"Well, I hope that the druids are more open-minded than the Puritans. With the power they have in this country, they'd better be," Sam said. "Everything I read about druids makes them out to be benevolent sorts. Of old, they were lore keepers and law speakers, prominent and worthy members of the community. In modern Britain, they are active in the recognition and training of magically active persons as well as taking a prominent role in higher education."
Dodger prodded at the robes. " 'Twould not be wise to expect more tolerance than the Puritans offered. Was not druidism a sort of a religion and druids its priests?"
"Before the Awakening, maybe so. The cults subscribing to druidism built their belief systems on idiosyncratic reconstructions of old Celtic paganism. They had more than their share of egotistical false prophets. Nobody really knows exactly how the old druids operated, since they kept no written records.
"The druids of the Sixth World are the inheritors of that tradition, but I'm not sure that any of them are direct descendents. When the magic came back, some magicians built their focus parameters around what they believed to be druidic tenets and rituals. Their totems were things like Sun, Oak, Zephyr, Stream, and Stag. Forest and growing land stuff. Naturally, they called themselves druids. Maybe it's their mindset or maybe it's the way the magic works, but mostly they have confined their activities to Europe. Although they were quite active in the restoration of the land in the isles and on the continent, they weren't aggressive like the tribal magicians in North America. I hadn't known they were so involved in British politics.
"England has been prospering under the Greens. If Glover is a druid, we're probably being paranoid about his motives; the delay may be nothing sinister at all. He may just be waiting for the right phase of the moon or something to undertake the next part of his operation. Druids worry a lot about astrological cycles."
Dodger rubbed his fingers together, switching his gaze from them to the contents of the bench. He said thoughtfully, "Let us hope that he is not a fanatic about this stuff.''
Glover was uncomfortable in the closeness of the room, finding the scent of the many bouquets oppressive. Some of the flowers were wilted, some fresh cut. The mixture of floral perfume and organic decay was an olfactory confusion. How did Hyde-White stand it? Or was the old man no longer able to smell the blossoms with which he surrounded himself?
Hyde-White sat enthroned behind an ancient oak desk whose top was eccentric, the shape of a crosscut bole. His massive gut was wedged into a concavity that allowed him easy reach of the telecom on one hand and the bank of internal intercoms on the other. The grey light of the telecom monitor, the brightest source of illumination in the room, lit his face from below, reversing the normal pattern of highlights. The lighting roughened the softness of the broad face and made his eyes a glitter in pools of darkness.
Glover felt sweat snake out from his armpits to trickle down his sides despite the room's lack of heat. He didn't have Hyde-White's insulation of bulk, but his fear of the old man's disapproval warmed him uncomfortably. He felt the temperature rise as the dark eyes across the desk left the telecom screen and focused on him. It was as bad as it had been at university when the old man had been his teacher.
"So you called upon the guardian I set over you."
"I did."
A bushy, white eyebrow rose. "And?" "It was a powerful spirit, sir." That was no more than the truth. He wished that he knew how to control such spirits. "You are an accomplished conjurer."
"And you are jealous." Hyde-White interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the rotund vastness of his belly. "Jealousy is a power that can fuel a man, goading him to reach for his dreams. You could have such spirits at your call, you know. I sense that you have the potential. You need only harness it. A man who possesses such power can rise far.'' "I am content with my place, sir," Glover lied. "If I believed that, I would not bother talking to you." Hyde-White chuckled. The sound was an almost subsonic rumble. "Ambition is not a sin, Andrew. A man without ambition is a husk. A useless scarecrow upon whom the crows shall sit and laugh.
"I am old, Andrew, and not what I once was. In these latter days, it is necessary for me to work with others to accomplish all that I desire. Were I younger, things might be otherwise. But time has taught me that one can get lost pondering might-have-beens. The world's enduring lesson is that opportunities must be seized. Fail to act with resolution and you are lost. All your dreams turn to dust.''
The old man was being annoyingly roundabout; making suggestions and prodding him. Was this a test? Or was it something more complicated? A bid for power within the Circle, perhaps? Glover knew his personal power was greater than Hyde-White's; he had read the old man's aura during working sessions. But raw power wasn't everything. Hyde-White was steeped in knowledge, experience, and subtlety beyond even his venerable years. Glover had no intention of being Hyde-White's stalking horse.
"What do you mean by all this, sir? Are you suggesting that I disrupt the Circle in some sort of bid for power? I am loyal to the cause, sir. I will not throw our Circle into chaos on the eve of our triumph."
"The Circle is weak."
"We shall be strong when the ritual is completed. The blood will restore the land and the Circle shall become its guardians. We need no longer chafe under the short-sighted leadership of the Lord Protector.''
"Perhaps the Circle will be stronger. But a circle is chain of individuals dedicated to the same ideals. Like any chain, it is no stronger than its weakest link, and no chain can remain intact when that weak link is subject to stresses beyond its strength. The ritual we contemplate is a powerful force. It must be, to restore the balance so woefully tilted when the Lord Protector snubbed unforgiving stars and neglected proper observances. This work shall demand much of any who attempt it, and the forces which will rise to our call shall demand even more from the leader of the ritual team. Our leader must be strong, else things will go awry. We may do more harm than good."
The old man's words were disturbing, but not just for their content. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have studied you. I think that you believe as I do. That the land should always have been our first concern, and that we have failed as its custodians. We were blinded by our arrogance and thought ourselves rulers instead of stewards. Our species has failed the earth."
Hyde-White was perceptive and had touched the truth of Glover's convictions. Or at least the surface of them; even stewards had ambitions. But a good steward knew enough to set those ambitions aside until his charge was healthy. For what was a steward, after all, but a parasite? No parasite survived by killing its host.
"I see by your face, Andrew, that I am right about you. The land's pain echoes in your ears as loudly as it does in mine. I am speaking to you because I do not believe you are one of Neville's sheep. You do not seek the land's restoration out of some misguided longing for the restored glory of an aristocratic heritage. You know that it is a task that must be done for our very survival. What ambitions you have, you have harnessed to await that time."
"At first, I thought that you were proposing that we break the Circle. I will not do that. The land must be restored and the ritual is our only chance," Glover said. "You yourself brought the text from which we devised the ritual to the attention of the Circle. Why are you so troubled about it now? Are you having second thoughts about its efficacy?"
"Second thoughts came and went three years ago. I have progressed far beyond them. While Neville and his misguided followers have been chasing down the bloodlines, I have been studying the lore. I fear that all may not be as simple as Neville would have it." Hyde-White paused, allowing the brief moment of silence to add weight to his next words. "The ritual is not entirely safe."