by HR Moore
‘Oh,’ said Anita, feeling a little foolish, ‘that’s good.’
The space wasn’t at all what Anita had been expecting, and in stark contrast to the several small rooms under the Temple in Empire, this was one, large, almost haphazard space, with a ceiling that stretched the height of the colossal Temple, glass all that stood between them and the night sky above.
‘Wow,’ said Anita, craning her neck to look upwards, ‘I never imagined this is what it would be like in here. Are the other two like this as well?’ she asked absentmindedly, wandering around, but never taking her eyes off the ceiling for long.
‘I don’t know, I’ve never been in them,’ he replied, moving to the drinks cabinet and pouring two glasses of wine. The cabinet was one of a number of items placed against the walls of the open room, which was split up into a number of small sections. The drinks cabinet was next to a partners desk piled high with books and papers, then was an L-shaped seating area facing outwards towards the room, a low coffee table in the middle, and on the other side stood a plush, canopied, king sized bed with an almost unnoticeable door on each side, which led, Anita presumed, to a bathroom and a wardrobe. There was a small kitchenette next to the seating area with a tiny square table and two spindly chairs, but the whole point of the room was in the middle, where a large area had been left clear, the only adornment simple meditation mats, which looked well used.
Anita found the room oppressive, something about the big open space, enclosed on every side apart from at the top, which was too far away to reach. ‘I agree, it’s horrible,’ said Alexander, reading Anita’s energy as he handed her a glass, then leading her to one of the mismatched sofas. ‘We can go and stay at the house if you’d prefer?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Anita, taking a sip of wine and rolling it around her mouth, ‘it’s just such a strange space.’
‘I know,’ Alexander replied, smiling and stroking her hair, ‘made stranger by the fact all the Spirit Descendants have hated it, but nobody’s ever done anything to try and improve it, like they know it’s simply a lost cause!’
Anita smiled. ‘Dinner was better than I thought it would be,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘everyone was very well behaved.’
‘Helped by the fact Gwyn, Marcus and Anderson didn’t turn up,’ said Alexander, pointing out the obvious. ‘It’s strange Anderson’s suddenly back on the scene, and that he seems to be best friends with Timi,’ he continued.
‘Which makes me nervous, seeing as Bas didn’t trust him. But it’s not surprising he wants to get in on the action, he is supposed to be the world’s leading relic expert after all. If you ask me, he seems like a bit of a narcissist.’
‘Harsh,’ laughed Alexander, giving her a playful squeeze, ‘I’m not sure I’d go that far.’
‘Well Bas was wary about trusting him for some reason,’ she said, pointedly.
‘We don’t know why though.’
‘We don’t know a lot of things we’d like to,’ she said, her tone taking an exasperated turn. ‘We’ve made no progress with the note Philip left you, or with opening the cylinder in my head, or with the meaning of Bas’ note. And then there’s the mystery around Cleo’s new nameless friend and what exactly the Magnei are, where they live in the Wild, and how we find them.’
‘True,’ Alexander replied, ‘but we can only do what we can do. Tomorrow we send the relic back, the day after that we start to rebuild our political system, democratically, and after that, we work out the rest, including how to actually send the relic back.’
‘Which is all well and good, so long as tomorrow goes according to plan.’
‘It will,’ he said reassuringly. ‘The tests have all gone like clockwork and so will tomorrow given the levels of precision applied by you and Alistair.’
‘If you say so,’ she said, not totally convinced. ‘Timi and Marcus, that’s another strange partnership.’
‘Yep,’ said Alexander, dismissively, putting down their glasses before leaning across and kissing her on the lips, ‘but there are far more entertaining things to do than talk about them.’
‘Really?’ she asked innocently, ‘I’m sure I don’t know what,’ she said, looking up at him encouragingly.
‘Liar,’ he said, kissing her again, pushing her backwards on the sofa, lying on top of her, one hand behind her head, the other starting to explore her body. He moved his lips to graze her neck, ‘I suppose I’ll just have to enlighten you then.’
Chapter 17
They woke early the following morning, the room basked in sunshine, Anita now understanding the need for the canopy above the bed; at least it kept out some of the dazzling light. The room felt totally different now, like walking on the inside of a light bulb, too close to the element for comfort and restrained by the glass from breaking free. The room was stifling and she was relieved when they exited in search of breakfast, Alexander clad in his floor length Descendants cloak ready for the ceremony.
To their surprise, although when they thought about it, it wasn’t even a little bit surprising, the Temple was already packed full of people who’d arrived early to secure a good viewing spot for the day’s proceedings. They’d planned to go to one of Alexander’s favourite cafes for breakfast, only a couple of minutes’ walk from the Temple, but as they emerged, it became clear that wasn’t going to happen. They were confronted with a horde of people, all queuing for the security checks Marcus and Timi had put in place, although as soon as they spotted Alexander, their attention quickly switched to him. Thankfully, the security guards acted quickly, ushering them through the crowd and into the Council building across the road, but they were both thoroughly shaken by the time they were safely through the door.
‘Should have realised that would happen,’ said Alexander, more cheerfully than he felt.
Anita took his hand and squeezed it, her attention moving swiftly to the raft of lingering Councillors who had clocked them, and who were now doing everything they could to make it look as though they had urgent business in the entrance hall. ‘Is there anywhere in here we can go?’ asked Anita, keen to get away from public scrutiny.
‘Yes,’ he replied, leading her towards a door to their right, ‘Descendants’ drawing room,’ he said, as they emerged into a stuffy room with a large fireplace, heavy curtains, several formal sofas and a couple of tables, laid with crisp, white linen. ‘This room is for the sole use of Descendants, so as long as none of the others decide to come here too, we should have the place to ourselves.’ Anita sat down at one of the tables, Alexander walking to the panelled side of the room and pulling a cord for service.
Moments later, a waiter, clad in restrictive morning suit, crisply entered the room. ‘How can I help, sir?’ he asked, standing stiffly in anticipation of instruction.
‘We’d like some breakfast please,’ he started, ‘coffee and orange juice for me, and a sausage sandwich made with fennel rye bread and onion chutney please. And for you Anita?’ he asked, sending the waiter’s attention her way.
Anita raised an eyebrow at his specific and demanding request, ‘orange juice and tea please,’ she started, ‘and Eggs Royale.’
‘What bread would you like that served on?’ he asked, efficiently.
‘Seeded brown?’ she asked, hoping this was on the list of those available.
‘Of course,’ the waiter replied immediately, ‘anything else at all I can get for you?’
‘No, that’s all thank you,’ said Alexander, taking the seat opposite Anita.
Breakfast arrived rapidly but they ate it at a leisurely pace; the ceremony wasn’t until midday, so they had several hours before Alexander had to be there and before Anita had to make herself scarce. However, they had barely finished eating, Anita relaxing back in her chair, cradling her tea, when the door opened and in walked Marcus and Gwyn with Timi and Anderson.
‘Oh,’ said Marcus, as he spotted them, ‘I didn’t think you would be here for ages,’ he said, his energy for some reason wary.
>
‘We weren’t going to be,’ said Alexander, ‘but the unruly crowd outside made our decision for us.’
‘You have to leave,’ came Gwyn’s sharp, snippy voice. She was looking directly at Anita, ‘now,’ she added, turning to Alexander and saying, ‘that’s what was agreed.’
‘Alright,’ said Anita, furious at Gwyn’s audacity, waltzing in and issuing dictates. ‘We agreed I wouldn’t be at the ceremony. Nothing was said about where I could or could not be several hours beforehand, but if you find it so difficult to control your emotions with me here, I’ll leave. I hope you manage a higher level of composure when you’re standing in front of the entire world pretending to have some kind of legitimate role in our plan to return energy stability.’
Nobody replied, although Anita was pleased to see from Gwyn’s energy that she was beside herself with anger. Anita got up to leave and Alexander followed her out of the room. ‘You go back,’ said Anita, continuing before Alexander had a chance to protest, ‘I have no idea what they’re up to, but whatever it is, they don’t want either of us there, and I don’t think we should grant them that luxury. In fact, I’m going to get the others to tell them to come and join you, which should really ruin their morning,’ she said gleefully.
‘What do you think they’re here to discuss?’ asked a sceptical Alexander, thinking Anita was being a little over the top.
‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe they want to make sure they’re wearing coordinating outfits, or have arranged for someone to come and attend to their hair and makeup, or maybe they’re discussing how to take control after the relic is sent back. Either way, I’d rather not make anything easy for them.’
‘Fine,’ said Alexander, knowing Anita wasn’t going to change her mind, and aware of the growing number of Councillors lingering to watch them. ‘I’ll see you after the event then,’ he said, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her enthusiastically goodbye, not caring about the watching eyes.
‘Good luck,’ she said as he pulled back.
‘All I have to do is stand there and pretend,’ he laughed, ‘I think I can handle that.’ She kissed him one final time before turning to leave, determined to find anyone she could who Gwyn might not like and send them in her direction.
*****
Several hours later Anita made her way down to the beach, finding again the secret path Alexander had shown her the first time she had come to Kingdom. She’d gone to the hotel where Helena and the other Institution members were staying, and after telling them of the meeting between Timi, Anderson, Marcus and Gwyn, found they needed no encouragement to quickly head for the Council building. Anita had felt briefly smug before emptiness settled on her. She had been working on Bas’ theory with Alistair for weeks, but would be the only one not there to witness the event in person. Worse, she felt like an outsider, like she had no connection to what was going on at all, like even those in the crowd were part of something that she was shut out of and there was nothing she could do to banish the hollowness she felt inside.
She’d walked around the market for a bit, looking at all the exotic merchandise, imagining which stalls her mother had done business with when she’d returned from the Wild Lands after meeting Jeffrey. But the market, pretty empty when she got there, was like a ghost town by the time the event was due to start, all the stalls closed and not a single person present in the usually packed streets.
So she made her way to the beach, where at least the waves kept to their usual rhythm, pounding the shore and sending up white froth. Anita sat just above the waterline, picking up pebbles and throwing them into the sea as she ran over everything in her mind. Try as she might to concentrate on something more productive, she kept coming back to the image the previous day of Gwyn falling backwards as the first boulder had been sent into the sky, smirking cruelly every time she thought of it. Realising she was facing an uphill struggle to put the day’s events out of her mind, she decided to meditate. She still needed to find a way to open the brass cylinder and hadn’t tried since they’d returned from the Cloud Mountain, not to mention that if she looked closely at what was apparently the Great Hall of the Magnei, she might be able to glean some clue as to where it was located or what took place there.
She arrived at the Great Hall, which looked just as it had the last time she’d meditated here, although was feeling a little shaky under the strain of the solo meditation. She’d meditated by herself only a handful of times and it still felt strange without the support and comfort of someone else’s energy. Anita walked around the room and looked out of the windows, seeing nothing but woodland beyond; large, old, haphazardly spaced trees growing where they wished, huge and ancient branches bowing this way and that, but nothing that gave any clue as to where the hall was located. She reached the end of the room where two thick, heavy, doors covered with ironmongery stood solidly. She pulled on the rings to try and open them but the doors wouldn’t budge, apparently the only way for her to leave this place was to move to another place in her mind or wake up.
Becoming frustrated she circled the room again, hoping that some detail would jump out at her, that she’d missed an inscription on the walls, that behind one of the tapestries would be hidden a map, or that there was some overlooked object originating from some specific region in the Wild. Infuriatingly, she had no such luck, so turned her attention to the box and brass cylinder instead. She picked up the box, removed the brass cylinder, and sat on one of the thrones as she turned it over in her hands. She once more studied every bit of it, looking at the ends, trying to pull it open, rubbing the sides, hoping to reveal some hidden words. Again, there was nothing to be found other than what she already knew, her exasperation reaching new heights, Anita having to restrain herself from hurling it through the nearest window.
She gave up, leaning back in the throne, letting her mind wander, trying to calm down and reflect, which inevitably led to thinking about the events at the Temple. She ran through how she thought proceedings would go; Alexander, Gwyn and Marcus, clad in floor length Descendants’ cloaks, hoods up as they processed in, each through their own Temple, until they emerged, somehow in perfect unison before their tripod in front of the relic. The Councillors would have already processed in, all also clad in cloaks, all solemn and self-important. There would be music, something serious and dramatic, giving an air of intensity and significance, riling up the crowd, creating a tense and expectant atmosphere, everyone on tenterhooks, waiting anxiously for the main event. And then, after a meaningful pause, leaving time for everyone to dwell on the magnitude of what they were about to see, Anderson would step up and provide a cover for Alistair setting the energy hook. Anderson would continue to wind up the crowd, describing what they were about to see, the effects it would have on the energy, and most importantly, would paint a picture of how the future would be. He would describe change of such extreme consequence; democracy and elected leaders, equality and prosperity, and then, when the vision of the future was so real it was almost palpable, he would bring his show to a quiet, deliberate conclusion, leaving the crowd in a kind of calm, anticipatory trance; silence on the surface, but something bubbling almost uncontrollably underneath, just waiting to be given the chance to break out.
Anderson would then take his seat and all eyes would switch to the Descendants, hoods now down, arms outstretched, furiously focused on the ugly rock in front of them. And then there would be a small click that would sound like a great crack across the eager silence and the relic would catapult skywards, and the crowd would silently watch it go, not quite believing what they were witnessing, that it was actually happening, before erupting into roars of celebration, clapping and hugging each other and beginning to believe that a better future could now be before them.
And at the front, at the epicenter, Anita imagined the Descendants looking cautiously at each other, Alexander turning to Alistair, sharing a look that meant they had succeeded, and then, just as Alexander’s smile filled her vision, uninvited
, the cruel image of Gwyn falling over in the backdraft popped once more into Anita’s unkind mind. She found a smile spreading inadvertently across her lips before something snapped forcefully into place in her thoughts. She dropped the cylinder, the shock of the realization so great, her only desperate thought that she had to get to the Temple and stop everything, but as the cylinder hit the floor, it bounced back up in front of her, hovering in mid-air, the metal seeming to seamlessly unroll, revealing the secret held for so long inside.
The cylinder unrolling unveiled nothing physical; just a sheet of brass unfurling, becoming flat, but somehow Anita now knew the location of the Magnei, the location of the place she currently sat in the real world, and she knew, with certainty, who and what the Magnei really were. But more than that, she now knew with certainty that they held the key to returning the relic to the Gods.
She had no idea why the cylinder had chosen to open now, but she had no time to consider it, she had to get to the Temples. The reason she couldn’t get the image of Gwyn falling over out of her head was because it was the answer to the confusion in Bas’ note; their calculations could never properly account for the level of energy backlash that would occur when moving the relic because the relic was a unique object whose powers they didn’t even begin to understand. Something that powerful could have a terrible backlash, so large that it might not simply knock over, but could even kill those close to it, and Alexander was one of the closest of them all.
Anita pulled herself out of the meditation and sprang to her feet, sprinting in the direction of the Temples. She didn’t stop until she reached the security guards at the entrance to the Body Temple, who, recognizing her, refused to let her pass. ‘Sorry,’ said a small, particularly officious guard, ‘we’ve had strict instructions from the Body Descendant not to let you in. I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave.’
Anita considered arguing but quickly threw this notion aside; they had their orders and she didn’t have time to convince them. Instead, she forced her way round to the entrance of the Spirit Temple, weaving her way through the thick crowd, who, having been unable to secure a place inside the Temple itself, were rapturously following the events on a big screen, and didn’t appreciate Anita’s attempts to push past. Anita looked up at the screen to see Anderson still in full flow and redoubled her attempts to get through, time nearly up.