For one thing, it required the presence of a virgin, male or female. Few Magicians remained chaste long past the age of majority, and the kind of women who tended to be attracted to Magicians-and that were also willing to be part and parcel of a Work-were generally not virginal. According to Jason, Magicians were of two varieties when it came to the opposite sex: either extremely charismatic and attractive, or ascetic and forbidding of aspect.
And I can imagine which of the two Jason was before his accident.
Yet Jason claimed even those who were ascetic tended to attract women, as if the power they held made them more appealing than they would otherwise have been. Nevertheless, the kind of woman so attracted was the sort that Rose would have styled "an adventuress," for whom the forbidden was as potent an intoxicant as anything sold in China-town. Such a woman would have been willing to take part in a Work, but for this Work would likely be utterly unsuitable.
And proper ladies would be horrified at the very notion. Since this Work requires that the virgin be alert and speaking, rather than drugged or screaming in terror, I can see why it isn't attempted very often.
They were going to attempt to summon-or rather, cajole-a Unicorn.
Now, as Rose had come to understand, the medieval Unicorn she had seen so often in illustrations and tapestries, was not precisely what they were going to get, if they got anything at all. As she recalled them, Unicorns both medieval and earlier, at least in the versions from Europe and the ancient world, all had in common a single spiraling horn protruding from their foreheads, and did not otherwise much resemble each other. She had seen Unicorns pictured as both the size and general look of goats, as antelope-like, as horse-like, and even Unicorns that looked, if they could be said to resemble anything, like a strange mingling of cow and hippo. In some, the horn was gold, in others, a pearly white, and in some, of three colors, black at the base, red in the middle, and white at the tip. And all this was without bringing in the Chinese kirin, which looked more like a dragon, so far as she was concerned!
According to Jason, the Unicorn was an Elemental of a Fifth Element, that of the Spirit, and was the physical (if you could call an Elemental "physical") embodiment of Knowledge, Purity, and Wisdom. It had been known to appear as the medieval artists had painted it; it had also been known to appear as a prepubescent boy or girl in shining robes of white, as a burning bush, as a pure, white light, as a glowing cup, and as a white bird. It was shy and elusive, and yet curiously approachable, if one followed the proper procedure.
There were many kinds of Elementals inhabiting the realm of the Spirit; the Unicorn was just one, but it was one of the most accessible. But unlike the other four Elements, denizens of the Spirit realm could not be coerced, they could only be petitioned. If the Unicorn chose to appear, it would divulge only so much information as it cared to. This was probably another reason why Magicians did not rely on the Conjuration of the Unicorn as a major source of knowledge. Most Magicians did not care to conjure something they could not control. Conjuring a Unicorn was less like going to a shop and purchasing a book, and more like inviting a distinguished guest into one's home and hoping that pearls of wisdom would drop from his lips.
It is rather amazing that Jason has come to the point where he is actually willing to petition anything. He must be the most arrogant male I have ever met! The past few weeks had taught her a great deal about Jason Cameron, not the least of which was that his pride was his greatest fault as well as the cause of his downfall. In moments of extreme weakness, even he was willing to admit that, while still exhibiting pride in the fact! Nevertheless, she continued to find him just as intelligent and broad-minded as she had deduced from their conversations, and a certain amount of arrogance on his part was justified by his many accomplishments.
If I had done as much with my life as he has, perhaps I would be arrogant too. He has had a great deal of power, both Magickaland temporal, and people defer to him all the time. Perhaps that is why I amuse him; I do not. I must be something of a novelty to him. I wonder what he would say if he knew that I pity him? It would probably leave him speechless.
But the past few weeks had taught her a great deal about herself as well. She would never again allow herself to sink to the spiritual low where she had been willing to contemplate doing away with herself. For one thing, it was self-indulgent nonsense. For another, dealing with Cameron had shown her that a great deal could be gained simply by assuming that one would not be refused, and going ahead and pursuing what one wanted. Audacity often brought rewards; self-abasement seldom did.
She had been spending plenty of time with Cameron over these weeks. Paul du Mond had gone off to a position as Jason's agent in Oakland the week before Christmas. There had been no weeping on Rose's part, although the man had been uncommonly pleasant and polite with her. He had persisted in dropping those unsubtle hints that Cameron was not to be trusted, using real facts to bolster the case of something she felt in her heart was pure fabrication. That had made her very uncomfortable, but in the end it had been easier to pretend to agree with him, just so that he would leave her alone. She had promised him, just before he left, that the next time she was in the city, she would talk with one of his "friends," a promise she obviously did not intend to keep. With Paul du Mond gone, there had been no reason to maintain any kind of pretense about the close partnership she now had with Cameron; a great deal of energy and time that had been wasted in maintaining the charade was now free to devote to research and work. So much time was taken up now, that nearly the only time that Rose left the mansion was to make her twice-daily visits to Sunset, lest the poor horse pine away for lack of human contact.
At least the stallion now had some company. There was an old pony-gelding Jason had kept for harnessing to a small carriage-more like a plushly-appointed, covered cart-that du Mond had occasionally taken into Pacifica. Rose had persuaded Jason to allow her to bring this unlovely beast up to share Sunset's paddock rather than remaining in the smaller paddock nearby. Jason had feared that the fiery stallion might well attack and hurt the old gelding, but his fears had been entirely unfounded. Sunset was happy to see the poor old nag, and the old gelding was content to play squire to Sunset's knight. Now Sunset had some company and actually seemed much the tamer for it.
Rose had another notion about what could be done with the stallion-but that would wait until the New Year. Fortunately, that time was not far off, for tonight was Christmas Eve.
It had seemed rather strange to her that any procedure of Magick should take place on the very evening of the entire calendar considered holiest, but Jason had assured her that the one time this Work had any chance of success was Christmas Eve. There had been a reason that the ancient Church had appointed this as the titular evening of the birth of Christ-it was a day of great power, marking the turning of the year, as Midsummer marked its opposite. "Many doors are open on that night," he had said cryptically.
Fine. So long as the "door" that we want is open as well, I shall not quarrel with the time.
So here she was-instead of being attired in her one new dress of the year, standing beside her father singing carols in the University Chapel, she was attired in a scandalous Bloomer outfit, on her hands and knees in a barren, slate-floored room, chalking diagrams she had a notion her old minister would have considered blasphemous on the floor. And yet, this was far more appropriate to the season than singing carols whose words had been debased to the level of the nursery, among the fat and complacent professors and their wives. Was this not the season of Hope and Renewal? And were they not searching for those very things, with Jason casting aside his arrogance long enough to actually beg for help?
She completed the last of the sigils in the outermost circle of the diagram, and sat back on her heels, critically comparing the chalked design to the one in her hand. A few paces behind her, Cameron was doing the same thing. She didn't think that he would find anything wrong-not unless he had somehow made a mistake on her copy. It was a
s perfect a copy as geometry could make it.
"I can't find a thing out of place," he said, finally, his ears twitching a little. "I don't wonder that your research papers were always well-received, if you put the same effort into them that you have into this."
She flushed with pleasure, and slowly got to her feet, taking care not to overbalance. As she straightened, she actually felt joints pop and muscles stretch out and uncramp. She winced. Oh, my knees!
But she showed no sign of discomfort. "Now what?" she asked.
"Now you go and change into your robe, while I set out the candles and the rest of the paraphernalia," he replied, and his mouth parted in what she now knew was a smile. "Don't be nervous. This will be very simple for you."
"I hope so," she replied, giving the room and its diagram one last examination, just to be certain they had not forgotten some small corner.
The center of the diagram was an immovable cube or table that looked suspiciously like an altar, made of white marble. Jason hadn't commented on the fact, but she had noted that a great many ceremonies seemed based on a religion, though not precisely Christianity, nor any other that she recognized. Cameron moved towards that, walking carefully along chalk-free paths that had been designed into the diagram, probably for that very purpose. In either hand he held a squat silver candlestick with a new beeswax candle in it, a creamy yellow candle as thick as her wrist. Candies of various colors also played major parts in the Work-as in religion. Curious. She moved back a little further, dusted her hands on the canvas Bloomers, and turned to leave the room.
When Jason said, "change into your robe," he meant a great deal more than that. There was an entire ritual she had to undertake before she put on the medieval-style loose gown of white silk, tied at the waist with a long belt of the same.
It began with a bath, but not just any kind of bath. She sifted a powder of various herbs over the water, and poured in a tiny carafe of fragrant oil before she took her place in the tub. When she emerged, she dried herself off and tied up her hair in a particular manner with a cord of white silk. Then she put on a simple set of underthings, brand new, and of unadorned white silk. She was not to wear a corset or stockings, and she anointed her temples, the hollow of her throat, and her wrists with sandalwood oil.
Then came the gown; it looked for all the world precisely like one out of a medieval Book of Hours, and it was made of a heavy white silk that she suspected was the literary "samite" that the Lady of the Lake was clothed in. The belt was totally unadorned in any way, and was wrapped three times around her waist before being tied in the front. The long fringed ends trailed down to the hem of her gown.
Altogether, she thought, as she surveyed the result in the mirror, I am glad that I have seen the whole of this Work, or I should begin to suspect that I was a sacrificial virgin. The effect was certainly "sacrificial." She expected at any moment to find that she was to be fed to a dragon!
Or-perhaps she would find herself carrying the Grail in a procession. The effect was just as ecclesiastic as it was sacrificial.
She probably should have felt immodest without the proper underthings, but the truth was that this gown was far more comfortable than anything of a modern nature, and she could not blame the women belonging to the Pre-Raphaelite movement for adopting such outlandish garb as their own. It was graceful, as well-and she certainly found it easier to breathe and move without a corset. The one drawback it had was that it was a trifle chilly; silk, however thick, was not as warm as wool. However, cotton or linen would have been chillier still, and that was what Jason had said that those of lesser means used for such robes. In fact, the two times before that he had performed this Work, when he had acted as the virgin for his own Master, his robe had been of plain, undyed cotton; she had found the first of those episodes outlined in his journal.
That had given her a great deal of peace of mind, for if he himself had undertaken her role, not once, but twice, that was a guarantee that she would come to no harm. Silly of her, perhaps, but she found it comforting.
Tonight she stood in the role of the Summoner, and the Summoner's clothing must be completely white, and made of a virgin fabric of non-animal origin. That meant it could not be woolen, leather, or made of any other animal hair or fur. The Petitioner-Jason wore whatever his normal Working attire was; apparently that did not matter, since the Unicorn would not be coming in answer to his presence. She had eaten nothing but vegetables for the past three days, and drunk nothing but water. Everything about her must be free of the taint of shed blood, everything must be pure and unbesmirched.
Actually, I look rather like something out of one of Lord Dunsany's fairy tales, she thought, as she turned before the mirror. The only thing that spoiled the effect was her glasses. One did not imagine the Queen of Elfland with a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose. They cast the only jarring note in the whole image.
Well, too bad. If the Elven Princess had eyes as bad as Rose's, she would have worn spectacles! She certainly would not have had any choice in the matter, if she wanted to keep her lovely gowns intact and her white skin unbruised. If Rose had to do without her glasses, she would be falling over something every few minutes.
By now, Jason must be finished with his preparations, and waiting for her. She picked up the skirts of her gown and walked carefully out into the hall and down the stairs-barefoot as she was, her feet chilled quickly, and she discovered all manner of drafts and cold spots she had no idea existed.
Jason was waiting, but not as impatiently as she had thought be might be; looking around the Working Room, she saw that he had been very busy indeed.
The lamps on the wall had been extinguished, and the only light came from the special candles Jason had lit and placed around the room. The barren room itself had been transformed. The "altar" was swathed in white silk and wreathed in flowers from the conservatory, with the two silver candlesticks standing on either side of a silver bowl filled with water, which was also surrounded by flowers. There were four silver candlesticks standing waist-high, one at each of the four cardinal points of the diagram. These each upheld another thick, beeswax candle identical to the ones on the altar. Each of the candlesticks was twined with two garlands, one of ivy and one of flowers. Flower-petals carpeted the floor outside the diagram. Mingled flower-scents perfumed the air, which unfortunately was a bit chill.
Jason was barefoot, and wore a hooded robe of thick red velvet-the same robe he had worn the night she had first seen him. The hood was up, keeping his face in shadow, although his eyes glinted at her from the darkness. If she did not look at his hands or his feet, she could believe that there was only a normal man beneath that velvet. The shoulders beneath that robe were strong and broad, and the belt confined the velvet about a waist that was becomingly narrow. I wonder what he used to look like, she thought, idly. He is handsome enough now-I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't quite the dapper fellow then.
She waited for his approval of her preparations. He surveyed her from head to toe, then without warning, reached out and plucked the glasses from her face.
She uttered an inarticulate cry of protest; now he was nothing but a red blur in the candle-light. "Jason!" she said. "What are you doing? I'm blind without my spectacles!"
"Don't worry, I'll keep them safe in my pocket," he said, sounding amused. "You've read the Work; you know you can't wear them into the circle."
"But I can't see!" she complained. "How will I get to my place? How will I know if anything is happening?" "As to the first, I'll guide you," he told her. "Just take my hand and step where I tell you. And hold your skirts up. As to the second, believe me, you will know if the Summoning works correctly."
Reluctantly, she gathered up her skirts in her left hand and gave him her right. His paw-hand felt very strange, hairy on the back and dry and hot on the front, and a tiny electric thrill ran up her spine when she touched it. This was the first time she had ever actually touched him-his flesh, and not the clothi
ng that covered him. But she did not wince away; instead she concentrated on putting her feet precisely where he told her, somehow managing to avoid scuffing the laboriously-drawn chalk lines.
"There," he said, dropping her hand, then taking her shoulders and turning her until she faced the right direction. She knew it was the right direction by the white blob which was the altar in front of her. Now she stood in the center of a circle just in front of the altar and to the North of it. Jason let go of her shoulders and stepped away; by squinting she could just make out a red blur, moving along a complicated path that would eventually take him to an identical circle to the South of the altar.
Drat. I can't see a thing. I might just as well be blindfolded. The Unicorn, if it came at all, would materialize above the dish of water on the altar. And I won't be able to see it. She could see the altar itself as a squarish white shape, with two soft, yellow lights above it that were the flames of the candles, supported by two streaks of white that were the candles themselves. The bowl was an indistinct smear of silver against the white.
For the first time since she had seen him face-to-face, there were no Salamanders about. She dropped her skirts to pool around her bare feet, and clasped her hands before her. Jason did not bother to ask her if she was ready, since she obviously was; instead, he began to intone the sonorous Latin verses he had memorized. This was to set the conditions for the Unicorn, transforming the Work Room into a place fit for such a being to appear.
The Fire Rose em-1 Page 30