The Library of Shadows (38 page)

'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.

Jon's heart began beating faster. It couldn't be her. Slowly the person's head lifted to look up at Remer, just like everyone else's. The lower part of the face emerged from shadow. A pair of lips were shaped in a smile.

Jon caught a glimpse of a little scar on the chin. Katherina's scar.

Katherina was sure Jon had seen her. The first time was in the foyer, where he had nodded at her. What did that mean? That he was ready? That he was waiting for her? Or was it merely a greeting to a presumed colleague? With her heart pounding, she had followed the others into the reading room. If he had recognized her in the foyer, she might be unmasked at any moment. Her nervousness receded as she entered the reading room. The energy seemed more focused than when she was here last. Maybe it was the candles, the robes and the crowds of people, which all combined to draw her attention to the almost tangible excitement in the air.

The second time Jon saw her was right after Remer took up position at the podium and began reading the Latin text. Katherina didn't understand anything that was read; instead she kept her eyes fixed on Jon. He was standing to one side of the podium, letting his gaze pass over the audience, as if he were searching for someone. The hood of his robe was not pulled all the way forward, so most of his face was visible, and she noticed when his eyes fell on her and then stopped. She felt her pulse rise. These same eyes had looked at her with so much love only a short time ago. Now they shone with doubt and confusion.

Maybe there was still hope. Doubt was definitely better than the hatred she had sensed when she saw him at the marketplace earlier in the day. She couldn't help smiling as she turned her attention towards Remer standing at the podium.

There was no doubt that Remer was charging the text he was reading, but since she didn't understand the words, it didn't affect her. But it was different for the person standing next to her, a rather portly gentleman whose robe barely closed around the bulk of his body. After a moment he began to sway lightly from side to side. His hooded head started nodding eagerly at various passages of the text. She looked around and saw more people behaving in the same way. Yet most of the crowd stood motionless, like Katherina, and listened to what was read.

Katherina focused on the way Remer was using his powers. He was a skilled transmitter, perhaps even better than Luca had been. The effect seemed steady and effortless, as if he were producing a strong wind just by blowing gently. When she concentrated even harder, she discovered one of the reasons for this. The majority of the receivers who were present had focused their powers and were supporting his reading in a unified effort. With so many involved, this was a very difficult exercise that demanded a consensus as to what was supposed to be communicated. The slightest hesitation or miscalculation could break the illusion. Katherina knew from her training with the receiver group how difficult this was, but here everyone was totally focused and there was no uncertainty in their performance.

The last sentence Remer read was repeated by everyone present. He raised his head to look out over the gathering, nodded briefly, then stepped down from the dais. Katherina saw him exchange a few words with Jon, who then took Remer's place on the podium. The people around her began shifting their feet uneasily. It was impossible to know what they had been told, but everyone seemed filled with anticipation; they were also nervous.

Katherina used the opportunity to move back a few rows. If Jon had pointed her out to Remer, she needed to be careful. But Remer stayed where he was, standing next to Jon, and he didn't look particularly alert or concerned.

From the ranks closest to the dais, a group of about ten people moved forward. They all held black books which they opened and then raised their eyes to look at Jon. Katherina saw that others in the crowd who had also been supplied with a similar book now did the same.

After clearing his throat, Jon began to read.

The instant Jon started his reading, he noticed a warm, trembling sensation, as if he'd been lowered into a tub of warm water. He was received and enveloped by forces that everyone was using to help him, to support him and carry him, wherever he wanted to go. The restless energy of the book seemed to merge with the massive discharge from the library itself, and the whole thing was further enhanced by the receivers who were present. He recognized the support of Patrick Vedel like a heavy hand on his shoulder, a little more insistent than during the practice sessions, but that was probably just his nerves.

Jon started off at a slow, even pace to make it easier for the Lectors to fall into step, and when the transmitters surrounding the dais joined in with the reading, he sensed another spike of energy. With Remer and Holt he had discussed how the seance should proceed and what phases they should pass through in order to ensure the greatest benefit. It was important not to press too hard in the beginning, to take his time to get into the rhythm of the text and focus his thoughts. That was easier said than done. Catching sight of someone whom he thought was Katherina in the teeming audience had upset his concentration. Was it really her, or was his imagination running away with him? He didn't say anything to Remer as they exchanged places.

When Jon first stood behind the podium, he couldn't locate Katherina again. She was no longer in the same place. He couldn't decide whether that was reassuring or more worrisome.

The scene Jon read took place in a cemetery. The text was wonderfully composed, which made it easy to read the section aloud, and he had many opportunities to colour the situation as he pleased. Having read through the section before, he was familiar with the setting and knew what sort of mood he wanted to evoke. It was a sunny day and the main character was visiting the grave of his wife and daughter who had been killed in a car accident.

Jon concentrated on the scene, and before his eyes the reading room in Alexandria slowly faded away to become the peaceful setting of the cemetery. The pillars were transformed into beech trees standing along the cemetery walls, and members of the Order turned into the countless gravestones all around him. A warm breeze wafted past, with a scent of spring. The rays of the sun were splintered by the many carved stones and the branches of the trees, and they cast angular shadows across the ground. Jon noticed that he had reached the point where time suddenly seemed to have slowed to a crawl, and that gave him the opportunity to influence the scene as he saw fit, enhancing it to whatever degree he liked.

The main character placed a bouquet of flowers on the grave of his beloved wife and knelt down before the headstone. The grass was damp and soaked his trousers, but he didn't pay any attention. The wind seemed to pick up, and the leaves in the crowns of the trees rustled as the branches swayed.

The widower reached out and placed his hand on the headstone.

The scene shifted as abruptly as a flash of lightning, and Jon accentuated the clarity and speed as much as he dared. They were riding in a car – the main character, his wife and daughter – on their way home in the darkness of night. The couple were quarrelling. The child was crying. Without warning a pair of blinding headlamps appeared before the windscreen; the sound of metal buckling and glass shattering did not drown out the screams coming from the back seat. Lights and images shifted in quick succession as the car spun round and the passengers and everything else inside were jumbled together.

Back to the cemetery.

Jon wondered if he might have pressed too hard. Even though he was keeping to the prescribed level, the shift might have been too violent for some. The cemetery was peaceful and very, very quiet in comparison to the flashback scene inside the car. The enclosed, claustrophobic feeling was replaced by the cemetery's wide-open space. Jon started letting dark clouds appear on the horizon. The wind grew even stronger, and the leaves swirled up and were blown across the ground.

He noticed a little jolt in the scene, as if a single image had been clipped out of a strip of film. He took it to be a signal from a receiver, but not just any receiver. It could only be coming from Katherina – he could tell.

The moment Jon read the flashback scene, a brilliant blue spark leaped out and crept up his black robe like a snake, only to leap to the nearest light fixture many metres overhead. Those who were standing closest took a step back in alarm, and a worried murmur arose. Remer raised his arms to make a reassuring gesture.

'It's okay,' he said loudly. 'This is what we've been waiting for.'

The uneasiness died down and the transmitters who had stopped reading resumed, though with a certain hesitation. Katherina could see that many people were looking anxiously around, and for safety's sake some moved further away from the dais.

Jon continued to read, undaunted, without taking any notice of what was happening around him. His voice was calm, composed and enticing as he presented the story. This seemed to soothe the audience, even as small sparks flickered over his robe.

Katherina looked around feverishly. What had happened to the others? If Mehmet and Henning didn't turn up soon and stop the ritual, the reactivation would become a reality. She could feel it. The whole atmosphere around her was smouldering with energy, the flames of the candles had begun to flicker even though there was no wind inside the reading room and she thought that it suddenly felt colder. Katherina had no doubt that something was about to happen. The question was: what?

The people in the audience who weren't reading stared as if mesmerized by the phenomenon before them. With so many receivers present, and all of them pulling in the same direction, there was nothing Katherina could do. She sensed that Jon's performance was being carried forward on a wave, partly by the library's ancient forces, partly by the support of both transmitters and receivers. To go against the flow here would be like trying to stop a tsunami with a paper bag.

Katherina closed her eyes. The only thing she could do was let herself be carried along, so she focused on Jon's presentation. There was a feeling she recalled from their training sessions, which now seemed an eternity ago. He had a special way of accentuating what he presented, a very special pulse of energy that she would recognize no matter where it occurred. She noticed how most of the receivers had already tuned in to precisely that pulse and were supporting its every beat.

Maybe she shouldn't try to stop him?

She opened her eyes and looked up at the podium. Jon's body stood as motionless as a statue, and only the sound of his voice and the movement of his lips revealed he was even conscious. His robe was like a canvas on which the sparks briefly formed complicated patterns, and Katherina began to see a connection between the frequency of the patterns and the pulse of Jon's energy. By focusing on both what she saw and on the powers, Katherina picked up a sense of the rhythm and could quickly predict where the next discharge would occur. She took a deep breath and waited.

With great mental exertion she shoved Jon's next pulse one notch higher. She noticed an enormous leap in the energy and a violent electrical discharge instantly shot out from Jon's body to one of the lamps hanging overhead. Sparks flew at the impact and drifted down over the audience like glowing snowflakes.

People standing around Katherina instinctively moved back. A few ran away, but most remained there, transfixed by the phenomenon occurring before them and by the irresistible force of the story. They couldn't have left the room if they tried, and they paid no attention to what was happening around them.

In the torrent of images coming from Jon, Katherina suddenly received a glimpse of herself.

It was like a picture from a slide show that was tossed into the scene, almost too brief to catch, but she was positive it was her. Jon had sensed that she was present, and it had broken his concentration. She instantly focused all her powers on loading those same images, and more of them began to appear. Images of them in Libri di Luca, in Kortmann's garden, together in bed, and a glimpse of her in profile against the window of a car. Katherina didn't hesitate to enhance the emotions of longing, love and security in the fragments that turned up.

It didn't take long before she sensed a response. Slowly the images appeared again, filled with a warmth and ardour that was coming from Jon, not her. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. Had she managed to reach him?

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she seemed to see a change in Jon's posture. It looked as if he was trying to turn his head but was being held back.

Katherina took a step forward, but stopped abruptly.

Remer had changed position. His body was more erect than before, almost frozen solid, and he was staring down at the text without blinking even once. It was as if he no longer had any sense of where he was or what was happening around him. But what frightened Katherina most were the dark little sparks flickering over his white robe.