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The person in black turned his head, and it felt as if he were looking straight at her.

It was Jon.

His eyes seemed to fix on hers, right there among all the others, but then he let his gaze continue to slide over the assembled crowd, and soon he turned his attention back to the group standing around him. Someone must have said something amusing, because he smiled and nodded to one of the others.

Katherina couldn't tear her eyes off him. She stood there practically paralysed, watching him converse and listen attentively, as if he were among good friends. It was hard to keep her emotions under control. What she wanted to do most was to rush over there, throw her arms round him and hold him tight until the real Jon materialized. It was just too strange to see him enjoying himself in the company of people who had abducted him against his will and even murdered his family.

Jon couldn't quite get used to being the centre of so much attention. He felt as if people were watching his every move, and was aware of a need to ingratiate himself with those standing around him so as not to seem too affected by the situation. One of the participants in particular had been blatantly staring at him. He had tried to ignore it, but even though he had his back turned, he could still sense the person studying him intently. He glanced over his shoulder and saw he was right. The person was standing about twenty metres behind him, a woman judging by the shape of her body. She stood there all alone, observing him from under the shadow of her hood.

He nodded to her in greeting. She gave a start and immediately stepped out of his field of vision. Jon frowned. Was that a lock of red hair he saw as she turned away? No, that was impossible. It couldn't be her. Katherina would never be allowed admittance. And why should she? Besides, there must be other Lectors who had red hair. And it was perfectly natural people would stare at him; the mere fact that he was wearing a black robe made it hard for him to hide.

'Are you okay?' asked Remer at his side.

Jon turned his attention to Remer.

'Yes, sure,' he replied with a smile. 'I'm just feeling a bit tense.'

'We all are,' said one of the others in the group with a laugh. 'And it doesn't help matters that our guide is nervous.'

'Don't worry,' Remer assured them. 'Campelli is totally prepared. Nothing can stop us now.'

Jon nodded. 'When do we get started?'

'Very soon,' said Remer. 'Let me just check with the guards.'

Remer withdrew from the group and headed towards the entrance. Jon kept his gaze on Remer as he had a brief discussion with the guards, who consulted their watches and nodded affirmatively.

'Is it true you destroyed the test chamber in the basement of the Demetrius School?' asked an elderly man on Jon's right.

'Yes, there wasn't much left of it,' replied Jon, which prompted a worried look in the man's eyes. 'But it was an uncontrolled session. We've been practising since then, and now I can hit the right level with great precision.'

'But we're all at different levels,' said the man nervously. 'How can you be sure the level you choose isn't going to be too strong for some people?'

'We'll start off very gently,' replied Jon soothingly. 'To begin with, the level will probably be too low for everyone to get something out of it, but if things proceed as planned, those who are weakest will be elevated first, and then we can increase the strength and raise up the rest.'

The man nodded and seemed satisfied with the answer. Jon was less convinced about how it was going to work in reality. The reactivation was Remer's theory, and there was no guarantee that it would work, or that it could be kept under control.

'Besides, there are lots of receivers present, and they can modulate the effect if there should be any problem,' Jon added, putting on what he hoped was a convincing expression.

'There aren't going to be any problems,' said Remer, who had rejoined the group. 'And it won't be long now. We're just waiting for a few more people and then we can start.' He pulled up his hood and pointed towards the reading room. 'Shall we go in?'

The others in the group pulled up their hoods and set off after Remer, who slowly walked down the corridor between the rows of candles. Jon followed suit, and everyone else started moving too. Soon the entire assembly had pulled up their hoods to cover their heads and the scattered conversations died out. The only sounds were footsteps on the stone floor and the rubbing of fabric against fabric.

From the foyer the procession moved along the corridor and into the heart of the library to the reading room. The experience of going from the relatively narrow corridor into the vast space of the reading room almost took Jon's breath away. A couple of participants near him uttered little gasps as they entered the enormous room that reached up seven storeys. They entered on the fourth-floor level, and from here they could peer down on the levels below, which looked like terraced fields on a steep mountainside. Mighty pillars held up the floors and stretched even higher to support the disc-shaped roof, which until now Jon had seen only from the outside.

The reading areas had been cleared on this level, but they could see, on the terraces below, that rows of desks and chairs made from light-coloured wood formed the work areas for those who used the library on a daily basis.

The impressive space was one thing, but quite another was the concentration of energy Jon could feel as they moved through the huge room. It was as if they found themselves under a magnifying glass where forces were being concentrated to such a degree that the air seemed saturated with electrical charges, making the hair rise on everyone's arms. Jon felt such a strong tickling sensation that he couldn't help smiling.

Instead of tables and chairs, a circle of candles stood in the centre of this level of the reading room. In the middle of the circle was a dark-wood podium. Jon had a strong feeling he knew for whom that podium was intended.

Slowly and without a sound the people flowed into the room and spread out around the podium. Remer drew Jon over to the centre of the circle of candles. They stood on either side of the podium and silently regarded the crowds pouring in. It was impossible to see the faces under the hoods. Jon felt exposed in his black robe. He was the only person who couldn't hide.

The participants moved in closer and closer as the crowd filled the reading room. Several times Jon thought he saw the woman from the foyer, the one he'd thought was Katherina, but each time there was something about the person's gait or posture that convinced him it wasn't her.

Despite the fact there were so many people, no one said a word. The silence made it possible for them to hear when the doors to the room were closed by one of the two guards, who took up position just inside the doors with his hands behind his back.

As if on cue, Remer stepped up to the podium. It stood on a metre-high platform, and everyone's eyes were directed towards him at once.

He cleared his throat a couple of times and then began to speak. The words were in Latin. Jon recognized them from a section of the Order's chronicles that Poul Holt had read to him. Holt had explained that it was the Order's original mission statement, which exhorted the members always to improve their powers and keep them secret from the uninitiated. The passage also contained an encomium to the powers and the role of the members in the world. Like shepherds, they were to herd the ignorant sheep – which meant anyone without the same abilities.

Jon didn't understand the words Remer read, so he used the time instead to study the people standing around him. They were apparently intimately familiar with the text. They had turned their faces up towards Remer, which made it possible for Jon to see their mouths, which for the most part were shaping the words as Remer spoke them. Only one person was not looking up at Remer but instead was staring straight at Jon. That person was standing a couple of rows away, but he couldn't see the face because of the hood's shadow. Yet there was no doubt the eyes were directed at him.