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Studia humanistyczne nr 8
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0082. Field Sandra Kraina dobrej nadziei
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    again."
    Rowley gave him a nod and a wave before picking up the receiver. Snatches of his
    end of the conversation filtered through into the adjoining room as Peregrine
    lingered long enough to allow Mrs. Trayle to take the requisite inventory of the
    documents involved.
    "Hullo, William! So, how was the Highlands and Islands Conference? Oh? Oh,
    really? I'm sorry to hear that. Still, Raebum was bound to be there, wasn't he?
    After all, he's got business interests in Inverness, as well as academic ones& ."
    Peregrine realized he was listening in, and gave himself a mental shake, mildly
    surprised at himself.
    Whatever they're talking about, it's hardly any concern of yours, he told himself
    as he made for the door. It puzzled him that fragments of that conversation
    continued to echo in his mind long after he had left the museum.
    He had forgotten about the incident completely, however, by the time he had
    hailed a taxi and made the short trip back to the Caledonian Club. He entered the
    main hall to find Adam already there, sitting in a club chair in the angle of the
    staircase and thoughtfully sipping at a whiskey. The older man looked up
    immediately at Peregrine's entrance, raising his glass in invitation to join him.
    "Hullo," Peregrine said, flopping his briefcase on the settee next to Adam and
    pausing to shed his trenchcoat. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
    "Not at all," Adam replied. "I've only been back a little while myself. How did you
    make out at the Museum?"
    Peregrine sat down beside Adam and gestured to catch a waiter's attention,
    pointing to Adam's glass in signal for another of the same.
    "I'm afraid my luck was variable," he said. "In going over the Brevis Descriptio, I
    was able to narrow down our area to the kingdom of Ross. But that was the best I
    was able to do with the materials available." He sighed and grimaced. "Most of
    the maps Rowley showed me were prints rather than drawings. Maybe I'd have
    done better if I'd had access to the manuscript originals& ."
    "Don't be too quick to underrate your achievements," Adam said. "Ross narrows
    the field considerably. You've provided us with a clue that may prove vital - not
    the least, because it's the only clue we have at the moment." Seeing Peregrine's
    startled expression, he went on to explain.
    "I saw the Talbot girl. She is the individual we're looking for. Unfortunately, the
    information we need is, for the moment, completely inaccessible."
    "Why? What's happened?"
    "The summoning and binding at Melrose had far more destructive consequences
    than I supposed," Adam said bluntly. "There's been a complete breakdown of
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    personality. At all levels."
    "Did she not come out of her coma after all, then?" Peregrine asked.
    Adam allowed himself a weary smile and shook his head, bowing his forehead
    briefly to press against the cool side of his glass.
    "I wish it was that simple, Peregrine," he murmured. "Clinically, the girl is
    conscious; but she's in an almost catatonic state. She displays classic autistic
    responses - or non-responses. No, the personality has been fragmented, at all
    levels. I know. I was there."
    Peregrine's brow furrowed in confusion - and concern for Adam's apparent
    exhaustion - but before he could pursue either question, a waiter delivered his
    drink. He gave a distracted nod of thanks as the man discreetly withdrew, sipping
    automatically and then with more focused attention before raising the glass
    slightly in approval.
    "This is very good," he remarked, rolling the flavor on his palate. "Single malt?"
    Adam nodded. "The MacAllan. You were about to comment?"
    Peregrine swallowed and nodded, gesturing slightly with his glass.
    "You said her personality was fragmented - but isn't Michael Scot a separate
    personality?"
    "Yes, but remember that I likened the personalities of successive incarnations to
    masks," Adam replied, keeping his voice down as their conversation got more
    specific. "The spirit is the essence of what is ongoing, immortal - what wears the
    mask in a given incarnation. But pure spirit, unless it is extremely evolved,
    cannot interact with incarnate humans except through the agency of a mask -
    either a past one or a current one.
    "I would venture to say that all of the masks once accessible to the spirit now
    occupying the body called Gillian Talbot have been fragmented - including the
    Michael Scot mask. Until that one, at least, can be reassembled, we'll get no
    further access to information that would have been accessible to the Michael Scot
    incarnation."
    Peregrine's eyes had grown round behind his spectacles. "Is there anything you
    can do to repair the damage?"
    "Not in the short term," Adam said. "I've offered to take Gillian under my care as
    a private patient. If her parents decide to avail themselves of my services, there
    are some grounds for hope. Otherwise& "
    He shrugged and took another deep pull from his drink, and Peregrine's eyes
    gradually went cold and grim behind his spectacles.
    "The people responsible for this," he said after a moment. "They're the ones who
    dug up the abbey, aren't they? The ones I sketched."
    At Adam's grave nod, the artist leaned a little closer.
    "Well, then, let's find them, Adam," he whispered. "They can't be allowed to get
    away with something as - as bloody awful as this!"
    "My thought, precisely," Adam agreed.
    "So, what do we do next, then?" Peregrine demanded. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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