Thoth, the Atlantean

by Brendan Carroll

  Gil met them in the hall, pulling his apron from his waist. He greeted them all warmly and then took hold of the shiny brass door knobs in both hands. Mark drew a deep breath and then whispered the words of an old poem. Everyone stopped to listen to him in puzzled silence.

  “Three weeks we westward bore,

  And when the storm was o'er,

  Cloud-like we saw the shore

  Stretching to leeward;

  There for my lady's bower

  Built I the lofty tower,

  Which, to this very hour,

  Stands looking seaward.”

  “What was that, Mark Andrew?” Merry almost whispered the question. Rarely had she witnessed the volatile Knight waxing poetic for no good reason.

  “Just an old poem,” he said and smiled crookedly. “Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Ever heard of him?”

  “Of course, but what does a tower, a bower and a storm have to do with a dining room?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said and nodded to the cook who promptly pushed the doors open. He glanced at her with strange look on his face and then added “Everything.”

  Merry shrugged and then allowed the cook to be the first to show Mark what they had done. Gil was very proud of the room. He drew a deep breath and opened the doors that had been taken down, stripped and refinished in gold and white lacquer. The room beyond was a masterpiece of combined styles. Gil had wanted to do it in French Provincial, but Merry had told him that Mark Andrew would most likely prefer something a bit heavier and darker. The dining table and chairs were replicas of the King George III Chippendale design with deeply cushioned, rose and white embroidered seats perfectly matched to the silk rug that Lemarik had bought for Mark Andrew on their trip to Stonehenge. The rug had found a new home under the long, mahogany table. Enough extra chairs lined one wall to easily accommodate thirty or more diners. The paneling under the wainscoting had been refinished to match the table and new rose and dark rose wall covering met the carved crown molding sixteen feet above their heads. An old Ramsay coat-of-arms had been brought down from the attic and given new life and a new frame before being hung above the entry door. Heavy silver candlesticks were set at either end of a highly polished Chippendale buffet and a matching sideboard held more silver pieces and a sparkling array of elaborately engraved crystal and China dinnerware. Above the table, a pewter and mahogany ceiling fan turned lazily.

  Mark was surprised to see his collection of retired weaponry: knives, dirks, swords and rapiers cleaned up, polished and tastefully arranged on the walls as well.

  “It’s very nice.” Mark Andrew was shocked at the transformation. He had not been in the room in ages. He walked the length of the room and looked out the tall windows at the side yard. The crazed and chipped glass had been replaced with newer old glass, slightly green, rippled and containing tiny bubbles that matched the new library windows that had been installed a few decades prior. The innumerable spiderwebs were gone and the dark wood of the windowsills gleamed in the late evening moonlight slanting into the room. He could see the administration building, part of the garden and the meadow stretching away beyond the outbuildings under the full moon.

  “You are pleased, monsieur?” Gil asked him.

  Mark Andrew turned around and smiled at the cook and glanced at Merry. “Yes. I like it. Very nice. Grand job, lassie.”

  “That is a great compliment coming from him,” Merry told the chef knowingly.

  “Yes, well…” Mark Andrew smiled tightly at them. “It looks very nice and I am looking forward to dining here.” He made this statement as if to say ‘enough!’

  “Stephano and Planxty ’ave set up refreshments on th’ patio, Brother,” Luke Matthew announced and jerked his head at Luke Andrew who’d stood by as if preoccupied completely with other thoughts. His nephew nodded and then led the party back out into the hallway. “We’ll wait out thair. ’ave a few drinks, perhaps?”

  Surprisingly enough, Lemarik was waiting for them on the patio as well, sitting on the glass-topped table, drinking from a tall, slender champagne flute full of florescent green liquid. He slid from the table immediately upon seeing his father approaching.

  “Ho, Adar!” He smiled and came to greet him with kisses on both cheeks. “You have saved my beautiful son, Omar, yet again. He is on his way here even as we celebrate this glorious night!”

  Mark Andrew nodded. Another issue would be pressed to the surface. What to do about Bari Caleb who now considered himself Joel Isaac Grenoble. Mark had already interviewed the boy a number of times and learned that he had a persistent stubborn streak as well as a great deal of natural power that was most disturbing. But there was absolutely no doubt that this was Omar’s son. Perhaps it was God’s Will, as was all things under the sun, that Omar should come and take charge of his son.

  “Ye told th’ Prophet aboot th’ boy?” Luke Matthew raised both eyebrows as he drew himself a mug of beer from one of Planxty’s kegs.

  “Aye… no. I didn’t tell him that the boy was here,” Mark lowered his voice. Lemarik was busily hugging and oohing and aahhing over Merry Ramsay. He’d not seen her in a very long time, it seemed and she was always glad to see him. Soon they were all sitting about the patio tables listening to the Djinni tell them about the liberation of the captive sea creatures. The story was still the biggest thing in the news. A great mystery that would most likely never be solved by the local authorities and Mark made a mental note to have a talk with his son about zoos and aquariums. Simeon and his daughter were mesmerized by the wizard and were soon nodding their heads in agreement that to keep these beautiful creatures in captivity was indeed a mortal sin. Lemarik was especially taken by the lovely young Greta whom he said smelled of the divine Healer; something she found extremely funny.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Lucio was astounded by the appearance of his son. It was like looking in a mirror at a younger version of himself. The only thing lacking was the presence of the heavy beard that would surely come and the scar on his left cheek. Lucio was fascinated. He did not remember himself at this age of course. There had been very few mirrors about where he had lived as a youth and even fewer reasons to look in one. Ten more years growth and a bit of age and they would be indistinguishable from each other. He was both pleased and shocked.

  Vanni seemed to be quite pleased with him as well, though his behavior was somewhat stiff and cautious.

  “Giovanni,” Lucio said as he held out his hand gravely.

  “Father,” Vanni matched his tone and took his hand in the manner he had recently learned from Simeon at Merry’s insistence.

  “I am very pleased that you have come home,” Lucio told him. He had tried to imagine what he should say to his son and nothing had come to mind.

  “This is not my home, Father,” Vanni told him and remained standing stiffly in front of the sofa. “I would like to speak with you about that… among other things, if you have time.”

  “I would make time to discuss anything you would like.” Lucio dragged the footstool away from the sofa and sat down. “Let me look at you first.”

  Vanni immediately began to pull his shirt over his head.

  “No! Wait.” Lucio held out one hand. “I didn’t mean like that. Santa Maria. Just turn around.”

  Vanni turned his back on the Golden Eagle and stood waiting.

  “Turn around again,” Lucio sighed. This was not going to be easy at all. “You look well… you look wonderful.”

  “Thank you! I am told that I am quite handsome for a human,” the boy told him and smiled his own smile at him.

  “Si`, and so you are.” Lucio agreed with the barest twinge of guilt. Vanity. A sin. “Quite handsome.”

  “And so you must be as well, since I seem to look very much like you.” Vanni nodded.

  “Please. Sit down.” Lucio gestured the sofa. He wanted to take the boy in his arms and squeeze him joyfully, but it somehow didn’t seem possible. At least, not just yet.

/>   “Are you finished looking at me?” His son asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

  “Si`! Yes, of course,” Lucio told him and shrugged. “Now what would you ask of me?”

  “I want to go home,” Vanni began without preamble. “I would ask that you intervene on my behalf with King Il Dolce Mio. Offer him payment or whatever it would take… promise my good behavior, perhaps. I know that I have not always done exactly as he has instructed me, but I am only a child! I am… well, I am not really a child, but I could act like one. I do not like it here. It is too confusing. They are always changing clothes and using the toilet. I do not like using the toilet! It is most exasperating and a complete waste of time. I do not like these… pains. Pains for hunger, pains for the toilet, pains for barefeet, pains for shoes, pains for combing hair, pains for brushing teeth. Pain, pain, pain. It pains me to think about it. I do not understand it.”

  “This one called Luke Andrew has scrubbed off part of my skin, I am sure of it. Where I come from, these things are not necessary. The one called Merry makes me eat wet leaves and soft bean pods. There is not enough cheese and butter here and she will not allow me to drink wine. Only the one called Gil will allow me to drink wine when she is not here. The one called Luke Matthew makes me go outside to play my drum and the sky spilled water on me. Does not the sky also have a toilet, Father? If I must spill water into the bowl then surely the sky should also respect me and not spill water on my head! The flowers will not stay in my hair. And there are creatures here that bite my feet! And they say that I must sleep in the room upstairs. It is not natural. There are no musicians here. I miss my music! And when I tried to paint my face for dancing, I was scrubbed again. They will not answer my questions and they laugh at me.”

  Lucio’s mouth was hanging open by the time his son had finished his list of grievances. He understood every complaint, but he wondered if he would ever be able to explain it all to Giovanni. Before he could begin to answer anything, Vanni continued.

  “Only the old one has time for me. He can see the faery folk who live in this land, but they are afraid of me. Even the flower eaters will not talk to me. I do not like these round ears.” He reached up and pulled back his curls to show Lucio his left ear. “And most terrible of all, there is an evil one here called Joel.” Vanni leaned forward and lowered his voice as he told Lucio, “he knows too much!”

  “Joel?” Lucio frowned. He had no idea who this might be. “Who is Joel?”

  “He lives with the one called Merry and her man, Luke Matthew, in a another house. Smaller than this house, but a house. Does everyone live in houses, Father? Il Dolce Mio says that I must learn to be a man. I don’t want to be a man. Do I have to be a man? Why can you not come back to the Center and live there with me? The King’s people tell great stories of you and the one called Adar. King Ramsay! Il Dolce Mio’s father. You have great connections with King Ramsay. Surely you can ask him to speak with his son.” Vanni stopped talking. He was almost breathless.

  “I don’t know where to begin.” Lucio shook his head slowly. “Primo: you are not an elf. You were only taken to the Center to protect you from someone who was after you. Someone who wanted to take you away from me.”

  “But I was taken away from you by the elves!” Vanni did not understand.

  “Yes, but it was only temporary. Now you are back with me and this is where you belong. You are my son and I belong here. I am not an elf. I am a man and you will have to learn to live with that. You will like it here. There are many great and wonderful things here even though some things are… distasteful, like toilets. This is simply something that comes with being human. You will get used to it. I am very proud to be your father. And I want you to be proud of me as well. I want you to learn to love and respect me, as I love you and respect you. What you need is someone to teach you and show you what you need to know with patience. Have you not met anyone here who would suit you? Someone you like?”

  “There is one.” Vanni frowned in disappointment and looked down at his hands.

  “Who? Stephano? He is a good man! He saved your life when you were a tiny baby. He risked his own life to carry you to safety.”

  “Stephano is too busy for me. He is always working on something. He listens, but he has no answers for me,” Vanni continued to look down at his hands and twisted his shirt in his fingers.

  “Who then?”

  “The girl. The daughter. Greta.” He looked up. “She is very nice. And soft.”

  “You’ve been feeling of Greta?!” Lucio asked in alarm.

  “She held my hand when the evil one came and I felt very brave.”

  “The evil one… Joel.” Lucio frowned again. Joel was no doubt Bari Caleb. Mark Andrew had neglected to tell him that his name had been changed. “Why do you think Joel is evil?”

  “He says things. He knows things that he should not know.” Vanni’s face grew dark. “And he changes his clothes very fast.”

  “Like what? What does he say?”

  “He said that my mother was the Queen of the Abyss. He said that you are a blood drinker… a vampire! He says that King Ramsay is not a man, but an angel and that he seduced his own mother. What is seduced, Father? What does that mean? He said that I am a Halfling! He said that the Order is damned for destruction. What is the Order, Father? He said that I am part of the Order. Am I damned for destruction? Is that why the King brought me here?”

  Lucio’s head was reeling.

  “You have much to learn.” Lucio said quietly. He could see that there was much trouble here. It was quite clear that Omar’s son had been influenced greatly by his association with Jozsef Daniel… perhaps even ruined, but the reference to vampires had rocked him to his foundations. How could the boy have known about Melodia? Even Mark Andrew had not known about the blood. Or, had he? Was that why Mark Andrew had beaten him so badly without telling him why? “The Order is what we serve. We serve God and the Order belongs to God and his son, Jesus Christ. We are Knights of Christ. It is what we are and you will learn what that means in time. God is the Creator of all things including the Center and the elves. He is the Master of all the Universe and all that occurs is His Will. We cannot question the Will of God, Giovanni.”

  “Please, Father, if we are to remain together, call me Vanni.” His son looked on the verge of tears. “Do not change my name as they have changed Joel’s name.”

  “Come here, Vanni.” Lucio held out his arms and the boy threw himself in them, hugging him tightly and weeping on his shoulder. “Everything will be all right. I am here now and I will take care of you. I will try to answer your questions for you as best as I can, but you cannot go back to the underworld.”

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Lemarik stood up as Joel Isaac Grenoble walked toward them across the grass. He narrowed his dark eyes and then swayed across the open meadow to meet his grandson under the light of the moon. Everyone on the patio fell silent as they watched this event unfold.

  The Djinni caught the boy by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking at him first from one eye and then the other.

  “You know who I am?” he asked the boy in a low voice.

  “I do.” Joel nodded. “You are my grandfather, Adalune Kadif.”

  “How long have you known who you are, my son?” the Djinni asked him.

  “I have always known, Grandfather. I have been waiting for you to find me.”

  “Why did you not call to me?” Lemarik asked him gravely.

  “You have been too busy with your woman.”

  “You have an impertinent mouth.” The Djinni raised both eyebrows. “Did you learn this from the Healer’s son?”

  “No. The Healer’s son never knew me.” The boy smiled at him. “I am ready to return to my father and mother.”

  “Ahhh. I am not sure that they are ready for you.” The Djinni smiled at the young man. “I should perhaps cut out your tongue so that you may have some humility. Do not think yourself so
superior, my son. I could consign you to oblivion!”

  “And deprive your beautiful son, Omar, of his precious little boy? I don’t think you would do that, Grandfather. Perhaps I am only confused. There are worse things than oblivion.”

  “Ooohh. You are a force, I see. You will do well to control yourself. My father will not be so tolerant of you.”

  “The Mighty Hunter? The leader of this pack of… fools? Perhaps I am uninformed. Perhaps you can persuade me that I am wrong about them. But then you did not approve of me from the start. Perhaps that is why you did not find me sooner. Perhaps that is why your father did not tell the Prophet that his prodigal son had been found.”

  Lemarik held up one hand in front of the boy’s face and he fell silent. The boy stood blinking at him in shocked silence.

  “I, alone, will decide what is to become of you.” The Djinni clasped him in what appeared to be a congenial hug and spoke very close to his ear. “You will hold your tongue and mind your manners. I will not tolerate insolence and rudeness in such a young whelp. You will learn to respect your elders and your betters or else you will perish. Is that understood, my son?”

  Joel nodded his head slightly.

  “Good. Good. Now let us join the others and I expect much from you.” Lemarik released him and started back toward the patio.

  Joel straightened his collar, rubbed his throat and followed after his grandfather.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Lucio paced the floor in the library. Mark Andrew sat watching him from the stones of the hearth where he stroked the backs of the great wolfhounds. The night had grown chilly and late and the fire in the hearth felt warm on his back. The Italian was beside himself. He had no idea what to do with the boy.