Serrin was hurt; it felt almost like a reproach. He sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his, cupping his palms around her warm hand.
“Hessler will help us,” he said, looking her full in the eyes. “There’s just something I have to do for him. It isn’t much.”
Her pupils dilated a little and he could see she was alarmed.
“It really isn’t much,” he said again.
“What does he want?” She was clearly worried, maybe even frightened.
“Nothing for himself. It’s for Merlin. Spirits need power, karma, to grow. He wants karma from me.”
She didn’t really understand the concept, but she knew it was part of his nature and power, the core of him, and she opened her mouth to protest. He raised a hand and placed an index finger over her lips to quiet her.
“I said, it isn’t really so much. I’ll regain it in time. It’s a fair price. No, it’s better than a fair price.”
“Why can’t I do it? It’s because of me,” she pleaded.
“It’s better coming from a magician, and it isn’t because of you. Not really. It wasn’t you who started us out on this trail. So don’t worry about it.”
It was only a momentary gesture, but he saw her suck back her lower lip and bite a little at the inside of it, to keep it from trembling. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and they stayed that way until they heard Merlin’s footsteps coming back down the stairs. When the spirit returned, Serrin was not surprised by its more serious countenance.
13
“I think it’s clear what he’s saying to us,” Michael offered.
It was well into the hours of darkness now. They had discussed Serrin’s conversation with Hessler at some length, and Michael, as ever, was trying to do some logical summation work.
“He’s saying keep off the Inquisition. Well, that sounds good to me. How did he put it? ‘Consider other understandings’?”
“ ‘Consider understandings with others’, I think,” Serrin said.
“Which logically means the Priory of Sion,” Michael suggested. “I mean, it can’t refer to anyone else can it?”
“That sounds reasonable.” Abandoning his usual filter cigarettes, Geraint had taken refuge in a modestly sized and surprisingly fragrant Cuban cigar. Sweet blue smoke gathered just below the ceiling of his room, where the five of them had cloistered themselves after dinner.
“There’s a certain problem. I mean, one of their people was following you and shadowing us. And he’s dead now. Not to mention their mage, who’s also dead. Doesn’t leave us with any real contacts, and you must admit they might be a bit, well, suspicious after two deaths Wouldn’t you be?”
“Depends exactly why they were tracking us, and why they had such an interest, doesn’t it?” Geraint said reasonably, A very respectable smoke ring rose slowly to dissolve among the remains of its predecessors.
“I have an idea,” Michael said slowly.
Everyone waited.
“We don’t know any other of their people-well I’ve got a list of suspected members, but we can hardly go around knocking on their door saying, ‘Excuse me, got an interest in some decker about to bring the world crashing down, have you?’”
“Agreed,” Geraint said wryly.
“Then we could go and say hello to them in their own back yard,” Michael said. “Serrin says he forgot to give Hessler his little book.”
“It just went out of my mind,” Senjn confessed. “I’d still like to offer it to him, though,”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Michael said. “It gives us something, It gives us a foot in the door. ‘Excuse me, we’ve got something that belongs to you. Would you like it back?’”
“Yeah, right,” Streak said sarcastically. “They’ll bloody love that one.”
“We don’t have to walk right up to their door,” Michel pointed out. “We can go as sightseers, Rennes-le-Chateau gets a reasonable number of fruitcakes and flutters turning up to see the diabolic doorkeeper and all the other weirdness. Not many, but, slot, we could be researchers for a trid company. Or anything. We can at least scan it out and decide our next move from there. We can keep our research on the rails if we base ourselves in Clermont-Ferrand. Hell, we’d only have to go on a day trip. And there’s one other thing; it would get us out of London and keep us on the move. Away from those not-terribly-pleasant people keeping an eye on us.”
“We can be tracked,” Geraint said.
“Well, of course, hut that’s better than being a bunny staying down a hole and waiting for the ferret,” Michael said sagely.
“Ferret?” Kristen asked. It didn’t feature among African fauna.
“Polecat,” Michael offered. That she’d heard of.
“He’s got a point,” Streak said thoughtfully. “It’s a good principle, to keep on the move, Especially when there’s more than one bunch of hostiles out to box us. They do keep muttering about final warnings.”
“I’d better see about flights,” Geraint said.
“Can you wangle airspace permits?” Streak asked him, “I think so, yes, I’m sure I can,” Geraint said after an initial hesitation. “Barnaby Smythe over at the MoD owes me a favor on a business deal I cut him into last year. Why do you ask?”
“I can arrange a slamming ‘chopper deal with a pilot who’s the dog’s bollocks,” Streak offered, “Fly in real comfort.”
“Including airline food?” Michael said, chuckling.
“Including some of the very wizzer weaponry available,” Streak said gleefully. “That’s what I mean by comfort.”
“What do you think?” Michael looked at Geraint. “We’d need to make for Toulouse if we could, that would be nearest. Or even Andorra and we could nip over the border.”
“Let’s go for Toulouse and cut the border crossings down by one,” Geraint said. “One fewer database with any information on it. We don’t have time for fake ID, not for everyone. I had better set the wheels in motion for that in case we have to hit another place later.
“How long will you need, Serrin?”
“Allow all night,” the elf said quietly.
“Can you have the chopper here by dawn?” Geraint asked Streak.
“Given your credstick codes, yes, no probs. Pick it up at Taunton, I think.”
“Taunton? Taunton has an airport?” Michael said doubtfully. The small English country town wasn’t a likely candidate for such a facility.
“Airport? Who said anything about a bleeding airport? Since when did a chopper need an airport?” Streak replied pointedly, adding a choice selection of tutting.
“All right, all right,” Michael said, raising a hand as if to ward off an angry hornet. “We’ll get there as soon as we can pick Serrin up and drive down. It’s going to be an early start, then. What time is it now?”
“Half past ten,” Geraint told him.
“I think I can sleep now,” Michael said. “I slept long enough last night, but it wasn’t exactly restful sleep. And as for Kristen…”
They looked at her in the corner. She was curled up on the sofa, one arm bent under her body a little crookedly, already fast asleep. Serrin walked over and, with an effort, picked her up in his arms.
“We won’t be needed then?” Michael said, reassuring himself once more.
“Thanks to your second recent blood donation and that lock of your hair, no,” Serrin told him again.
“Tell me I won’t feel a thing,” Michael invited him.
“You won’t feel a thing. Honestly. Apart from the ever-present possibility of instant but agonizing death evaporating from your aura,” Serrin grinned. With Kristen asleep and wrapped securely in the protection of his arms, he felt able to jest. He was certain that Hessler would be able to deal with the problem. The joking was a way of defusing his own anxieties about the ritual, and what it would cost him.
“Spirits bless you,” Michael said with some feeling. “And now I’m going to get some sleep. Polish up my French”