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Would that I could tell you more of these creatures. Allow me to repeat what I have suggested above. They believe themselves to be in the service of Almighty God. And from this principle, a considerable number of rules follow.
Marius, I cannot imagine how this information will affect you. I write here only that of which I am most certain.
Now, allow me to play an unusual role, given our respective ages.
Whatever your response to my revelations here, under no circumstances travel overland North to see me. Under no circumstances travel overland North to find Pandora. Under no circumstances travel overland North to find your young companion.
I caution you on all these accounts for two reasons. There are at this time, as you must surely know, wars all over Europe. Martin Luther has fomented much unrest. And in England, our sovereign Henry VIII has declared himself independent of Rome, in spite of much resistance.
Of course we at Lorwich are loyal to our King and his decisions earn only our respect and honor.
But it is no time to be traveling in Europe.
And allow me to warn you on another account which may surprise you. Throughout Europe now there are those who are willing to persecute others for witchcraft on slender reasons; that is, a superstition regarding witches reigns in villages and towns, which even one hundred years ago would have been dismissed as ridiculous.
You cannot allow yourself to travel overland through such places. Writings as to wizards, Sabbats and Devil worship cloud human philosophy.
And yes, I do fear for Pandora that she and her companion take no seeming notice of these dangers, but it has been communicated to us many times that though she travels overland, she travels very swiftly. Her servants have been known to purchase fresh horses twice or three times within a day, demanding only that the animals be of the finest quality.
Marius, I send you my deepest good wishes. Please write to me again as soon as possible. There are so many questions I wish to ask you. I dare not do so in this letter. I do not know if I dare at all. Let me only express the wish and hope for your invitation.
I must confess to you that I am the envy of my brothers and sisters that I have received your communication. I shall not let my head be turned by this. I am in awe of you and with justification.
Yours in the Talamasca,
Raymond Gallant.
At last I sat back on the bench, the many sheaves of parchment trembling in my left hand, and I shook my head, hardly knowing what I might say to myself, for my thoughts were all a brew.
Indeed, since the night of the disaster in Venice, I had frequently been at a loss for private words, and never did I know it as keenly as now.
I looked down at the pages. My right fingers touched various words, and then I drew back, shaking my head again.
Pandora, circling Europe, within my grasp but perhaps eternally beyond it.
And Amadeo, won over to the creed of Santino and sent to establish it in Paris! Oh, yes, I could envision it.
There came back to me once more the vivid image of Santino that night in Rome, in his black robes, his hair so vainly clean as he approached me and pressed me to come with him to his wretched catacomb.
And here lay the proof now that he had not destroyed my beautiful child, rather he had made of him a victim. He had won him over; he had taken Amadeo to himself! He had more utterly defeated me than ever I had dreamt.
And Amadeo, my blessed and beautiful pupil, had gone from my uncertain tutelage to that perpetual gloom. And yes, oh, yes, I could imagine it. Ashes. I tasted ashes.
A cold shudder ran through me.
I crushed the pages to myself.
Then quite suddenly I became aware that, beside me sat the gray-haired priest, looking at me, very calm as he leaned on his left elbow.
Again I shook my head. I folded the pages of the letter to make of them a packet that I might carry with me.
I looked into his gray eyes.
"Why don't you run from me?" I asked. I was bitter and wanted to weep but this was no place for it.
"You're in my debt," he said softly. "Tell me what you are, if only so that I may know if I've lost my soul by serving you. "
"You haven't lost your soul," I said quickly, my wretchedness too plain in my voice. "Your soul has nothing to do with me. " I took a deep breath. "What did you make of what you read in my letter?"
