The Feaster From The Stars (Blackwood and Harrington) by Alan K Baker Read Free Book Online

it is, past nine o’clock! It’s most unlike him, your Ladyship.’
    ‘I see. That does sound a little odd…’
    ‘Odd? Oh yes, ma’am; Mr Blackwood is always early to rise and get his ablutions attended to. But he’s still in his dressing gown – hasn’t even combed his hair! I don’t know what’s the matter; I’m sure I don’t!’
    Sophia laid a comforting hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Butters. I’ll go and see him. After all, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.’
    ‘Oh, thank you, your Ladyship. Might I bring you some refreshment?’
    ‘Perhaps a pot of coffee for Mr Blackwood and me, if you’d be so kind.’
    Mrs Butters nodded vigorously and took herself off to the kitchen, while Sophia went to Blackwood’s study and gave a loud knock upon the door.
    ‘I told you I don’t want any breakfast!’ came the response.
    ‘And I assure you I have no intention of making you any!’ Sophia replied.
    There was a pause, and then the door opened to reveal Blackwood. His grey eyes were wide and intense, and, just as Mrs Butters had indicated, he was clad only in his dressing gown, his dark hair wild and dishevelled.
    ‘Thomas! Whatever is the matter?’
    ‘Come inside,’ he said and quickly drew her into the room, closing the door firmly behind them. ‘I must apologise for my untidy appearance, Sophia, but I’ve had neither the time nor the inclination to attend to it.’
    Sophia glanced around the room. This was where she had first met Blackwood (was it really only a fortnight ago?) and had saved him from the ætherial virus that had infected his cogitator and very nearly devoured his mind. A rather odd way to make each other’s acquaintance, to be sure, and things had only become odder during the subsequent affair of the Martian Ambassador. Sophia noted that Blackwood had yet to replace the cogitator, and decided that she couldn’t really blame him.
    A number of books lay scattered about the room, on the couch and chairs, and also on the desk. Blackwood hurried over to it and picked up one of the books, which he waved at Sophia with an evident mixture of fear and triumph. ‘It’s all in here,’ he said.
    ‘What is?’
    ‘That strange word which Alfie Morgan uttered when we went to see him yesterday. Carcosa – you recall?’
    ‘Of course I do,’ Sophia replied in surprise. ‘You have found a reference to it?’
    ‘I knew I recollected it from somewhere,’ said Blackwood excitedly. ‘And this is where.’
    ‘What is that book?’ Sophia asked.
    ‘It’s called the Fantasmata of Simon Castaigne .’
    Sophia frowned. ‘The Fantasmata … I’ve heard of it, and of Dr Castaigne. But I regret to say I haven’t read it.’
    ‘There are few who have,’ Blackwood smiled. ‘It is not easy to come by, and were one to do so, one would find that it does not make for particularly light or comfortable reading. Please, Sophia, do have a seat.’ He gathered up the books from the armchair and dumped them onto the desk.
    ‘Thank you.’ Sophia sat down and waited for Blackwood to explain.
    He began to pace back and forth in front of her as he said, ‘Dr Castaigne is a well-known figure in certain esoteric circles. He has led a strange life, even by the standards of the occultist and delver into the arcane arts. He was born into a wealthy family of financial brokers, and so was guaranteed a sizeable income. However, the world of finance held no allure for him, and instead he devoted himself to the study of the occult and supernatural. His brilliance is undeniable and was evident from an early age. He studied Mythology and Anthropology at Cambridge and had gained his doctorate by the age of twenty-three. Not long after, he took himself off to the Far East where he travelled widely in China, Mongolia and Tibet. It is rumoured that he even discovered – or was guided to – the fabled city of Shambhala…’
    ‘Shambhala?’ exclaimed Sophia. ‘But that’s incredible!