by C. A. Pack
“I don’t agree,” Mateus said. “The way I see it, we now know who among us is more focused on their own goals rather than those of the group. I believe we should take disciplinary action against those who have shielded their advances.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Edmund said loudly. “We were all wizards before being asked to join the eight, and as such, were free to practice our skills. Calling for disciplinary action—when we have not broken laws of man or magic—is childish and inane.”
Jackson leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes as the meeting deteriorated into a shouting match. “Wake me when it’s time to go.”
“I know what you mean,” Johanna replied. “It makes me wish we knew how to transmogrify.”
★
Nero 51 approached the top bio-engineer in his realm and explained he wanted a way to surveil troop placement and be able to track their “wellbeing.”
The bio-engineer, Plala 6, had gained a measure of fame when he developed a bio-system to monitor mammoths grazing in the Terrorian countryside. The animals provided nearly sixty percent of the Terrorian diet and were closely watched. Plala 6 told the curator it would take only seconds to band each Terrorian soldier with a bio-band, and nanocytes would immediately permeate tissue and build an intramuscular network of molecular receptors and transmitters to report host telemetry. The nanocytes worked rapidly and telemetry would be completely operational within a few hours.
Nero 51 nodded his approval. “How quickly can you start?”
“I’ve just received a ten thousand unit shipment. I can begin whenever you want,” the bio-engineer answered.
“Then pack up your supplies and report to Building 11 in the capital. We will begin immediately.”
The bands caused excruciating pain for the first few hours, but soldiers received vouchers for free merk, which took their minds off the agony.
★
That afternoon in the Luminan city of Fridi, clothiers busied themselves making patterns for Dramatican militia uniforms. The pants resemble jodhpurs, flared from the hip through the knee, with a snug fit for the lower calves and ankles. This allowed Dramaticans, who were not accustomed to wearing trousers, to flex and leap without hindrance. The jacket resembled a hip-length caftan. Short boots, and flexible knit caps that could hold back a Dramatican’s abundant curls completed the outfit, save for a leather cross-body brace that contained a sheath for a knife, a detachable quiver for arrows, a shoulder strap for an optional crossbow, and a holster for the decimators that would be issued.
The uniforms were all created in two colors: fawn brown for day-to-day use and icy blue for dress uniforms.
The officers’ uniforms were similar, however the caftan-like jackets were trimmed in braid and the dress uniforms came with sashes that could be adorned by jewels earned for deportment and bravery. The officers would also be given peaked hats instead of knit caps.
Then there was Furst’s uniform. It was similar in line to the militias’ uniforms, however, the fabric was a superior quality and the colors rich and jewel-like. Furst’s day uniform was a brilliant bronze color, and instead of braid trim on his jacket, it was encrusted with Luminan diamonds. Gold epaulettes provided a distinguishing bit of adornment. Furst’s dress uniform was cut out of a luxurious white fabric, and his sash was already adorned with colorful jewels surrounding a diamond depiction of the Illumini Constellation at its center.
Tailors worked through the night to complete as many different uniforms in varying sizes as possible. They worked in an assembly line, first the pattern makers, then the cutters, followed by the seamstresses and tailors. In another factory, shoemakers cut, hammered, and stitched away, making sure they would have a ready supply of boots and leather braces.
Further to the south on Zyco, work got under way for a special project for Ryden Simmdry.
And not far away from there, on the outcrop Munit, specialists in weaponry retrofitted machinery to churn out the parts necessary to duplicate Terrorian weaponry and began making decimators.
Back in the capital city of Lumi, Mal prepared notes for what he would say to the Dramaticans the following day when he was announced as Chancellor of the Exchequer.
“Malcolm Trees, you have a visitor.”
He had become quite used to the disembodied voice that notified him of any pending action and reminded him to eat and sleep. “Open the door, please.”
A courier handed him a sealed envelope. Mal ripped it open and found himself summoned to the College of Overseers. “I have a transport disk waiting to take you to the college,” the man said.
Mal nodded and allowed himself to be whisked away to the chamber of the overseers.
★
Johanna and Jackson caught an afternoon flight back to Charles de Gaulle Airport and easily re-entered the Library of Illumination where everything was quiet. Almost too quiet.
“Do you think your family left?” Johanna asked.
“Not if they’re getting free room service,” he answered. And he was right. Inside the George V suite, Chris and Eva played with an Xbox.
“Where’d you get that?” Jackson asked.
Chris blasted Ava’s soldier to pieces. “Room service.”
“Cool. Where’s Mom?”
“She’s in her bedroom getting a massage.”
“No way!”
“Yeah. I think the hotel manager likes her. He sent up the masseuse, and later on, someone’s coming to give her a facial and style her hair. He wanted her to go downstairs to the spa, but she said she couldn’t leave the room. But who needs to? Whenever we want something, they bring it to us.”
“Well, I hate to rain on your parade, but we’re back,” Jackson replied grabbing Ava’s game controller out of her hands. “And soon, this will all be just a memory.”
“Can we at least get room service first?”
“You’ve still got a few days,” Johanna said. “Jackson and I haven’t yet completed our mission, and we need you to take care of the library.”
“See,” Chris joyfully blew up Ava’s encampment. “We have to stay—for the good of the library.”
Jackson shook his head as he addressed Johanna. “We’ve created a monster.”
“Best monster ever!” Chris said. Ava reclaimed the controller and began attacking his troops.
LOI
CHAPTER 43
All the overseers were in place around their chamber conference table, and Mal stood at the end of the table opposite Master Ryden Simmdry.
⌘Ah, Malcolm, right on time.
“What can I do for you?”
⌘It’s not what you can do for us, Malcolm. It’s what we can do for you. I have proposed, and the deans have unanimously agreed, to confer upon you the majorious longevicus blessing. You will receive the complete complement of charms that, until now, have only been bestowed upon those who have risen to the rank of dean. You came very close to being an overseer yourself and only mitigating circumstances prevented that from happening. As our new Chancellor of the Exchequer, we feel you have earned the right to be blessed with the same benefits and abilities longevicus provides.
⌘We have chosen to dispense with the public challenge portion of the ceremony, considering you have already taken part in it and we know where your dedication lies. Please enter the circle of our table and stand on the Illumini Constellation.
Mal moved to the middle of the room and felt himself lowered into the ground. The surrounding crystal columns and brilliant light reminded him of when he received his blessing as a curator, except now the light was purple instead of blue, and the blessing he received would slow down his aging to one year for every thousand years that passed.
He had lived a long and fruitful life, perhaps not as long as some of the others who had received the blessing at a younger age, but still, he felt he had been blessed with a wonderful and illuminating existence. It seemed like only moments had passed when the platform rose, signifying the blessing had been conferr
ed.
⌘One last enchantment, Malcolm. Ryden Simmdry recited the spell that would protect Mal should he enter a library cupola and find himself under attack. ⌘One can’t be too careful.
“Thank you. Thank you all. I will do everything in my power to prove to you that you have not made a mistake in taking me into your confidences.
◍We will need a sigil for Mal. Might I suggest ₡ considering he will be the receiver of taxes?
⌘A very appropriate symbol, indeed.
★
Johanna joined Jackson and his family for dinner in the suite and was surprised when Naimh Roth entered the room. She looked completely transformed following her spa makeover.
“Mom,” Jackson said with a touch of awe, “you look totally hot.”
Mrs. Roth blushed.
“Stop it,” Ava said. “She’s our mother. You can’t call her hot.”
Chris kissed his mother’s cheek. “Unlike Jackson, I think you look totally cool.”
Mrs. Roth smiled. “It’s just a little hair color and makeup.”
“It becomes you,” Johanna said. “Is that a new blouse?”
“It’s on loan.”
“On loan?” Ava asked, as she answered a knock at the door. “How’d you manage that?”
Two hotel employees wheeled in carts filled with food.
“If I like it, I can buy it. If not, I can return it.” Mrs. Roth sat down at the dining table.
Jackson and Johanna had ordered burgers, but everyone else dined on steak and seafood. Chris tucked into his porterhouse while Jackson eyed his burger. He knew it would be good, but wondered if Chris’s steak would be better. “So, Chris, are you paying for that with the earnings from your part time job?”
Chris chewed slowly, savoring the steak before swallowing. “If they ever send me a bill—in my name—I’d be happy to pay them. But as far as the hotel is concerned, we’re the Oswald-Fitzpatricks of New York.”
Jackson placed his burger back on the plate. “Where’d they get that idea?”
“Well,” Chris said between bites, “Mom always told us not to give out personal information to strangers, so when room service didn’t have our name on the bill the other night, I made one up for them. I thought using two names was a stroke of brilliance, and New York made us sound so … so cosmopolitan.”
“As opposed to just plain so-so?”
“Very funny. Want a bite of my steak?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, forget it. I’m eating the whole thing myself.”
“Who is going to pay for this?” Mrs. Roth asked. “I haven’t really thought about that since that first night.”
“Probably, no one.” Jackson shoved a french fry in his mouth. “It’s not real.”
“I don’t know about you,” Ava said, scooping up the last of her lyonnaise potatoes, “but this tastes ‘real’ to me.”
“Yeah. Well. Enjoy it while you can.” Jackson turned to Johanna. “Right? We won’t get billed for this will we?”
“If we do, we’ll just pay for it with a doubloon,” she joked.
She felt Jackson nudge her under the table. “Don’t go there,” he said under his breath and looked covertly at his mother.
Johanna smiled.
“What doubloon,” Chris said, pausing between bites. “Do you guys have a real doubloon?”
“No.” Johanna shook her head. “It was just a joke.”
“Too bad,” Chris said. “Paying with a doubloon would have been awesome.” He pushed his plate away. “Spending time with you guys is great and all, but it’s Saturday night and Brittany awaits.”
“What are the two of you doing?” Mrs. Roth asked.
“Nothing. Maybe we’ll see a movie.” Chris rose from the table and headed toward the door.
His mother continued to pry. “Well, is it nothing, or is it a movie?”
“Does it matter?” Chris asked. “We’re just spending time together.”
“Movies, bowling, sporting events—all imply that the two of you will be in the company of others and fully occupied. ‘Nothing’ leaves too much room for temptation and getting into trouble.”
“Okay. We’re going to a movie. Is that all right with you, Mom?”
“It’s fine, as long as that’s what you’re really doing.”
“We’re not planning on getting into trouble.”
“I’m just making sure,” Mrs. Roth reiterated.
“We’re not!”
Ava leaned back in her chair. “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”
“And what,” Chris asked, color rising in his cheeks, “if we change our minds? Will we be liars then, as well as trouble-makers?”
“All anybody asked,” Ava replied, “is where you’re going, and you got all huffy.”
“Next time I’ll lie and act cool.”
“Yeah, like Robert Birk,” Jackson muttered.
“Who?” his brother asked.
“One of the guys we’re investigating to see if he’s after Myrddin’s memoir.”
“Who’s Myrddin?” Ava asked.
“Only the greatest wizard who ever lived,” Jackson answered. “And this guy, Robert Birk, may have recreated one of Myrddin’s spells, without telling anyone.”
“So what’s so bad about that?” Christ asked.
“Nothing except he misled everyone about having done it.”
“I have to ask Mal a question,” Johanna said suddenly, rushing out of the room.
“What was that all about?” Ava asked.
“I don’t know,” Jackson replied, “but if I know Johanna, she probably just had a brainstorm.”
★
It may still have been Saturday night on Fantasia, but it was already the next morning on Terroria, and the military, resplendent in full dress uniform, marched in formation down the main street in front of the Library of Illumination. Each soldier carried a fully armed decimator and wore a glowing purple band surgically attached to his left fore-tentacle that transmitted telemetry to military headquarters.
Nero 51 summoned General Barzic 922 and Plala 6 to the library. “It is time to put your work to the test. I want two dozen troops here within the hour, outfitted for combat. I will accompany them to their destination in the time machine to insure we target the correct realm. Once all the troops are in place, we will crush Juvenilia like a lump of sand.”
★
Johanna pulled out Mal’s diary. “Who has been with the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft the longest?”
The pages fluttered just as Jackson entered the room, however, the answer didn’t appear until several moments had passed. Cathasach Caird of Scotland has been with the group the longest continual time, but there’s some indication Robert Birk of Sweden was with the group before Cathasach arrived on the scene and either quit or was forced out. According to one rumor, he was banned for practicing déofolcræft—the black art of devilcraft.
“Did you read it,” Johanna asked Jackson, who stood peering over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Are you surprised?”
“Not really. It would explain his slickness and self-assuredness. He has a smarmy edge beneath his bespoke suit.”
“What’s bespoke?”
“Custom made.”
“I think I’m going to get me one of those bespoke suits.”
“Just don’t use the gentlemen weavers from Hans Christian Andersen’s The Emperor’s New Clothes or all your secrets will be out. Literally.”
“Very nice talk from someone who acts like a proper lady.” He sat close to her, and could feel the warmth of her body. “So what do we do about this Birk guy?”
“I think it’s time for another visit with Myrddin.”
He twisted around and encircled her waist with his hands. “Can it wait?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
★
Nero 51 looked over the first troops who had assembled in the field where the time machine was hidden. He divided them into small groups and person
ally transported the first group to their target destination.
The portals scrambled and their first stop was definitely not Juvenilia. He was surprised to see a human woman with a horrified look on her face. He quickly exited that world and tried again.
He noted the soft colors and lyrical music at the second stop. Must be Romantica. They will get a turn as well, but not now.
In the cupola of his third attempt, a telescope was trained on the heavens. This must be Scientico.
The next cupola was decorated in primary colors and he saw a child’s game laid out on a table in the corner. “We have arrived.”
Nero 51 instructed the troops to remain hidden in the cupola until all soldiers were accounted for and he personally gave them the signal to begin. It took time to travel to Juvenilia, because he could never be sure where the portals would take them, and even when they arrived, he could only transport a few troops at a time. Finally they were all in place—in the correct place.
★
Inside the library vault, it took no time at all for Myrddin to appear.
“Have you found the person trying to steal my work?”
Johanna pointed her forefinger at him. “What do you know of a man named Robert Birk.”
“I am not familiar with that particular name.” His face stilled and his gaze lost focus for a moment. “However, it reminds me of a man who claimed to be a member of the northern Svear tribe, Rathbarth, son of Visbur, whom I befriended for a time until he tried to undermine my position at court. Over the years, his name may have evolved into Robert, son of Visburk, or Robert Birk. He was a wizard of notable skill and unbridled ambition. I doubt he would have survived into this century, but then, you are speaking with me, or at least my energy, so who am I to say he didn’t find a way to persevere.
“You must promise me,” Myrddin continued, “to be very careful and ensure you are alone when you enter this chamber. It would be better to not visit me here at all, until the situation is resolved.”
“But what if we need to ask you a question,” Jackson interrupted, “like we’re doing now?”
“There is a book, Historia Regum Brittanniae, written by Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth century that refers to me. If you were to open that book in this library, you should be able to speak with me. Wait.” He disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared. “I have made sure the version of me you will encounter within those pages is prepared to answer your questions.”