Death of an Adept

"Why? Because before now, I knew nothing about it myself," he replied, lifting the lantern to blow it out. "I assure you, I was as much surprised as you were to encounter such violent opposition."

Taliere glared at him sourly, following as Raeburn picked up a second lantern, extinguished it, and pressed the handles of both into the old man's hands.

"I find that hard to believe," Taliere retorted, "given that our contact's animosity seemed to be directed principally toward you. Have you any idea who he might be, that he sees reason to heap curses upon your head?''

Raeburn picked up the third lantern and favored the Druid with a calculating glance.

"What would you say if I told you that it was none other than the Head-Master?"

Just before he extinguished the lantern, he was gratified to see that this announcement had reduced Taliere momentarily to stunned silence.

"When the Hunting Lodge overran his stronghold in the Cairngorms," Raeburn went on, moving to pick up the fourth lantern, "I urged him to flee, but he refused. The citadel was levelled soon after, and I assumed that he perished in its fall.

"I see now that he must have been caught up, body and spirit, into the realm of eternal storm. The translation," he finished, with a puff of breath to blow out the last light, "does not appear to have improved his sanity."

Digesting this information as Raeburn pressed the last two lanterns into his hands, Taliere turned his gaze distractedly in the direction of the bull's carcass, now discernible only as a glistening mound under the starlight.

"I warned you that the auguries in this matter were unfavorable," he whispered. "You ought to have listened to me. As it is, we have squandered valuable time and resources to no good purpose."

Behind him, Raeburn bent to pick up the birch wand from where Richter had left it pointing to the circle's gateway.

"On the contrary," he said, "we have gained a revelation which will be of considerable value to us the next time."

Taliere stiffened, hardly noticing as Raeburn lifted the wand and turned a full circle counterclockwise, murmuring the words to dispel the illusion that had cloaked their work.

"Next time?" the old Druid repeated blankly. "There will not be a next time."

"Of course there will be a next time," Raeburn replied softly, taking Taliere's arm. "Surely you don't think I would let this one temporary setback stand in my way. If we cannot contact the lord Taranis by one method, we shall simply have to find another."

As he led Taliere from the circle, the two guards who had been stationed at the upper car park were waiting to take the lanterns Taliere still held, hurriedly packing them away in the remaining duffel bag. Each man shouldered one of the bags as they fell in behind Raeburn and Taliere, one of them pausing to retrieve the old Druid's staff while the other spoke briefly into his microphone. Speechless, Taliere allowed himself to be escorted nearly back to the waiting vehicles before he found words to express his displeasure.

"Francis, this cannot continue," he whispered, as they approached the RV. "You may do as you like - you always have - but if you intend to persist in this rash course of action, then you will have to do it without my help. I have already been persuaded to compromise my principles, by assisting you thus far. I cannot allow my integrity to be further eroded by continuing this association."

Shaking his head, Raeburn glanced casually back at the men following them, then ahead to where a faint glow spilled from the open side door of the RV, between it and the Land Rover. The darker silhouette of the Mini Cooper was just visible beyond the Rover, positioned to lead out. The driver of the Mini was half-sitting against the RV's near front bumper, but he came to his feet and moved a little closer as Raeburn and Taliere approached. Of Taliere's two assistants there was no sign.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Taoiseach," Raeburn said softly, as they passed between the horse-box and the rear of the RV. "I suppose you speak for your associates as well."

"I do," Taliere said stiffly.

"A pity."

Even as Raeburn's hand tightened on Taliere's elbow, a soft call from inside the RV summoned the Mini's driver to the open door to reach in and take the booted feet of a slack, burly form. Taliere gasped as the rest of the form emerged, the head and shoulders of one of Taliere's assistants supported by Rich-ter, but heavy hands on his own shoulders from behind warned the Druid not to cry out.

"Dear God, what have they done to him?'' he said, his voice breaking in a muffled sob as he watched Richter and his man drag their dead or unconscious charge toward the front of the Land Rover. He turned his gaze to the face of the man who suddenly had become his captor. Raeburn's smile was as cold as a shark's.

"My dear Taliere," Raeburn purred, "I should have thought it would be obvious. Your associates were always expendable, but tonight's little setback has sealed their fate."

"But - "