Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  Pru Tellerence placed the gospel on top of some others, making space for her miter. She blew the excess dust away as she carefully placed the headpiece on the table. She removed a key from inside the miter and slipped in in her pocket. ★We can lock this room now.

  They left the vault, pulling the door closed. A series of clanks sounded as the lock moved back into place. Johanna stared at the other doors.

  ★On another day, Johanna, after I have culminated my business here on Fantasia, I will explain the significance of each door.

  Johanna sighed. “I never knew they were here. I never knew this,” she swept her arm taking in the small vestibule, “existed.”

  ★There is much to learn. I will assist you upon my return. A moment later, Pru Tellerence disappeared.

  It took Johanna a second for the sudden disappearance to sink in. I guess that’s what she meant by her ‘own method of transportation.’

  ★

  An afternoon delivery made Johanna spend the rest of the day wondering why the head of the library board wasted a sizable amount of money on little gold pins with ‘LOI’ engraved on them. Not only were they expensive, they called attention to a library that didn’t want attention. He claimed they were for the library board, but only eight people sat on the board. The order she received contained one hundred pins.

  Johanna didn’t stop dwelling on the pin problem until the sun’s shadows lengthened and Pru Tellerence failed to return. The woman had been gone for hours, and Johanna wondered what could be taking her so long. She held off having dinner, not wanting to seem rude by eating without the overseer.

  By the time the clock struck ten, Johanna gave in to her growing hunger pangs and dialed the phone. “Hi, it’s Johanna Charette. I’d like to have a platter of lasagna and a salad delivered to the Library of Illumination.”

  “The kid just left on a whole bunch of deliveries,” the hostess answered. “By the time he gets back, it’ll be closing time. Do you want to come pick it up?”

  “I can’t. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Hot date, huh? No wonder Jackson is here without you.”

  “No. It’s nothing like that.” Johanna’s mind raced. “Could you put him on the phone?” THUNK. The phone hit the counter before the voice on the other side screamed Jackson’s name.

  “Johanna?”

  She relaxed at the sound of his voice. “Hey, are you doing something important?”

  “Shoveling pizza down my throat is very important. You never know when I’ll be called upon to save the future of the realm. I need to maintain my energy level.”

  “Pru Tellerence went out this morning around eleven and hasn’t returned yet. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “No. I’m just about done, and those other jokers I’m with probably won’t care one way or the other.”

  “Would you mind bringing my lasagna order with you?”

  “Ahhh, the truth comes out. I’m just the messenger boy.”

  “No. I held off eating dinner because I wanted to wait for her. Now the delivery guy is gone and there’s no one to bring my food. I need to be here in case she returns. However, I want to discuss the options with you, in case she doesn’t. It’s okay if you don’t bring dinner.”

  “Yeah. Guilt me into it.”

  She heard his muffled voice ask, “How long until Johanna’s order is ready?”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he told her before hanging up.

  ★

  Johanna jumped when the front wall slid open, and she frowned when she saw Jackson walk in with her dinner.

  “Wow. I thought you’d be happy to see me. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “I thought you were Pru Tellerence, although she didn’t use the door to get out, so I don’t know why she would use it to get back in. I just wasn’t expecting you to use the front entrance. You usually come in the back way.”

  “That’s when I have my bike. But Logan’s got new wheels, so he volunteered to drop me off.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t invite him in.”

  “He’s with Cassie and they’re driving over to the pier to spend a little private time together.”

  “Borrowed the car from mom, huh?”

  “Nope. He bought it while we were up on Lumina. Is that right? Up? If it’s not here on Earth, I think of it as being up, even if it’s straight out from the other side of the world, which would technically make it down.”

  “Up is fine.”

  “Anyway, his great aunt died and left him some money, so he bought a Mini Cooper.”

  “I guess they can’t get into too much trouble in a car that small.”

  Jackson laughed. “You don’t know Logan.”

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Consider it my treat—if you give me some. If you’re going to hog it all for yourself, then you owe me twenty bucks.”

  “Let’s go upstairs.”

  ★

  The edges of the leftover lasagna curled up as it dried out awaiting the overseer’s return. Jackson, his arm wrapped around Johanna, had fallen asleep on her couch. He woke when she jumped up to answer the phone. “He’s right here Mrs. Roth. I guess we fell asleep watching TV.” She handed the phone to Jackson.

  “Mom? … Sorry. … We fell asleep in front of the TV. … Church? … You’d better go without me. … Right. … Bye.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “She’s worried because I stayed out all night. She thought something horrible had happened to me.”

  “I know how she feels. Pru Tellerence isn’t back yet.”

  “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

  “She’s on an unfamiliar world and may have ended up in trouble.”

  “She’s an overseer.”

  “Plato Indelicat was an overseer, and they killed him.”

  “Okay. Let’s figure this out logically. Where did she go?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me? How am I supposed to help you if you don’t tell me?”

  “She’s doing something special for someone else and she made me promise I wouldn’t mention it to anyone. Not even the other overseers.”

  “She may be an overseer, but they don’t live forever. They can be injured and they do die. What if she’s lying at the bottom of a pit somewhere? I can’t help you if you don’t let me. Besides, I can keep a secret as good as the next guy.”

  “She’ll kill me.”

  “She wouldn’t dare. Besides, I know how to hurt her. I saw what happened when they knocked Plato Indelicat’s pope hat off his head. He shriveled up and died. I won’t let her touch a hair on your head.” He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

  Johanna pulled it away from him. “She’s not wearing a hat. And don’t go getting cute and sexy now, when Pru Tellerence could pop back into the room at any moment.”

  “Maybe she made herself doll-size, and she hiding out on your bookshelf.”

  “How do you know that? I saw her shrink her size today to fit into my suit and shoes. It was weird.”

  “On the night the Terrorians tried to invade the libraries, Selium Sorium made himself smaller than a G. I. Joe action figure and hid out next to the pencil cup on the circulation desk.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “There was so much going on while you were away. That was just a small point in a whole mess of details. I would have gotten around to mentioning it eventually.”

  “I guess I should take a shower.”

  “I’ll wash your back.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll go home and explain to your mother how we simply fell asleep after stuffing our faces with lasagna.”

  “She doesn’t care.”

  “I think she does. She worries about you and that’s a good thing. I’ve never had anyone worry about me and it’s a lone
ly way to grow up.”

  “I worry about you. So does Mal.”

  “That’s not the same thing. We’re friends. We worry about each other. But it’s not like a mother worrying about her child. That’s a special kind of love and shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

  “Fine. I’ll go home and see my mom. Maybe I’ll change my clothes. But then I’m coming back here to brainstorm with you in case P. T. is still missing.”

  “P.T.?”

  “She’s got a freakin’ long name and it sounds so formal. P.T. is just easier to say, you know?”

  “Um hmm.” She pushed him toward the door. “Go home.”

  ★

  Jackson rushed to return to Johanna, but before he could leave the house, his mother and younger sister returned from Sunday services.

  Ava scowled at him. “Nice of you to stop by for a visit.”

  He stared at her. Sarcasm? When did my sweet little sister turn into the enemy?

  “We were worried about you,” his mother said, setting her purse on the table. “If you’re going to spend the night with Johanna, at least say you’ll be at the library.”

  “I didn’t plan to spend the night at the library. She has an … uh … aunt staying with her and the woman went out last night and didn’t return when Johanna expected her to.”

  Ava folded her arms. “I thought Johanna was an orphan.”

  “She is. It was one of the women from … the … home where she was raised. She calls her ‘aunt’ as a term of endearment.” He could tell by the expressions on their faces they didn’t believe him. It was the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment. “Anyway, gotta go. Johanna is waiting for me.”

  “You just spent the night with her Jackson Ryan Roth. You’re eating lunch with us.”

  He had no choice. When his mother used his full name, she meant business. “Okay. Just let me call Johanna and tell her I won’t see her again until this afternoon. If she thinks two people are missing, it will drive her bonkers.”

  “So she deserves the courtesy of a call, but we don’t?” His sister turned with a huff and strode away. Jackson closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 21

  Later that afternoon on his way to the library, Jackson stopped for a bouquet of flowers for Johanna. Confronted by dozens of varieties, he stood glued before the showcase.

  “Can I help you?”

  He turned to find a woman standing next to him. “I need flowers for my girlfriend, but I don’t know what to pick.”

  “Long stemmed roses are always nice.”

  He frowned. “That may be a little too intense.”

  “What are you trying to say with your selection?”

  “What?”

  “What emotions are you hoping your flowers will ignite in her?”

  “Ignite ….” He nodded. “I want her to know I’m always here for her, you know? I want her to know I think the world of her.”

  “So you’re looking for something more friendly than romantic?”

  “No, friendly and romantic.”

  “I see.” She slid open the glass door to the showcase and selected flowers. “Roses are all about romance, but the paler colors have sweeter meanings. Tea roses mean always—one of the words you just used to describe what you’re trying to say. So let’s put together a selection of tea roses.” She chose some lavender stems. “These mean enchantment—.”

  “Enchantment is good.”

  “Coral for desire.”

  He blushed.

  “Pink for sweetness. Yellow for joy. We’ll round it out with baby’s breath for purity of heart and add maidenhair fern which signifies a special bond of love.”

  “Yeah. That’s good.”

  She wrapped everything in waxy tissue paper and tied it with a ribbon.

  He thanked her and paid the bill.

  ★

  Jackson dropped his bike behind the library and rushed through the back door to find Johanna curled up in a little ball on a reading room couch. “Is she back?”

  Johanna barely moved. “I think we should contact the overseers. She’s been gone more than twenty-four hours.”

  Jackson searched the cupola for the hook attached to its highest point. “We could do that, or we could give her another twenty-four hours just to be on the safe side. Not to mention, you said she didn’t want the other overseers to know what she’s up to, which is crazy considering they can all read each other’s thoughts. I wonder how long she thinks she can keep a secret?”

  “If she’s not back by tonight, I don’t think we’ll have any choice.”

  “Here.” He offered her the flowers. “I got these for you.”

  She managed a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful. I’d better put them in water.”

  He followed her up the stairs to her residence. After she finished arranging the flowers, Jackson pulled her close. “Now that we’re going to wait a little while before contacting the overseers, I know a few things we could do to pass the time.” He lowered his head to kiss her.

  “So do I,” she answered, twisting away from him. “We received a package yesterday and I’ve been waiting for you to open it.”

  “Great,” he replied without enthusiasm.

  “You don’t want to work on a book with me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’d love to work on a book with you.”

  “Good, it’s in the back.”

  ★

  Jackson inspected the stamp and postmark. “So where do you think Skokholm Island WAL is?”

  “It’s off the coast of Wales. I looked it up with Pru Tellerence the other day.”

  “Hand me that iPad, so I can look for a map while you open the box.” He surfed the web for a decent map and found one with a satellite view. “There’s not a lot there—a couple of buildings and a lighthouse. The rest is green space and rocky cliffs.”

  Johanna pulled a clump of dried hay out of the package and separated it from the treasure it protected. “The return address says it came from the lighthouse.”

  “Is it a bird book? This says the island is a bird sanctuary.”

  She examined the old book, which appeared to be handmade. The covering was fashioned out of thin hide stretched over two wood boards with a soft spine. It was no more than a container for the collection of very old papers tied up inside, but it did have one interesting detail. The front was hand-etched, “Myrddin Sóþspell,” in gold.

  Jackson stretched over to look at the book. “Myrddin Só… Sóbspell. Sópspell” Is that a “b” or a “p”?

  “Good question.”

  “You ever see that before?”

  “There are millions of books written in different languages. We could hardly be expected to be familiar with them all. And multiply that by all the realms.”

  “Yeah. But this one doesn’t come from another realm. It comes from Wales.” He typed variations of Myrddin Sóþspell into the iPad. “Google has no matching documents.”

  “Access the database and see if we have an Old English dictionary.”

  “What good is an old dictionary?”

  “Not old as in aged, old as in Old English, which came before Middle English, which came before modern English—which is what we’re speaking. At least, I am.” She untied the leather cords holding the sheaf of papers together and pulled out a heavy piece of beautifully illustrated parchment showing a man at work behind a table laden with bowls and crockery. She stroked a corner with her finger to test the integrity of the colors. As soon as she touched it, a man appeared. He spoke in a language she didn’t understand.

  Jackson looked up. “This says some guy named Myrddin was the inspiration for Merlin the magician. Do you think that’s him?”

  The vision of the man became hazy for a moment, then re-gained clarity until he stood solidly before them. “If you summoned me in this manner, it means my life’s work is in danger.”

  “Hey, he speaks English.” J
ackson said. “Do you think he knows the same kind of enchantment the overseers use so everyone understands him?”

  Johanna ignored Jackson. “Who are you?”

  “I am called Myrddin Emrys.”

  “Yep. He’s the guy Merlin is based on.” Jackson turned to their visitor. “So, like, can you do magic and stuff?”

  “I am a bard, a philosopher, and a prophet.”

  Jackson held up the iPad. “This says you’re a shape shifter, a sorcerer, and a wizard.”

  “Why did you call me here?”

  “We didn’t call you,” Johanna answered. “We received a collection of manuscripts sent to us from Wales. When we opened it, you appeared.”

  “I must see the wrappings.”

  Johanna handed him the crude packaging. Myrddin carefully examined it until he spotted a bit of wax holding two sections together. He removed a small blade from a sheath buried within the folds of his robe and used it to carefully pry the pieces apart. He ran his thumb over a waxy red disc with a recessed seal in its center. “The Brotherhood,” he whispered. He turned the package over. “Who is Johanna Charette?”

  “I am.”

  “Why would the Brotherhood send this to you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He looked at the packaging again. “The Library of Illumination.” His eyes widened and his mouth opened. “I must have time to contemplate. Allow me to return to the confines of my memoir for a full sun and moon before calling upon me again.”

  Jackson held out the cover. “Wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “How do you pronounce this?” He showed him the cover.

  Myrddin ran his fingers over it. “Myr-thin Soth-spell. It is what you might call my memoir. But it’s more. A diary. A journal. A collection of important documents and formulae. It is the history of my life’s work.

  “Now, if you would excuse me.” He faded away.