The Magic Cottage

he said quickly—almost too quickly. 'These steps look fascinating.'

Fascinating? Worn stone steps?

'Perhaps we could then use the other door,' he added, and gazed up appreciatively at the white walls. He clanged the bell hanging outside for fun, and his brood dutifully chuckled.

Midge came back out and if her smile was anything to go by, the troubles of that week had evaporated. I began to wish I had some of Mycroft's charisma.

'I'm glad you like Gramarye so much,' she said, flushed.

He touched her shoulder for a moment. 'It's a house of great joy.'

Midge glanced uncertainly at me and I kept my mouth shut.

'The steps might be a little bit slippery, so please be careful,' she warned them.

Mycroft promptly linked his arm in hers. 'Then we'll rely on each other.' He said it lightly, but his eyes were unblinking and serious.

'I'll, er, take the less scenic route,' I said as they mounted the steps. 'I'll bring the wine and some glasses up, okay?' They ignored me, Midge engrossed in pointing out Gramarye's charms. 'Carry on, Jeeves,' I muttered to myself.

'Hello, Mike.' Gillie hadn't followed the others. Instead she stood on the path, long, patterned skirt and matching gypsy shawl blending in with the garden behind. She wore open-toed sandals, thin leather thongs tying around her ankles. As she came closer, I noticed she was wearing the tiniest amount of make-up, just enough to enhance her already pretty face. 'Can I help you with the wine?' she asked.

'Sure, if you don't want the Cook's Tour of the grounds.'

'I feel I know Gramarye well enough by now. It's the most peaceful place I've ever visited.'

'Not lately it isn't.' The words came out before I could stop them.

She frowned and I smiled back at her.

'Domestic problems,' I explained lamely.

'Oh. Then we've come at a bad time.'

I sighed, still smiling. 'No, maybe we needed some extra company about now.' I didn't add that even so, Mycroft and his clan wouldn't have been my first choice. Still, Gillie was a little different from the rest of them; I liked her simple gentleness. She'd have been very fashionable in the flower-power era.

'Let's hustle wine, shall we?' I said, turning away and going inside.

Gillie followed and stood on the threshold, the darkness in the kitchen now that nightfall was so close making her hesitant.

'I'll get the light,' I said, and crossed the room to flick the switch. I shivered; a chill was settling with the darkness.

Pointing to the sideboard, I told her that glasses were kept in the cupboard beneath. I went to the larder next door and took out a bottle of wine. Gillie was putting the glasses on the table when I returned.

'I'll open this down here,' I said, pulling out a cupboard drawer and reaching for the corkscrew. 'The wine's not properly chilled, but I don't suppose anybody's gonna mind. D'you brew much of this stuff at the Temple?'

'Enough for ourselves, but not to sell in bulk. We don't have a license for that.'

I got to work on the cork. 'Don't mind me asking, but how do you make money for your organization? Those baskets and things can't bring in much.'

Her answer came easily, like the cork I was pulling. 'Mycroft is a very wealthy man in his own right. He once owned a huge manufacturing company in the United States that had subsidiaries in many other countries.'

'Yeah? What did he make?'

'Toys.'

'You're kidding me.'

She shook her head, enjoying my surprise. 'His company produced dolls, puzzles, building blocks—all kinds of things for the very young.'

'Ah, so that's why he's so interested in Midge.'

She stared at me blankly.

'As an illustrator of children's books,' I went on. 'In a way, they're in the same business.'

She gave a small laugh. 'Oh, I see what you mean. But Mycroft renounced all commercial attitudes toward life once he founded the Synergist Temple. He's fond of telling us how the world's children helped him reach his Chosen

Children, his Fosterlings, by providing the financial bedrock.'

'But the Temple still has to make money to survive, doesn't it? You still make trinkets to sell.'

That amused her. 'Not enough for us to live off, Mike. They provide a small amount of revenue, but we really use selling as a way of meeting people, of letting them know of the movement.'

'Then how . . . ?'

'I told you: Mycroft is a wealthy man, the sale of his business and its subsidiaries ensured that. And of course, just as Mycroft himself donated everything he had to the Temple, so have his followers. Anything is welcomed and rejoiced over, even if it's only a few pounds. Fosterlings will give up any material possessions to cleanse themselves before our Temple.'

That sounds like a good deal for Mycroft, I thought, sniffing at the open bottle to disguise any expression of cynicism. Still, it appeared that he'd ploughed his own wealth into the sect. I was curious, though. 'What did you give up, Gillie?'

'Oh, a few pounds, hardly anything at all. And I was welcomed as much as anybody else.'

'No, I meant, what did you give up? Your home, your family?'

'Outside influences have to be rejected if an Adoptive is to fully embrace the doctrine.'

A nice bit of jargon, that. 'An Adoptive?'

'That's what we're called at our initiation.'

Her finger circled the brim of one of the wine glasses on the table. I could hear footsteps and muffled voices over our heads, the others obviously having entered Gramarye through the door on the next level.

'You don't see your family any more?' I persisted.

'There's no need to. I quit college to join the Synergists, and I don't believe they've ever forgiven me for that. They did their best to prevent me, Mike, and all they succeeded in doing was to sever family ties completely.'

'How can you say that about your own parents? Christ, they must have been worried sick, probably still are.'

She looked uncomfortable, as if the conversation wasn't going the way she'd planned. That didn't deter me.

'How about someone like Kinsella?' I asked, changing tack. 'How did he become a Synergist and what did he throw away?'

'It isn't like that. We don't throw away anything—we give in order that we receive.'

Even better jargon.

'So what did he give?'

'We don't know what others bring to the Temple. Only Mycroft and his advisers are aware of that.'

'His financial advisers? So he employs accountants.'

'Yes, just as other churches do. As any large or moderate-sized organization has to.'

If the counter was meant as a rebuke, it was put very mildly.

She moved closer and her fingers touched my wrist. 'Are you interested in our Temple, Mike? Is that why you're asking questions?' She sounded hopeful and her fingers felt warm.

'Not interested enough to join,' I replied.

Her hand slipped away, but her eyes peered intently into mine. 'You'd find a great deal of happiness with us,' she said. 'You'd gradually become aware of many things that others aren't privileged to understand.'

'What kind of things?'

Now she averted her gaze. 'I'm only a Fosterling. Only the Selected have the authority, and the right, to instruct.'

'Kinsella?'

'And others. I could help you, though, Mike. Each Adoptive is allowed a spiritual companion.' Her fingers found my wrist again, but this time there was pressure, a firmness in her grip. 'We could talk at any time about