Read Online Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3 by Melissa Scott - Free Book Online

said it was Roman, but Jerry rather doubted that. Even if Henry’s Latin wasn’t up to the job, there must be half a dozen people in this fancy new lodge who could translate it. He was willing to bet that, along with the movie stars and the thrill-seekers who were there for the costumed naughtiness, there was an inner circle who knew what they were doing. If the tablet was Roman, and Henry wasn’t asking them about it, then there was something wrong about the tablet. If it wasn’t Roman — probably Henry didn’t recognize the source, and didn’t want to admit it to the others. He’d always been sensitive about having had to cut short his education.
    The Packard turned off the main boulevard onto a tree-lined street that wound up into the base of the hills. The houses were bigger here, with stone walls and iron gates — expensive houses, and getting more expensive the higher they went. Typical of Henry, he thought. But it was a hell of a place for a temple.
    They turned in at an open gate, between pillars topped conventionally with eagles. The drive curved sharply to the house, three stories of gleaming white stone with bright red tiles on the roof. The door was set back beneath a triple arch, and the chauffeur brought the car to a gentle stop and hopped out quickly to open the car door. Jerry swung himself out — he’d almost mastered the art of getting out of a car without a struggle, even if it meant moving in segments, like a camel — and as he got his cane braced under him, he saw Henry in the doorway. He hadn’t changed much, though perhaps the suit was even more carefully cut. He still had the beard he’d grown at the end of the War, trimmed now to a neat line that made him look like a Montenegrin diplomat, and the thick wavy hair was subdued by a ruthless barber.
    “Welcome,” Henry said, and they clasped hands under the central arch. His hand was hard, callused: still working in the machine shop, Jerry thought, and managed a tight smile. Behind them, the Packard pulled away, and Henry waved toward the shadowed interior. “I appreciate your willingness to help.”
    “I was curious,” Jerry said frankly. “I still am. You never did explain what was so odd about this tablet that you couldn’t read it —”
    “All in good time,” Henry said, with a quick, wry smile that negated some of the pomposity.
    Jerry followed him down the hall, the knob of his artificial leg skittish on the tile floors. It was time Alma added another layer of rubber — past time, really, but they’d been in a hurry leaving Colorado. To either side, wide doors revealed expensive furniture, sunlight hanging in the still air; the sound of water was suddenly louder, and the hall opened onto a wide terrace that overlooked a semi-enclosed patio. A fountain played in the center, and outside a swimming pool glittered in the sun, and beyond it was a low-roofed pool house faced with a pillared loggia. Jerry tipped his head to one side, abruptly aware of a change in energy, and looked at Henry.
    “That’s your temple?”
    The other man shrugged. “It seemed — suitable.”
    “Oh, very.” Now that he looked more closely, Jerry could make out the symbols worked into the pool’s mosaic borders, could just sense the larger rosette of stones at the bottom of the pool itself. There were statues, too, set in the niches of the wall that defined the area. Most of them were copies, not unskillful, but one or two, the ones closest to the pool house itself, were true antiquities. “You didn’t.”
    “Let’s not argue,” Henry said. “My office is this way.”
    Jerry swallowed his objection, and followed. The office was at least half a library, two walls covered with floor to ceiling shelves, a third wall draped with heavy curtains. As he crossed the threshold, he felt the ghost of wards, but didn’t bother looking for the symbols.
    Henry drew the curtains, letting in the sun, and Jerry realized they were overlooking the pool again.