Island of Time, page 18
Krys offered, ‘Pure?’
‘I was going to say “in correct alignment”. But purity will do.’ He continued to Jackson. ‘I will ask questions and you will respond.’
‘Got it.’
‘It is vital that you answer me. Speaking aloud may prove very difficult, especially at first. But it forms a vital component of your link. You must speak.’
‘Roger that.’
‘One final warning. Do not under any circumstances search for answers about the Ancients. If anyone poses such a question while you are hunting, you must assume that they are your enemy. They seek to destroy you while you are at your most vulnerable. No Adept who sought answers to the Ancients’ mysteries has ever survived. Their bodies, yes. But their minds …’
What resonated most intently was Luca’s use of the word, Adept. But all he said was, ‘I read you loud and clear.’
‘Very well.’ Luca planted the cane in the carpet between his feet. He touched the tip to his forehead. The entire staff shone with a golden-blue light, the pale wash of dawn on a clear sky. ‘Let us begin.’
FORTY-TWO
Luca said, ‘Touch your wand to your forehead. As you do so, mentally declare your intention to seek answers to the questions I will pose.’
Jackson deliberately slowed his motions to quarter-speed. But not from fear. He did not feel much of anything except a powerful sense of anticipation. He simply wanted to get everything exactly right. What was more, he wanted to remember.
The instant his wand’s tip made contact with his forehead, Jackson felt his senses and his awareness break free.
The rush of awareness extended in whichever direction Jackson focused. As if in response, he heard Luca say, ‘Here is your question, your task. Determine where the threat behind the attack on you and Krys originated.’
When Jackson started away, he sensed a lure to hunt for other answers. Ones to the mystery he had not been ordered to seek out. It would have been such a smooth and easy departure. The temptation was very potent. Awareness of the danger did not erase the lure. Jackson felt a softly burning hunger to forget all the mess of life, and ask the wrong question, and fly up, up …
Luca repeated, ‘Determine the origins of this threat. Be precise about its physical location and the people involved.’
As soon as Jackson turned away from the forbidden lure, he saw the tracks laid out before him. They ran as straight and true as steel rails. Jackson played the high-speed locomotive and expressed himself away.
Luca said, ‘You are commanded to speak.’
‘There are two threats,’ Jackson replied. He scarcely recognized his own voice. ‘The Sardinian Institute is hunting you.’
‘That is to be expected. And the other?’
‘The Peerless—’
‘Do not approach them.’
Jackson did not speak because Luca had not asked a question. He drifted over empty blue waters. Content.
‘Approach the Institute. Remain undetected. Only go as close as you can while staying hidden. Under no circumstances are you to open yourself to danger.’
‘The dangers are at the same place.’
‘What?’ The news rocked Luca. ‘Peerless are on Sardinia?’
‘Not far from the Institute.’
‘Do not approach the Peerless!’ Luca’s breath sawed in his throat. ‘What can you safely discover about the Institute’s threat to us?’
The answer was to move forward. But when Jackson did so, ‘There are wards blocking my way.’
Luca touched the base of Jackson’s neck, spoke a word, then said, ‘Proceed.’
Jackson passed through the invisible barriers as he would the surface of a clear pond.
A cell in the Institute’s hospital wing formed a soft landing zone for Jackson’s mental journey.
Jackson faced an elderly man lying in a narrow bed. In the instant of his arrival, Jackson knew the man’s name was Clarence, and he had served as Luca’s favorite tutor. Jackson also knew the old man was dying. This bare whitewashed cell in the Institute’s medical clinic formed the last dwelling Clarence would ever know.
Even so, the elder’s awareness was not trapped or dimmed by his failing body. Clarence lifted his head from his pallet and whispered, ‘Who is there?’
A thousand kilometers away, Luca commanded, ‘Speak!’
‘I am with Clarence.’
‘He is alive?’
‘Barely,’ Jackson replied. ‘He has noticed me. He asks who I am.’
‘So he was indeed an Adept. I always suspected it.’ Luca sighed. ‘They never let him train, of course. Still, this is a hint of good news in a day of grim tidings.’
Jackson asked, ‘What should I say?’
‘Tell him you are my friend.’
When Jackson did so, the old man moved his chin up and down, as if he was munching on air. He stayed like that so long that Jackson wondered if he had heard. Then Clarence whispered, ‘You can hear me?’
‘Loud and clear.’
Clarence’s voice drifted down another notch. ‘Luca, he is well?’
‘Blind. But well.’
‘He gave up his eyes to the Peerless?’
‘For a woman,’ Jackson corrected. ‘But she was Peerless, so I suppose the answer is yes. He did.’
Luca said, ‘Speak.’
Jackson did so while watching Clarence’s own eyes leak tears. Clarence asked, ‘He is with them still?’
Jackson passed on the question. Luca replied, ‘Not for almost a decade.’
Clarence asked, ‘How long was he with them?’
‘Four and a half years,’ Luca replied. ‘Too long.’
‘And the woman? What of her?’
Luca sighed. ‘Tell him … Riyanna is addicted to the pleasure of enslaving men. Many, many men.’
‘It happens,’ Clarence replied. ‘But how has Luca survived this long? Surely the Peerless hunt him.’
‘I joined the CIA,’ Luca replied. ‘I am careful. I live within the ward-spells I learned from the Peerless. I am always armed. They deem me too expensive a target. Or, rather, they did. But something has changed. They have come after me three times in the past few days.’
‘It is no longer just the Peerless who threaten him,’ Clarence said. ‘The Institute has named Luca a primary objective. They want him alive. He must not be captured. Tell him that. The dungeons here are very deep.’
‘It was inevitable,’ Luca said. ‘They were bound to hear of my search. It threatens their aims. They can no longer pretend I died trying to escape.’
When Jackson repeated that for Clarence, the old man replied, ‘You do realize the Institute use that same excuse when others vanish.’
‘I suspected as much.’
‘These days they lose too many Acolytes to class them as training accidents. But in your time, only a few managed to escape their clutches. Often these are the most gifted.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Dark rumors, powerful enough to reach even me.’ Clarence swallowed hard. ‘They speak of a Warrior mage who escaped the year before you arrived in Sardinia. He approached the Peerless, only to reject their demand of sacrifice. Instead, he became a Renegade, moving from place to place, hunting the dark arts.’
Jackson could not be certain if he actually spoke the name aloud. But it felt as though he shouted it with all his might. Then Luca said it for him. ‘Bernard Bouchon.’
‘That is the name I heard. You knew him?’
‘Not then. But our search includes him now. If he is alive.’
‘Alive and dangerous, if the rumors are true. Actually, more than rumors. Several of my former students have now joined forces with the Peerless. Against my wishes, despite my desperate pleas. Their hatred of the Institutes knows no bounds.’
Luca softly pressed, ‘Bouchon?’
‘Recently, this dark mage approached the Peerless. Revealed his powers. Demanded a position of leadership. They agreed.’
‘Bouchon,’ Luca repeated. ‘The reason for their attacks has become clear. And my new enemy has a name.’
Jackson saw no need to pass that on. Then Clarence asked, ‘Has Luca found peace?’
When Jackson passed on the query, Luca swallowed hard, then asked a question of his own, ‘You have allies you can trust with our lives?’
He watched the old man’s chin wag up and down once more. ‘Whoever would have thought such a question would be asked between Talents of the same Institute.’
‘Between Adepts,’ Luca corrected.
‘Truly, you have joined their ranks?’
‘In all but name,’ Luca replied.
‘I was right all along.’ The seamed cheeks were streaked by new tears. ‘And you were right to flee this horrid place.’
‘I begged you to come with me,’ Luca said.
‘Who would have cared for the other wounded and vulnerable souls, the questing spirits, the fresh-faced Acolytes whose heart-fires were not yet quenched?’ The words were ragged breaths now. ‘Still, many were the nights I wished I had done so.’
Luca’s breath was hot and tattered on Jackson’s cheek. Krys kept a two-fisted grip on his hand and arm. A stone anchor.
Friends.
Luca said, ‘Ask him if the Directors are aware of Peerless on Sardinia.’
‘There have been rumors. Truly, one has infiltrated the island?’
‘More than one,’ Jackson replied.
‘Tell Luca he must take care. You come to Sardinia?’
Jackson spoke the warning and question both. Luca demanded, ‘Jackson, do you see the way ahead?’
Their next step was dramatically clear. Jackson replied to both Luca and the old man, ‘We must travel to Sardinia tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Take the utmost caution,’ Clarence repeated. ‘The danger here, the intrigue. I am forced to keep wards on my chamber. Me, at death’s door, inside the Institute’s own clinic!’
While Jackson was repeating this, Clarence went on, ‘I have someone who may be able to help. Her name is Asila.’
Luca asked, ‘She is an Acolyte?’
‘Only because the Directors doubt her loyalty.’ The whispers dripped with old rage. ‘Asila is the second finest Talent I have ever trained.’
Luca warned, ‘Tell Clarence not to mention your abilities. To anyone.’
When Jackson passed on the message, Clarence asked, ‘You are not an Adept?’
Jackson replied, ‘I am not even an Acolyte. I’m an Interpol agent.’
Clarence laughed. ‘The factor of surprise will certainly be in your favor. Ask my dear friend if he remembers the House of Mirrors.’
Luca replied, ‘All too well.’
The old man offered a trembling smile. ‘It deals in fake artifacts. But secretly it serves as a conduit for black-market items. For a time, the scamp you accompany was their finest thief.’
‘Allegedly,’ Luca corrected.
‘Luca has always been a scoundrel,’ Clarence said. ‘Go there the day after tomorrow. Five o’clock in the afternoon. Asila will decide whether to trust you. I cannot make this decision, you understand? I can only ask. It is for Asila to decide. It is her life that she will be placing in your hands. And tell Luca not to try to see me. It is too dangerous. Tell him this is the last request I will ever make of the one who should now be leading this wretched place.’
FORTY-THREE
The limousine picked them up at eight thirty the next morning. Jackson carried a leather valise with a change of clothes and the saucer he had taken to Strasbourg. The final impression from his bodiless sojourn had been the need to carry this artifact with them.
Jackson disliked traveling without a gun, but since he no longer carried Interpol credentials, he could not risk a customs check. The odd little plate brought him a vague sense of assurance. But he doubted seriously it would help in a firefight.
The limo deposited them at Geneva’s private-jet terminal. The Gulfstream’s engines were revving before they passed through the customs gate and crossed the tarmac. The jet was pretty much what Jackson had come to expect from Luca. The seats were ivory doeskin and the tables burl. The co-pilot pointed out the galley with the chilled vintage champagne, the thinly sliced sirloin, the bread baking in the miniature oven.
After take-off, Krys studied a guidebook while Luca sat across from her, wrapped in his customary silence. Jackson made coffee and brought them mugs, then resumed his seat in the rear booth and reflected. He liked the way they were forming a team. There had been no live fire yet, but their methods reminded him of the battle-hardened squads of his past. Most agents Jackson knew tended to prepare by going inside. Making a thorough review of elements under their control. Taking time for a final gut check. Coming face to face with the very real prospect that some of their team might not be going home.
An hour into the flight, Krys closed her guidebook, walked back, and asked Jackson, ‘Mind some company?’
‘Not at all.’
She slipped into the seat opposite his and asked, ‘Have you been to Sardinia before?’
‘Once. I was ordered to give testimony before the Institute’s so-called judiciary. Have you heard of them?’
‘I know the seven Institutes want responsibility for self-policing,’ she replied.
‘They don’t assign Talents to enforce any policy except the Institute’s,’ Jackson said. ‘National laws regarding magic are basically ignored.’
‘What was it like? Inside the Institute, I mean.’
‘I have no idea. They insisted on meeting at my hotel. When I arrived back at the airport the next morning, a customs officer told me the Institute had phoned to say they needed more input. I was taken to a holding cell and left there for almost two hours.’ He could still smell the dank, windowless chamber, scarred by the criminals and magic freaks detained there in the past. He went on, ‘The three Talents treated me like I deserved to be chained to the central table.’
‘That corresponds to what I’ve heard from other agents,’ Krys said.
Jackson decided it was time to ask a few questions of his own. ‘Your file leaves out more than it includes about your background. Where are you actually from?’
Krys nodded as if approving of his question. Jackson wondered if this was why she had come back to join him. ‘I was born in Addis Ababa. My mother was from Cairo. My father was Canadian, but he never much cared for his homeland. I only met his parents once. They did not get along. My father trained as an anesthesiologist. But by the time I came along, he was mostly an administrator. He ran Médicins Sans Frontières in Ethiopia.’
Jackson nodded slowly. That news formed a piece of the puzzle her file did not supply.
Krys noticed his reaction and asked, ‘You know what that means?’
‘Doctors Without Borders are notorious for their hatred of magic,’ he replied, using the English version of the name. MSF had been founded by a group of French doctors seeking medical volunteers to serve on a semi-permanent basis in some of the world’s most difficult and dangerous regions.
‘And for good reason,’ Krys said. ‘Magic can’t directly heal human bodies.’
‘Unless the ailment is caused by magic in the first place,’ Jackson added. ‘Otherwise, it does not counteract the process of disease or aging. But magic can and does instill greater power in herbs. Doctors who dislike natural remedies tend to point out that magic has little or no impact on manufactured pharmaceuticals.’
‘You know this how?’
‘My late wife.’ He waved that aside. ‘Another time, OK? Tell your story.’
‘MSF positively loathe practitioners of magic. So much of their work takes place in regions where shamans still dominate the culture. MSF consider them killers armed with superstitions, who feast on fear and the purses of those too weak or ignorant to know better.’
Jackson asked, ‘How did your father react when he learned of your abilities?’
‘I never told him. Thankfully, my talent did not emerge until I was fourteen, old enough to know I had to stay quiet. We had moved to Canada when my mother’s health started failing. She died the day before my fifteenth birthday. A few days after her funeral, my father put in for reassignment back to Africa. I knew I couldn’t stay with him. Sooner or later, he’d discover my secret. I can’t even imagine how he would have reacted. He agreed to let me stay on at boarding school. He died just before I graduated from university and applied to Interpol. Those next two years were the finest of my entire life. I was tutored by some of Interpol’s best trainers, but only after they were sworn to secrecy.’
‘And here you are,’ Jackson said.
‘Here I am.’ For a moment her gaze healed, growing deep enough for him to dive into. ‘Thanks to you.’
Two and a half hours later, they landed in Sardinia. A uniformed chauffeur transferred their luggage to a Lancia limo while their passports were given a perfunctory inspection.
The closer they came to Sardinia’s capital city, Cagliari, the more bizarre grew the crowds. The main highway was lined by the curious, the yearning, the desperate. As the limo slipped on to the road fronting the harbor, they passed a group of albinettes, the name used for followers of an outcast Talent. The man had reaped millions by claiming to have discovered a means by which anyone could gain magical abilities. These would-be Acolytes dressed in one-piece white leotards, head to foot, and painted their faces the color of old bones. Their suits were adorned with magical signs and fragments of supposedly Ancient script. They writhed, they danced, they shrieked, and they beckoned toward the uncaring castle upon the peak. Jackson thought they looked both pitiful and resigned. As though they already knew their cause was hopeless.
The Institute was a gleaming white edifice that sprawled in careless abandon across a nearby ridge. Jackson thought it resembled a magical denture, placed there so it could gnaw a hole in the world.
Krys asked, ‘Why are the Institutes all situated on islands?’
‘Water reflects magic,’ Luca replied. ‘Enemies cannot hide.’
‘We did,’ Krys replied.
Luca’s fingers illuminated the cane’s hidden script. ‘Are we enemies?’
