The Resuurection Fields

The Resuurection Fields by Brian Keaney Read Free Book Online

Book: The Resuurection Fields by Brian Keaney Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Keaney
go back to my house for a little while. I think you need some time to recover.”
    They crossed the road in silence while Nyro tried to make sense of what had just happened. He felt weak and light-headed and tainted, as if some of what he had just witnessed had rubbed off on him.
    Osman made him sit in the kitchen while he made some kind of herbal tea. The butler, it seemed, had either gone home or gone to bed. The tea tasted disgusting, but Osman insisted that Nyrodrink it all before he would even begin to discuss what they “hadn’t” seen. As Nyro sipped the murky liquid, he felt himself growing rapidly stronger. “Okay,” he said when he had finally consumed it all. “Now tell me what that was about.”
    “Very well,” Osman said, sitting down opposite him. “The creature you just saw is called a sumaire. It is an elemental, which means that it does not really belong in our world.”
    “Then what’s it doing here?”
    “It’s absorbing all traces of your friend.”
    “You mean it’s because of that creature that everyone has forgotten about Luther?”
    Nyro considered this. “So if it doesn’t belong in our world, how did it find its way into Luther’s house?” he asked.
    “It has been summoned here. Either by Brigadier Giddings himself, which seems unlikely given what you have told me about him, or by someone with whom he is in league. But there’s no doubt that its appearance here has been deliberately contrived. That’s why the Brigadier brought the bowl of blood. Sumara are attracted by blood.”
    “Do they drink it?” Nyro asked.
    “No. But there is something about it that gives them pleasure. Perhaps it is an essence that blood gives off. I can’t say for certain. The experts are all rather vague on this point.”
    “What experts?”
    “The ancient writers. The sumara may have been forgotten in recent times, but only a few hundred years ago scholars discussed them regularly.”
    “How do you know so much about them?” Nyro asked suspiciously.
    Osman shrugged. “Because I am interested in things that havebeen lost or hidden from the everyday world. That’s why I have devoted so much time and energy to studying the work of Alvar Kazimir Mendini, as much of it as can still be found. You will recall that I mentioned his name earlier?”
    “You said that Luther had come to a talk you gave about him.”
    “Exactly. Your friend was curious to learn more about the famous Canticle, of which only a few fragments still remain. Would you like to hear one of them?”
    Nyro shook his head. “I’m not very interested in poetry.”
    “But you will be interested in this. Listen to the opening lines.” Osman cleared his throat and began to recite in a deep, sonorous voice:
    “A house is waiting in the darkness
A bowl of blood upon the floor
In the mirror lies the doorway:

Lose your name to find the door.”
    Nyro started at the reference to a bowl of blood. “Are you making this up?” he demanded.
    “I can assure you, those are the exact words with which the Canticle opens. Mendini showed them to me himself. He crossed the border into Tavor secretly a very long time ago. He came with his wife so that she could have a baby in safety. While he was here, I met him and he talked about this poem.”
    “But what does it mean?” Nyro asked impatiently.
    “If I had to venture an opinion,” Osman replied, “I would say the poem is about you, or at least that part is.”
    “But I’d never even heard of Mendini until today!”
    “Nevertheless,” Osman replied, “you must admit, it sounds very much as though Mendini had this evening’s little incident inmind. It has been claimed that he could see into the future. He didn’t have his wife’s powers, but he had his own abilities. Of course, there’s one sure way to find out if you really are the subject of the poem.” He looked directly at Nyro as he said this, and his eyes seemed to glitter with anticipation. “Unless

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