The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4)

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The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 18

by L. Jagi Lamplighter


  “The official name of this presentation is the History of Roanoke Island,” Mr. Tuck continued, “But I like to call it the Mysteries of Roanoke Island. Mysteries are so much more interesting than histories, are they not?

  “Now, you may wonder why I, a canticler, am narrating this presentation instead of a tutor from the History Department. This is the first of the mysteries. It shall be answered anon.”

  Without further ado, Mr. Tuck launched into the magic lantern show. A black and gold box in the middle of the chamber issued a light that projected hand-painted slides onto the screen. Some of the slides were colorful. Others were simple silhouettes.

  “Our story,” announced Mr. Tuck, in his deep booming voice, “begins when the sorceress queen herself, Elizabeth the First, granted Sir Walter Raleigh—after whom Raleigh Hall is named—a charter to found a colony in the newly discovered lands that were, at that time, called Virginia, in honor of Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen.

  “Actually, Queen Elizabeth originally gave the charter to Sir Humphrey Gilbert, Raleigh’s half-brother. But Sir Humphrey drowned in an ill-fated attempt to found a settlement in what is now Canada. So, Sir Walter took up the cause.

  “Raleigh organized an expedition that arrived on Roanoke Island—which was at that time a normal island off the coast of what we now call North Carolina—on July fourth, fifteen eighty five. The expedition established a small settlement and built a real wooden fortress. Raleigh himself, incidentally, did not accompany the expedition. He was the queen’s ambassador to the City of the Wise known as El Dorado. But I digress.

  “Incidentally, their new home was originally called Rune Oak Island. Only later did the story spread that the name came from the Algonquin word for ‘money.’

  “Two years later, on August eighteenth of fifteen eighty seven, the colonists witnessed the arrival of the first English child to be born in America, our founder and benefactress, Virginia Dare—after whom which dormitory was named?” Mr. Tuck gestured encouragingly toward the audience with both hands.

  The crowd roared back, “Dare Hall!”

  Mr. Tuck smiled and nodded. Stroking his beard with his hand, he gestured for the next slide, which showed a ship at sea.

  “A year later,” he continued, “the next ship from England found the settlement abandoned. To this day, the fate of these settlers remains a mystery to the Unwary.

  “We of the Wise know what became of them. But we have a different mystery in relation to these settlers, as we shall soon see. What we do know, that the Unwary do not, is that many of those who volunteered for the journey were members of the Wise, who were fleeing persecution, and in fifteen eighty eight, news arrived that their persecutors were about to catch up with them.

  “But, to continue my narrative: In fifteen eighty five, the Tiger, a ship coming from England, was separated from the rest of its fleet by a severe storm and ended up in Puerto Rico. There, they came in contact with the Spanish before continuing on to Roanoke Island. In fifteen eighty six, another great sorcerer, Sir Francis Drake—after whom was named…” He cupped one hand to his ear and gestured toward the crowd with the other.

  The students shouted: “Drake Hall!”

  “Sir Francis,” Mr. Tuck continued, gesturing at the screen, which now showed the acclaimed sea captain and sorcerer with his high, stiff, white lace, Elizabethan collar, “stopped by Roanoke after a successful raid in the Caribbean. He warned the settlers he had received word that the Spanish in Puerto Rico had alerted their enemies to their position. Rumor had it that a fleet had been dispatched to destroy them.

  “The settlers were quite dismayed. They had fled to a new continent, leaving behind house and home, and now their persecutors had found them again. One member, however, Ananias Dare, befriended a medicine man of the Croatan peoples named Achakahanu or Spirit Who Laughs. Laughing Spirit, as he came to be called, taught the newcomers the secret of uprooting an island. This was something that his people did occasionally, so as to move an island to better fishing grounds.

  “Our settlers worked together with Laughing Spirit to weave a great enchantment. They uprooted Roanoke Island permanently, making it into a floating island. Before they left, they built a ramshackle version of their settlement on a nearby island; however, they did not bother to rebuild the fortress.

  “This is why, when John White, the governor of Roanoke and the grandfather of Virginia Dare, returned from England in fifteen eighty eight, he found the town but not the fortress, which he reported had been dismantled. The ruins of the fortress, by the way, are still visible on our island, just north of the Lower School, to the south of our current position.

  “But to continue, Laughing Spirit went on to marry our heroine, Virginia Dare, and to aid her, in sixteen twenty four, in the founding of what today we call Roanoke Academy, though originally it was just known as the College at Roanoke. He took the last name of Dare, which is why Virginia’s descendants are still Dares today—including our own Jenny Dare. Is she here?”

  Jenny Dare, a huge smile on her face, rose from her chair and waved. Her exuberance caused her straight brown hair to bounce around her head and shoulders.

  Mr. Tuck gestured toward her. “Including Jenny and her brother Thomas, whom some of you may remember. He graduated—three years ago, I believe?

  “To continue, Roanoke was now a floating island. But I promised you a mystery. What we of the Wise still do not know today is: from whom were these settlers fleeing? This should be a simple historical matter. These events were not so very long ago, as the Wise count years…and yet, we can find no definitive record as to who was doing the persecuting.

  “Some records suggest that the goddess Hecate was offended that these folks strayed into areas of magic she had forbidden to mortals. Others claim that they were secretly worshippers of Orpheus, who made many enemies among the immortals. Still others say that it was Dionysus whom they had offended.

  “Based on a few symbols the persecutors left behind, some historians of the Wise believe the settlers were pursued by the followers of Thor or of Indra. These claims, however, are not confirmed by any of the known activities of these peoples at the time.

  “And so, students, we have a mystery.” Mr. Tuck spread his hands. “How it could be that the Wise, who keep such scrupulous records—going back to the Age of Stone, when humans lived in caves and still drew pictures on walls—could have lost this crucial piece of information?” He shrugged his large shoulders. “No one knows.”

  “Pressing on.” He gestured. The next slide showed the leaning tower of Pisa. “Leaving the Americas, the floating island began to travel with the current. But this is a different matter for the Wise, to whom winds and currents bow, than it is for the Unwary. So our ancestors had some control over where Roanoke wandered.

  “Within a quarter of a century, the island had reached the Italian peninsula. There, Virginia Dare commissioned Leonardo da Vinci to design Roanoke Hall, which was then called Roanoke Castle. Mundane records claim Mr. da Vinci died over a hundred years before Roanoke’s arrival. But we of the Wise know that the venerable alchemist lived to the ripe old age of two hundred and three.

  “After that, the island traveled around the world, often taking a few decades to complete each circuit. Enchanters used their mastery of weather to influence which way the island drifted and to keep it from growing too warm or cold. Originally, the college at Roanoke only taught Enchantment and basic Enochian warding. They relied on mist and fog to keep them hidden in those days, not yet having the advantage of Obscuration. As they traveled and made new contacts, however, new branches of study were opened.”

  The screen displayed a black-and-white etching of an island surrounded by mist with a huge tree with seven branches rising from the center of the island, the same tree that Rachel and Sigfried had so recently seen laying fallen at Dutchman’s Cove.

  “In sixteen thirty seven, the island traveled to England, where John White was reunited with his daughter, Eleanor Whit
e Dare and where he met for the first time his now-grown granddaughter, Virginia. While there, the island was visited by the aged sorcerer extraordinaire, John Dee, who had retired from public life years before—upon a day that the Unwary still take to be the date of his death. Mr. Dee bequeathed his books to the college, and Dee Hall was built to house them. Does anyone know what Art was originally the focus of Dee Hall?”

  Students raised their hands, calling out answers as Mr. Tuck pointed at them.

  “Divination?”

  “Scholarly pursuit of pure wisdom?”

  “Omen readings?

  “No, those are the modern studies associated with Dee Hall, but what was the original purpose? Hmm? Anyone?”

  Rachel raised her hand. During the period of her life when she had kept a picture of Dee Hall hidden under her bed and dreamed of living in the dorm whose hallways were lined with books, she had read everything she could about the fascinating building. The memory of her love for Dee Hall and how the opportunity to live there had been denied to her still caused a lump in her throat.

  Alas, Mr. Tuck did not call on her.

  “Augustus Dee, I see you in the crowd,” boomed her language tutor. “You are an actual descendant of the great John Dee. Are you not?”

  The young man, a round-faced college student wearing glasses, rose to his feet.

  “I am!” he yelled back cheerfully, “for all the good it does me.”

  That earned him a laugh.

  “What was the Art originally studied at the hall named for your illustrious ancestor?”

  “Theurgy,” Augustus Dee answered smartly.

  “Which means—?” Mr. Tuck pressed.

  “The practice of rituals intended for the purpose of invoking the gods.”

  “And why, pray tell, Mr. Dee, is that Art no longer the centerpiece of Dee Hall today?”

  Augustus Dee stood straighter, “Because the gods no longer come. Elves come. Star fairies sometimes come. Chthonic monstrosities still come. But gods? Even demi-gods? No one has seen one in generations, not counting Rory Wednesday, of course.”

  The crowd burst out laughing. Rachel looked around the theater but saw no sign of the extraordinarily beautiful upperclassman who was rumored to be descended from Odin.

  “I mean no disrespect to the priests and monks and all,” added Augustus Dee. “I am sure that the gods still watch over us and come among us in secret. But, in the old days, they used to appear to us in the open quite regularly.”

  “And when, Mr. Dee, was the last verified sighting of a god or goddess by mortal eyes?” asked Mr. Tuck.

  Augustus replied with a big grin, “At the groundbreaking ceremony of Dee Hall. Athena walked upon the earth of this island and gave the hall her blessing. She has not been seen since.”

  Mr. Tuck gestured toward the screen, which showed a silhouette of the goddess of wisdom with an owl sitting on her shoulder. “Very good. Does anyone here know why that is?”

  No hands rose.

  “Anyone?” Mr. Tuck looked around hopefully. “Me, neither. And in that, we have yet another mystery. Why have the gods abandoned us? Or at least, no longer visit us openly?”

  Rachel did not raise her hand, but she recalled a cryptic comment made by Cassandra March, the wife of the Grand Inquisitor, when they had met her in dreamland: No real gods or angels are allowed on this world. Why was that? Was it because of this rule that the Raven had tried to keep them from speaking to the Lion? If so, who had made the rule? The Raven? If that were the case, why had he then declared that she had done something very, very right?

  It was almost as if she had been disobeying an ordinance that he was honor-bound to enforce but with which he disagreed. But, if the Raven had not established the rule, who could have done so? Whom did the Raven obey?

  Upon the stage, Mr. Tuck continued, “After that, Roanoke visited many distant lands. Our sorcerers would meet with their sorcerers. Occasionally, for different reasons, some foreign practitioners of the Sorcerous Arts would ask or agree to move to the island and teach.

  “From China came our first alchemists in the early seventeen hundreds. From India came the Art of Obscuration, hypnotism, and a whole Pandora’s Box of similar disturbing powers. From Prester John’s Kingdom, deep in Abyssinia, came wise men who recalled the Original Language once spoken in Sumeria, before the curse of tongues robbed men of the Gift of Moira.

  “From Prussia came thaumaturges, those who could weave together the powers of the other Arts into potent spells. From Australia and New Zealand, shamans who knew the ways of the Long-Ago Dreamtime and could draw gifts from the sky—what we call Conjuring. From many tribesmen on various continents came taboos that have been added to the Enochian Arts—the Art of Warding said to have been established by an ancient sage named Enoch. Enoch is said to have built the first city. Or perhaps it was the first city wall. Accounts differ.”

  Slides went by showing ornate Mandarins surrounded by Chinese water dragons—who looked much like Lucky; elegant Rajas atop war elephants; silhouetted Ethiopians holding conversation with the brooks and trees; German scholars bent over great tomes; and Aborigines pulling balls and snakes from mid-air.

  Rachel wondered if the aborigines were from Australia or Magical Australia. Did Magical Australia have aborigines? She knew they had emus and wombats and kookaburras, but Nastasia had not said much about the people her father ruled.

  “As Roanoke Island traveled from place to place,” Mr. Tuck continued, “sorcerers from different countries, different continents even, began to meet, to speak, to swap knowledge and expertise. The idea began to germinate that perhaps there should be some kind of community, a council that could handle problems and decide disagreements.

  “Thus was born the Parliament of the Wise. It was not a parliament at first. That came about fifty years later, in the seventeen forties. Though the Charter was revised again in seventeen ninety two to reflect some of the wisdom of the American experiment—as it was known at the time.

  “Oh, and Roanoke was right here in America during the Revolution, fighting side by side with their fellow colonists, despite our strong ties to England. Several of the founding fathers were educated here on the island. Most notably, the great alchemist Benjamin Franklin, whose works we continue to study today. Other members of the founding fathers who studied…” Mr. Tuck waved a hand. “But I digress again.

  “As time went on, members of the Wise began to chafe at having a government seat whose location could not be predicted. So, in eighteen twenty four the government left Roanoke Island. First it met in London. Then, for several decades, it moved every few years, from Vienna to Johannesburg to Verhängnisburg to Kyoto to Thulhavn and finally Machu Picchu, where it resided for over a decade. But it was eventually agreed that this inland, mountainous location was too remote—travel glasses not being as prevalent as they are now. So, in eighteen fifty two, the Parliament of the Wise settled permanently in its current location, in the Republic of Cathay—which, as the Wise-born among you know, is south of China but north of Vietnam.

  “After the Parliament of the Wise departed the island, those who stayed behind reorganized, forming Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts. The College at Roanoke was divided into the current college and the Upper School. The Lower School was built four decades later, in eighteen sixty four, before that older and younger children had been educated together.”

  Mr. Tuck gestured to the screen. Images flashed by showing Roanoke Hall, the seven dormitories and the Tudor-style castle of the Lower School, with its tall round spires.

  “Now, finally, we come to the very first mystery I mentioned: why I, and not Mr. Gideon or Mr. Sanchez or one of the other Scholars, am speaking to you today. For the two hundredth and fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the college at Roanoke, the island returned to England. During this visit a very important event occurred. Can you guess what it was?” Mr. Tuck leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Anybody?” He looked back and forth, squintin
g at an arm that was raised in the dark auditorium. “No comments from those of you who have heard me give this speech before.

  “No? I shall tell you. It was in this year, eighteen sixty four, that my great-grandfather, Onesimus Tuck, joined the staff at Roanoke Academy.” He bowed toward the audience then gestured toward the screen. The slide showed a portrait of a portly bearded man dressed in the style of the early nineteenth century. “Yes, it is true. I am that rare bird, the native Roanokean.”

  Applause briefly drowned him out. When it grew quiet again, Mr. Tuck continued, “My father taught here, as did his father, and his father before him—Onesimus Tuck himself. I grew up in the same cottage in the Staff Village where my children live today.”

  He gestured at his little ones. The girl hid her face shyly, but the little boy leapt to his feet and stuck out his tongue at the audience, sparking laughter.

  Mr. Tuck continued, “You may have heard that when the Terrible Five first came to Roanoke, they slew the school’s seven most potent sorcerers, hoping to scare the rest. My father was one of those seven. I was away that year, having already graduated. I was doing advanced studies in Mesopotamia. When I heard the news, I returned. I was one of only five people who came back to Roanoke, when so many were fleeing. I was here, twenty-five years ago, come May, for the Battle of Roanoke. I fought. I was wounded. I lived.

  “A great many of my friends and two of my siblings were not so lucky.”

  Mr. Tuck took off his mortarboard hat with its green tassel and held it against his chest, bowing his head out of respect for the deceased. There was a moment of silence. Rachel bowed her head, too, and silently repeated one of the traditional rhymes to quiet the uneasy dead.

 

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