by Matthew Cody
“It’s a school,” I said, disappointed.
“It’s the Academy. You’re on another planet, you know.”
“What’s that I smell? It’s sweet.”
Scott smiled. “Ginger. Or at least it’s close to ginger. No one knows why, but the air smells of ginger here. Like I said, another planet.”
“And if this is a school, then where are all the students? And those monks you were talking about?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. Ginger-scented air? “All I see are old guys like you. No offense.”
“None taken. But unfortunately, new enrollment is low, you could say. The Society works on a strict apprentice system, and most Explorers just can’t be bothered. As for the monks, well, they’ve reached enlightenment.”
“They what?”
“Beyond the Academy walls is the Enlightened Hidden City, but it’s nearly empty now. You see, the monks were immortal, Tommy. They reincarnated themselves in a cycle of birth, death and rebirth until they felt they’d gained enough wisdom to pass on from this world. Which they did.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “They spent all that time … reincarnating, or whatever, just so they could die?”
The Captain shrugged. “I don’t pretend to understand it myself. There were still a handful of them around when I was a young Explorer, but over the years more and more achieved enlightenment. Today, the Academy stands in the middle of a deserted city. The High Father is all that’s left.”
“He’s not enlightened, then?”
Scott shook his head. “Oh, of course he is. He’s the wisest being in the known universe. It’s just that he has unfinished business. That’s what he claims, anyway.”
“Sounds about right to me,” I said. “He’s smart enough to know that if you can live forever, you do. You don’t give up. I think he pulled one over on those other monks.”
Scott laughed. “Come on. I’ll show you around. This Academy was a place to train and learn, once. Now it’s more of a museum, I’m afraid. It’s the accumulation of centuries of exploring, just gathering dust. The knowledge of a hundred different civilizations rests within these marble and stone roofs. Cataloged and recataloged. Preserved for posterity.”
“Sounds like it could all get a bit dull.”
The Captain smiled at that. “You have no idea. Come on, then. Better get this over with.”
We headed for the rose tower, and I noticed more queer looks thrown our way as we passed. But again, if the Captain was aware of it, he didn’t let on. We crossed a great plaza and entered the tower through a set of metal doors. I was shocked to find that the inside was hollow all the way to the pinnacle. There were no floors, just a curving set of staircases that climbed up the rows and rows of books lining every square inch of wall space—all the way to the very top.
“The Encyclopedia Imagika is just the Explorers’ field manual, Tommy. It’s the abridged version of this,” the Captain said. “The Tower Library.”
And in the center of it all, suspended in air, was a device unlike anything I had seen, or even imagined, before. The Nautilus was a wonder, but one look and a fellow could at least figure the purpose of the thing. The Nautilus was a boat—a darn strange boat, though still a boat. But this particular machine was … weird. At its middle was a giant, shining metal globe. It rested at the center of a web of spokes and wheels, and each spoke led to another, smaller globe. There were hundreds, thousands of them, all made of differently colored metal. And most amazing of all—they were all moving. Every part, every cog of the great machine was in motion. Some very slowly, circling the center globe in lazy orbits, while others flew haphazard patterns at incredible speeds. Everything was moving in synchronicity with everything else—complex, bizarre and perfect.
“That is the Orrery,” said the Captain. “At its center you see the Earth. A bit oversized and not quite to scale, I grant you, but it’s our favorite, so there you are. And all around it are the numerous planets connected to us—via the portals. Whole other worlds, like this one. It’s surely a poor representation, reflecting only a tiny, half percent or so of all there is to know, but it’s the best we’ve come up with.”
“Unbelievable,” I said, not caring that my mouth was hanging open. “It’s what, sort of a model?”
“A bit of a model, a bit of a map. But mostly it’s the Orrery. No other word for it, really.”
I stepped back, craning my neck to take it all in. “Now I’m impressed,” I said. And I meant it.
Captain Scott put his hand on my shoulder and pointed out the nearby statue of a man in a scholar’s robe. His middle was almost perfectly round and his jowly, smiling face beamed up at the spiraling spheres overhead. “That is Brother Theophilus. But we affectionately call him Fat Theo around here.”
As I got closer to the statue I noticed that Fat Theo had a bird on his shoulder, a small, clockwork canary.
“Is that … Merlin?”
Scott nodded. “Fat Theo discovered Merlin near the end of his travels, though he obviously wasn’t called Merlin at the time. That bird’s as old as the Society itself. Probably older. Theo had two passions in life—eating and exploring. As he got older he told people that he didn’t fear death, but he regretted that there were still so many worlds out there to see. He left us Merlin as a reminder to never stop exploring. There is always a new frontier.”
“So Merlin’s sort of the Explorers’ mascot?”
Scott laughed. “I guess he is at that—but don’t let him hear you say that! Now, wait here. I need to announce your visit before taking you any farther, so stay put and, whatever you do, don’t wander off. It’s easy to get lost.”
Scott walked out onto the marble rotunda and disappeared under the shadow of the Orrery, tipping his cap to Fat Theo as he passed. I stood there in my still-damp clothes, trying to ignore the various stares and turned-up noses of the passersby. After some minutes I finally spied another boy. He was plump, perhaps a few years younger than I was. I was relieved to see him, but at the same time I was also keenly aware of how large this great hall was and how alien everything seemed. I was a master of the streets, the dark alleyways and rooftops. But here, without Captain Scott by my side, I was out of my element. Feeling the desperate need to be doing something, I focused my attention on the ground—the entire floor of this place was covered in words. Though back then I still couldn’t read much more than my own name, I knew well enough to recognize letters. But these symbols looked like chicken scratch.
“Don’t kill yourself trying to make that out,” the boy said. “The floor of the Great Hall is inscribed with one motto, but it’s repeated in hundreds and hundreds of languages. That dialect you’re looking at there is Atlantean, I think.”
I looked up to see that the boy was smiling at me as he wiped his thick spectacles on the lapel of his coat. He seemed amiable enough, but I wasn’t in the habit of making friends easily.
I squinted back at the words on the floor. “Oh yeah, Atlantean. Yeah. Yeah, I thought it looked familiar.”
The boy arched one eyebrow as he threaded his glasses around his overly large ears. “You read Atlantean? I didn’t think anyone studied it these days, considering that the Atlanteans died out over a thousand years ago.”
“Well, I didn’t say I read it,” I said, stretching myself up a bit on my feet. It needled me that this boy was obviously younger, and yet he still had several inches on me. “I said that I thought I recognized it. I’ve just seen it around, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he answered. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “I suppose you know what it says?”
“Sure. I don’t read Atlantean, either, but I know what it says. It says the same thing that all the other words say.”
“Oh? What’s it say, then?”
The boy cleared his throat and began, “It’s the Explorer’s Creed. It says:
For we are those who open the door
and those who guard it.
We a
re those who light the dark
and those who curse it.
In childhood the fire is lit,
may we keep it kindled always.
For danger, for knowledge,
for safety and for strength—
we are Explorers all.”
“Huh,” I said. “Doesn’t really rhyme, though, does it?”
“It’s not supposed to,” answered the boy. “It’s a creed. Like a motto? It’s not a poem.”
“Still, seems like it should rhyme.”
“Look, I know that you’re new around here, but people are already talking about you. So, if I could offer you a bit of advice …” The boy left his words unfinished as he spotted someone approaching from afar. Growing suddenly serious, he spoke next in a harsh whisper.
“Blast! Here comes Harper! Careful what you say around him.”
“What? Who’s Harper? And who are you?” I asked.
“The Captain asked me to look after you. Now look sharp!”
A tall, gaunt man in a stovepipe hat was striding across the floor toward us. He was smiling, but there was nothing reassuring about that grin. He reminded me of the oh-so-pleasant privateers who prowled the dockside bars looking for drunks to kidnap into service. Many a man had passed out in the wrong tavern and woke up scrubbing decks at sea.
“So, you must be the boy everyone’s talking about,” said the man. “Congratulations! The value of the artifact you have retrieved for us is beyond measure.”
“The artifact?” I asked.
“The bird.” The man smiled. “A clockwork canary. It was stolen from the Academy some time ago, but we’re pleased to hear that it’s been returned.”
“Really? You mean Merlin, that clunky thing?” I said, thinking of poor, waterlogged Merlin back in the ship. Truth was, we hadn’t returned him at all. And Scott seemed keen on keeping the bird as far away from this place as possible. But until I knew a little more about this fellow, I saw no need to correct his facts.
“My name is Harper,” the man continued. “I sit on the Council of Officers, so on behalf of the Society let me say thank you.”
“Oh,” I said. “You’re welcome. But it wasn’t much, really. Just lifted it from a dead-looking gent in a carriage. He had some muscle there, too, but they weren’t any bother.”
I felt myself puffing up a bit, but I couldn’t help it. The attention felt good.
“Death cultists,” Harper said, nodding. “Grave Walkers, no doubt.”
“Eh, whatever. They just looked like a couple of thugs to me. They weren’t all rotted like their boss.”
The spectacled boy spoke up. “The Grave Walkers are at least partly human. Normal people who’ve given in to the Gentleman’s power.”
“Well, like I was saying,” I went on, annoyed at the kid for interrupting my story. “I ditched them, no problem. But then there were these other things—in the shadows, like. I kept ahead of them for most of two weeks. ’Course, then I ran into that Duke, and the Captain helped out a bit, but I was doing all right on my own, I suppose.”
“Remarkable,” said Harper, quietly.
“Sounds like you interrupted a handoff,” said the boy. “Those cultists were handing the artifact, eh, Merlin, over to the Gentleman. You might have just saved the world, you know that?”
The man Harper waved the suggestion away. “Let’s not exaggerate. Tommy’s actions were certainly brave, but I don’t think the consequences of one stolen mechanical bird were quite so dire.”
“Indeed they were,” said a familiar booming voice from behind us. “They could not have been more dire!”
Scott had returned. He still hadn’t had a chance to dry off, however, and he looked a bit sad. Harper was neatly dressed, while the soggy Captain smelled of seaweed. Scott seemed every bit as out of place here as I did.
“Captain Scott,” said Harper. The man was no longer even pretending to smile. “Of course we can count on you to ratchet up the histrionics, yet again. The Council is grateful to you and the boy for delivering our stolen property. But you realize you had an appointment with us early this morning. You’re late.”
At the mention of stolen property I gave Scott a look, but he ignored it. We’d technically delivered Merlin—but we’d delivered him back to the Nautilus, not the Academy.
“I ran into a bit of a detour,” said Scott. “I rescued young Mister Learner here from a particularly nasty bridge troll and that put us behind schedule. We had a further incident near the Lemuria Outcropping …”
“Well, that explains the state of your dress! The Outcropping is dangerous!” said Harper. “Gorge krakens still hunt there.”
“You know,” Scott said, hiking up his wet britches, “I’ve never given much credence to that kraken theory. Lemuria’s too big to be swallowed by a single beast.”
Harper cocked his head, ever slightly to one side. “Really? How’s the Nautilus?”
“Nearly swallowed,” said Scott definitively. “By a kraken.”
Harper started to speak, but Scott cut him off. “But it was a Nautilus-swallowing-sized kraken. And the beast could barely manage that!”
“The point is that you shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” said Harper, pointing his finger at the Captain. “You risked your own life, and this boy’s life, while doing god knows what damage to your ship and still you arrived late! You only narrowly avoided a first-class bungle. Again.”
“I was out there, Harper! Exploring! That’s what we do, or have you all forgotten?”
“You dare …?”
The Captain ignored Harper’s outrage. “Listen to me. The Gentleman is trying to make his way into the Earth. I’ve gotten information that very nearly confirms it. I spoke to a refugee Lubber Fiend—”
“A Lubber Fiend? You’re going to bring the testimony of a milk-thieving chimney haunter before the Council? You may cry wolf all you want but I can tell you what they’ll say—the Gentleman presents no immediate threat to us. The soulless undead cannot walk our Earth for long, you know that. They cannot abide the light of our sun. Therefore he’s merely a nuisance, and the Council will treat him as such.”
“Then the Council is made up of a bunch of old fools,” said Scott. “You’re too in love with your rules and your books to see the danger all around us! I demand to see the High Father. Perhaps he’ll listen to reason.”
Harper smiled. “Do you honestly expect to be admitted to the High Father’s Inner Chamber in the state you’re in? Perhaps, if you clean up and make an appointment, I might be able to pull some strings and get you in for a few minutes. That is, if you’ll kindly hand over the bird. Now.”
Harper held out his hand expectantly, as if the Captain had Merlin stuffed in his pocket.
“I’m afraid not,” said the Captain. There was a set to Scott’s chin that I’d seen before. It was an expression that I’ve worn myself more than a few times—he was gearing for a fight.
“I beg your pardon?” said Harper. “The artifact belongs here, where we can keep it safe! It’s been stolen once—”
“Right out from under the noses of you and your precious Council,” said Scott. “Something big is brewing. The Gentleman’s got plans for that little bird, and if not for our dumb luck and the bravery of one young street thief, we’d be seeing that plan come to fruition.”
“Surely, you trust the Council to keep it safe,” said Harper.
Now it was the Captain’s turn to put a finger in Harper’s face.
“I trust exactly three of the four of us present, and not a one of your stubborn Council. You have your heads in the sand, all of you! And if you insist on denying me access to the High Father, then I’ll be on my way. With the arti—er, Merlin!”
For an instant I thought the spindly Harper might actually strike the Captain. Indeed, Scott looked braced and almost eager for just that. But the moment passed, and Harper adjusted his tall hat and looked down the bridge of his nose at me instead.
“Good luck to
you then, boy. Traveling with Captain Scott can be a hazardous proposition. Just ask any of his former apprentices—if you can find one alive, that is.”
Then Harper turned and stalked away, careless of the many eyes now watching us. We’d created a bit of a scene.
As Scott watched the man leave, his eyes turned distant once again, unfocused. He looked as if the air had been let out of him along with his anger. Whatever he was thinking about now, it was worlds away. “We should go,” he said absently. “We’re not welcome here anymore.”
Then he turned and started out the tower door.
Before I could follow, the spectacled boy stepped up next to me and held out his hand. I had forgotten all about him.
“Bernard Billingsworth, Apprentice Explorer Second Class,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Er, likewise,” I said, trotting off after the Captain.
“Welcome to the crew!” said Bernard, huffing and puffing as he struggled to keep up. I ignored him as best I could. I was too focused on the hard stares and upturned noses of the people around us—the Explorers’ Society. As far as I was concerned, Scott was the only one I’d seen worthy of the name. I couldn’t wait to get away from the Academy in the Hidden City, and I didn’t care if I never saw it again.
I thought I was done with the place for good, but I’d soon learn just how wrong I was. Looking back now, I do feel sorry for that soft bunch of gents. I won’t lie and say that I was at all impressed by those stodgy old men—by Harper and his lot. But I won’t say another bad word about them, either.
I don’t like speaking ill of the dead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN