The Adept Book 2 The Lodge Of The Lynx (46 page)

“But, isn’t an initiation a kind of test?” Peregrine asked.

“Oh, you will, indeed, be tested, if that’s what you mean,” Adam said with a smile, “but not so much to prove your knowledge as to try the mettle of your spirit, the way precious ore is refined and strengthened by firing.”

“It’s an ordeal, then,” Peregrine said.

“Well, not in the sense of anguish and pain,” Adam replied, “but it
will
be a trial. It shouldn’t be beyond you, though, if I’ve judged your potential correctly—and I’m confident that I have.”

“I see,” Peregrine said quietly. “Is it permitted to ask what form the trial will take?”

“Oh, you may certainly ask,” Adam said with a smile, “but that decision is not entirely mine to make. We’ve spoken before of your affinity with the spirit that was Michael Scot and now resides in the person of young Gillian, and how all the facets of her former incarnations must be reintegrated for healing to take place. The task that has been ordained for you—the task by which you will prove yourself—is to assist in the restoration of the order of her soul.”

Peregrine’s eyes widened slightly. “Adam, you know that there’s nothing that would please me more, to be able to help her,” he said, “but I can’t even pretend that I know how.”

“You will when the time comes,” Adam said. “Don’t be afraid to rely on your own intuitions. The true rite of passage takes place on an interior level. Whatever form the internal imagery will take for you, I also cannot predict at this point, but this much I
can
promise you: that you will perceive all in symbols appropriate to you.

“Nor will you be alone. Noel and I will be with you to guide you, and there will be others of the fellowship present, either in body or in spirit, to support you with their own hopes and aspirations.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Peregrine said with a small, nervous chuckle. “But there’s still one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I keep thinking about that day we went with Father Christopher to cleanse that flat in Edinburgh. I watched everything that you and he did between you, and I realize that you both meant it to be an act of worship. But I have to tell you that I don’t understand it. I mean, I don’t think I know
how
to worship. What I’m feeling, even at this moment, seems to demand that I express it in some formal way, but I—don’t know what gestures to make, what words to say. Hearing you speak just now of initiation as a refinement of the soul, I realize that it’s an incredibly momentous occasion, but nothing in my past experience seems to suggest anything about how I ought to behave.”

“It isn’t a matter of behaving,” Adam said with a smile, “but rather, of becoming. Such external ritual as we do is certainly important to our work, but only as a common framework, insofar as it serves to call forth what is already present by grace in our souls. If you really want guidance, I suggest that you go back to the dream-work that you’ve used before to get you pointed in the right direction. And tomorrow, I suggest that you sleep in and then spend the day painting that T.S. Eliot poem. I’ll give you a copy to take back to the lodge. I advise you to read it before you go to bed, and see what happens.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

PEREGRINE BROUGHT
his painting up to the house shortly before ten o’clock the following night. He had done it in watercolors, to echo the imagery of the poem, and he thought he had captured most of what he had tried to convey of the images that had come to him regarding the Light in its many manifestations.

Philippa admitted him and McLeod was already waiting in the library, though more subdued than was his usual wont, which perhaps reflected the solemnity of the night’s undertaking. Shortly thereafter, Adam came in with Christopher and Victoria Houston, and all of them gathered around the painting propped on one of the library chairs. The mood was at once grave and expectant, as if all present were about to offer up a sacrifice—as perhaps, Peregrine reflected wonderingly, they all were.

“I believe Peregrine’s painting speaks to all of us of what this night is all about,” Adam finally said, his quiet voice embracing each of them with the warmth of both mentor and colleague. “With that in mind, both Christopher and I felt that, before beginning tonight’s Work, it would be appropriate to first celebrate Evensong. So we’ll adjourn temporarily to the chapel, where Christopher will lead us in our devotions. Shall we go?”

This was the first time Peregrine had ever heard Adam mention the presence of a private chapel on the premises. He was even more surprised to discover that they were going down into the wine cellar. Some of his puzzlement must have been evident, because Adam held him back at the foot of the stairs to explain.

“The chapel was a subterranean feature of the house that stood on this spot before Strathmourne was built,” he said. “Because its very existence was secret, it came to be used as a priest’s hole, to shelter priests on the run from the secular authorities. The Sinclairs have always found it expedient to keep that secret, except that when Mother became a Sinclair, she decided to expand its use. It’s still a consecrated Christian chapel, and we’ll use it as such tonight, but it’s also a place where the Hunting Lodge sometimes gathers on the physical plane for Work requiring a more formal setting.” He glanced beyond Peregrine at the door where the others had disappeared.

“They’ll be about ready for us now—and you can relax. This is
just
Evensong. The real work tonight will take place up in Gillian’s room—and in
there.”
He tapped Peregrine lightly on the forehead, smiling as he did, then urged him on past the wine bins.

Beyond the door that stood ajar, McLeod was waiting in a narrow passageway. Candlelight streamed from a chamber beyond, and the smaller room off to the right, where Victoria and Philippa were tending a pair of oil lamps, proved to be a kind of vestry, where Christopher was pulling on a long white surplice over a sapphire-blue cassock. He gave Peregrine one of his quirky grins as he adjusted a flowing sleeve.

“I’ve brought us communion as well,” he said. “When we have the luxury of pre-planning, rather than reacting to crisis, it’s our custom to receive together before setting out to do any work as a group, both to fortify us as individuals and to affirm the common union of our working bond. I know you don’t belong to the church in which I’m ordained, but I hope you won’t be shy about partaking with us.”

“Well, if you’re sure it’s all right,” Peregrine murmured somewhat doubtfully, as Christopher added a blue stole to his adornment.

It was McLeod who responded, not with his usual bluff tone but almost a tenderness, as he laid an arm reassuringly around the younger man’s shoulders.

“Laddie, don’t you worry about anything except what’s all right for
you,”
he said quietly. “What we serve is the same, whether we go to a kirk or a church or a chapel or an abbey on Sunday mornings. When this company meets around the Lord’s Table, there’s no such thing as denomination.”

Philippa turned to smile at him over her shoulder, shielding the light of her lamp with a cupped hand.

“Noel’s right, my dear,” she said. “Truth is unified, even if our perceptions of that Truth may differ slightly in perspective and in how we choose to express them.”

“But, don’t all religions say that
they
have the truth?” Peregrine asked.

Adam smiled. “This is hardly the time for an in-depth discussion on
that
subject, but suffice it to say, for now, that the rites and practices of organized religion are all intended to honor the ultimate Truth, and such formal acknowledgements can be an extra source of strength for people in our line of work, engaged in the active service of that Truth. As you refine your own spiritual direction, you may well find that active participation in a particular religion serves to point the way more clearly.

“I offer that only as a suggestion at this time, without endorsing any particular path for
you.
In the meantime, however, I hope you’ll feel comfortable receiving with us under the Episcopal form.”

With that, the two women led the way into the chapel beyond, bearing their lamps. McLeod went next, Peregrine falling in awkwardly between him and Adam, Christopher bringing up the rear. Peregrine caught his breath as he passed under the vaulted ceiling, with its panoply of stars spangled above the altar. A strange thrill he only partly understood made him falter briefly in his tracks. The sensation was both mysterious and familiar—as if he had stumbled into some ancient, hallowed temple and found himself at home there.

The women put their lamps on the altar, augmenting the light of candles burning in wall sconces, moving then to either side as Christopher took a place between them. Peregrine ended up standing between McLeod and Adam, in a small semi-circle. Beyond Christopher, he caught a glimpse of a silver chalice and a small silver bowl.

But then Christopher was lifting his hands in a supplication that embraced them all, offering words that seemed eminently appropriate to the night’s intentions, and hardly like a ritual at all.

“The night is far spent, and the day is at hand,” he said, joy lifting his voice. “Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.”

The litany that followed took the form of an extended prayer of praise and petition, with responses that were easy to follow. Taking his cue from his companions, Peregrine felt all his doubts and uncertainties melt away. Whatever he did not know now, that he needed to know, he would learn in the fullness of time. In the present moment, he was at peace.

His sense of peace deepened as Christopher came to each of them to give them the Host, Victoria following with the Cup. The mingled taste of bread and wine upon his tongue brought with it an abiding sense of fellowship and satisfaction. He bowed his head over folded hands when they had passed, lost in contemplation of that satisfaction, until Adam’s calm voice recalled him to the moment.

“Peregrine,” his mentor said quietly, obviously loathe to intrude, “we need your ring now.”

Nodding wordlessly, Peregrine drew it forth from its place of safekeeping and handed it to Adam, who passed it on to Christopher. The priest accepted it most soberly, closing it briefly between his hands, then passed his ring hand over it in the sign of the cross. Holding it then in his cupped hands, he lifted it in offering and prayed aloud.

“Almighty God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, renew Thy blessing upon this ring, tool and sign of commitment to Thy service, that he who is shortly to receive it shall receive likewise all grace and guidance to execute his duty in accordance with Thy will, so long as he shall live.”

The prayer was attended by a reverent “Amen” from the rest of the gathering. Christopher handed the ring back to Adam with grave formality, but his brown eyes, as he turned to Peregrine, were alight, as if the moment was for him a personal occasion of gladness.

“Adam will keep the ring for now,” he told the younger man. “When you receive it back, your right to wear it will have been affirmed by far higher than I.”

Turning, then, to face the altar, he lifted his hands once more in the great antiphon for the day:

“O Day-Spring brightness of the Light Eternal and Sun of Justice, come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.”

The service concluded with a prayer that seemed to echo the aspirations of Peregrine’s own heart as he bowed his head for Christopher’s final blessing. As he moved with the others in silence to go back upstairs, now directing his focus toward the task ahead, all other considerations receded from his mind. Gillian’s face was before him as he climbed the stairs, still carrying with him the peace he had attained by what he had just witnessed, and paramount in his mind now was the resolute desire to see Gillian restored to health and sanity.

They regrouped briefly in the library while they waited for Christopher to join them,
sans
vestments, and so that Peregrine could collect his sketchbox. Then all of them followed Adam upstairs to Gillian’s room. Mrs. Gilchrist had been given the night off, and Iris Talbot was asleep in the room across the hall. Seeing Peregrine glance toward the door on the way in, Philippa whispered, “You needn’t worry, she won’t wake. She’s earned her peace tonight, poor thing, and I’ve taken every decent precaution to ensure that she should keep it. We won’t be interrupted.”

The curtains were standing open, admitting the pale silvery light of the moon from outside. Illumined by that ethereal glow and the light of half a dozen blue-lit votive candles set round the room, Gillian herself looked fragile as a dry leaf, frail to the point of breaking. Gazing down at the sunken, childish face as Philippa closed and locked the door, Peregrine suspected they were not acting a moment too soon.

Philippa raised the wards set earlier around the room and took up a sentinel post by the door, reaching up to trace a symbol over the lintel to seal it fast against all intrusion. Adam moved a bedside chair to the foot of the bed and directed Peregrine to sit down in it while Christopher and Victoria brought more chairs and took up posts opposite one another at the head of the bed. McLeod stood at Peregrine’s left, leaving Adam free to choose his own station once the work was in progress. For now, he stood at Peregrine’s right, facing him.

“All right, for what we’re about to do, I need first to put you into trance,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing in this that you haven’t experienced before, except that I’m going to take you deeper than usual. Sit back now and relax. Pick a point on the ceiling, up above the bed, and fix all your attention there. Be guided by the sound of my voice.”

Peregrine did as he was bidden, leaning back in his seat until his shoulders were resting comfortably against the chair’s upholstered back, looking up. He was breathing lightly, Adam saw, with no sign of stress or apprehension in his face, and Adam was pleased at this evidence of the younger man’s trust.

“Clear your mind now. And I want you to imagine yourself gazing up at the sky at night. There are no clouds—just a multitude of stars. Can you see them?”

“Yes.” Peregrine’s hazel eyes had taken on a faraway look behind his spectacles.

“Good,” Adam said quietly. “I want you to choose a star out of all those myriad points, and make it the center of your attention. Have you found one?”

“Yes.” Peregrine’s assent was soft but clear.

“Excellent. Keep your eyes fixed on that star. Watch it as it flickers and flashes. Its light is descending toward you. Let it carry you down into the depths of your unconscious . . . now.”

While he was speaking, he reached out and lightly touched Peregrine’s forehead just above the bridge of the nose. The artist’s eyes closed and he gave a sigh, settling a little more heavily into his chair.

“That’s right,” Adam murmured. “Go deeper . . . and deeper still . . .”

As he continued to reinforce his suggestions, Peregrine increasingly evidenced every sign of deep trance. Finally satisfied that his subject had attained the working level desirable for the task at hand, Adam glanced across at McLeod. The inspector nodded back and made a sign with his right hand above the younger man’s fair head. Then he moved to take a light hold on Peregrine’s left wrist, fingers grasped firmly over the pulse point.

Peregrine could feel the throb of his heartbeat pulsing under McLeod’s fingers, and it seemed to him that the light of the star he had been following had expanded to envelop him in a transparent cone of protective luminance. Adam was present beside him, as was McLeod, both of them clothed now in flowing robes of sapphire blue. He himself was wearing a simple white robe, the robe of a postulant. As all this registered in the back of his mind, his mentor spoke, his voice resonating with more than its usual melodic authority.

“Let those who have been called to the service of the Light enter now into the Temple of the Master.”

Through the soft glow of the light that shielded him, Peregrine found he could make out other human figures gathering around him. He saw that some of them were those he already knew as his companions, likewise clothed in flowing robes of deep sapphire blue. Lady Julian was there in the midst of them, no longer bound to her wheelchair in this other realm beyond physical restrictions, and there were others whom he did not recognize. Each of them wore a point of starlight on his or her hand in place of the rings that would have been present on the earthly plane.