loved her and hated her, couldn't begin to understand her. I let her take me apart and put me back together, let her put me through the most unimaginable torments, to sample the wonder that came off her. It was a time of the most incredible experiences, of pain and pleasure, of being given a vista deep into the mystery of existence.' He blinked away tears and, for a second, Church thought he saw in his eyes something that looked disturbingly like madness. 'I was like a dog looking up at his mistress,' he added wistfully. 'And I was a hostage who came to depend upon his captor.'
'It sounds awful.' Ruth placed a sympathetic hand on the back of his. 'Is that how they see us-as playthings?'
Tom nodded. 'In the main. Some are close to us and have grown closer through contact down the ages. Others could strip the meat from our bones and leave the remains in a pile without giving it a second thought. They see themselves as fluid, as a true part of the universe. We are just some kind of bacteria, with no significant abilities, no wisdom.'
'Then how did you get out?' Ruth said.
He smiled coldly. 'She took a liking to her pet. At times I felt like I was in Otherworld for just a night, at other times all that I experienced made it feel like centuries. In truth, seven years had passed when I was allowed to return. I wandered down from the hill, crazed and gibbering, and was eventually returned to my home to recuperate. It was only later I discovered how much she had changed me.'
'What did she do?' Ruth's voice was hushed; the others watched Tom intently.
'During one of my torments I was given the power of prophecy and The Tongue That Cannot Lie.' His laugh made them all uncomfortable. 'In a world built on lies, that was bad enough. But being able to see into the future …' He shook his head, looked away.
'You know everything that's going to happen?' Church asked.
'Not at all. I see glimpses, images frozen as if they were seen from the window of a speeding car. That's how they see it. They know time isn't fixed.'
'It must have been impossible for you to adjust,' Ruth said.
He smiled sadly at her insight. 'After all I'd been through, how could I begin to associate with my old friends and neighbours, my family? I tried. I married, and my wife bore me my son, Thomas. But I no longer felt a part of humanity. No one could begin to understand the thoughts in my head. I looked around me and saw simple people living simple lives, people ignorant of the universe. Savages. I'd moved beyond them, but I could never be a part of Otherworld. I'd lost everything. And I knew, in one terrible moment, that I was always meant to be alone.'
There was power in the emotion of Tom's words. Church had never truly liked the man, certainly had never trusted him, but now he was overcome with respect; how many people could have survived all he had experienced?
'True Thomas, they called me!' Tom laughed; the others could barely look at him. 'Still, I did my best. I became involved in politics, as an agent for the Scots against the English, but politics isn't a place for a man who cannot lie. I wasn't successful, to say the least, and as my failures mounted I discovered the Earl Of March was plotting to have me murdered.'
Tom rummaged in his haversack for the tin containing his hash and made a joint with such laborious attention to detail that Church could tell it was merely to distract him from the full force of his memories. The others waited patiently until he had sucked in the fragrant smoke, then he continued.
'I fled into the Highlands briefly, eventually ending up at Callanish, and it was there I met one of the guardians of the old places and the old wisdom that stretched back to the days of the Celts.'
'The people of the Bone Inspector?' Church asked.
Tom nodded. 'It seemed we had much in common. He knew the true meaning of the hawthorn. After much pleading, and due in the main to my particular circumstances, he agreed to initiate me in the ancient natural knowledge that his people had practised in the sacred groves until the Romans had driven them out to become wanderers, hidden from the eyes of those who needed them.'
He sighed and took another long, deep drag. 'But it still didn't give me that sense of belonging which I so desperately needed. I was adrift in this world and eventually, as I knew in my heart I would, I wandered back to Otherworld. By then, of course, my patron had lost interest in me, but I was accorded some respect for my shaping at her hands, and for my singing voice and poetry, by many of the others in this place.'
'But you still couldn't feel a part of it,' Ruth said.
He nodded. 'For nearly four hundred years in the world's time I attempted to find a place for myself, although it only seemed a handful of years here. But eventually I grew homesick and I realised that all my suffering had brought me one thing-my freedom. I could come and go as I pleased. Every now and then I would spend some time in our world, and when I got bored I would wander back.'
'The best of all possible worlds,' Church said.
'No. The worst.'
'Is that how you got stuck in all that sixties stuff?' Witch nodded disrespectfully at Tom's hair and clothes.
'That period marked my longest time away from Otherworld. It was closest in thought and deed to how I felt inside me and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.'
Ruth put an arm around his shoulders. 'Tom, you really are an old hippie. Peace, love and self- indulgence!'
'You could have told us all this before,' Church said.
'I had to be sure I could trust you implicitly before I told you anything of significance. If I learned anything from my time as a spy, it was that knowledge is power, and I didn't want to have my true nature exposed and used against me too early in the game.'
'And you're sure now?' Veitch said tartly. 'That's a relief.'
'What about the Fomorii and Balor?' Church asked. 'Did they let you in on what was happening?'
Tom shook his head; a spasm of pain crossed his face. 'It still will not let me talk about that.' He rubbed at his nose furiously. 'After Ogma has done what he can, perhaps.'
With the final barrier of deceit removed, they felt they had been brought closer together. Perhaps it was the special qualities of the food and drink, or the sense of security offered by Ogma's library, but despite the pressures and secrets amongst them, they felt ready to face up to what lay ahead; their failures didn't seem so bad, their successes great in the face of monstrous odds. Church even ventured to say they had a chance.
While Tom smoked another joint and Veitch finished off the wine, Shavi decided to investigate the bookshelves again, although he seemed disturbed at what he had discovered before. Church slipped out quietly, and though he didn't say where he was going, they all knew he was checking on Laura. Ruth was sure in her heart she had more in common with him than Laura; that, if they allowed themselves, they could have the kind of relationship about which they both had dreamed.
These thoughts were preying on her as she wandered disconsolately through the chambers until, by chance, she entered a room where Ogma sat at a table, hunched over an enormous book. She was so deep inside herself she was halfway across the room before she saw him and by then it was too late to retreat. He raised his head and levelled his undecipherable gaze at her.
'You have the mark of one of the Golden Ones upon you,' he said, although she was sure he hadn't glimpsed the design scorched into her palm.
She described her experiences with Cernunnos and he nodded thoughtfully as he listened. 'The Wish-Hex caused great hardship for us all.'
'Do you hate them?' she asked. 'The Fomorii, I mean.'
He raised his eyebrows curiously, as if he couldn't grasp her question. 'The Fomorii are an infection to be eradicated.' He seemed to think it was answer enough.
'If you don't mind me saying,' Ruth continued, 'you seem very different to Cernunnos or whatever his true name is. More approachable.' But not much, she thought.
He thought about this for a moment, then said, 'We are not of a kind. Some of us are very close to you, barely a shimmer of difference. Others are so far removed that they are like distant suns burning in the vast reaches of space. We have our own mythologies, our own codes, our own hierarchies. There are those we look up to and those we look down upon.'
'You have a structured society like ours? But you're supposed to be gods, at least that's what the ancient
