much as a word. Jukes rabbited on about it, speculating endlessly. Dysart was unflustered. The nightly meetings continued. Finella stopped coming once she realized Dorian was out of the picture for a while.
Three days later he resurfaced, contacted every one of them, and appeared at the Coat and Arms without any of his usual overflow. He ate no food during his time there that night, and drank no brandy. He provided them all with sheets of clean paper, wrapped in white linen. Hubris had made so many things possible for him in his short life. Overconfidence, he said, had been his greatest virtue. But calling down an ageless, cunning, and merciless piece of the universe was so much more than a trick of supreme confidence.
“When the time comes,” he had said, “it will be an hour before midnight, and the moon will be waxing, not quite at her full power. The weather will be calm, and still, and we will be in a place far removed from any disturbance. Before that time we will prepare. I ask that you pay close attention to me now, that you might understand my full meaning: we must be prepared, or we shall be destroyed.” He let his eyes rove from one member to the next, drawing from their eyes what he needed to know. “Prepared,” he said again. “Impeccably and, above all, sincerely.”
“Sincerely,” Finella repeated. “What form do these preparations take?”
“Destroyed?” Jukes said.
“For the most part it consists of what you would expect: abstinence. Complete and absolute, from anything impious or impure. Engage in nothing that offends body or soul. I shall provide each of you with a prayer, which you shall inscribe once a day upon the paper I have provided you, for three days. I shall provide you with an exact account of how the working will proceed, and you are to spend those three days considering it, meditating upon it as you work, placing yourself at the service of your fellow man.”
Dysart cleared his throat. “I see.”
“For three days you must surrender yourself to others. Seek out those who need you. Do so selflessly. Sacrifice your wants, your desires, your identity, your pride, and your doubts…become selfless. For three days.”
Henry watched Finella, expecting her to laugh, or to point out the inherent insincerity of such a thing. Instead she said, “Very well.”
Dorian looked to Henry. “Do you comprehend the change of mind I am asking you to undertake? To shift your world to a new axis, if only for three days? Are you able to permit such a shift to topple your psychological architecture into a new configuration? Can you both admire and dwell within this new house, completely and utterly, for three days?”
There were many things Henry could have said at that point. Instead he took one look at Finella, sitting straight-backed, hands laced on the table before her, and said, “Of course.”
“Of course,” Jukes said.
“What have you decided upon for the working itself?” Dysart rumbled.
“In the end the form of the service matters little. What is paramount is the purity of our souls, minds, and flesh.”
Dysart sighed luxuriously, thoughtfully, and raised his thick, cloudy eyebrows. “I’ve done worse.”
After shrugging into their coats, Dorian said, “Say good-bye to this room. We won’t be needing it again.”
“Indeed,” rumbled Dysart. “The time feels right for a good last act.”
“But…,” said Jukes.
“If we are successful,” Dorian said, “we progress. It may well be that our paths diverge from that point on. And if we fail…well…”
“Destroyed,” Henry said. “You believe the thing you want to call down could actually kill us.”
“All things are possible.”
Finella listened to the conversation as though it were one of the professor’s lectures: attentive, saying nothing, taking it in. Henry realized he really had remained here for her. Regardless of whatever fascination he had for the group’s explorations,
Three days later he resurfaced, contacted every one of them, and appeared at the Coat and Arms without any of his usual overflow. He ate no food during his time there that night, and drank no brandy. He provided them all with sheets of clean paper, wrapped in white linen. Hubris had made so many things possible for him in his short life. Overconfidence, he said, had been his greatest virtue. But calling down an ageless, cunning, and merciless piece of the universe was so much more than a trick of supreme confidence.
“When the time comes,” he had said, “it will be an hour before midnight, and the moon will be waxing, not quite at her full power. The weather will be calm, and still, and we will be in a place far removed from any disturbance. Before that time we will prepare. I ask that you pay close attention to me now, that you might understand my full meaning: we must be prepared, or we shall be destroyed.” He let his eyes rove from one member to the next, drawing from their eyes what he needed to know. “Prepared,” he said again. “Impeccably and, above all, sincerely.”
“Sincerely,” Finella repeated. “What form do these preparations take?”
“Destroyed?” Jukes said.
“For the most part it consists of what you would expect: abstinence. Complete and absolute, from anything impious or impure. Engage in nothing that offends body or soul. I shall provide each of you with a prayer, which you shall inscribe once a day upon the paper I have provided you, for three days. I shall provide you with an exact account of how the working will proceed, and you are to spend those three days considering it, meditating upon it as you work, placing yourself at the service of your fellow man.”
Dysart cleared his throat. “I see.”
“For three days you must surrender yourself to others. Seek out those who need you. Do so selflessly. Sacrifice your wants, your desires, your identity, your pride, and your doubts…become selfless. For three days.”
Henry watched Finella, expecting her to laugh, or to point out the inherent insincerity of such a thing. Instead she said, “Very well.”
Dorian looked to Henry. “Do you comprehend the change of mind I am asking you to undertake? To shift your world to a new axis, if only for three days? Are you able to permit such a shift to topple your psychological architecture into a new configuration? Can you both admire and dwell within this new house, completely and utterly, for three days?”
There were many things Henry could have said at that point. Instead he took one look at Finella, sitting straight-backed, hands laced on the table before her, and said, “Of course.”
“Of course,” Jukes said.
“What have you decided upon for the working itself?” Dysart rumbled.
“In the end the form of the service matters little. What is paramount is the purity of our souls, minds, and flesh.”
Dysart sighed luxuriously, thoughtfully, and raised his thick, cloudy eyebrows. “I’ve done worse.”
After shrugging into their coats, Dorian said, “Say good-bye to this room. We won’t be needing it again.”
“Indeed,” rumbled Dysart. “The time feels right for a good last act.”
“But…,” said Jukes.
“If we are successful,” Dorian said, “we progress. It may well be that our paths diverge from that point on. And if we fail…well…”
“Destroyed,” Henry said. “You believe the thing you want to call down could actually kill us.”
“All things are possible.”
Finella listened to the conversation as though it were one of the professor’s lectures: attentive, saying nothing, taking it in. Henry realized he really had remained here for her. Regardless of whatever fascination he had for the group’s explorations,
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