An Affair Of Sorcerers

'You mean the girl was poisoned in order to send a message?'

'Yes,' she said so softly that I could hardly hear her. 'You might say that.'

Mad's back was to me, muffling her voice even further. I walked across the room in an effort to see her face, but she turned away from me. I stopped where I was. 'Can you tell from the gown who the warning is meant for?'

Madeline shook her head; the slight movement sent her silver hair undulating back and forth across the back of her head in shimmering waves. 'No,' she said. 'As far as what's been done to her, witches would probably try to use something organic. There are certain herbs that could be used, like hemlock, but I don't know much about those things.' She paused, then whispered, 'It's so unbelievably evil to use a child like that.'

'Mad, does the term 'book of shadows' mean anything to you?'

Now she slowly turned to look at me. There was surprise in her face. 'A book of shadows is a witch's diary,' she said. She sounded distracted, and the focus of her eyes slowly shifted until she was looking somewhere beyond me.

'A witch's diary?'

Madeline nodded. 'It's a collection of spells, omens, dreams, coven rituals-anything the witch considers important. It's meant to be a record of spiritual growth.'

'Can a man be a witch?'

'Most definitely,' Mad said distantly. Her gaze slowly came back into focus on my face. 'Anyway, a book of shadows is a witch's most precious possession. It's only seen by other members of the witch's coven-if it's shared at all.'

Which seemed to mean that Frank Marlowe had been a witch. Without question, he'd been traveling in nasty company; and whoever had done him in hadn't lacked brains, nerve or skill. They'd known enough about herbs or drugs to poison Kathy with a substance that seemed to be virtually untraceable; enough about chemicals to arrange for a chemical fire by delayed combustion; finally, they'd been cool enough to lock the door behind them.

A message. But for whom?

Smart, yes; evil, definitely so. But there was something that just didn't make sense to me. Marlowe might have been strange, but I'd sensed that he was basically a decent man; I couldn't imagine him belonging to the kind of group that had probably killed him.

So far, I couldn't see how anything Madeline had told me could be of use in finding out what was wrong with Kathy. I decided to take a flyer. 'Mad, do the names 'Daniel' and 'Esobus' mean anything to you?'

Mad's eyes widened and her face grew pale. 'Esobus? Does Esobus have something to do with this?'

Her sharp reaction startled me, and I felt my stomach muscles tighten. 'Possibly. Why, Mad?'

She put her hand to her brow, momentarily shielding her eyes. 'It's incredible,' she said in a weak, baffled tone, slowly shaking her head. ' 'Esobus' is a witch name-a pseudonym. There have been rumors for months about a very powerful and evil ceremonial magician in New York using that name.'

'What's a 'ceremonial magician'?'

Mad took her hand away from her face and sighed. 'Mongo, what do you know about witches, or the occult?'

'Yesterday, I'd have made a smart remark about broomsticks and pumpkins,' I said evenly. 'Now I'm just listening.'

Mad's eyes had gone out of focus again, and I wasn't even sure she'd heard me. 'From a Christian point of view, you might describe a ceremonial magician as an upside-down priest,' she said. 'But it really has nothing to do with Christianity. A ceremonial magician is a priest of the occult-a master.'

'A heavy witch?'

'Yes and no. Both are seekers of knowledge and power, but ceremonial magicians are really beyond witchcraft. Witches form covens. Thirteen is considered a magical number; as you probably know, it's the traditional number of witches in a coven. Witches try to work their will on the world, and they believe the coven protects them from being consumed by the very forces they're trying to summon forth.'

Madeline's voice trailed off, as though she had lost her train of thought-or was thinking of something else. Her eyes looked roiled, muddy. I was about to say something when she continued: 'Ceremonial magicians work alone. Witches believe that the ceremonial magician learns to control the world around him as he learns to control himself. There are some who are supposed to be able to control matter-or even create life.'

'Do you believe that?'

She smiled thinly. 'No, I don't believe that. But the story on Esobus is that he destroys life; he attempts to accumulate personal power through the conscious pursuit of evil.'

'I'm not sure I follow that reasoning.'

'Of course you don't; that's because you're a good person. Most of us, if we hurt somebody, are quick to say we didn't mean it. Esobus-if there is an Esobus-makes no such rationalization, and seeks no forgiveness. It's looking-glass ethics: the search for a kind of salvation through evil. Anyway, I've heard a rumor that Esobus has created what you might call a 'super coven' here in the city.'

'Why?'

Madeline shrugged. 'I don't know, Mongo. I think it's just a story.'

'I'm impressed, Mad; you do get around. Do you have any idea what Esobus' real name is?'

She shook her head slowly and deliberately. 'I doubt that Esobus even exists,' she said distantly, tension in her voice. 'I think he's just a legend-something for Black Arts occultists to believe in. Like God. In the end, Esobus may turn out to be the Wizard of Oz.'

'This Wizard of Oz sounds pretty dangerous.'

Mad looked at me a long time, as though still lost in thought. 'You still haven't told me what Esobus has to do with the girl's condition,' she said at last.

'On Friday, the girl told me she'd heard her father say he thought either this Esobus or someone named Daniel had stolen his book of shadows. He was worried about it. That's the reason for all these questions.'

'If a ceremonial magician took this man's book of shadows, it would have to be for a very good reason,' she said quietly. 'It would be like a minister stealing a sacred relic from someone else's church.'

'What about this Daniel? Is he a ceremonial magician too?'

'Yes,' she said tautly.

'But you don't know who he is?'

'I know who he is,' Mad replied after a long pause. 'But he won't talk to you about this-or about anything else having to do with the occult. You'll be wasting your time. These people have a saying: 'Those who know don't talk, and those who talk don't know.''

'You've been talking, and I think you know what you're talking about.'

Madeline smiled wryly. 'A child's life is at stake. Besides, it's different with me; I'm a scientist. I'm interested in the pursuit of knowledge, not personal power.'

'Most of your colleagues might find some irony in that statement,' I said gently.

'To say the least. But I don't worry about what my colleagues think-only what they know. What they're not aware of they can't worry about.'

'You get me to this Daniel, and let me worry about striking up a conversation.'

She slowly walked around behind her desk, sat down. She suddenly looked much older, and very tired. 'Daniel's real name is Richard Crandall,' she said in a low, strained voice. 'He lives and works in Philadelphia. I don't know his home address, but this is the name and address of the bank where he's vice-president.' Madeline quickly wrote down the information on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to me. I picked up the paper and put it in my pocket.

'Daniel is the most celebrated ceremonial magician in this part of the country,' Madeline continued, reaching across her desk and touching my arm. 'That doesn't mean anything to you now, but it might in a few days. You'll undoubtedly find Daniel strange, but he's a very strong-willed and powerful man. Until now, no one outside of the most sophisticated occult circles knew of his secret spiritual life, accomplishments or reputation. You now become the exception. His identity was a kind of 'gift' offered to me in honor of my own. .