting jolt, his travelling soul was once again reunited with its corporeal complement.

He took another moment to settle back into his body before opening his eyes. The candle beside the photograph had burned down almost to the sconce, indicative that nearly two hours had passed since he first entered into trance. Now that he was back to full awareness, he became sensible of a chill in his bones and a hollow feeling in his midsection. It was further proof, if he needed it, of how far afield he had ventured on the astral this night.

Drawing a steadying breath, Adam reached for the house phone and buzzed for Humphrey. The promptness of the latter's response suggested that his faithful valet had been anticipating his summons. After requesting his usual fortifying snack of hot ham sandwiches and cocoa, Adam rang off with a heartfelt word of thanks, indulged in a languorous stretch, and sat back in his chair to contemplate the import of his exchange with the Master.

He centered his thoughts first on the matter of Tom Lennox's phantom lady. Since the Master had strongly intimated that the key to this woman's identity was to be found on this side of the astral, Adam resolved to redouble his efforts to learn who she might be. He was prepared to take seriously the Master's pronouncement that this woman was presently posing a danger not only to herself but also to others who might come into contact with her. Certainly those who had died in Carnage Corridor could attest to that danger. His resolution was unshaken by the prospect of having to share in her suffering, though the nature of that particular ordeal had been made only too plain to him during his astral journey to her place in the Akashic Records.

Of more disquieting concern was the Master's cryptic warning that the equilibrium of the Light was once again in danger of being destabilized by forces of darkness. Lacking any clues to work from, he could do nothing for the moment but watch and wait.

A knock at the library door roused him from his reverie, heralding Humphrey's arrival with a laden tray.

"Here you are, sir," the butler said. "Will you take your refreshments at the desk, or by the fireside?"

"By the fireside, thank you," Adam said. "And then I hope you'll take yourself off to your bed."

"Very good, sir." Humphrey raised a dubious eyebrow. "Are you sure you won't be needing me any further?"

"Quite sure," Adam said firmly. "I would, however, be grateful if you could have breakfast ready for six o'clock. Tomorrow promises to be a very busy day."

Chapter Seven

DAWN broke pale over the Swiss Alps. Initially the light touched only the outer walls of the remote Buddhist monastery perched on the heights. Inside the compound, the early morning quiet was broken intermittently by the subdued clatter from the kitchen wing. The still air carried the mealy fragrance of cooked tsampa porridge mingled with the scent of wild thyme.