Max Quick: The Bane of the Bondsman (Max Quick Series Book 3)

by Mark Jeffrey

  But Sparkle simply stood there, calm as a plant.

  “I would speak your name,” Sparkle said with a thick African accent, “but that is unwise in the here and now. Nevertheless, I would invite you in so that we may speak more plainly. Won’t you enter?” Sparkle gestured into his room, as if he were the consummate host.

  Max almost laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Sparkle shook his head. “I am no longer trying to kill you. I sought to prevent the Machine from completing its purpose and thus prevent the rise of the Bondsman. But I failed.” Sparkle indicated the world around them with a gesture. “And you have not even seen it yet, this miserable world that the Bondsman made! You have witnessed only this Hotel, this playground of the Elites. You have not recked the ghetto and filth that comprises the bulk of the earth beyond this shining place. No. There is no reason to kill you any longer. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  Max fidgeted in the doorway. “Maybe you still have a good reason and you’re just not telling me about it.”

  Sparkle chuckled. “Even if I did, things are different now, no? You have the power. You could slay me with a thought. In fact, it is I who should fear you! And yet, I called you to me. Do you not want to hear what I have to say? Are you not curious?”

  Max though for a moment and then entered the room, closing the door behind him. “Alright. Talk. But I’d better be wowed. If not …” Max eyed Marvin Sparkle’s midsection pointedly. “I might even the score.”

  Sparkle’s eyes narrowed. “You have much to answer for, Max Quick. This world is your doing. You would do well to listen. And I may be able to help you.”

  Max’s eyes darted around the room. Was he in danger?

  It was hard to tell. Sparkle seemed sincere. And he was probably no friend of the Bondsman’s. After all he, too, had labored to stop the Machine, albeit in his own twisted way.

  But Sparkle was right. The tables had flipped: Max could cook him in a heartbeat now. Even with his size and theurgy, Marvin Sparkle was no match for him now.

  When Sparkle sat down, Max did the same.

  Without preamble, Marvin Sparkle said: “You must leave your friends. You must come with me.”

  Max actually did laugh aloud this time.

  Sparkle insisted: “It is imperative that you do.”

  “And where would we go?”

  “To the City-State of the World Emperor. To the very lair of the Bondsman himself.”

  Max’s lips tugged up into a smile. “Really. And why would we go there?”

  “So that you can defeat him. So that you can destroy him with your new power. So that you can undo what you have done, and set the world aright again.”

  “You know what? You’re insane.” Max rose and headed for the door.

  Marvin Sparkle spoke his next words very slowly and precisely, as if reciting verse: “The bane of the Bondsman hangs heavily upon us all. But none more so than Max Quick, who has authored it as surely as the sun authors day.”

  Max spun on him. “You’re one to talk! You’ve been trying to kill me since we first met. And now you want me to trust you?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I ask,” Sparkle shot back. “And why not? Already, you place your trust in those who deserve it less than I, though they have hidden this from you. You believe that you trust Enki, and that he is worthy of your trust. Very well. Did you know that Enki spent centuries trying to kill you before ever I did?”

  That slapped Max upside the head. Enki tried to kill –?

  Was that even possible?

  “Before your cryptomnesia, Enki believed that your death was the only way to ensure that you would not grow to become a threat. He would say, ‘A baby cub grows up to become a lion. Were we to care for and feed that cub in its youth, and it were to grow and devour us when it was older, as it is its nature to do, would we not be to blame? Would not the foolishness, the blame, ultimately lie with us’?”

  Max met Sparkle’s level gaze. “How do you know this?” Max asked.

  “In the Abzu,” Sparkle replied. “When I lived in the jungles of Africa. When I stumbled upon the mountain of metal, the ancient compound of Enki and Ninti I entered — and plumbed its secrets. Within, I found the diary of Enki. It took the form of an omphalos, a jewel that spoke. For days, I listened to it. It told the tale of the boy Damiz, who was the result of a breeding program designed by Archons. Enki agonized over you. He knew that if he let you live, billions would suffer. But killing you was not a choice he relished. Yet in the end … in the end, he decided that wisdom demanded your death.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Max said. “You’re lying.”

  “I would not lie to you about such a thing, Max Quick.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve already had it with your fake friendship. You sliced me open! I ought to just fry you where you stand.”

  Sparkle shrugged. “I would welcome it if you were to fry the Bondsman directly following that.”

  Max stared at him for a moment, and then turned and sat back down. “Okay,” Max snapped. “Where did you come from? And how did you find me?”

  Sparkle leaned forward with eyes of fire. “I lived, Max Quick. You came here directly from 1912, so for you it has been mere days. But for me, it has been decades. I have not aged. I stayed alive, from that time until this – a discipline of regulating this illusion of body that I learned from Europa Romani. I endured, so that I might one day find you.

  “As for how I located you … there are may things which led me here to the Shell Hotel. But chief among these was a depression in chance.”

  Max blinked. “A depression in …?”

  “Random events are less random in your presence. Chance itself is affected by your very proximity. Near you, a tossed coin is no longer fifty percent heads, fifty percent tails. This is a result of your immense power, now unlocked and awakened.

  “Suspecting this, I had many measurement devices placed throughout the world. These were simple electronic random number generators. As the time and place of your arrival drew near, Max Quick, the randomness of probability itself dropped, like pressure in a barometer: a sign that a storm was coming. And thus, I knew your arrival was imminent.

  “About a year ago, I detected significant localized anomalies near the Shell Hotel. So I came. It was soon clear that the Shell Hotel itself was the center of this phenomenon. So, I got a room here. And I waited. In fact, I believe one of your party spotted me briefly as I hid in the bushes.”

  “How did you recognize me?”

  “Ah,” Marvin Sparkle smiled a wide grin. “I have been over much in my mind these many years. And my mind does not forget a detail. And I remember a time in 1912 where I chased a younger version of you — and I ran into the young man I see before me now. You did not yet have your power — it was in truth a French girl who stopped me from slaying your younger self. Your companion.”

  “Michelle LeVeux,” Max said quietly. Michelle had turned out to be a traitor — and she had joined with Millicent Madworth in the end during the fight to destroy the Machine.

  “Yes. That was the one. Romani’s ward. But you — the you I see before me — I knew it was you when I spied you on the veranda days ago. And Enki — the Old One — certainly, he would be recognizable anywhere.”

  At that moment, Maurice entered from an adjoining room. “Oh. Hey. Sorry man, am I interrupting?”

  Max stood up in alarm. “Wait. You know this guy?”

  “Max, this is Maur —“

  “Yeah we’ve met. He broke into our room.”

  “Ah yes. That,” Sparkle said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I am sorry for that mishap. I did not ask him to do that … he acted on his own, out of a genuine concern for all of you. But it was I who whisked him away, yes. I did not want to unduly alarm you.”

  “Unduly …! You bet we were alarmed!” Max turned to Maurice and stuck a finger in his collarbone. “If you ever do something like that again, I’ll personally make sure you don’
t walk away again. Stay away from our room!”

  Maurice nodded, cowed. “You got it man. Yeah, that was uncool of me. Sorry.”

  Then Max turned to Marvin. “As for you — I’m not coming with you. So you can get that out of your head right now.”

  Marvin rose and bowed low. “As you wish. But I will be here if you reconsider.”

  “How long are you staying at the Hotel? No wait. Don’t answer that. As long as I am, right?” Sparkle nodded. “And if I leave, you’re going to follow me. Aren’t you?” This time, Marvin was silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  And with that, Max turned and left the room.

  But on his return walk, Max couldn’t help but keep thinking about Marvin Sparkle’s claim that Enki had tried to kill him in his youth.

  WHEN HE ARRIVED back in the Pearl Suite, he found Enki already up, scrambling eggs. Sasha was on the couch, reading a newspaper.

  “Oh, Max! Hello!” Enki said cheerily. “Eggs?” Max nodded. “Went for a walk, eh? The Dream troubling you?”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “That and some memories surfacing.”

  “Oh,” Enki said. “Anything in particular?”

  “Enki. Did you try to kill me when I was younger?”

  Sasha looked up, startled.

  Enki did not turn around. But his scrambling hand stopped scrambling. The egg beater went limp in his hand and the lines in his back tensed up. After a moment he continued silently and to slowly complete cooking the eggs. When he was finished, he served a plate to Sasha and Max, wordlessly, eyes averted.

  Then he sat. After a long pause, he looked up at Max and said, “Yes. That is true.”

  Max sat back in shock. He wanted to believe it was a lie. It had come from Marvin Sparkle, after all! But he already knew it was the truth … Sparkle knew Max would try to confirm the claim. And in advance, Sparkle know exactly what he would discover.

  “As I have said, once cannot live thousands of years and not commit very serious errors of judgement. I am sure you will recall your own transgressions in time, Max, and you will find them equally distasteful and inconsistent with who you are now. Where you and I differ is that I sit here now and must confront face-to-face the one I almost so horribly wronged.”

  Max nodded slowly. “So you admit it. It’s true.”

  “Yes,” Enki said, “But you were too young to remember. How is it you recall this?”

  Max shugged. “I don’t recall the details. But do I recall the feeling of being in danger around you,” Max lied. “You tried to kill me because you thought I might cause all this — the world of the Bondsman, or something like it — to happen.”

  Enki nodded. “That is so. Though I did not know specifically, I suspected a world filled with wetiko.”

  “Wetiko? What is wetiko?”

  “Forgive me,” Enki gave a brief smile. “And old Indian word. Its meaning is difficult to convey, for the act of describing it gives it power, and makes the meaning less precise. It is a thing experienced, not uttered for utterance destroys its meaning. That having been said, it means … loosely … filled with Archontic-ness.”

  “Evil?”

  “No. Not exactly, though it has that connotation. More precisely, illusion. Maya. But harmful illusion, obfuscation of the soul that leads to wickedness and greed and fear. Good and evil are opposites — binary poles, within the enchantment of wetiko. In reality both are always present. Good and evil, are in fact, a construct of wetiko. Wetiko teaches absolutes, divisions, the seconds on the face of the clock. Two was the very first lie, and it was wetiko who told it.”

  Max shook his head in confusion. “So you thought I would bring about … what, more illusion? More evil illusion?”

  “Yes,” Enki said. “And this world we are in seems to be drenched in it, to a degree that even our subconscious minds are now filled with it because we partake of this shared reality. Hence the Dream.”

  “So what happened? Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “Ninti happened. Ninti stayed my hand. Else I admit — you would be slain.”

  Max was still processing the fact that Enki had tried to kill him.

  “I am sorry,” Enki said. “Truly I am. It was a very long time ago. The world was different. I was different, very different. I have learned much since those days. Please, if you can, forgive me.”

  Sasha watched this exchange wide-eyed and silently.

  Max nodded and then said, “Forget about it.” He dove into his eggs and devoured them like he hadn’t eaten in days. But truthfully wasn’t sure how he felt about Enki now.

  He decided he would keep his encounter with Marvin Sparkle to himself for the time being.

  He realized that he no longer fully trusted Enki.

  LATER THAT morning, there was a knock on the door.

  Enki opened it: Maurice stood there. “Hey …” he said. “I … uh … well I cam to apologize.” Enki regarded him for a moment and then bid him to enter.

  Casey and Sasha rolled up on the balls of their feet when they saw Maurice. Their hands twitched near their weapons.

  “Hi ladies,” Maurice said. “What I did the other day … that was completely uncool of me. So I wanted to say, sorry and stuff. But I also wanted to let you know that I was really just trying to help you all. And I do want sanctuary.”

  Max stood and approached him. “Maurice. How did you know we were here? How do you even know who were are?” Max knew the answer, of course. But he wanted to see what Maurice would say.

  Their eyes met for a moment and the Maurice said, “Marvin Sparkle told me, man. He’s a friend.”

  “And where is Marvin Sparkle now?” Max asked.

  “Dead,” Maurice said, holding Max’s gaze. “He died weeks ago. The Bondsman got him. But not before he told me you cats would be here at the Shell. And he told me if anything happened to him I had to come here and help you all get up to speed.”

  “How did Marvin Sparkle know we would be here?” Enki asked, stroking his beard.

  “I dunno, man,” Maurice said. “He knew all kinds of crazy things I never understood. But he was my friend, he helped me out in several jams … so I’m here, doing what he asked.”

  “Very well,” Enki said. “One last question. How did you vanish so quickly the last time you were here?”

  “With this,” Maurice said, holding up a bracelet. It was the same kind of bracelet Mr. E had given the company during the time of the Pocket. “Makes you able to go really fast. You guys scared me so I bolted — and I know that was kind of rude. Won’t happen again.”

  Enki eyed Maurice suspiciously but did not challenge him.

  “Okay,” Enki said. “We accept you and give you asylum among us. Since you know who we are,” Enki said, overriding the protests of both Casey and Sasha, “I would feel better with you nearby rather than somewhere I cannot see you. But have a care! Should you prove treacherous in any way, we are not defenseless. And we will not hesitate to deal with you. And if you are sleep here, you will do so chained. That is non-negotiable.”

  Maurice nodded. “Yeah man. I reach. Completely understand.”

  And Maurice and Max’s gaze locked and Max realized that in that moment they had become co-conspirators: only they knew a secret that the rest of the company did not — that Marvin Sparkle was alive and well and living on the first floor of the Shell Hotel.

  That, and Marvin Sparkle had told Max the truth about Enki.

  Three: The Lost Legion

  A SWIRL of noise woke the boy who would someday be named Max Quick. It took him a full five minutes to recall that he was in the home of Giovanni di Cyranus.

  He sprang up from the fine featherbed at once, instinctively distrusting its seductive comfort. He noticed that he had been cleaned and dressed in crisp new clothes. Italian clothes. His hair and fingernails had been trimmed.

  The bedroom he was in was darkened with blinds. The noise was coming from outside: laborers were yelling. Curious, but not wanting to appear to i
nvade the rest of the house, the boy slowly opened the bedroom door – and gasped aloud at what he saw.

  The adjoining room was a wonderland.

  Several paintings of spectacular detail and vivid color hung on the walls. Most were portraits. Some were landscapes: rich vineyards with dark soil and even darker grapes. There was a seaport, with proud merchant ships docked to massive pillars and crumbling ruins. Another showed an aqueduct, half-eaten by time and moss, yet standing after more than a thousand years had passed since the old Roman Empire had fallen.

  Carefully, quietly, the boy stepped deeper into the room.

  Some of the paintings here were only partially completed: charcoal outlines ghosted the remainder of images where masterful strokes of painted color ended. There was a workbench with several scrolls, a half-finished sculpture, what seemed to be a wooden bird, a vial of a liquid that looked like blood, and another of a strange silver liquid. There was also a large sheet of parchment that showed a circular wafer-like device with the word ‘Nibironi’ on it.

  There was also a lute, leaning against the wall. Instinctively he picked it up and played a song — and old song — with mastery. His fingers danced on the strings.

  A girl suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Well,” she said, looking him up and down like he was a dirty thing, “You are not a Medici, that much is certain.”

  The boy gulped. “A Medi … what?”

  “You do not come from great wealth,” the girl explained. “You are the boy brought in the from the street, yes?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Do you have a name?”

  The boy opened his mouth and then shook his head.

  “Ragazzo,” the girl said helpfully. “Boy. That is what we will call you. Until you find your name.”

  The boy, now called Ragazzo, nodded. “And, if I may ask …”

  She smiled slightly. “I am called Venetia.”

  “And she is the light of my life – my daughter!” came a jovial voice from across the room. Giovanni di Cyranus strode through his workshop with steps as bold as the strokes of color on his canvases.