“It's that line I was telling you about—the one I think goes with 'first they come as men/darkness follows, calling all to rise'. It's just a snippet, a single line that has never really been matched to anything. There was a debate in the Nineteenth Century about the origins of...”
“Rob?” Galen held a hand up, laughter in his voice. “Before you launch into an analysis of the shortcomings of a translation and the etymology of one of the words—what's the line?”
“Oh.” Rob chuckled. “Sorry. 'The Wall is breached, the Veil torn asunder.' There was a question of...”
“Will this take a while?” Galen asked, opening the door to the restaurant.
“Uh.” Rob smiled. Sometimes he did get a little over-enthusiastic about things. “Maybe we should order something to drink first.”
“Should we order appetizers? Do you think Father Blake will mind?” Galen asked as they were seated.
“I don't think so, he might want to hurry. He said he had an errand in town, which is why we're meeting him here.”
The owner spotted them and came over with a couple of bottles in his hand. He carried a variety of local microbrews and knew what they preferred. They ordered a couple of plates of appetizers and he bustled off to the kitchen.
“Maybe Father Blake knows what that line goes to, I think he knows a lot more than he said in his book and the treatise on the Sagas.”
“Oh?”
“He wrote the definitive work on Petronius the Alchemist.”
“I've read a little about Petronius,” Galen said with a reflective frown. “He also wrote part of an herbal, I used a little of it for my Ph.D. At least there's part of an herbal credited to him.”
“Yeah, Blake talks about that in Mercury of the Philosopher, too. Petronius was arrested for witchcraft and nearly burned at the stake, but someone stepped in and stopped it.” Rob took a sip of the beer.
“Dramatic pause there, Brat?” Galen asked.
“I don't have any real evidence for my suspicions, you know. It's just chasing through source material, following Petronius, because of his connection to the sagas.”
Galen took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You're in fine form tonight, okay, I'll bite, Rob, who do you suspect?”
“You think I'll make it that easy?” Rob said, grinning.
“Never,” Galen sighed.
“It started with the account of the trial I found in another alchemist's biography. He hinted at something special about Petronius, you know an 'it's who you know' kind of thing. It was when I started going through things, trying to track more on this hint in Petronius about the Saga of the Winter King that I found it.”
“Found what? He knew a king and that's who got him out of the charges?”
“Better,” Rob said, smiling at his brother, wondering if Galen would figure it out.
“A Keeper?”
“I think so, there's a line about a guardian, but he used Custodes like a title.”
“So a Keeper got Petronius out of the charge of witchcraft? Interesting. I wonder why?”
“I have no idea,” Rob said. “And I'm not sure it really matters, but I still hope Father Blake might know. He seems to know what the Custodes Noctis are.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
“That must be him now,” Galen said, nodding towards the door.
Rob turned so he could see entrance. A swirling maelstrom of color, of light and shadow entered the room. He blinked, then closed his eyes against the visual assault that hit him with a physical blow.
“Rob?”
“Holy shit,” Rob whispered, he tried to open his eyes, slamming them shut again an instant later. A headache started pounding through his skull.
“Rob?” Galen asked, Rob felt his brother's hand on his forehead. The gentle warmth and light of the healing slid into him. “What's going on?” Galen said softly. Rob knew his brother was trying to calm the headache—fast approaching migraine status. He could feel the echo of the pain in Galen. Once again he tried to his open eyes, only one this time, and only a crack. The maelstrom was now standing by their table. Pain shot through Rob as surely as if whatever it was had stabbed him.
“Is everything okay?” he heard a deep voice ask. “I'm Stephen Blake.”
“Don't touch,” Rob groaned out the warning. He wasn't sure if the priest was the source of what was happening, but if he was, the last thing his brother should do was come into contact. Galen immediately pulled his hands away. “No, not that.” He grabbed blindly for Galen. “Can you help? I can't...”
“What? Rob?”
“Sight,” he said, trying to let his brother know he had no way to bring the Sight back under control. Galen put his hand back on Rob's forehead, laying the other over his heart. Rob tried to relax, letting Galen take the headache away—layering in something that felt almost like Novocaine the way it numbed the fiery pain in his skull. After a moment, the healing altered, Rob felt a pressure behind his eyes as Galen muted the Gift the way he'd numbed the pain. Rob lifted an eyelid, the Sight was completely gone for the moment. “Thanks,” Rob said, sagging back against the chair. He opened his other eye.
“What happened?” Galen demanded.
“There was something here, never seen anything like it,” Rob said softly. “Maybe it came through the Veil?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you sense anything?” Rob asked, wondering if they needed to act.
“Nothing specific.”
“Do we need to...?”
“I don't think so, not yet.”
When the man standing beside the table cleared his throat, Rob looked up. He was tall with silver-shot black hair, wearing a cassock. “Father Blake?” Rob asked.
“Yes,” the priest said, a smile creasing his face. He sank down in the chair across from Rob, a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked kindly.
“Yes, sorry, migraine,” Rob said. “I'm Rob, this is Galen, I called you.”
“Yes?” Blake turned to the waitress who had approached them. “I'll have whatever they're drinking.” He gestured towards their glasses. “Thank you, my dear.” He watched her go with a smile on his face, then turned back to them. “So, you read Mercury of the Philosopher.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it.”
“Now, now, you don't have to lie to me,” Blake chuckled.
“But I did enjoy it,” Rob said, smiling at the priest. He could sense a growing agitation from Galen, he glanced over, his brother had a frown on his face.
“Then you were one of the few.”
“I doubt that. It was brilliant.” Rob blinked, it was odd seeing the world without the Sight, the fact that Galen could completely strip the Gift away, no matter how briefly, awed him. Sometimes he wished Galen would listen when he tried to explain how unique that kind of power was.
“Flattery is a sin.”
“I mean it though, your analysis of the historical motivations of the alchemical movement in the larger context of the later...”
“Rob?” Galen nudged him.
“What? Oh. Sorry.” Rob grinned sheepishly.
“Yeah,” Galen said, shifting in his chair and rolling his shoulders.
“You wanted to talk about Petronius?” Blake prompted “What can I tell you?”
“It's in relation to the passage about the Saga of the Winter King,” Rob began. The world was wavering around the edges, he recognized it as the Sight returning and damped it down so it wouldn't come back all at once.
“Ah, yes, it's one of the more obscure passages in his writing. Interesting to think that the Saga had been lost for several centuries at that point.”
“That's one of the things I wanted to ask you about.” Rob blinked, the colors that accompanied the Sight were coming into focus. “Petronius hints that he knows the origins of the Hunt itself.”
“Yes, he does.”
“And in Mercury of the Philosopher...” Rob blinked again, staring at Blake as the Sight r
eturned.
“Yes?” the priest said, raising his eyebrows.
“In the book you...” Rob took a steadying breath as colors, light and shadow, started moving around the man seated across from him. “You...”
“I?” Amusement rippled through Blake's voice.
“I think it's in chapter fifteen,” Rob said, trying to clear his head as the enormity of what he was seeing began to trickle into his mind. “That you... That you...”
“Rob?” Galen asked softly.
“What's wrong?” Blake said solicitously.
“You, I've never seen...”
“Ah, yes, I did wonder how long it would take.” Blake laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Galen snapped.
“You're Custodes Noctis. Which means he can see me,” the priest said, gesturing towards Rob.
“What does that mean?” The growl in Galen's voice made Blake smile.
“Gods, Galen.” Rob turned to him. “I should have known, I've just never seen one.”
“One what?”
“Of the Fae. My gods, Galen, he's one of the Fae.”
Chapter Six
Galen
“The Fae?” Galen said, staring at his brother, then turning the look on the man who sat across from them. Blake was smiling, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. Galen rolled his shoulders, suddenly understanding where the odd sense of discomfort had been coming from, on the heels of that came the realization of how much the call of the Hunt was beginning to affect him. If Blake was indeed Fae, Galen should have been able to sense him, should have been able to stop Rob before the full Sight of the man hit his brother.
“Who are you?” Rob was asking the priest.
“I told you, Stephen Blake.”
“No.” Rob shook his head.
“Yes,” the priest said with a smile. “I assure you, I am Stephen Blake, I have been for quite a while now.” He chuckled. “I will say this solves the problem of my other errand.”
“What?”
“I had planned on looking the two of you up this evening.”
“Us?” Galen demanded.
“Yes, you. The Emrys Custodes Noctis.”
“How do you know we're...?”
“Those don't grow on trees.” Blake waved his hand towards Galen's bracelet. “And the ones that have copper in them? There aren't many families left who can still claim that honor.” He smiled that wry smile again. “I do recognize the Emrys design, you know. I've seen it once or twice before.” The priest looked at Galen and Rob, an entirely different smile on his face, gentle and almost wistful. “You look like them.”
“Our father and uncle?”
“No,” Blake said quietly. “I never met them.”
“Then who?”
“Never mind,” Blake said, shaking his head. “You were asking about Petronius and the Saga of the Winter King?”
“Petronius hints that he knows why the Hunt was founded,” Rob said, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table.
“Yes?” Blake took a sip of his beer. “Good stuff.”
“Father Blake...” Rob said. Galen could sense the agitation flowing off his brother. He nudged him with his foot. Rob looked at him with a tight smile. “Father Blake, I...”
“Call me Stephen, I dislike the formality of the title. Blake is less of a mouthful as well.”
“Stephen, then,” Rob said.
“Blake,” Galen growled.
Rob looked at him with a frown, then turned back to the priest. “I wanted to know if Petronius said anything more about the Hunt in his papers.”
“His papers?” Blake asked.
“Yes, you said in appendix three that you were in possession of at least some his papers.”
“You read appendix three?” Blake said incredulously.
“Of course I did,” Rob replied in a haughty tone. Galen hid a smile. His brother was completely capable of making even a distinguished scholar squirm with that tone. “Appendix three was referred to in Watson's analysis of the Saga of Aelfric and references the hunts of Northern Europe and the concept of the ghost or spirit hunt. He believes that the founding of the Hunt was a metaphor for capturing those that went against Aelfric's order and were sent to work in the fields, or even put to death.”
“Watson is an idiot,” Blake grumbled. “He actually suggested in a recent paper that Petronius was a hoax entirely, and the papers had been forged in the middle nineteenth century.”
“Was that his latest article in Annals? I haven't gotten to that yet, we've been a little busy.” Rob grinned. “I did read the treatise on...”
“Rob?” Galen stopped his brother before he could get started. The agitation from Rob had decreased as the two talked about research, while Galen's had gone up proportionately. The proximity to Blake was beginning to knot his back and the echo of Rob's headache was pounding in his temples. “I hate to interrupt the two of you, but can we maybe get back to the point? Maybe find out why one of the Fae is looking for us?” He paused when he realized Rob was frowning at him. Galen rubbed his neck and smiled.
“Galen's right.” Rob turned to Blake.
“You really look like them.” The priest shook his head. “It's rather extraordinary. So, back to our friend Petronius.”
“Good,” Galen said.
“He claimed to have a copy of the Saga.”
“It was lost,” Rob said.
“That's what everyone believed. Petronius, however, said he had a copy.”
“With the missing part?” Curiosity was bouncing off Rob.
“Missing part?” Galen wondered if he'd regret asking.
“Verses two-nineteen through three-fifty are missing. There are several other lines missing as well, but that block wasn't in the written copies. It was however hinted at in the oral histories of the late thirteenth century. Did Petronius have a copy with the missing parts in it?”
“If I said he did?”
“I'd say it was impossible, had I not found an entry in the writings of Marcellus of London, where he cites a lost copy.”
“You know Marcellus?” Blake asked, his eyebrows climbing.
“Of course.” Rob waved a dismissive hand.
“There are only five copies extant.”
“Yes, that's what they say.” Rob grinned. Galen sighed, his brother was baiting the priest.
Blake's eyes narrowed. “Marcellus claimed he knew the Emrys family. He went so far as to say he was considered for the post of Vassal Scholar.”
“He did know the family,” Rob said, the grin lighting his eyes. “And there are six extant copies.”
“There are?” Scholarly greed flared in the priest eyes.
The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book Page 8
