by Roman Blair
I could only smile foolishly, grateful that she did not take offense. I realized the document must have been an old relic. “Not at all. And please, call me Phillip.”
“Very well,” she met my gaze, “Phillip. If you must know, I was not running when you met me. I had already been caught.”
I poured us more wine and waited for her to continue. “My grandmother,” she added more quietly, “discovered that I had fled England to escape my upcoming marriage.” I had no doubt she could see the dejection which had spread across my face. “He was a brute of a man, fifteen years my senior no less,” she added. “I could not understand why my parents were so intent on forcing my hand to his. I tried to make them see my point but they were adamant. And so I fled.”
“To Alexandria,” I stated.
She nodded. “Granny is very resourceful. I had scarcely arrived when I found her knocking on my hotel door.”
“She did not see your point of view either?” I asked.
“She claims she did,” Ella confessed, “but she said I went about the matter all wrong. She asked me to return and allow her assistance in swaying my parents. I had only just agreed that morning when she took us to the docks to secure the next ship to Europe.”
I smiled as I recalled first seeing her at the docks five days earlier. A bygone age, or so it felt.
It was then that Rémy excitedly reentered the dining hall. “The Etia says we are approaching the capital!” he burst. I stole a glance at my pocket watch. The journey from Capribo had scarcely taken more than two hours.
Ella took my arm. “Well let’s go see, shall we?”
The ship slowed its approach as we made our way back up. Almost all traces of the sun had vanished, but I spotted King Eireas standing silently with his advisors at the bow of the vessel. I looked beyond them and tightened my grip around Ella’s arm. Alexandria stood proudly before us. Even in the dark, or maybe because of it, the enormity of the buildings stretching high into the heavens was enough to take one’s breath away.
Their shapes were nothing like the stiff constructions of our own cities. Some had curved sides with neat rows of windows lining the arcs. Others twisted up in spires as if they had been melted and formed while still soft. How they managed to remain standing was a mystery. Brick had been replaced in favor of metal or glass and all the structures sparkled with electric light. Some had bases of white stone, with columns and sculptures fused into the construction. Others had patterns chiseled directly into the glass or metallic plates.
“Good heavens,” Lady Pearson breathed and Daniel blanched at the sight.
We stood stupefied. The monoliths continued to grow as we advanced. Our wonder upon seeing the Tower of Marble suddenly seemed foolish by comparison. Some of the buildings before us were almost twice its height. This sister Alexandria was a metropolis unlike any other. I saw transports speeding down elevated rails between the towers, hovering craft with lit sides gliding across the sky, and countless ships coming to and fro within the great harbor.
Sarmia turned to us. “Welcome to the capital of the Royal Republics of the Sea."
The alien skyline almost overshadowed a smaller structure standing farther out on the water. At the outer edge of the harbor was a majestic ancient lighthouse of white marble. Well over four hundred feet tall, though diminutive beside its modern counterparts, it was divided into three layers. A tall square tower made up most of the structure, atop which stood a smaller octagonal pylon. The very tip was cylindrical and partly assembled of great columns. A magnificent fire burned from within the pillars, the flames reflecting in the countless metal statues which decorated the building.
I immediately recognized the structure. It was the Lighthouse of Alexandria, a wonder of the ancient world. It had collapsed long ago on Earth. Yet there it stood, as beautiful as the day it was built. It was my confirmation, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we were truly on a parallel world. My heart raced within my chest; my head was dizzy with thought. Ella locked her fingers within mine and I was overcome with emotion. I turned to her, put my hands to her face, and kissed her passionately in the glow of the lighthouse flame.
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he rays of the morning sun warmed my face. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My bed, like the rest of the room, was spacious but simple. If the building was any example, the Alexandrians took a subdued approach to aesthetics. I stood and walked to the window overlooking the great harbor below me. I became dizzy at the sight, for I must have been some forty stories high. The majestic blue water was pierced by countless ships dashing across its surface. The lighthouse, which must also have been forty stories in height, loomed majestically at the edge of what used to be Pharos Island. The ancients had connected the island with a long causeway thousands of years ago. Just as on our world, the road had silted over to create a large peninsula.
I bathed quickly and rummaged through the chest of drawers in my room. They contained none of the tunics to which I had become accustomed, but were instead filled with the casual clothing for everyday wear. A light green shirt and navy trousers made a satisfactory combination. The shirt was comfortable, with metal buttons running down the front, rolled sleeves, and no collar. It was not nearly as long as the formal tunics, so I tucked it into my trousers before completing the ensemble with a belt.
The bedroom and bathroom in the apartment were mine alone and I could not recall the arrangement of the other rooms. I had been overwhelmed upon our entrance the night before. With a fair amount of certainty, I recalled that Rémy’s room was next to mine. I stepped out into the hall and quietly knocked on the door. I heard shuffling within. The door slid open marginally and I saw the pale outlines of Daniel’s face in the darkness. He looked fatigued and distressed.
“How can I help you, Mr. Laurence?” his voice was hoarse.
“Pardon me, Father. I do not recall the way to the dining room,” I admitted.
“It’s that third door on the right,” he directed with a bony finger.
I turned to thank him but his door was already closed, his footfalls lumbering away.
The dining room likewise overlooked the harbor. Rémy was already seated within, breakfast before him.
“Good morning!” he saluted. He was similarly dressed in the less formal attire, with a pair of khaki trousers and a shirt as blue as the sea. His upper garment was different from my own, with short sleeves and a thin band of white cloth forming a collar around his neck. Instead of buttons, the collar ended in a V shape.
“Good morning,” I echoed and poured myself some coffee. “You’re in good spirits,” I observed, taking a seat beside him.
“Yes!” he confirmed between bites of bread and marmalade.
“Because we are here?” I asked.
He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “And because it is just as we had hoped.” He nodded up and only then did I spot a map of the Mediterranean on the dining room’s wall-screen. The top was labeled in simple block letters.
VAΣIΛÆ REI PUBΛICÆ ΘAΛAΣIΣ.
The Royal Republics of the Sea.
The map was a detailed photograph, complete with vegetation and the reflection of light on the water. The borders of fifteen states were outlined on the image. The smallest of them was the island in the sea’s north-east corner. Hovering next to it, in simple white letters, was the word CAPRIBO.
The political borders of the other states resembled none of our own nations. Italy, here labeled ROMA, was closest to our divisions, though it enclosed parts of France, Switzerland, and Austria-Hungary as well. Much of Germany, former Poland, and Denmark now formed a great Baltic state at the northern border. The Ottoman Empire was nowhere to be seen and some of its territories retained their ancient titles. The states encircled the whole of the Mediterranean in one united nation. I took a sip of coffee, fresh and aromatic, as I perused the chart.
Lady Pearson entered the dining room several minutes later. Her eyes were red and swollen and I was surprised to find her on the arm
of Etia Yawa, who guided her to the nearest chair. Sarmia entered the room behind them and clicked the door shut.
“We heard weeping,” Sarmia informed me. “We knocked and found your companion on the bed. I am sure seeing the city was a shock, but I had very much hoped to avoid this. We tried to stagger your exposure to our world, but apparently we did not stagger it enough.”
“Lady Pearson,” I began soothingly, “is there anything I may get you? Some water perhaps?”
“No, Mr. Laurence,” she answered. “It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t need anything at the moment. Nothing but time perhaps.”
She gazed out the window and let out a sigh. I saw more tears welling up in her eyes and I realized that what had served to fuel Rémy’s spirit had simultaneously conquered that of Lady Pearson’s.
“Youth is a marvelous healer when it comes to the pains of change,” she continued slowly, “but I fear those days are long behind me.”
“If I may be so bold,” I said, “there is no permanence in the world, even the one we left behind. Change is the only constant of life.”
“While so much is true,” she answered, “change is never as rapid as this. I am afraid I cannot take the shock.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” I countered. “Your spirit and rationale have made quite the impact on this journey.”
“On the journey, perhaps,” she reluctantly agreed. “But what am I to do now? I am without estate, family, or practical skills. I doubt very much that the hospitality of these strangers should continue to my dying day.”
“Is it wise to jump to such conclusions?” I asked. “We must take our life one day at a time. There is no sense in worrying about a hypothetical future which may never come.”
She sat back in her chair and pondered the words for a minute. “You are a prudent young man. I can see why Ella is so taken with you.” I quickly diverted my eyes down to my mug and I heard her chuckle. “Did you think I missed that moment on the ship last night?” she revealed. “A grandmother sees all.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you approved.”
Her lips betrayed a smile. “It is remarkable what one discovers when the social pressures of the world vanish.”
I scrutinized her for a minute. Perhaps there was more to the woman than her austere mask revealed.
“I am glad to see you smile,” I confessed. “And you must admit, there is a great deal of good in the world before us. That map, for instance,” I indicated the wall-screen. “The mere suggestion of a united Europe would have been ridiculed to no end back home. Yet here, it is reality. And not only Europe, but the Near East and North Africa as well.”
“We have territories,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but I am not speaking of occupancy. These are one united people.”
Lady Pearson considered the map. “It is remarkable,” she finally agreed, “but I doubt the borders are stable. You know as well as I how quickly these matters change. The Franco-Russian alliance may have already ended in our absence.”
“I admit I do not know much of this world. But I hope to learn. And I would like to share that information with you if you so desire.”
“You’ll stop at nothing, will you?” she asked lightheartedly. “Very well, Mr. Laurence. You’ve piqued my interest.”
The door to the room opened again and King Eireas caught us all by surprise. He was alone and in formal dress. Both Etias rose from the table and we followed their example.
“Agiméra,” he proclaimed and we returned the greeting.
“Heavens, I must look of fright,” Lady Pearson whispered. She put a hand to her face. “Please inform the King that I need to wash up.” I delivered the message as she hurriedly made her departure from the room, bowing her head as she passed the young man.
Eireas came to join us at the table.
“I see you have been studying our geography,” he noted approvingly.
“It is amazing how foreign the land appears with different borders,” I marveled.
The King nodded. “Yes, Rémy attempted to draw the divisions on your sphere during our studies. They seemed as foreign to me as these must look to you.”
“I have a book of maps, your highness,” I informed him. “I would be happy to share it with you when we return to Aleria.”
His eyes grew wide. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask! I would enjoy that very much.”
For the first time since our arrival, I realized I had something to offer which our hosts did not already possess. My companions and I represented an entire world to which there was no other access.
“It is the least I can do,” I replied.
Rémy practiced his Anuprian pleasantries with the Etias during my discourse. I regretfully realized that I was now the sole occupant of the room who did not understand the melodic tongue. Eireas must have sensed my discomfort.
“Your friend is a very good student,” he informed me. “He has a natural talent for our language.”
“His native tongue is likewise a remnant of ancient Latin.”
The King chuckled. “Our scholars continuously bicker whether our language is more the child of Latin or Greek,” he explained.
“And which side do you take?” I asked.
“Neither,” he smiled. “I am no linguist, but a historian. As are you, if I remember correctly?”
“I am.”
“Then you will appreciate this,” he extended his hand to the window and we walked over to admire the vista.
“That tower,” Eireas indicated the lighthouse, “is my favorite monument in the world. I used to travel here to gain inspiration from it. I drew it, I read books in its shadow, and I climbed to the top more times than I can count.”
“Yes, it is quite beautiful,” I admitted. It stood alone at the edge of the harbor. The blocks of polished marble glittered like exotic jewels. Its flame was crowned with a conical roof and a large statue of Poseidon stood proudly at its tip. The figure was made of copper and, just as the smaller statues below, it had long turned green with verdigris.
“This was a wonder of the ancient world,” The King beamed.
“Yes, the Pharos. Taking its name from the island on which it stood,” I added, and reveled in the look of surprise upon his face.
“You know it,” he stated curiously.
“Oh yes. The lighthouse was also built on my world. Though I am sad to say that my eyes have never beheld it. It was destroyed in an earthquake over six hundred years ago.”
He gasped. “Yes, here too! But it was rebuilt immediately.”
“Such was not the case where I am from.”
The King mused over my words. “This is a tremendous opportunity,” he finally concluded. “As I mentioned, arrivals on our sphere are few. It is even rarer that we are able to communicate with them. And those who did speak some form of our languages were not well-versed in history. But you are the first to transcend all those limitations.”
My heart soared at the compliment. “I thank you. But what opportunity does this present?”
“The source of the split between our worlds has been a great mystery for hundreds of years. We cannot even be certain whether visitors like you come here from one sister sphere or many.”
I began to understand his excitement.
“I can arrange for us to meet at the great library this evening,” he continued. “With your assistance, we may be able to discover the source of the shift.”
I heartily agreed.
Our hosts had traveled to Alexandria for political reasons, and we were once again left alone during the afternoon while they attended to their duties. I thought it best to remain within the residential tower during the proceedings. One could get led astray within Alexandria when the local culture and dialect were understood. The likelihood was no doubt amplified when they were not.
There was a comfortable lounge beside the dining room. Fine couches stood atop a floor of polished wood, with tables and plants spread t
hroughout. Rémy and I replenished our cups of coffee and progressed there to continue our study of Earth's sister sphere. But to record the details of an entire globe would take more paper and ink than I have brought with me. I instead made it a point to ask the King for a physical volume of work which I could peruse at my leisure.
“I feel like a school boy again,” I commented. “Trying to remember names and country borders… it’s so nostalgic.”
“Ah oui,” Rémy agreed. “We will be forever students here.”
“Man would do well to think of life as self-taught university. Every day, a new lesson and a chance for reflection. When interest is lost, one simply selects a new course.”
He chuckled. “And no performance marks? I’m not sure I would have the discipline.”
“You’ve chosen to embrace learning here, Rémy. Others from our party make no effort to do the same.” I sighed. “It’s all too common a thing. Most people are so preoccupied attempting to pass on what limited knowledge they have, they overlook learning and growing themselves.”
He smiled and we continued to work until I stepped out to refill my cup.
“Perhaps in the lounge,” I heard Lady Pearson’s voice ring out from the dining room. I entered and saw my companions seated around the table. Ella radiated joy when I met her gaze and my heart felt as though it was weightless within my chest. She once again donned a local blouse, crimson in color, which complemented her chestnut locks.
“Ah, Mr. Laurence,” Lady Pearson acknowledged me. “We were just talking about you.”
“Oh? How may I be of service?”
“To be frank,” Travert rasped, the grey within his hair and beard seemingly more prominent than I remembered, “we haven’t the slightest sense of what to do.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Monsieur.”
“You and my nephew seem quite taken with this world,” the captain explained. “But I doubt two ladies, a pair of boatmen, and a priest have much to offer to a people capable of the wonders we’ve observed.”