Quintessence Sky

by David Walton

  "Come in and close the door," Dee said.

  Ramos did so. It left them standing close together in the musty dimness. It was a meeting place unlikely to be discovered by anyone, and no wonder. Dee held a trusted position in Mary's court, privy to many of her secrets. If he was passing information to Elizabeth, he was risking torture and death. But then, why was he talking to Ramos? Ramos was a Spaniard, after all, and a Jesuit, loyal to the king. Wasn't Dee afraid he would reveal his duplicity?

  "The question to consider," Dee said, not looking up from the manuscript, "is why does the position of the stars at the moment of a person's birth affect his future? The stars are distant, and the moment fleeting."

  Ramos's head spun at the sudden launch into metaphysics. "You're asking if horoscopes work?"

  "Certainly they do," Dee said, setting down the paper. "It's the basis of astrology. Someone born in March under Saturn has different loves, different strivings, and a different future than someone born in July under Mars. But why? What is the connection between a person and a star?"

  "First things first," Ramos said. He held up the folded note. "Did you send me this letter?"

  Dee pursed his lips, annoyed. "Of course I did."

  "But you are loyal to the queen."

  "I'm loyal to the truth. A mutual friend told me you were as well. Is that not so?"

  "Yes. But I wish to know what kind of conspiracy I'm getting involved with."

  "No conspiracy. No plot. I seek only to learn the truth of matters kept hidden by the strictures of politics."

  "Or of religion."

  Dee cocked his head. "Is there a difference?"

  "Why didn't Mary ask you to cast her horoscope instead of me?"

  "She did. She didn't like the result."

  "And Philip doesn't trust you."

  Dee sighed. "I have a cousin, Blanche Parry, who is a maid to the Princess Elizabeth."

  "Leading Philip to doubt your total devotion to Mary."

  "Quite."

  "So despite the fact that the king's fears were well-founded, and you are passing information to the princess, you want me to believe that this conversation has nothing to do with Elizabeth's desire to take the throne from her sister?"

  "It may have everything to do with it, but we must set aside such questions and consider only what is true. Enough of politics. My question?"

  Ramos wasn't accustomed to being treated as a pupil, but he hid his irritation. "The connection between a person and a star? Perhaps there is none at all. Perhaps each heavenly body emits rays of force which influence a spirit at the moment it comes into the world, more or less, depending on its place in the sky. The nature of that spirit is permanently set by that initial influence."

  Dee carefully rolled the manuscript he had been reading into a tight cylinder. "But can the spirit not change? Is its essence fixed?" He held the manuscript near the candle. "Can I not change this parchment into ash, and thus change its essence?"

  "The essence of a soul must be immutable."

  Dee nodded. "I used to think so. But my thoughts were overturned by recent events."

  "You mean the novas."

  "Of course."

  Ramos considered before answering. "The appearance of a nova in that constellation affected the people born under that constellation. So you are right; there must still be a continuing connection between the people and the stars."

  "Yes. This is the crux of the matter. The nature of a soul may, in fact, change, but no matter how much it changes, the connection of force still remains."

  Ramos felt something click in his brain, like a padlock opening. The bell-boxes connected to each other invisibly across great distances as well. Just as the spirits of the mad must somehow have been connected to their constellations. Were the two types of connections the same? The stars were in the heavens; the boxes on Earth. Could they really be driven by the same rules? And yet, quintessence had come from Horizon, where the heavens and the earth almost met.

  Ramos felt dizzy, like the whole earth was spinning with him at the center. Though perhaps it was just the foundations of his life that were spinning. He should walk away right now. He had met this man, and heard his thoughts; he shouldn't get any more entangled. It would mean his life, and Antonia's life as well. But if they could get to the heart of the matter . . . then Antonia's life might be saved.

  The next step, however, was to share with Dee what he himself knew, and that was a line over which he could not return once he crossed it. It was one thing to meet with another astrologer in a library and talk about the stars. It was quite another to share state secrets with a man he knew to be a spy. In the end, he didn't hesitate very long. He wanted answers, and he wasn't finding them himself. Not fast enough, anyway. Already, from only ten minutes conversation with Dee, he had learned more than he knew before. He needed a collaborator.

  "Come," Ramos said. "I have some things to show you."

  RAMOS paused at the cellar door. On the way, he had prepared Dee with the history of the San Salvador and its voyage from Horizon, the wonders the sailors had returned with, and some of what he had so far discovered. Dee merely raised an eyebrow at the story of the Ignis Dei and its role in the burning of Charles Shiveley, and Ramos remembered that Elizabeth had already seemed to know. Had she learned it from Dee? Or had she been the one to tell him?

  This was the point of no return. So far, he had only exchanged some philosophical banter with a member of the court. To lead him into the secret cellar, however, was advancing into willful disregard of the king's command. He descended first, to be sure neither Barrosa nor the king was already there, and when he found it deserted, returned for Dee.

  Ramos showed him the animals, the gold, the shekinah and pearls. He explained how he had come upon the idea for the Ignis Dei, and demonstrated the power of the invisible bird's saliva. Dee became more and more animated, ruminating on the nature of matter and the likelihood of other planes of existence. When they reached the bell-boxes, Dee agreed with him instantly that the quintessence connection that joined the boxes must be of the same kind as that which joined people with the stars of their birth.

  They were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and footsteps descending the stairs. Both men froze. They were trapped; there was no other way out of the cellar, and no place to hide. Ramos had not yet mastered the bird's trick of invisibility. It could only be one of two men on those stairs, and either one meant disaster.

  It was Barrosa. He reached the bottom before he noticed them, and he froze as well, joining the tableau of shocked discovery. Then he laughed.

  Dee laughed as well, and the two men embraced. Ramos watched them, still unable to move, his mouth slightly agape.

  "I told you we could trust him," Barrosa said.

  Ramos sank into a seat, feeling weak. "I don't understand."

  "I told Dee you loved truth more than politics. I told him you were smart, that we needed your mind, and that you would understand the importance of considering the question of the novas without political interference. But I never dreamed . . .!"

  Ramos was starting to feel like he'd been tricked. "Dreamed what?"

  "I've been sneaking around, meeting with Dee for a month, but I never dreamed of actually bringing him down here. I barely even told him about these things; I just dropped hints, because I knew if any breath of them leaked out, the king would know I was the source. The risk was just too great. And here you are, the first time you meet, giving him the full tour!"

  "I have to know the truth," Ramos said. "Antonia . . ."

  Barrosa clapped him on the shoulder. "I know, old friend."

  Comprehension dawned. "You!" Ramos said. "You're the one talking to Elizabeth. That's how she knew so much about me."

  Barrosa nodded with a chuckle.

  "But . . . why? You're a Spaniard. Why spy for an English woman?"

  "This has nothing to do with politics. It's no conspiracy to put Elizabeth on the throne. But she's not like oth
er monarchs. She cares about what's true, not just what serves her interests. She's not content with shallow, thoughtless explanations that protect the status quo. And she knows people." He indicated Dee. "She brought us together, and she'll find more. If the madness is just a curse from God, there's nothing we can do about it. But if it's a natural phenomenon, based on quintessence, then just maybe it's something we can understand and do something about."

  Ramos thought of Antonia, and he knew this was the right course. But how could the right course be contrary to the ways of God? Unless God wasn't on the Church's side after all. Ramos felt seasick, as if the solid deck he thought he was standing on was now pitching up and down in the wind, liable to capsize without warning. Who was he anymore? The masts of his life were split and tumbling on either side, and yet he felt oddly sure that he was heading in the right direction.

  "Count me in," he said.

  RAMOS continued to visit Elizabeth, ostensibly to hear her confession. He grew more and more in awe of her, a young woman barely more than a child, yet wiser than her years, and with the strength of a lion. He continued to try to convince her to recant and swear allegiance to the Roman Church, but she refused.

  When the days grew hot, Philip and Mary moved court to Richmond Palace for the summer. Removing anything from the cellar was a terrible risk, but Ramos decided it was worth the gamble. John Dee's mother was still alive and living in Mortlake High Street, not far from Richmond, so Ramos and Barrosa and Dee decided to set up headquarters there. Ramos moved Antonia to Mortlake and began to spend most of his time there, when he was not expected at the palace. Ramos and Barrosa smuggled in as many things as they dared so they could expand their experiments beyond what the cellar would allow.

  The first thing Ramos tried was the bell-box again, this time with Barrosa and Dee with him. He was desperate to talk to the Horizon colonists, to find out what they knew, and to warn them of the ships heading their way.

  They tried the lever again and again, but with no response. The bell never rang. Either the colonists were dead, or had fled, or were afraid he was their enemy and so refused to answer. They might even suspect that the connection had been a ruse to gain their confidence or discover their position. He knew it wouldn't be easy to gain their trust, but it would be impossible if he could never speak to them.

  Ramos told Barrosa and Dee about the brief conversation he'd had with what he assumed were Horizon colonists. They were as astonished as he, especially since the bell-box connection to La Magdalena didn't work that way at all. Pressing the lever rang the bell on the other side, which was miraculous enough, but it couldn't transmit a person's voice. The boxes looked the same, and seemed to be of the same design. What was different?

  "They're the same on this end," Dee pointed out. "That doesn't mean they're the same on the other end."

  Ramos snapped his fingers. "Of course. The colonists must have improved the design. But how?"

  It took them three days to figure it out. Once he knew it was possible, Ramos was relentless in trying to discover the secret, and of course, he didn't have many options to try. It did occur to him the colonists could be using some tool only available on the island, a special plant or something taken from a Horizon animal, but that didn't stop him. He tried everything he could think of, until at last, despite Barrosa's warning of the dangers and the likelihood that the box itself would be destroyed, he carefully tipped a drop of vitriol into the glowing heart of the ironfish skull.

  The void sprang into being, small at first, but glowing.

  "Hello?" Ramos said. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

  CHAPTER 19

  MATTHEW and Parris ran at the head of the line wending its way through the forest toward the distant mountains. They needed to reach the foothills, at the edge of which lived the red manticores, the tribe most accepting, if not exactly welcoming, of the human presence on the island. Whether they realized it or not, the Spanish were their mutual enemy. He needed to convince them of that fact, and enlist their help. If he could convince them to help find Catherine, or at least learn for certain if she was dead, so much the better.

  The line was spreading out. With enough salt, they could run without growing tired, but they had long since used up whatever reserves their bodies held. At least there were no injured, since even without a supply of salt, their bodies healed almost immediately. Matthew's father lagged somewhere at the back of the line. Ferguson, on the other hand, walked at the front, sometimes even pressing ahead of Matthew, as if he were leading the way.

  Finally, as it grew dark again, Matthew called a halt to the column. They would have to spend the night under the stars. They posted sentries to watch for the many enemies that could do them harm: the manticores, the Spanish, or even nocturnal predators. Matthew volunteered for the first watch.

  When the light of the blazing sun finally disappeared, leaving the forest lit by rays of ethereal starlight slanting in from the west, Blanca found him. Most of the colonists were asleep, or settling down for the night. Tomorrow's journey would be even more difficult: uphill into the foothills of the mountains.

  "Blanca," he said. "About the other night. I don't think we—"

  "Never mind about that. I brought you something." She held out a broken piece of wood. "He's talking again."

  "What? Who?"

  "The man from England."

  Matthew's mind felt blurred with exhaustion, and it took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. "Tavera, you mean? The one from the orphaned bell-box?"

  She nodded. He couldn't read her expression in the starlight shadows.

  "But it was all destroyed," he said. "The jawbone, the box, it was all swallowed up in the void. The end of the thread was still there, but it wasn't attached to anything, and now it's all burned away."

  "Remember how I threw a piece of wood into the void?" she said. "I kept the other piece in my pocket. I still have it, and just now, while I was running . . . I heard him talking."

  Matthew took the piece from her and turned it over in his hands. Another mystery. A piece of this wood had been thrown into the void. Like any living or formerly-living thing, the two pieces would have been joined by a thread, one side in the void, the other side in the world. But when the void had snapped shut, what had happened to the thread?

  He lifted the wood close to his mouth. "Can anyone hear me?"

  The response was immediate. "This is Ramos de Tavera."

  Matthew's skink tears had long since worn off, but he had no trouble believing that the thread from the piece of wood in his hand stretched all the way back to the spot where the void had closed, where the second floor of the Quintessence Society building used to be. He'd seen often enough the peculiar ways that quintessence threads could stretch and follow an object wherever it traveled, yet without getting tangled with the thousands of other threads stretching through space. The incredible thing was that this thread, apparently trapped and held by the edges of the closing void, seemed to operate as an extension of the thread connecting the old bell-box to England. Like tying together two strings to make one, he was now somehow talking through a piece of wood, connected with a hole in reality, connected to one half of a bell-box on the other side of the world.

  "What do you want?" Matthew asked.

  Ramos spoke in a deep, accented voice. "Am I speaking with the Horizon colony?"

  "You could say that." What did the man want? His gunships had already taken over the harbor. Was he demanding their surrender?

  "This is a warning," Ramos said. "There are five ships, galleons of war filled with soldiers and guns, coming to attack you. Their orders are to kill you and plunder your gold and shekinah worms and quintessence pearls. Do you understand?"

  "Is this a joke? Don’t think this is over. You might think you understand this island, but you have some surprises waiting for you."

  "No. What? I make no joke. King Philip sent the ships months ago. He—"

  "Do you really not know?"
r />   "Know what?"

  "The ships are here. They're in our harbor. We were forced to flee into the mountains." Matthew didn't mention that this was mostly because he had burned down the settlement.

  A pause. "Then I am too late."

  "I'd say so. Now you answer some questions for me. Are you telling me the San Salvador made it back to England? Are Francis Vaughan and the others alive?"

  "No one is alive from that ship. Many died on the way; the rest died shortly after. Only one shekinah flatworm and five pearls remain of what the ship carried when she set sail. A few animals as well, and a few artifacts like this amazing box with its bell and bones. We have been investigating these things. They are quite wonderful."

  Despite himself, Matthew felt a flush of pride at the compliment, but he remained suspicious. "Who is 'we'? Are you an agent of the king? You must be, if you're in the palace."

  A pause, longer this time. "I am not in the palace now. There are three of us here: myself, Juan Barrosa, and John Dee. We . . . are operating outside of the king's authority. He would not have wanted us to warn you about the ships."

  "How do I know you're telling the truth? You could have waited until the ships arrived, and then pretended to warn me to gain my trust. If you could make contact, why did you wait until now to do it?"

  "We do not know as much as you. It took many tries to make the void and speak with you."

  Matthew's jaw dropped. "You figured that out? To make a void on your end?"

  "Now the box is destroyed, though. Once this void is gone, I fear we will be unable to speak again."