"Why not?” Creighton said, jumping out of the gig. “Devil take it! Beastly bad form to disfigure a national treasure that way.” His obnoxious heartiness was probably concealing the same sort of eerie nervousness as Edward was feeling. “Now, Exeter, I have bad news."
Edward sighed. “Yes, sir."
"You can take nothing with you when you cross over. Nothing can translate except a human being, not even the fillings in his teeth. You needn't worry about those, but clothes are an impediment."
"We have to go through with this rigmarole in the nude?"
"Starkers.” Creighton tossed his hat into the dogcart and began unbuttoning. “Quick, while there's moonlight."
Groaning, Edward began to strip also. He removed his shoes with relief. Dawn would appear in about two hours, he thought. The moment the sun's edge showed above the horizon he would be free of his oath, and then he was going to shed his lunatic companion, even if the only way to do it was to walk into a police station and give himself up.
Billy led the pony forward a few feet. A section of fence tried to follow with a long squeal of agony, the posts pulling free from the chalk. “'At aw'a do ya,” the Gypsy remarked, and backed up the cart so he could recover his rope.
Edward looked nervously at the lights of Larkhill to the north; he stared across the dark plain to the vague shapes that might be the aerodrome buildings, but no lights had come on in their windows. He tossed his socks into the wagon.
"Splendid fellow!” Creighton said patronizingly. “Now, Boswell, you'll wait here for twenty minutes or so, won't you? Just in case. Hate to have to walk to Salisbury in my birthday suit."
He reached into the dogcart for the drums. He hung one around his own neck and looped the other over Edward's.
"Come, Exeter!” he barked cheerfully, stepping carefully over the fallen wire. He set off across the turf, a ghostly white shape in the moonlight.
Still fumbling with the buttons of his fly, Edward suddenly said, “No!"
Creighton stopped and wheeled around. “Word of honor!” he barked.
"Sir, you extracted that by unfair means. I have a duty to King and Country."
"You have a duty to your father's memory and his life's work, also."
"Sir, I have only your word for that. You have not been fair with me."
Creighton growled. “You have no concept of what is going to happen in this war. Millions of men are going to die! The mud of Europe will be soaked with blood!"
"I have a duty!"
"Idiot! Even if you managed to get to the front—which I doubt very much—you would be nothing there but more cannon fodder. Your destiny lies on Nextdoor. Shut up and listen to me! You don't know what the prophecy calls you—the Liberator!"
"Me?"
"You! Why do you think the Chamber fears you? These are the people who killed your parents, Exeter! If you refuse to come with me now, then your mother and father died in vain!"
Edward shivered in silence for a moment, the night air icy cold on his bare chest. “I have your word on that, sir?"
"I swear it as your father's friend."
With a sigh, Edward unfastened his trousers.
Naked, he followed Creighton through the gap in the fence, shivering with both cold and a bitter apprehension. Nudity seemed only fitting, somehow. The last few days had progressively stripped him of everything—his good name, his prospects for a career, his chance to fight in a war, his future inheritance, his most precious possessions, like his parents’ picture and that last letter to Jumbo, even Fallow, which had been in fact his home. Alice. He might never even know how The Lost World turned out at the end, he thought bitterly. All gone.
"Might as well go right to the center,” Creighton remarked. “We'll be less conspicuous there if anyone should happen to come along the road."
What would Billy Boswell do in that case? Better not to think about it. Better not to think about anything. Edward followed his leader between the towering stones, into moonlit mystery. At close range, Stonehenge was not just a clutter of standing stones, it was a building—a ruined building, but an awe-inspiring one.
Creighton's teeth gleamed at him in a smile. “One last warning!"
"Tell me."
"Passing over is quite a shock to the system, especially the first time. You'll be badly disoriented. I should react better, although it's a bit like seasickness—you can never predict. It may last some time. I hope we'll have some friends there to help. They won't speak any English, of course."
"How can I tell if they're friends or enemies?"
"Well, look out for johnnies in black gowns like monks. They're called ‘reapers’ and they're deadly. They can slay a chap with a touch. Otherwise—friends will help you. If they try to kill you, assume they're enemies."
"Why didn't I think of that?” Edward muttered under his breath. “Lay on, Macduff!"
Creighton turned his back, and began to pat out the rhythm on the drum with his hands. In a moment he said, “One—two—three!” and began the chant.
Jumping, jiggling, gesturing, singing, they pranced around, following each other in a small circle. Inso athir ielee ... paral inal fon.... The moonlight faded, then brightened.
There were a lot of beastly sharp stones in the grass.
Edward decided he was not cut out to be a witch doctor. This was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done in his life. He would freeze to death. And it was wrong! Those great pillars looming over him in the darkness were an ancient mystery, sanctified in ways he could not imagine. He was profaning something mighty, consecrated by the hands of time itself....
He cried out and stumbled to a halt, shivering and sweating simultaneously, shaken to the core by a sense of revulsion and awe. “No, no!"
Silence returned to the night.
"Aha!” Creighton said triumphantly. “You felt that?"
"No. Nothing. I felt nothing!"
"Hrrnph! Well I did! It was starting. So it works. It's going to take us somewhere, even if not where we want to go. Sure you felt nothing?"
"Quite sure,” Edward said, jaw chattering. “Quite certain."
"Mm? Clench your teeth.” Creighton reached out and prized up a corner of the sticking plaster on Edward's forehead. “Now!"
Yank!
"Ouch! You scalped me!"
"Let's see if that helps. All right, we'll start from the beginning again. Now, concentrate! Be sure and get the movements right. Ready?..."
"No!” Edward shouted, backing away. “Oh, no!” He was naked and cold and he had been duped into behaving like a lunatic. “You're just trying to fulfill the prophecy, aren't you? That's what all this is about!"
"I'm trying to save your life! If what we do fulfills the prophecy, then so be it. You'd prefer to die? Take it from the beginning—"
"I won't! I'm not coming."
"Boy!” the colonel thundered. “You gave me your word!"
Edward backed away farther. “You cheated. You lied to me!"
"I did not!"
"You said the Service supports the prophecy! You said my father was one of them—you said he did, too! But the guv'nor didn't, did he? He wanted to break the chain! He said so in that letter!"
After a long moment, Creighton sighed. “All right, old man. You're right. I never lied to you, but you're absolutely right. Cameron Exeter did not approve of all the things prophesied about the Liberator. Some, yes, certainly, but not all. He split with the majority on this. He did not want any son of his to be the Liberator."
Edward backed up another step and cannoned into a monolith. It was hard and cold and jagged. He recoiled. “The guv'nor did not approve of turning worlds upside down! That's what he said."
"That was partly it—what you will do to the world. But it was more what the world will do to you."