Against the Brotherhood by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Bill Fawcett

prevent at all costs.” He repeated the last grimly. “All costs.”
    I had not reckoned on such high stakes in this venture, and was attempting to find a way to express my misgivings when it struck me that much of this conflict that so troubled Holmes must be ongoing. “When did all this begin?” I asked him, hoping to learn the source of the trouble.
    “It started long ago,” said Mycroft Holmes, “in Europe with a group of renegade Masons and a lodge of occultists, who decided they would have to band together if they were ever to achieve the downfall of the great houses of Europe. They combined the most radical of Masonic notions with the manipulative strength of the occultists into one, hidden, subversive movement that had support from many ambitious nobles, those who had sought advancement and had not achieved it. The alliance has continued to this day. It is often at the very heart of the most nefarious plots that strike at the seat of power. I am personally aware of six lodges of this Brotherhood currently active in England and Europe. And I know that Vickers is the leader of the lodge active in London.” He lowered his voice. “In addition, I am aware of more than a dozen murders committed by this one lodge in the last five years alone.”
    “Henry Gordon-Hughes,” I said.
    Mycroft Holmes regarded me steadily, saying in a low voice, “Why, yes, he was one. There have been others, I am saddened to tell you.” His frown deepened as he stubbed out the end of his cigar. “I am loath to send you on this mission, but there is no one else whom Vickers will accept at this point, and so, with notice much shorter than I anticipated a week ago, I am afraid it will have to be you, or we must face the possibility of failure with the treaty. Which I dare not contemplate.” He rocked back on his heels, which I had learned meant that he found the matter under discussion unacceptable.
    “I will go, of course,” I said, hoping I did not sound as frightened as I was. What had my employer put me into? “But I am a secretary, not a man of action, and I may not be able to—”
    “My dear Guthrie, you are young, you are intelligent, and you are resourceful. I have great confidence in your abilities.” Mycroft Holmes put his hand on my shoulder. “I can think of no one else in whom I could repose the confidence I have in you.”
    This encomium was much more than any I had expected. And if his motives for giving it were less than pristine, I could not make myself question them. Though were the mission not for the protection of my country, I might have felt I had been taken advantage of by both Vickers and Mycroft Holmes. The importance of the task overshadowed all other considerations. “I will do my utmost to discharge my duty to your satisfaction.”
    “Excellent. I was convinced I could not be mistaken in you.” He went to the desk and sat down, pulling a map from one of the pigeonholes and spreading it out. “As you see, your destination is very near Munich, in what was once the Bishopric of Freising in the Electorate of Bavaria, according to the terms of the Peace of Westphalia—”
    “That was 1648, as I recall,” I interjected, to show I was not wholly ignorant of the history of the region.
    Mycroft Holmes nodded once, his manner decisive. “You are correct. Being near Munich and controlled by the Church made this odd little sliver of land much more important than its acreage might appear to suggest. Even today there are crucial alliances in that region which are vital to English interests in Europe, as you have gathered from what I’ve told you.”
    I listened in growing apprehension, for it seemed to me that as determined as I was to succeed at my task, there were those opponents who were as determined as I to see it fail.
    “If you are not feeling the ill effects of that horrible inn, I hope you will permit me to provide you with a light meal before you leave.” He smiled at me pleasantly, and went on