Death of an Adept

"Aye," McLeod agreed. "What I can't figure out is what Raeburn would want with somebody like McFarlane. The boy's sincere enough in his higher aspirations, but he's not had enough experience to count for much, either as a threat or as an offering. So what makes him worth Raeburn's trouble?"

"I've been wondering the same thing," Adam said. "Harry, let's get us in the air. I want to get back home and do some further research. For all we know, the answer might be right under our noses."

It was well after dark by the time Adam and Peregrine arrived back at Strathmourne. Ximena was working the evening shift, and Christopher had gone on a pastoral call, but Philippa and Julia were on hand to inquire about their progress. Fortunately, lolo McFarlane's dream diary was evidence of a sort that could be discussed in Julia's presence.

"I won't know until I've gone through it, whether it's going to be of any help," Adam told them, over a supper of steak and kidney pie which Humphrey served up in the morning room. "I should think I've got a full evening's reading ahead of me. It's probably a good thing Ximena's working."

"And we'd better get back to the gate lodge," Peregrine said, drawing his wife to her feet. "We have a cat to feed, and I need to work on a project I'm behind on. Being away today didn't help the backlog."

Adam shrugged and smiled, the only one of them unaware that Peregrine was referring to the wedding portrait of Ximena.

"Sorry to have taken you from your work," he said. "I hope you have an understanding client."

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind," Peregrine replied. "Talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Philippa."

When they had gone, Philippa retired upstairs for a hot bath, and Adam took the journal into the library, where he lit a fire and settled into his favorite fireside chair to read. To help align himself with McFarlane's frame of mind, he had tossed a stick of incense on the fire, and he let its aroma help him focus as he bent to his work.

He had skimmed through the bulk of the entries on the flight home. The impressions he had gathered in that earlier, cursory examination were borne out by this more detailed study. The Callanish incident did indeed signal a marked change in tone and imagery from the entries which preceded it.

Fetching a pad and pencil from his desk, Adam noted down the key images to be found in each of these later entries. He very soon saw that they formed a recurrent pattern.

In each dream, the landscape was dominated by a high hill crowned with a ragged diadem of stones. The sky was invariably dark and stormy, the clouds shot through with branched lightnings.

I'm afraid of the storm, but feel compelled to climb the hill, McFarlane had written. As I start making my way to the top, I see a figure coming down the hill to meet me.

Initially, Adam noted, this figure appeared as a mere blur. But with each successive dream, the figure drew closer, becoming more distinct, until at last McFarlane was able to provide a description.

I can see now that it's a knight of some kind, wearing a shirt of mail under a white surcoat. He's armed with a sword and wears a cross-shaped medallion around his neck. Urgently, he beckons and shouts, but I can't understand the words. I shake my head. He repeats the message, but it's drowned out in a sudden roar of thunder, so loud that it wakes me up.

McFarlane's own frustration was evident from his closing remarks. I'm sure this knight is trying to tell me something important, he had written. I have the oddest notion that if I could only make out what he's saying, I would know who's been defacing our ancient shrines.

The only entry after that was the scrawl of letters. He was staring at the letters, trying to make some connection take shape, when Philippa joined him with two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Getting anywhere?" she asked.

"Not really," he said, "though some of the images are interesting." He tossed the journal on the table beside his yellow notepad. "Have a look for yourself. Maybe something will occur to you that I've missed."

Philippa read through the journal entries, then Adam's notes, while he rested his eyes and both of them sipped companion-ably at their hot chocolate.