Death of an Adept

Between them they managed to restrain the old Druid until the fit showed signs of subsiding. As the final paroxysms trailed off, Raeburn cautiously eased the tooth-marked paperback from Taliere's jaws and looked around him. The dagger was lying under the overturned chair. Drawing a deep breath, he retrieved the dagger, set the chair right-side up, and laid the artifact back in its casket. As he turned back to Barclay and the supine Taliere, he saw that his aide had one hand clasped to the Druid's scrawny wrist.

"His pulse is hammering like a freight train,'' Barclay said. "Is he going to be all right?"

"He'll need someplace dark and quiet to rest for a while," Raeburn replied, "but I doubt there's any harm done. The ancients sometimes called this the 'divine madness.' In this case, it's a sign that he probably made a genuine contact."

"Do you think Dr. Mallory should have a look at him?" Barclay asked.

"Aye. When Mallory arrives, send him up to check him over. Meanwhile, get Jorge to help you carry him up to one of the spare bedrooms. He can rest there until he feels sufficiently recovered to rejoin us."

Taliere was already showing signs of regaining consciousness by the time Jorge arrived. Once the old Druid had been safely installed in his room, Barclay returned to the library to report on his condition. Raeburn was seated behind his desk again, turning the dagger thoughtfully in long fingers.

"He's looking a bit better, but he still seems disoriented," Barclay told his employer. "When I left him, he was muttering to himself in some strange language of his own. If he doesn't manage to pull himself together, there won't be much point in going through with this afternoon's meeting. Do you think maybe you'd better put it off until tomorrow?"

Raeburn shook his head. "Don't underestimate Master Tal-iere's powers of recovery. I'm quite confident he will be back in full possession of his faculties by the time the rest of the party arrives."

"Guess you've been acquainted with him long enough to know, Mr. Raeburn," Barclay said with a philosophic shrug. "He sure doesn't waste much time trying to make himself easy to live with, though. Does he really have the authority he claims to have, or is it all just attitude?"

Raeburn permitted himself a tight smile and replaced the dagger in its casket.

"Taliere is a Druid of the old school," he told his aide. "He sees himself as one of the last bastions of Britain's ancient mysteries, charged with the responsibility of keeping those mysteries alive. If he seems a trifle fanatical, that's because he is. His inner life is rooted in the soil of Anglesey."

"Anglesey?"

"The holy island of Druid Britain," Raeburn explained. "Only a narrow strait separates it from Wales. It was the nerve center of the Druid religion, in much the same way that the Vatican represents the heart of Catholic Christendom. Following the Roman occupation, Anglesey became a pocket-of native resistance, and in A.D. 64, Agricola gave orders that the community there should be destroyed.

"Taliere's past memories stretch back to the days when the Roman legionnaires invaded the island, slaughtered its priestly inhabitants, and put the sacred groves to the torch. It would be safe to say that a part of him has never left that time and place."

"How does that make him useful to us?" Barclay asked.

"As a vehicle of knowledge," Raeburn replied. "The Druids, like the followers of Taranis, recognized and venerated the cardinal powers of the elements. Although separated geographically, both cults were active in Britain at roughly the same time. Both shared an affinity for the gifts of prophecy. That the two traditions were closely akin to one another is reflected in such artifacts as the famous Gundestrup cauldron, which pictures a figure of Taranis side by side with that of Cernunnos, the horned god of the wood. If anybody can determine what we need to do to recover our link with Taranis," he concluded, "Jasper Taliere is the one."

Shortly before three o'clock, Raeburn assembled his chosen lieutenants for the appointed briefing. Of the three people summoned to the previous meeting, Angela Fitzgerald was absent, having already been given a separate assignment to fulfill. Her place for this occasion had been taken by a well-built young man with smoldering eyes and extravagant pretensions toward fashion, whose dark-haired good looks were somewhat marred by early signs of self-indulgence. With the addition of Taliere, who now seemed fully recovered after his seizure, those present constituted a company of five.

Directing the others to chairs set around the library table, Raeburn took his place at the table's head and prefaced his opening remarks with a round of brief introductions for Tali-ere's benefit.

"You and Mr. Barclay have already met. Now let me present Klaus Richter, my chief advisor on matters of security, and Dr. Derek Mallory, one of our most promising associates."