"Who are you, and why have you conjured me?"
The language was an antique variant of Scots, but Raeburn's linguistic abilities were more than adequate to enable him to answer in the same mode.
"I am the Lynx-Master, and your master," he informed Soulis. "Beyond that, my name need not concern you. As for my purpose, I require knowledge that you possess."
"What knowledge might that be?''
"The secret," Raeburn said, "of conjuring and binding elemental spirits."
A malignant sneer contorted the corpse's face.
"What makes you think you are in any way worthy to wield a secret of such magnitude?''
"Have I not brought you here and commanded your obedience?" Raeburn countered. "Surely that bespeaks some hint of the scope of my abilities."
The corpse's lips curled in contemptuous defiance. "All the more reason to keep my knowledge to myself."
"When you hear what I have to offer," Raeburn retorted, "you may be more than willing to bargain. Or does it not interest you to contemplate release from your long banishment?"
"Speak, mortal," the corpse replied in a low, deadly tone.
Raeburn inclined his head. "By dint of my own resources, I have been able to gain access to the operative magical keys by which your adversaries were able to condemn you to banishment amid the Inner Planes. It may interest you to learn that I've devised a way to nullify them. What I therefore propose is a simple exchange of favors: You give me the information that I want - teach me to conjure and bind elemental spirits - and I, in return, will set you free."
After a deathly pause, Soulis spoke slowly, the voice flat and emotionless.
"There is nothing I would not do to regain my liberty," he said, "but it is not within my power to pay your bargaining price."
"Indeed?" Raeburn's one word spoke a world of disbelief. "And why not?"
"For the reason that half the knowledge you demand was never in my keeping," came the response. "It was supplied independently by my spirit familiar."
"By Robin Redcap?"
A look of uneasiness flickered across the face that was no longer Taliere's. "Aye, the same."
"And what, exactly, was Redcap's contribution? Answer me!"
There was another moment's hesitation before Soulis reluctantly replied.
"The required ritual demands the interweaving of two complementary sequences of spells. The first derives from the material realm. The second, however, derives from the realm of Faerie. The language in which these Faerie spells are couched is one which no mortal tongue can pronounce and no mortal mind can retain. Without Redcap's aid, I could not have performed the binding ritual - and neither can you."
"Then I suggest you find me a way to secure the services of Redcap or some other Faerie ally," Raeburn replied, undaunted.
"You have no idea what you are asking," Soulis said flatly. "Redcap was one of the few denizens of Faerie strong enough to empower the incantations."
"Then you will have to persuade him to act as my ally," Raeburn said. "Unless, of course, you have found your former mode of existence so agreeable that you would rather not exert yourself in that regard."
An angry snarl greeted this suggestion. "I do not know if the former link between us yet abides," Soulis rasped.
"Then we shall have to summon him and find out."
"You had better be prepared to satisfy his bloodlust. It is his nature to violate his victims before he eats them."
"Then we shall find him a subject fit for his pleasure," Raeburn retorted. "But understand that I shall expect his full cooperation in return, or you will find yourself once again relegated to the Void, never again to reincarnate."
"I should kill you now," Soulis muttered, "and eat your soul!"
Raeburn drew himself up defiantly, again pointing with the dagger. "I advise you not to make threats you cannot carry out. This is the one and only time I intend to make this offer. Do we have a bargain, or shall I abandon you to your fate?"
A shudder racked Taliere's lifeless corpse from head to foot, but the white head lifted boldly.
"I have told you Redcap's price for this favor; I have not yet named my own."
"Is your freedom not enough?"
"It is not. I shall require physical form, else freedom means little."
"Then I shall provide a second oblation for your own delectation," Raeburn said softly. "Do we have a bargain?"
"We have a bargain," Soulis grated.
Raeburn's lips framed a thin smile. "Excellent. We shall meet again when I have made all the necessary arrangements. I promise you," he added, "that it will not be long."
Chapter Seventeen
ADAM woke with a start in the twilight hours before the dawn of the new year, the previous night's sense of well-being shattered by a potent and troubling dream that fled as soon as he opened his eyes.
It was far too early to rise - perhaps as early as seven, by the light - but the Frasers' Hogmanay party had still been in full swing at two, when Philippa finally had pleaded jet lag for Adam and his newly declared fiancee and begun trying to engineer their escape. Three o'clock had come and gone by the time the three of them crept home, the patient Humphrey at the wheel of the Range Rover, and the clock in the downstairs hall had just begun striking four as all of them retired to their respective beds.
Now Ximena lay curled at Adam's side, her dark hair spilling like silk on the pillow, looking happy but still exhausted; he would not think of disturbing her much-needed rest.
But the dream that had shattered his own sleep continued to haunt him, even as he tried to recapture some of its sense - more a residual of foreboding than anything specific, but he seemed to recall snatches of imagery featuring standing stones, and smoke writhing among the stones like tentacles.
Moving carefully to avoid waking Ximena, he rolled over and stole a glance at the clock on the bedside table. The discovery that it was barely six o'clock made him groan inwardly. He lay awake for a while, pondering the possible significance of the dream, but when no ready explanations presented themselves, he did his best to push his speculations out of mind, at least for the time being, and willed himself back to sleep.
Even when he woke again, however, the emotional impact of the dream remained curiously memorable in contrast to the vagueness of its imagery - so much so that he found himself unable to dismiss the experience out of hand. Over a solitary brunch of bacon, eggs, and tattie scones in the breakfast room - for Ximena and Philippa were still abed - he went searching through the newspapers for some clue that might shed light on the mystery. Finding nothing there, he reached behind him for the phone and tapped out McLeod's number.
The inspector was on duty at police headquarters, having volunteered for holiday duty so that some of the junior officers in his division could take the time off to be with their families.
"Adam! Welcome back - and congratulations."
"Thanks very much. Listen, Noel, I've got a question for you," Adam said, when the two men had exchanged New Year's greetings. "Did anything unusual happen last night?"
McLeod gave a snort of derisive laughter. "Do you want the whole catalogue of events, or just my personal favorites?"
Adam found himself smiling, for New Year's Eve in Scotland was probably the most riotous holiday on the calendar.
"Actually," he said, "I was thinking in terms of historic landmarks. Were there any incidents having to do with any of the national monuments hereabouts?"