‘In short, brothers and sisters, I hope to offer you the basis for a wholly revised standard demonological manual.’
Those who knew him or had read his works appreciated that he was not a man given to hyperbole and so Tobias was gratified to hear a low hum of reaction in the hall and to see the Grand Master’s eyebrow arch in mild surprise.
He drained the dregs of his coffee to provide a suitable pause and then continued.
‘Of course I cannot hope to accomplish this in one day, in fact I’m not entirely sure how long it will take. However if you will bear with me I believe your tolerance will be amply rewarded by the end of this conference.’
He cleared his throat – another timely pause. The audience readied their inksticks and pads. A number of the younger delegates had the exhilarating sense of being present while magical history was being made. The older and less impressionable hands entertained hopes of a conference that was going to be profitable in both professional and social terms; usually only the latter could be relied upon.
Tobias’ voice was not unpleasant, it had come to be deep and even-toned. He spoke in a relaxed, conversational manner that at times seemed almost like a soliloquy. Thus, although this was not the ideal voice for delivering an address, its very calmness made the listeners concentrate all the more to grasp its meaning.
‘Perhaps I should begin by a concise summary of the art today and thereby point out the subtle inconsistencies which first prompted my researches.
‘As you all know, Demonology and its associated practices was first codified for the Church by the Spaniard Ibarra nearly eight hundred years ago. Liguori’s masterful work in the 1790s, built on the great Corbishley Codex, allowed us to dispense with the previous artificial divisions of demons into “good” and “evil”. For in practice such distinctions were found not to exist. His three-volume work published posthumously in 1815 gave the major details of the ten major and ninety-seven minor summonings which remain substantially unchanged up to the present day … ’
CHAPTER 2
In which our hero delivers a lecture.
Tobias spoke and drew on the blackboard with coloured chalks; he gave what he knew to be a good performance. Each session of the two and a half days for which he lectured was attended by more and more magicians, many of them very senior, as the news spread.
It was, however, all very stale stuff. He was merely relating that (larger) portion of his researches at Rugby which he had been too cautious and close-lipped to reveal in his first, small-circulation publications. It was only now, years later, that he realised there was more to gain in sharing his acquired knowledge over and above the advantage of keeping it to himself. During his years of practical experience he had effectively carried the framework of a complete revision of the standard Demonological texts around in his head. Therefore when invited to speak on the strength of his previous publications, he decided to unburden himself of this hard-won knowledge and dispense his wisdom to a wider audience. If the theoretical stuff was peppered with a few impressive anecdotes from his practical use of the research, then he felt sure the resultant lectures would be very well received.
Every so often the conferences saw breakthroughs in theoretical magic and in each case the instigator’s reputation was raised very high. Even Tobias could not call his work a ‘breakthrough’ but the revision of a long-established textbook was an achievement which lingered lastingly in the memory of magicians. Tobias was not interested in such longevity, but in the advancement to magical studies which accrued from it. In part this stance showed that the years had matured him somewhat. He could now see that secrecy and the pursuit of purely personal advantage were not necessarily the best policy.
But it was, as has been said, all rather stale stuff. Tobias thought he had perfected his demonology, when he had not, and considered his researches at an end, when they were not. For a number of years he had worked instead for revived sensitivity to the ordinary human pleasures for which he now so desperately craved.
CHAPTER 3
In which our hero attends a party and renews an old acquaintance.
All and sundry were agreed that the conference had been memorably successful. Aside from Tobias’ tour de force, other speakers had delivered addresses which neatly complemented his by expanding certain areas or filling in points of detail. Towards the end of the week a bright young spark called Fuller, an intense, pale Assistant Master of Magic from Portsmouth, had revealed some quite stunning research work. This seemed to point the way to a new, hitherto-unknown minor summoning and in the subsequent discussion session it was agreed that a team of more highly qualified practitioners would follow the matter up and see if there was anything in it. In which case Fuller’s complete disregard for his safety in having pursued such a project on his own was amazing. Bereft of proper, tried and tested ceremonies, ‘summonings were suicide’; so ran a piece of doggerel that Tobias’ instructors were fond of reciting and he was well placed to appreciate its essential truth. If the investigating team of Masters found Fuller’s hypotheses and tentative experiments to have any solid basis, then there was certainly a doctorate in it for him with sure promotion in its train.
And yet Fuller’s suspected triumph in no way detracted from Tobias’ greater one. On the contrary it added to it, for the conference would be remembered as the one where the principles of the fourth revised edition of the Demonological Manual were laid down and where the search for an entirely new minor summoning was successfully initiated. In the glory accruing from this joint achievement, it was Tobias’ name that would be remembered and which would find immortality on the cover of the manual over which future generations of students would toil.
So, at the end of the week’s conference, Tobias had every reason to rejoice and, after his own manner, he did. Yet it was a cold and arid satisfaction that he felt. His success was seen only in terms of the pursuit of his chosen path and plan and nowadays he was unsure that this almost-lifelong obsession of his had any value at all; certainly, to date, it had afforded him precious little enjoyment. However, lacking any alternative that seemed even vaguely attractive and meaningful, he would carry on. He reconciled himself to the fatalistic thought that it was too late in the day to consider any change now, and therefore any further debate was useless.
Such reflective moments came to him quite often, usually prompted by some obligatory event or action which gave him no pleasure or peace. In his especially black moments he felt he was spending his life doing things not to his inclination. But all such sloughs quickly passed, and before long he would be treading his lonely path, unreflectively, once more.
Baron Philby’s patronage could carry him no further forward; therefore his career needed an extra fillip, such as he had achieved at the conference, if he was to ascend to the greatest heights. So Tobias was pleased.
With every rose, however, there are thorns and one of the penalties he had to endure as part of his success was to be present at the semi-formal reception which traditionally ended each conference. Tobias had seen all the people he wanted to see: a few prominent theoreticians whose brains he wished to pick and two acquaintances of his from his days at Llandaff and the Gower campaign. Now all he wished for was to be removed from this wearisome babble, alone in some locked room with a book and a drink for company. After all the talking of the last week he had nothing more to say to anyone. However, he clamped on a fixed polite smile and wandered among the colourful chattering throng of magicians, making the right impressions.
The reception was being held in one of the many large chambers in the Archbishop’s palace, which would have been called ballrooms but for their situation. Most of the invited guests had turned up and so the room was quite full. A number of those who, for various reasons, had not been invited (including the incognito Welshman) appeared anyway and so leavened the gathering with their less conventional personages.
Outside it was snowing yet again, but the room was pleasantly warm. The Archbishop’s serv
ants wandered around distributing mulled wine and beer. Coffee, tea and hot chocolate were also available from a table at one side of the room on which there were plates of savoury delicacies. At the door everyone was handed a tulip-glass of very fine sherry; Tobias took the first opportunity to covertly dispose of this into a convenient bowl of trifle because over the years he had found that this was the one drink that not only tasted unpleasant but also gave a strong hangover without providing any prior state of intoxication as an inducement or consolation.
Instead, he armed himself with a mug of hot, spiced beer, and thus fortified, moved randomly through the crowd to exchange a few, meaningless, words here and there. At one point, rather suddenly, he found himself facing the Archbishop himself. Their eyes met, locked and thus there was no alternative but to go up and present himself. Tobias made a knee and kissed his spiritual Lord’s ring. He had seen him quite often before but only from afar; now, close up, he was less than impressed. The Archbishop was a very small, bald man, with tiny, almost Asiatic eyes and a trim goatee beard (a fashion of perhaps fifty years before). Tobias had heard that he was a man of political ambition first and foremost, with a mind unencumbered by convention and yet blessed with subtlety. Their conversation went some way to confirming the former, if not the latter report, for after a brief phrase of congratulations concerning the conference, the Archbishop went on to ask a number of probing, knowledgeable questions about the distribution of real authority and power in the Reading diocese – which Tobias did his best to answer. Beside the Archbishop stood a tall, thin secretary, who was quite openly noting down the replies. Then after commissioning Tobias to draft him a précis of the conference’s findings, the Archbishop made it clear without actually saying so that the interview was at an end and Tobias bowed himself away.
Even he found this treatment a trifle brusque, and more sensitive souls would have felt violated. However accomplished this prelate was at playing politics he had no knack for making friends. Probably at his exalted level he thought there was no necessity to do so, considered Tobias, also estimating that, if so, such an attitude would be the Archbishop’s downfall, and serve the silly little man right – playing at being cold and ruthless, what did he know? People who saw complete obedience as the only form of behaviour due from a subordinate were destined never to go very far. There are stronger human bonds to play upon, but clever-clever idiots like this one ignore and despise them because they’re so wrapped up in their pose of cold-heartedness.
Having retired out of the Archbishop’s sight, Tobias found a safe place by the wall where he could stand and drink with a good chance of being left alone.
How much less proficient ordinary humans were at devising and doing evil of their own accord compared to tutored people such as himself, Tobias concluded. They lack style and imagination because they don’t have any ideology and faith other than the piglike pursuit of their own material interests. When they assume a ruthless philosophy without the moral grounding of some greater belief, they are merely shallow and base. In this strange inverted way Tobias had become morally squeamish.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tall middle-aged man, perhaps ten years older than Tobias and of Master of Magic status judging by his apparel. Tobias thought his thin sincere face somewhat familiar but it was hard to say because of the heavy black beard which concealed much of the lower features. He had stopped opposite Tobias and was holding his hand out in a friendly manner; for all Tobias knew the man could have been there some time while he was lost in his dark spiral of thought, so he hastened to shake the proffered hand and composed a greeting.
‘Good day to you, sir; I have a feeling I should know you, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite place … ’
‘Staples … from Southwark. You surely remember Mucky Hall, Tobias?’
‘Of course … please forgive my poor memory for names and faces – so many years have passed since I last saw you and you have changed somewhat. How do you do, Father Staples?’
‘Very well, thank you; and may I be allowed to congratulate a former pupil on his progress in the world? You’ve done credit to Southwark, Tobias!’
‘Thank you so much, Father Staples.’
Geoff Staples dimly remembered that Tobias had been a quiet and reserved boy but had not expected this cold formality; he had even caught a glint of offended disapproval in Oakley’s eyes the second time he had called him by his christian name. Accordingly he rephrased his next address.
‘Your conference address was quite masterful, Father, but I don’t ever remember you specialising in demonology during training.’
‘It was an extra-curricular interest, Father Staples.’
A liveried Abyssinian flunky stopped to offer them a tray of sweetmeats. He was probably there voluntarily, a freeman in service to pay for a Church education; for Rome had long ago set its heavy hand against all forms of slavery.
Tobias waved him away before Staples had the chance to indulge.
The conversation died and as the silence stretched, Tobias felt obliged to continue the exchange.
‘And do you still work at Southwark, Father?’
‘Until three years ago when I was transferred to the school at Liverpool — ’
Downgraded, thought Tobias absently. ‘ —where I run a course specialising in developing the talent in those where it is weak or marginal, or even periodic as in one or two cases.’
‘I see,’ said Tobias and then was lost for something else to say.
‘Sir Matthew Elias and Wally Faulkner are both dead, you know,’ said Staples, gamely persevering.
‘Oh … and how is that?’
‘Sir Matthew by food poisoning about ten years ago (he never took care over his food you know), and poor old Wally was stabbed in the back by some street assailant five years ago.’
‘I’m most sad to hear that.’
‘Did you ever keep in touch with your fellow journeymen, Father – how are they?’
‘I’m afraid we rather lost track of one another and so I’m sorry to say I’m unable to inform you, Father Staples.’
‘I see. Well, I must be going. It was pleasant seeing you again. While I’m in London with the Liverpool contingent, please come and visit me and we’ll dine together. We’re staying at The Saracen in Cheapside.’
‘Thank you, Father Staples’, said Tobias, most insincerely. ‘I will certainly do so. Until then … ’
And so, considerably hurt and slighted, the normally amiable Father Staples moved off. Unmolested once more, Tobias was sufficiently misguided to think that he had handled this bore rather well, having concealed his lack of desire for conversation very cleverly.
And so, lost in directionless thought and drinking moderately, he was sought out by Grand Master Baxter and his assistant, Hillaire, who had only just arrived at the reception. In heading straight for Tobias, they delivered a calculated snub to the Archbishop at whose behest the function was being held. Spotting their approach, Tobias hurriedly put his glass down and made a bow.
‘May I have a word with you, Father Oakley … ?’ said the Grand Master in a pleasant, calm voice.
‘By all means your Grace, my time is at your disposal.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be brief, I’m a man of few words. Anyway – heard your speech; I’ve read your publications: I liked them. I’ve taken references and for the most part I approve of your career as well. Do you want a job in my establishment? Pretty senior. What do you say? Yes or no?’
Tobias had only heard scant rumours about the Grand Master and so his abruptness took him by surprise. To give himself time to think, he tried to stall him. ‘What would be the nature of the post, your Grace?’
‘My present assistant, Mr Hillaire here — ’ He indicated the tall Master of Magic beside him. ‘ — has cancer, rapidly entering the terminal stage, and so does not have long to live.’
Only slightly shocked or embarrassed, too caught up in his own need to make a decision, Tobias could
not help but turn to look at Hillaire and directly saw the proof of these words. The unfortunate man’s skin was almost translucent and, beneath it, bluish conglomerations were visible. He returned Father Oakley’s stare in a steady, not unfriendly manner. Thus satisfied, Tobias turned to look at the Grand Master who in his corpulence looked the very opposite of Hillaire’s ill-health. He noticed that Baxter had the entirely expressionless, inscrutable eyes that he associated with those who were untrustworthy.
Still, Tobias could hardly believe it. For a few brief seconds of weakness, he wished for a friend with whom he could share the good news. Was he really being offered an Assistant-Grandmastership on a plate? His self-belief was second to none but, even so, it took some adjustment to see himself as the second senior magician in all of South-east England. Besides, the assistants were the ones who really ran things, they were the ones in the seat of power.
‘It would be the very greatest honour, your Grace, but at present I am — ’
‘That presents no difficulties; transfers can be arranged.’
‘In that case I wish to accept your offer, your Grace.’
‘Good; you will be hearing from your superiors about it.’ Baxter half turned to go, but then remembered something. ‘By the way, I don’t think Fuller’s hypothesis will come to anything, I spotted a significant error in his thaumaturgical geometry quite early on in his address. The effects he reported were probably incidental sub-stream from some existing summoning. Could be wrong though. Thought you’d like to know.’
With that the two men bowed perfunctorily at the Archbishop and made their exit.
At last Tobias had something really interesting to think about and he seized upon it hungrily, so ignoring the curious stares of his professional brothers. Later on, as soon as seemed decently possible, he left as well and thus became prey to more open speculation than hitherto.
A Dangerous Energy Page 31