"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 01 - The Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

frightening Peregrine was the last thing he wanted to do - Adam set himself to deciphering what the vision
meant.
It was not a warning of danger, as such - though the image of the armed knight might symbolize a need to be
watchful, and perhaps presaged a future necessity to dispense justice on some level. In more general terms,
however, such an unsolicited and unregulated intrusion of his past into his present usually signalled change -
a subtle shift in the balance of powers that governed the wheeling of the universe, such as sometimes
required his intervention. The warning he had received on the Inner Planes had hinted as much.
But the focus of any impending threat remained unclear; and until he understood the nature of the coming
shift in balance, he could only watch and wait, until he had more information. In the meantime, his immediate
concern must be for Peregrine - who, he was beginning to suspect, was being thrust into his life at this
particular point in time for more reason than mere happenstance.
He glanced again at Peregrine, briefly wondering whether he was doing the right thing, where Peregrine
himself was concerned. Thus far, the young artist's far-seeing had encroached only slightly upon Adam, other
than in his professional capacity. The artist had come to Adam as patient to physician, wanting only to be
"cured"; but Adam, quickly discerning the root of Peregrine's "problem," had more or less taken it upon
himself to convert that problem to an asset - not to shut off Peregrine's special sort of seeing, but to channel
it.
That was not what Peregrine had asked for. Nor was it too late to pull back and simply "cure" him, as he had
requested - though a point of no return could not be too far away, if Peregrine learned as quickly as Adam
was beginning to suspect he might. Right now, today, Adam still might put Peregrine and his wayward talent
at arm's length, simply by retreating to the role of only a psychiatrist, agreeing that the far-seeing was a
mental aberration, helping him learn to blot it out, as he first had wanted. And any questioning of Adam's
professionalism, if Peregrine later spoke about his methods to anyone else, might be dismissed as the
delusions Peregrine himself had posited from the beginning.
Reverting to mere psychiatry was not really an option in Peregrine's case, of course - though Adam always
made himself examine all the likely permutations, before taking that plunge of deeper commitment on the
Inner Planes. For good reason, he still might back off; but the potential reward was worth a great deal of risk:
another Adept restored, ready to take his place in the Work of the Light - and possibly, a valuable ally for
Adam himself. Most compelling of all was the fact that Adam Sinclair, as medical practitioner, spiritual
healer, and warrior of the Light, was constitutionally incapable of turning away someone in need, whom he
had the ability to help.
So. Now to see what Templemor had to offer Mr. Peregrine Lovat. Adam already had intimations that energies
were stirring, or he would not have glimpsed visions of his own, merely approaching the ancient site. Casting
his gaze ahead, and putting his own concerns out of mind, Adam led the way into the narrow clearing
surrounding the base of the old tower house, casually pointing out a knee-high series of foundations, just
outside the castle wall, and several piles of cut stone off to their left.
"I see the lads have been busy," he said, reining in and dismounting. "Most of those foundations are from the
old outbuildings. The piles of stone are debris they've hauled out from inside, where walls fell in and roofs
collapsed. We'll leave the horses here to graze while we explore."
He forgot to worry about Peregrine while they saw to the horses, caught up in the changes just since his last
visit, but a week before. The ivy was gone, for a start, and the trees formerly growing atop the first floor
vaulting had been ruthlessly rooted out, along with the debris in which they had been growing. Pleased, Adam
led the way toward the doorway of the castle itself.
"That was probably a family crest, there above the door," Adam said, pointing out a blurred irregularity in the
stone. "I've always assumed it was the same as the phoenix you saw in the great hall, up at the house, but it
could be a different Sinclair crest, or something else altogether. Unfortunately, it's so far gone that we may
never know for certain."
There was no response from Peregrine. Adam glanced back over his shoulder. The artist was standing at the
bottom of the steps leading up to the entry-way, his sketchbook clutched tightly in front of his chest, his
expression all at once pained and rigid.