Touchstone (Meridian Series) Read Online Free Page A

almost closed six times during the
summer, when the heat was so bad. But more clement weather has revived the
aestivating public.”  Several hangers-on grabbed seats at their table, the
slower ones settling for the surrounding sofas.
    The younger man had shed his
overcoat and underneath was dressed for evening as well, although he sported a
green chrysanthemum on his jacket. Nordhausen’s recollection flashed, and he
realized with a start that this must be the young Oscar Wilde! The flower was
his signature accessory, and now everything about the man filled in the details
in Nordhausen’s mind—his height, his eyes, the effusive energy. And something
else…He squinted through the smoky room, thrilled to see that there was a faint
sheen of amber about Wilde, just like the aura that he had seen surrounding
Lawrence!
    The telltale glow was a certain
giveaway, and now he saw that it suffused the older man as well. He realized
that this must be another important figure. But who? The maid’s tip had been
right and he was sitting not twenty feet from Prime Movers! He sat straight and
strained to hear the exchanges. At that moment the older man slapped his palm
on the table, and stood up, looking around the club.
    “Let us settle this
democratically, Mr. Wilde,” he boomed. “Let us ask an ordinary man in the club
to break our tie vote.”
    His eye lit on Nordhausen,
caught staring, and in an instant he called to him.
    “Sir, you are the gentleman
nearest our table, you shall settle this dispute between me and my young friend
here!”
    Nordhausen was taken aback,
“Sir, I… don’t wish to intrude.”  His heart began to pound. He was supposed to
be invisible. Actually, he wasn’t supposed to be there at all, but he had just
opened his mouth and addressed a Prime Mover! Oh God, what have I gotten myself
into now, he thought, his neck burning with the heat of embarrassment and his
own chiding regret.
    “Nonsense, sir, we must have
done with this, I insist you come over and join Mr. Wilde and me!”  He signaled
a waiter and ordered fresh brandies. Nordhausen did not know what to do!
Further hesitation would only cast more suspicion on his presence there. He had
to move; he had to pass for the very thing that this man believed him to
be—just a simple gentleman out for an evening’s entertainment. His legs were rubber
as he stood up, moving timorously to join the group.
    “Welcome, kind sir! I am William
Gilbert, and this is Mr. Oscar Wilde, only lately let loose on London from academic shackles in Oxford , and already making old hands
like me take notice of him.”
    Gilbert offered his hand, which
Nordhausen took by instinct. His mind was a blur now. He had just made physical
contact with a Prime, something that was absolutely forbidden under Maeve’s
hard charter. What was he doing? If she ever found out about this he would be
flayed alive. But the  man took hold of his hand with a vigorous shake and
radiated so much conviviality that Nordhausen was entirely taken in. Wilde
stood up and gracefully put out his own hand, which fully engulfed
Nordhausen’s. The warmth of the other man’s palm on his own was electric.
    “I… I am Mr. Robert Nordhausen,
of San Francisco . It is… a great pleasure to
meet you gentlemen, especially Mr. Wilde, of whom I have heard so much.”
Nordhausen stammered a bit, but he was running on pure reflex now, trying to be
as civil as he could to cover his obvious discomfiture.
    Gilbert raised his eyebrows.
“Oscar, your fame spans the globe, and you just fresh out of school.”
    “Novelty flies like winged
thought,” Wilde drawled. “It needs no submarine cables to girdle the sphere. I
am the modern Ariel, although more fleshly.”
    “Well, Mr. Nordhausen, what
brings you to London ?” Gilbert asked. “Have you been
here long?”
    Nordhausen spun out his lie
about the stolen luggage, to general expressions of sympathy all round. He told
them that he was in London to study at