The Library of Shadows

34

Jon woke with a thundering headache.

Still bleary with sleep, he reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and drank it down in one gulp. There were still red marks around his wrists, and he turned them back and forth as he studied them. Then he broke out into a big smile.

He was part of something amazing.

All his life he'd been held back and robbed of his destiny, but now it was time to regain what he'd lost. It would do no good to cry over time wasted and all the lies that he'd been told. The goal made everything worth it.

Jon got out of bed and went over to the window. It was light outside, and he surmised that it must be early morning. He opened the curtains and looked out at the landscape. Less than a hundred metres away flowed a wide river, its restless surface glinting with sunlight. Between the water and the house were carefully sectioned plots of land with dark green plants in red soil. On the other side of the river the picture was the same: fields with scattered houses in between. On a few of the plots of land he could see people hoeing the ground or carrying away crops.

On the previous evening he hadn't been able to examine his surroundings. Then only single lights were visible in the houses that he now saw before him. He'd also been too tired and filled with his newly acquired knowledge to notice the details of the landscape, even if it had been broad daylight.

Poul Holt, the man whom Jon now regarded as his guide, had read for three hours, sitting next to his hospital bed. Jon felt ashamed as he thought back on it. He had behaved in an ignorant and foolish manner, too proud to see the truth and too weak to reject his past and acknowledge his destiny. But that had changed over the course of those three hours. During that time he had come to a realization, and he had Remer and Holt to thank for the fact that he could now, at last, fulfil his potential.

At first he had fought against it. The book was his enemy, and when Holt started to read, Jon had done all he could to distract himself and focus on anything other than what he was hearing. The reading continued, and gradually he couldn't help listening. It was the story about the founding of the Order and the achievements the group had made through the centuries. The leather-bound book was a chronicle of what he had previously called the Shadow Organization, but now knew as the Order of Enlightenment. The contrast in meaning made him smile at his own naivetй. This Order cast no shadows.

There was no doubt that Holt was a skilled transmitter and that he had made good use of his powers from the very first word he read. Jon could now see that it was necessary. He'd been so frozen in his own world view that he needed help, even though it meant that Holt had to exert a small amount of influence.

During the reading Holt had stopped three times. He removed the tape from Jon's mouth and gave him some water to drink. Each time he asked with concern about how Jon was feeling. Whether he had a headache, pains at the back of his head, or whether he was seeing spots before his eyes. The last time Jon had refused the offer of water. He would rather have the reading continue so he could learn more about the amazing development of the Order. After that it was no longer necessary to put tape over his mouth. And when Poul Holt decided it was time to stop, the leather straps were removed and Jon was allowed to move freely about the room.

Remer had come in a short time later, and from what Jon could remember, he hadn't left until Jon fell asleep. He felt at peace here. More at peace than he'd felt in a long time, maybe even since that time when… Jon pushed the thought aside with a grimace of annoyance. He'd been deceived by those he had loved and trusted, that much was clear to him now. He had to put all that behind him and focus on his future.

At that moment someone knocked on the door and Jon turned round.

'Come on in,' he called cheerfully.

Poul Holt came in carrying a tray on which a breakfast of toast and tea had been arranged. There was also a book bound in black leather.

'Bon appйtit,' said Holt with a smile as he put down the tray.

Jon sat down on the bed, set the tray on his lap and started eating.

'What are we going to read today?' he asked with his mouth full of toast, nodding at the book.

'Today you're going to do the reading,' replied Holt, giving him a look filled with anticipation.

Jon stopped chewing and studied his guide's face. 'Are you sure?' he asked as he swallowed the last piece of toast. 'Last time…'

Remer had told him that Kortmann's chauffeur had died during the reading at the school. The chauffeur was one of the Order's true heroes. He'd kept Kortmann under observation for eight years, and in that way he had prevented their secret from getting out. With the permissive way Kortmann and Clara ran the Society, it was only a question of time before their powers became publicly known. They were weak. Even worse, they took pride in using their real powers widely, which resulted in diminished effectiveness and was of no use to anyone. The Order took controlled aim at a few selected individuals, using the full force of their powers and with full effect.

'This time don't try to force things,' said Holt calmly. 'And besides, one of our receivers will be ready to intervene.'

Jon nodded as he drank his tea. During the experiment in the school basement, the cell room had been insulated against the energy discharges so they hadn't had the chance to bring in a receiver to stop him, even if they'd been able to react in time.

'The objective is to find the proper level,' Holt explained. 'It has to be strong enough so that the physical discharges start to manifest themselves but not violent enough to do any harm. We're going to put electrodes on you so we can follow your progress.'

As if on cue, the woman in the white lab coat came in, rolling a trolley in front of her. On it was a helmet like the one in the school, with cords leading from the helmet to a PC.

Jon finished eating and settled himself comfortably. He smiled at the woman as she placed the helmet on his head and made sure it was firmly secured. Determined to do his best, Jon closed his eyes and concentrated. He mustn't disappoint them again. Now was the time to prove he belonged in the Order.

'Start whenever you feel ready,' said Holt, who had sat down in front of the computer screen.

Jon opened his eyes and picked up the book. It vibrated almost imperceptibly in his hands. He opened the book and began to read. Eager to demonstrate his powers, he started accentuating the images after only a few sentences.

Just like during the reading at the school, he felt his surroundings slowly change until they matched the scene he was reading. The white walls expanded into the snowy landscape he was describing, and the bed he was lying on became a sleigh pulled by horses. Trees towered up on both sides of the track they were moving along, and snowflakes whirled around the sleigh, getting thicker and thicker. Time seemed to slow to a lingering panning shot, and he sensed that for each sentence he read, he could create images as detailed as he liked. Every single snowflake was under his control.

Jon turned the sleigh ride into a dark and dreary journey, with the cold pressing over the landscape like a lead weight. Disquieting shadows could be glimpsed in the dense forest, but the speed of the sleigh made it impossible to judge whether they were animals or people or mere phantoms.

The whole time he was aware of the receiver's presence, not trying to disturb or control, but merely offering support, as if a hand were resting on his shoulder.

After a journey that seemed endless, the main character in the book came to a small inn. A shabby wooden door opened onto a pub, and the scene shifted abruptly from greyish-white nuances to golden tones in the glow coming from the fire in the hearth and the oil lamps on the wooden tables. The guests in the pub regarded the new arrival with tremendous suspicion. Their faces were either in shadow or reddish-yellow from the light, radiating an inhospitable arrogance. Jon enhanced the mood into a claustrophobic nightmarish vision in which the characters' faces pressed closer, their yellow teeth bared, their scars and wrinkles delineated by shadows.

The hand on his shoulder seemed to give him a squeeze and a brief flash of light lit up the computer screen. The images lurched, like a film that stutters.

Jon stopped reading and lowered the book.

'Excellent,' said Poul Holt, nodding to him. His eyes were filled with affirmation and admiration. 'We had to stop you at the end. It was starting to get too strong.'

Jon nodded. He could feel the effect of his exertions, but his joy at having done a good job outweighed the depletion of his energy. His whole body was filled with a pleasant buzzing sensation, not unlike what he had felt from the book, and he noticed that he had goosebumps on his arms. He laid the book aside and rubbed his arms.

'Who stopped me?' he asked, since they were the only two in the room.

'A receiver in the room next door,' replied Holt. 'You need to learn to recognize the signals from the receiver so you'll know whether you can increase the force or have to stop. This time you interpreted the signal perfectly.'

He stood up and helped Jon take off the helmet.

'How did the measuring go?' asked Jon, nodding at the computer.

'Excellent,' replied Holt with satisfaction. 'You held it just below twenty.'

'Is that good?'

Holt laughed. 'You might say that. I measure just under eight, and I'm one of the strongest in the Order.' He carefully placed the helmet on the table. 'It's impossible to know how high you could go. Maybe double that, maybe even more. In that case, we'd need to get different equipment.'

'Does that mean we're done?' asked Jon, slightly disappointed.

'Not at all,' replied Holt. 'But it's important we don't go too fast. You need to rest after each test.'

'I feel okay,' said Jon.

'That's good, but there are other preparations you need to make.'

At that moment Remer came in with a book under his arm. To his great joy, Jon recognized the book of chronicles he'd listened to the previous evening.

'Campelli,' declared Remer heartily. 'I hear the first test went well, is that right?'

'Apparently,' replied Jon, trying to tone down his pride.

'And you're feeling all right? Are we taking good care of you?'

'I feel great,' replied Jon. 'I could keep going right now, no problem. The sooner I get trained, the faster I can be of service to the Order.'

Remer smiled. 'It's important for you to rest after every session. You'll have opportunities to work with us soon enough.' He held up the book. 'In the meantime, there's more about our background you should know.'

Jon reached eagerly for the book, but Remer laughed.

'When I say rest, I mean total rest. Lie down and close your eyes, then Poul will continue from where you left off yesterday.'

Jon did as Remer requested, and he smiled with pleasure when, a few minutes later, he heard Holt's calm voice reading aloud.

The next twenty-four hours were filled with training, sleeping and listening to stories. Never before in his life had Jon experienced a more satisfying feeling. He received approval for his powers, he got better and better with every session, and he kept on discovering new sides to the Order that showed he had found his proper place. For a long time his ambitions had been allowed to hibernate; not since law school had he felt so filled with purpose. Now he knew that with the Order behind him, there were no limits to how far he could go. They could and would support him to achieve whatever goal he set for himself. His success was the Order's success.

Jon hadn't yet sorted out what he might want to do, but Remer had suggested he could establish and run a law firm with offices all over the world. The firm would chiefly have the other companies in the organization as its clients. Most of the employees would be Lectors and, according to Remer, with Jon's powers and background they wouldn't lose a single case. But Remer had pointed out that this was merely a suggestion. Jon could decide his future for himself.

'Time for a day off,' declared Remer when he turned up again. 'We're going sightseeing.'

Jon would have preferred to stay in, but it occurred to him that he hadn't yet been out of the house, even though he was in a foreign country.

The woman in the white coat came in, bringing a suit for him, and he put it on at once. It fitted perfectly. Remer escorted him out to the driveway, where Poul Holt was waiting along with a red-haired man of about thirty. He was introduced as Patrick Vedel, the receiver who had participated in the training sessions. Jon thought it was strange that he sat in another room during the sessions, but Holt had explained that it was at Vedel's own request.

The red-haired man now shook hands with Jon as he stared at him with an oddly expectant expression. He seemed to be waiting for Jon to recognize him. Jon dismissed the idea, and they all got into the Land Rover that Remer had hired and drove into Alexandria.

They drove along the beach promenade, Al-Corniche, which ran the entire length of Alexandria, twenty kilometres in all. Within that area of the east harbour hundreds of stalls stood along the coastal boulevard. Crowds of tourists and local residents were strolling along the wide pavement by the sea. A low stone wall functioned as both a bench and a bulwark facing the water. On the other side of the wall were giant boulders, acting as a defence against the waves of the Mediterranean.

The first stop was the Qaitbey Fortress on the western arm that surrounded the harbour basin. The fort looked a lot like a model made with Lego of various sizes and colours, but it stood on the site where one of the seven wonders of the world once stood, the Pharos lighthouse of Alexandria. It was said that the big reddish blocks of granite came from the ancient lighthouse, which was estimated by some to have been over 150 metres tall. It had made Alexandria into a centre of light, quite literally, just as the library had done the same from a scholarly perspective.

The next stop was a huge square where stalls had been set up to form a marketplace. Some of the stalls were simply cars that the owners had draped with their goods for sale, such as clothing. Other stalls consisted of carpets spread out on the ground and covered with a selection of jewellery, shoes and electronics. The more professional merchants had set up proper stalls made of wooden boards covered with fabric on which their wares were displayed.

In addition to clothes, electronics and antiques, great quantities of foodstuffs were also on sale. All sorts of spices were sold right out of the sacks, and fruit was piled up on tables that looked as if they might collapse under the weight. Meat and fish were on display in the sunshine, and when purchased were wrapped up in newspaper and tossed into a plastic bag. The smells from all the different foods became more and more intense. With each step new aromas joined the mix, forming a stew that became more and more exotic.

Jon walked on ahead, studying everything. He kept having to say no and make dismissive gestures when the stallholders tried to engage him in a transaction. He had moved a good distance away from the others and was beginning to enjoy this excursion. It had been a good idea to take a break from the training sessions.

Suddenly he froze.

Katherina was standing not more than five metres ahead of him. She was busy looking at antiques and hadn't yet noticed him, but just as Jon was about to move, she raised her head and looked him straight in the eye.

Apparently she was just as surprised as Jon, because her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. Then she broke into a big, warm smile and stretched out her arms towards him, as if she expected a hug.

Jon took a step back. The smile vanished from Katherina's face and he could see that she was puzzled. She took a tentative step closer, now with an expression that was both dejected and enquiring. Slowly Jon backed away without taking his eyes off her. He had seen through her. The Order had opened his eyes to her deceit.

'Are you okay?' he heard Remer's voice behind him.

Jon raised his hand and pointed at the woman.

'She's here,' he said. 'Katherina.'