Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves

by Robert N. Charrette

  "I can sense much, but do little. The price to be paid, I surmise, " Carter replied regretfully. "In my youth I was always disappointed that the more manifest aspects of the Art seemed not to be my gift. I did not appreciate the subtler gifts. By the saint's mercy I have gained enough wisdom to know that the strength and will for action is not given to all. Those who have the ability must do, others must aid as they may. We all have our place in the grand plan. Once the Feathered One rose, time became short. Now, though time grows shorter, yet there is a moment in the turning of the stars, and we are met. You have come seeking understanding. It is small repayment for your heroism to tell you what I know. Ask your questions."

  Dr. Spae pounced at once. "Tell us about the telesmon. Where did it come from?"

  "Its origin is unknown, Elizabeth."

  "Then tell me when and where you got it," Dr. Spae snapped. Clearly Carter's mystic mystery attitude was rubbing her fur the wrong way.

  Carter seemed unfazed. "Ah, so long ago. So cold. A summer colder than any winter New England has ever shivered through. I had never been so cold. So much was strange to me. There were bones in the earth there, the bones of great beasts. Dinosaurs, Galthier said. How could brute reptiles survive in such a climate, I asked. How would they warm themselves in frigid Antarctic days, let alone in the long night of Antarctic winter? Taylor's and Wegener's theories of continental motion were mocked in those days. I was young and knew no better. Now we know that the land at the bottom of the world was not always cold, and I suspect that (ialthier was right about the bones belonging to the dinosaurs, though no specimens remain to prove or disprove the origins of those ancient bones we found."

  "What's with the bones?" John interrupted. Carter's rambling explanation wasn't exactly suited to the situation if lime was as short as he claimed. "I thought you were going to tell us about the telesmon."

  "I was telling you, John. It was in searching near the place of the bones that we found what we later regretted."

  "Before you go on," Dr. Spae said, "just where are you talking about?"

  "Antarctica, Elizabeth," Carter replied. "Hadn't I said that?"

  "No, you hadn't."

  "I thought it quite a coup. Brilliant young stratigrapher to chart the lay of an unknown continent. Had I known what was in store, I think I would have refused the university's offer."

  "You were on a university expedition? There was nothing about that in your record." At least none that John had turned up rooting around the university database.

  "You will not find any records of the university's expedition," Carter said confidently. "I destroyed them all in 1938. All save one, and that one is gone now, too; you buried it along with the thief who stole it. No one would know of our ill-starred exploration at all were it not for H.P.'s story. Had I greater fortitude I should never have drunk so much, but there was so much to forget. I suppose I thought that telling the tale would purge me of the horror. I was wrong, of course. H.P. listened too well to my tale and ignored my later protests that my ramblings were but liquor-inspired fantasies. He said that he understood every word that I had said, and why not? It was the truth. But even he knew that it was a truth that could not be fully revealed. He became as haunted by the truth as I. His solution to rid himself of it was to make a fiction of it."

  Carter was drifting off the topic again. "Who is H.P.?"

  "H. Patrick, my brother."

  John realized that he was blinking like a light-stunned owl. Fiction? H. Patrick, as in H. Patrick Carter? Antarctica? University expedition? It couldn't be, could it? "This fictional story—it wouldn't be 'Among the Mountains of Madness,' would it?"

  "You know it? Tell me, John, has the tale currency even in your realm?" Carter asked.

  John had no idea if the tale had reached the otherworld; he had read it while in high school. Apparently Dr. Spae wasn't on-line.

  "What is this 'Among the Mountains of Madness'?" she asked.

  "It's an old horror story," John told her. And here Carter was, telling them that the events in that story were real.

  "Yes, quite a horror story," Carter said. "H.P. realized that no one would believe the truth if he told it baldly, so he called the truth fiction and told the story to the world. It eased his mind, I suppose. I still cannot decide whether it is fortunate that the world never took it for more than fiction."

  "What has this got to do with the telesmon?" Dr. Spae iisked.

  "Ah, as I was saying, when we first found the stones, (ialthier thought that we had found more bones. He was very excited and said all sorts of things that embarrassed him later. He should have asked me before he made his pronouncements. To me it was quite clear that the stones weren't on the same horizon as the bones. Different horizons, different times. In any case, as we worked, it became dear that the stones were not petrified bone; but it didn't end our interest in them, because it also became plain the stones were arranged. We had found something quite unexpected. We had found the remains of a temple, on the order of the Great henge on Salisbury plain. In the center of the temple, under a cairn of rock, we found the talisman of the worm. That night the troubles began, and by morning we were in Full retreat for the coast. Half our party was dead or mad by the time we reached the ship that took us away from the cold, white land.

  "Though my fellows were ignorant of the source of our travails, I believed I knew: the talisman. I took the talisman to those who were better versed in such things than I. We puzzled over its nature. To be perfectly frank, we did not know what we held in our hands. Oh, we knew that it was an arcane artifact—I had known that the moment the last stone was lifted from the cairn—but we did not recognize the power that hid in it."

  John listened to Carter's tale, flashing on details from the story Carter's brother had written. In the story, the thing the scientists found had acted as a focus for some malevolent energies, but they hadn't known the danger. None of the fictional protagonists had been able to sense the power of the talisman beyond formless feelings of dread and unease. Yet, here was Carter admitting to sensing something of the thing's aura. If Carter had been able to sense anything from the talisman, he should have been able to understand that it was a menace. John hadn't actually seen the telesmon, but he had known that Quetzal was carrying the thing when they'd cornered him in the tunnel. Even hidden, it had exuded peril. "How could you not have known how dangerous the thing was?"

  Carter sighed, a mournful sound. "The energies were thinner then, John. Much thinner, and I was not so adept at seeing them. We had no one among us of your accomplishments, Elizabeth. Though we knew the talisman had power, we had little understanding of its potential. Still, older and wiser heads recognized its malign orientation and we took precautions. Had we known better, we might have done more; but as it was, we did our best. We could not anticipate the return of the feathered serpent and his interest in the artifact. How could we know that he would awaken with it?"

  "You keep saying we," Dr. Spae observed. "Who else is involved?"

  Carter did not reply immediately. When he finally did speak his raspy voice was even softer than it had been. "Have you ever heard of the Order of St. Lazarus, Elizabeth?"

  Dr. Spae shook her head. "Are you saying that you are part of some sort of secret society dedicated to the occult?"

  "If that is what you heard, Elizabeth, then perhaps I said it. There are those who stand in opposition to the deluded fools who would open the way for the worm. They stand guard in secret because they must. Such covert vigilance has a cost. Though we sometimes lose some who would willingly join our ranks because of our secrecy, yet we cannot recruit openly. We must remain hidden from those who offer harm. We remain a small and necessarily select group, but we who are the enemies of the worm are united—as we must be—for the worm is strong, strong in power and strong in its hatred for life. The worm's ability to sway weak minds with false promises is immense, and the influence of the enemy is great. Even among the members of the expedition there was one of the
Followers of the Path, the greatest and most dangerous of the cults in service to the worm."

  "The Glittering Path?" Dr. Spae asked.

  "So you do know of them, Elizabeth."

  "He spoke of the Glittering Path," she said. Her voice trembled a little. "He asked me about Luciferius."

  Carter murmured assent. "Ah, the great prophet of the followers, publicist and apologist for the worm. Behind lies and false promises of worldly power and wealth he hides the truth—the worm's path is death, and its followers are damned."

  "So you hid the telesmon from these followers."

  "Because we recognized the sign of the worm, we hid the talisman and warded it as best we could. But our knowledge is not that of our ancestors, and we did not recognize the true danger, else we would have tried to destroy it."

  "You muffed it major," John said.

  "Omniscience is characteristic of God, not man." Carter's voice was weary. "It is clear now that the talisman of the worm is indeed a telesmon of great power and perhaps of greater significance. It may even be the key that the followers of the Glittering Path seek."

  "Luciferius's key to the stars?" Dr. Spae asked.

  Carter chuckled bitterly. "The key to damnation for mankind."

  John wasn't sure that he bought all the stuff about cults and worms, but Carter's conviction and Dr. Spae's accepting attitude to Carter's tale were persuasive. In his brief near-encounter with the telesmon, he'd felt enough of its evil to be glad that it was where no one could get at it. "Good thing the telesmon was buried along with the guy who stole it, eh?"

  "It is not," Carter said.

  Dr. Spae looked as shocked as John felt. Carter's three short words evaporated his belief that the telesmon's danger had been suppressed. John felt a little sick.

  "Elizabeth, you know one who can confirm this," Carter said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "Ask of the man who seeks secrets only to hide them, of him who takes the commonwealth's coin to protect the public from a threat unacknowledged."

  "What's with the riddle?" John asked. If they were looking at trouble, they didn't have time to mess around with riddles. "If you know who it is, just say so."

  "Riddles may protect as well as puzzle," Carter said. "Why do you pretend not to know? Never mind. Let it be. Elizabeth understands. That is enough."

  Dr. Spae asked, "If the telesmon isn't buried, what has happened to it?"

  "It is in unclean hands and it is moving," Carter said. "A mage carries it southward. I think that I know where he is taking it. Given the malign aspect of the stars, where else?"

  "So you think that this mage is taking it back to Antarctica," Dr. Spae said.

  "To the temple, Elizabeth. He means to use its power to open the gates of hell."

  Up until the "hell" part, John had bought Carter's scenario. "You can't mean that literally."

  "The difference that makes no difference is no difference," Carter said. "The mage must be stopped."

  "He can't be as bad as Que— the feathered serpent. He won't have the knowledge."

  "Do not underestimate him, Elizabeth," Carter admonished. "You will need great power to oppose him."

  "We stopped Quetzal," John pointed out. How bad could a wannabe be?

  Carter gave a sharp intake of breath at John's mention of the name. "An impressive feat, but you were lucky. The mage who holds the talisman of the worm may not be the equal of the feathered serpent, but he has allied himself with a monster of the outer darkness. And he controls the talisman. A very dangerous combination. You will need help."

  Need help? "What makes you think we're going after him?"

  "Hush, John. Of course we are." John gaped. His reaction went unnoticed by Dr. Spae; her attention was focused on Carter. "Go on, Mr. Carter. You say we'll need help. Do you have any particular help in mind?"

  "Yeah, like are you going to do something?" If Dr. Spae wanted help, this guy and his friends were prime material. Hadn't they been the ones to open the can of worms in the lirst place? "What about your St. Lazarus guys? You gonna help us or what?"

  "I'm glad you're in, John," Dr. Spae whispered to him.

  So she had noticed. And, hell, he had said us, hadn't he? Somewhere along the line he had gotten involved. He was angry with himself for losing his detachment. Well, he couldn't let the doctor face this creepoid alone, could he? It had taken both of them to bury Quetzal.

  John shot his anger at Carter. "If this mage is so bad, we'll need all the help we can get. We need more help than your damned riddles. What are you going to do to help?"

  Carter didn't stir. "As you, I fear to face this mage, John. Among the servants of St. Lazarus there are neither arcane nor mundane warriors of sufficient stature. You and Elizabeth have fought the agents of the worm before, you must fight them again."

  "Not the right answer," John told him.

  "Only too truly the right answer," Carter countered. "We servants of St. Lazarus serve as we can, according to our gifts. We have offered you knowledge in the hope that you— both of you—as proven warriors, will do what we cannot. Yet we fear that the two of you are not strong enough, and so we tell you this: there is, free upon the land, another talisman of power, one more benign in nature. It is strong. It is near. And you, both of you, have brushed against its power and not been seared. It may be possible that one of you may be given the grace to wield the talisman. The cause is just, and each of you has resisted corruption by the darkness. Shoulder your burden. Face the worm. Do what must be done. Be the heroes that the world needs."

  John had always dreamed of being a hero. So why was he terrified of getting the chance?

  "Where do we find this talisman?" Dr. Spae asked. She might have been asking for directions to the local mall for all that she sounded concerned about the course of action she was committing them to.

  "As I said, Elizabeth, it is near. In fact, it is in a building in this very city. I take its presence as a sign. Yet it is not my place to offer its use. Go to the seeker of secrets of whom I spoke before. He knows not the keeper of that most potent of talismans, but he knows the path to where it lies. Ask his aid. I can say no more."

  The babble of voices poured into the squad room, overwhelming the ordinary bustle and noise.

  "What about the Kennedy Plague aircraft? Any truth about a new strain of bubonic coming out of Boston?"

  "The Proper Order rumbled last night. Are you investigating the cult aspects of the gang?"

  "Is it true that the mayor of Pawtucket has been abducted by a UFO?"

  "Word is that the Holyoke Horror has struck again. Any truth to that?"

  "Is it true that you have apprehended the Wisteria killer?"

  "I've got a source who says that you have Anton Van Die-man's mummified body in the morgue. Is that true?"

  "Is it true that the Newport oil spill has been quarantined because it's really an extradimensional toxic waste dump?"

  "Is it true that—"

  "Is it true—"

  "Is it—"

  Manny got out a final "No Comment" as he shut the door and cut off the ruckus.

  "Jeez, I hate it when a day starts this way," he said to anybody in the squad room who was listening. Most weren't; someone had leaked where the Special Investigations Unit had set up its headquarters; and every detective on the squad had run the gauntlet themselves as they came on shift.

  Manny joined Charley at the coffee machine. "What stirred up the piranha?"

  Charley understood the attitude, having only come through the crowd of reporters a few minutes ago. "Phase of the moon? Who knows?"

  "More like a ratings sweep. A good weird happening is worth a point or two." Manny poured himself a cup of coffee. "One of those esteemed fourth-estaters shouted something about the Proper Order being out last night."

  "Yeah. District 30. Vuong and Falerio got liaison with Gang Related."

  "Better them than us."

  Charley had to agree. Crimes related to the Proper Order gang were curre
ntly being shuttled back and forth within the department. The gang, while responsible for a lot of typical violence, didn't fit the mold in a lot of ways—not least that it had seemed to come out of nowhere last year. The gang's soldiers perpetrated vicious acts of violence and had so far eluded all pursuit as if they could vanish into thin air. That insubstantiality, along with their gang members' appearance and reported "abilities," were what kept getting SIU dragged in. Some of the other guys speculated that the gang was from . . . somewhere else . .. and Charley was afraid that they might be right. Worse, the gang was getting more active and starting to attract media attention. He was just as glad as Manny that this latest incident hadn't landed in their laps. They had enough to deal with.

  When he got to his desk, Charley found a priority message flasher on his terminal. The source line was missing, and when he logged on and pulled up the call, he understood why. Casper, the friendly ghost in the machine, had dropped by.

  >>22.10.29 * 07.23.18.79 * xxxxx.xxx log #10 29.1 PRIORITY 1 TO: GordonC@NECPOLNET*0004.13.00*874334 FROM: UNKNO WN> RE: Duty. Modi unnumbered.

  MESSAGE:

  Introduce Spae to Pend Foundation. Pers. Atten.

  While Charley was pondering the implied connections and meaning, he got an incoming call from Dr. Spae's synth secretary. Coincidence? Charley would have loved to think so, but he was just too sure that this apparent coincidence was connected on strings that he couldn't see. The secretary wanted an appointment for him to meet with Spae, suggesting Heddie's restaurant downtown. Curious, he agreed.

  He was a little late getting there, having gotten tied up trying to square away the paperwork on a case. He still hadn't finished with it. Soon as the meeting was over, he'd be heading back to the office. Charley didn't want to have to explain to Captain Hancock why the report wasn't waiting for him when he arrived in the morning.

  Heddie's was gearing up for the happy-hour crowd, enough people to keep the place busy but not so many that lie and Spae wouldn't be able to talk. He spotted her while he was waiting for the hostess. She was sitting with a kid who looked like streetlife. Charley abandoned his wait for the hostess and headed over. Just in case, he popped on his Tsurei Seeing Eyes™ so he'd have a recording of the meeting.