“The Celtic blood?” asked Reuben.
“Yes, but there are many sensitive seers of spirits in this world. Celtic blood is but one facilitating ingredient. I see spirits. I did not in the beginning of my life, but at some point I began to see them. And now I can see them sometimes before they’re focused and intent on communicating.”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” said Felix gently. “We don’t know what really happens when a person dies. We know some souls or spirits detach from the body, or are released by the body and they move on and are never heard from again. We know some become ghosts. We know they appear confused and often unable to see us or see one another. But the Forest Gentry can see all ghosts, all souls, all spirits, and the Forest Gentry can communicate with them.”
“They have to come, then,” said Reuben. “They have to help her.”
“Really?” asked Margon. “And what if there is some Maker of the Universe out there who has designed life and death? What if He doesn’t want these earthbound entities lingering here, gaining power, lying to themselves, privileging their personal survival over the grand scheme of things?”
“Well, now, you just described us, didn’t you?” said Felix. His voice was still strained, but he was calm. “You just described us personally. And who is to say that in the scheme of things ordained by the Maker of All Things, these earthbound spirits aren’t fulfilling a divine destiny?”
“Ah, yes, all right, very well,” said Margon wearily.
“But who do the Forest Gentry think they are?” asked Stuart.
“I haven’t asked them of late,” said Margon.
“In some parts of the world,” said Felix, “they claim to have descended from fallen angels. In other places, they are the spawn of Adam before he coupled with Eve. What is curious is that humankind has countless such stories about them the world over; but one thread runs through it all. They are not descended from humans. They are another species of being.”
“Paracelsus wrote of this,” said Reuben.
“Right, he did,” said Felix. He gave Reuben a sad smile. “Right you are on that,” he said.
“But whatever the truth of the matter is, they can embrace Marchent.”
“Yes,” said Margon. “They do it all the time—invite the newly dead to join their ranks, when they find them strong and distinctive and interesting.”
“Normally it takes centuries for them to notice a persistent earthbound soul,” said Felix. “But they’ve come because I’ve asked them to come and I will invite them to welcome Marchent.”
“I think I’ve seen them in a dream,” said Reuben. “I had a dream. I saw Marchent and she was running through a dark wood and there were these spirits in the dream and they were trying to reach out for her, to comfort her. I think that’s what was happening.”
“Well, because I cannot prevent this from happening,” said Margon wearily, “I give my consent to it.”
Felix rose to his feet.
“But where are you going?” asked Margon. “They’re here now. Ask them to show themselves.”
“Well, isn’t it fitting that I stand when I welcome the Forest Gentry into Reuben’s house?”
He brought his hands together reverently as if in prayer.
“Elthram, welcome to Reuben’s house,” he said in a soft voice. “Elthram, welcome to the house of the new master of this forest.”
15
THERE WAS A CHANGE in the atmosphere, a faint draft that made the candle flames shudder. Lisa straightened against the paneled wall and looked sharply towards the far end of the table. Sergei sat back heavily in his chair, sighing, with a smile on his lips as though he were enjoying this.
Reuben followed the direction of Lisa’s gaze and then so did Stuart.
Out of the shadows there, something indistinct took shape. It was as if the darkness itself thickened. The candle flames settled on their wicks. And a figure gradually appeared—resembling first a faint projection of an image and then brightening, and becoming finally three-dimensional and vivid.
It was the figure of a large man, a man slightly taller than Reuben, rawboned, with a massive head of black shining hair. The frame of the man was enormous, and the bones of his face were prominent and beautifully symmetrical. His skin was dark, dark as caramel, but he had large almond-shaped light eyes, green eyes. These eyes shining out of the dark face gave him a slightly manic look, heightened by his thick straight eyebrows, and the faint smile on his large sensuous mouth. He had a high smooth forehead from which his unruly hair erupted in dark glossy waves.
His hair was so full that some of it was pulled back from his face, the great mass of it falling down on all sides to his shoulders. He appeared to be wearing a light beige-colored chamois shirt and pants. The belt he wore was very wide and dark and had a large bronze buckle in the shape of a face.
He had very big hands.
There was no classifying him as to race in Reuben’s mind. He might have come from India. It was impossible to tell.
He looked at Reuben thoughtfully and made a little bow. Then he looked at each of the others in the same way, his face dramatically brightening when his eyes settled on Felix.
He came around the table behind Stuart to greet Felix.
“Felix, my old friend,” he said in clear unaccented English. “How glad I am to see you, and how glad I am that you’re returned to the Nideck woods.” His voice was even, youthful.
They embraced.
His body seemed as real and as solid as Felix’s body, and Reuben marveled that there was nothing even faintly frightening or horrible about this figure. In fact his fantastic materializing seemed like some natural revelation—that is, the uncovering of someone solid who had already been there, obedient to gravity, and breathing just like any one of them.
The man’s eyes fixed on Reuben. Quickly Reuben rose and extended his hand.
“Welcome, young master of these woods,” said Elthram. “You love the forest as we love the forest.” He sounded contemporary, relaxed.
“I do love it,” said Reuben. He was trembling and trying to conceal it. The hand that clasped his was warm and firm. “Forgive me,” he stammered. “This is powerful, all this.” The scent rising from the figure was the scent of the outdoors, of leaves, living things, but also of dust, very strongly of dust. But dust gives off a clean scent, doesn’t it, Reuben thought.