Island of Echoes

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Island of Echoes Page 10

by Roman Gitlarz


  I chuckled. “It is really not as glamorous as one may think. I read dusty old manuscripts and try to translate ancient carvings. This…” I acknowledged our surroundings, “is beyond even my imagination. A living civilization unbeknownst to all we know.”

  “You would enjoy the study of their language,” Rémy pointed out. “I am no linguist, but even I revel in finding parallels between our words and theirs.”

  “I am sure I would,” I mused. “I have a lot of time on my hands now.”

  We finished breakfast and took turns bathing. Rémy and I once again adopted Capribian dress. I felt as if I was becoming more in tune with the spirit of the island when I donned one of the colorful tunics. It was an enjoyable experience, partaking in the local custom. It also helped that the local attire was far more comfortable and better-suited to the climate than my stuffy English clothing. I realized it was only our fourth day on the island, but already I was captivated by its spirit.

  My young friend and I departed the apartment together. There was a sentry sitting outside our doors, who stood when we emerged. I was very surprised, and a little jealous, when Rémy began speaking to her in Anuprian.

  “Agiméra,” he stated proudly. The sentry smiled and returned the greeting.

  “On váde… sti kípens,” he expressed slowly, trying to find the words, acknowledging me.

  The guard nodded. “Et von?” she asked.

  “Sti Vasilus,” Rémy answered.

  The sentry laughed. “Se Vasilus,” she corrected good naturedly and Rémy nodded with a smile.

  She activated the lift and motioned for us to step inside. We proceeded up to a high floor of the tower where Rémy departed for his lessons before the guard escorted me out to the gardens. We emerged from a side door onto a courtyard of the now-familiar thelísta stones. A number of locals were going about their daily business when they stopped to look at me. “Phillip!” they called excitedly, waving their hands in my direction. How they knew my name, much less recognized me in their clothing, I did not know. Nevertheless, I waved back politely. I spotted my companions seated around a stone table in the middle of a grassy field. The large Cypresses opened up to a vista of the sea in the distance. It was a breathtaking day.

  “Ah, Mr. Laurence,” Lady Pearson acknowledged me.

  Ella looked up and our eyes locked briefly. I had almost forgotten the court summons which I discovered the night before. Sarmia thanked the sentry and bid me to join them. I settled onto an empty cushion and greeted the group.

  “Did you see Rémy?” Travert asked.

  “Yes, but he was not able to join us. He is continuing his language studies.”

  Daniel let out a snort, but I chose not to acknowledge it.

  “How was your time in the gardens?” I asked instead.

  “Most pleasant, except for my knees,” Lady Pearson admitted. “As a matter of fact, we’ve only just sat down. The advisor took us on a stroll around the fountains and statues.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

  “There is more,” Ella chimed in, “she told us that we are to get the finest medical treatment this afternoon.”

  “How generous,” I said.

  “She has yet to disclose a method of payment,” Daniel added sharply. “Though naturally, she claims it is entirely out of good-will.”

  “Perhaps it is,” I pointed out.

  “Nonsense,” Daniel scoffed. “Everything comes with a price.”

  “And what was the price for the good-will you bestowed as a missionary, Father?” I asked coldly.

  The brazen statement gave the priest pause and I could see his pale bony cheeks brighten.

  “That was different,” he countered. “I was working to spread the good of God. These atheists don’t have the faith for such morality.”

  “Everything we have seen thus far leads me to believe otherwise.”

  Daniel chuckled. “They probably don’t even know what morality is.”

  “On the contrary,” I persisted, “just yesterday, the advisor informed me that the King is seen as the very figurehead of morality.”

  Daniel laughed unabashedly and I ceased providing his pessimism with an audience. I instead turned to our hostess and thanked her for the offer.

  “It is my pleasure,” Sarmia declared warmly. “The King was not lying when he said you are a guest of the people of Capribo. In fact, you are a guest of all upon this world.”

  A mid-day meal was brought out to us on the lawn and large white parasols were erected to shade us from the heat of the sun. I wanted to engage Ella in conversation but her grandmother sat between us, a verbal barrier to be sure. The elders of our group spent the luncheon discussing the weather and the food before us. I felt as if they lived in a dream world where the reality of our situation failed to take hold. There were many instances in which my logical self wished to argue, but I realized quarrel was futile. All would be revealed in Alexandria.

  Sarmia escorted us into the city of Aleria at the conclusion of our meal. It was difficult to spot where the gardens ended and the city began, for the entire area was thick with vegetation. Entering the city of white stone, shaded beneath a canopy of high trees, was like stepping into a wholly new world; the long-lost ruins of an ancient civilization. But in our case, the ruins were neither lost nor dilapidated. The crawling ivy and mosses at the base of the columns gave the city an air of antique mystery, but it was well-preserved and alive with locals who stopped to perceive us as we made our way through. They did not wear the tunics which we had observed during our arrival to the city, but a set of darker trousers and elaborate shirts of a variety of styles.

  Unaccustomed to such blatant observation, we had become rather uncomfortable. With the ever-present silver thorn of the Tower of Marble as my guidepost above the treetops, I observed that we had barely entered the heart of the city before Sarmia led us into a white building with wide steps and modern geometric columns at its entrance. We were greeted enthusiastically at the door by a number of attendants, who likewise wore the variegated outfits of the locals outside. I made it a point to inquire about the clothing later in the evening and I was informed that the pastel tunics were distinctive attire, and not for daily use. The outfit was standard for government officials, as well as the King, which explained its abundant presence within the tower, but the characteristic Capribian only donned the garment for special events.

  Sarmia introduced us to the attendants and informed us that we were in a medical facility. I will not even try to recall the variety of instruments or procedures which the island doctors exposed us to. Despite the communication barriers, we were treated well and given thorough examinations. The facility even provided me with dental work, and I must point out that it was the most painless and efficient dental procedure which I have ever been privy to. Lady Pearson and Father Daniel were adamant about withholding from any treatments, but after Captain Travert had three of his teeth replaced with duplicates that looked indistinguishable from his own, both individuals capitulated.

  It was nearly evening by the time we had finished, but I felt fully revitalized. The physicians injected me with a fluid which I was told would replenish my body with liquids and nutrition which I lacked. I have no doubt that the post-storm exhaustion and dehydration played a part in this diagnosis. Whatever the cause, the people of Capribo were many decades ahead of our own medical practitioners, that much was clear.

  I think we all returned to the Tower of Marble with a renewed excitement. Lady Pearson was even told that she could walk without the use of a cane again, but the procedure would be more extensive than a simple clinical visit. I passed her thanks along to our hostess and informed her that Lady Pearson would need to give it some thought before committing.

  We followed the little cobblestone path back toward the great silver spike of the Tower of Marble. I purposely fell behind in our group and managed to sneak up to Ella’s side as we quietly made our way back in the fading light.


  “Ella,” I whispered in her ear.

  She turned, shocked, to face me. “Mr. Laurence!” she breathed. “What ever are you doing?” She feigned surprise but there was no denying the exhilaration within her voice.

  “I want to steal you away for a few minutes,” I smiled.

  “We mustn’t!” she countered, her eyes darting to the remainder of the group before us, though I could just make out the outline of a smile on her lips.

  “And why not?” I teased.

  “Because…” she stuttered. “Because…”

  “Because you’re a proper English lady and I, a meager American academic?” I asked mockingly. “Neither are of any consequence here,” I pointed out.

  “It matters to my grandmother,” she said more sternly. “Now please, I don’t want to cause a scene…”

  Despite my putting her on the spot, my emotions got the better of me. “Very well,” I informed her, stiffening my posture. “I shan’t pester you.”

  I walked away brusquely, immediately regretting my actions, but I was already within the fold of the group before I dared turn around.

  Rémy was sitting in the lounge of our apartment when we returned. He informed us that he was likewise provided with medical care after his lessons had concluded that afternoon. I was most eager to learn some of his knowledge and asked if he would be kind enough to share it with me.

  “But of course!” he laughed and I realized how refreshing his presence was. He was my companion in excitability. How different my time on the island would have been without Rémy’s constant optimism to reinforce my own. I had already begun to think of him as a brother and that bond continued to blossom.

  It chanced that I sat at a distance from Ella over dinner. Though, truth be told, my pride was still somewhat wounded. I passed the time speaking to Rémy and we excused ourselves to our bedroom at the conclusion of the meal. He had learned how to operate the wall screen with greater precision and he was able to bring up the study aide which he and the King began to create the day before.

  “See?” Rémy asked. “Like this.” He touched an image of a cat.

  “Chat,” I heard his recorded voice utter from the wall in French. After a few seconds’ pause came a woman’s voice with the Anuprian equivalent: “Bes.”

  We spent hours with the interactive dictionary. The King was right about one thing: Rémy was a natural student of the language. He was able to voice complete sentences in eloquent Anuprian. The phrases were introductory, of course, but he made my entire first month of German lessons in secondary school look completely unproductive by comparison. It was late into the night when we finally decided it was time for bed.

  “I am so very excited about tomorrow,” Rémy informed me as we turned the light off and dimmed the glass wall.

  “Me too,” I responded happily.

  “But a great part of me is rather nervous too,” he admitted, “that this is all some dream, and that we will be thrown back into the reality of the world if we depart.”

  “Your uncle certainly isn’t convinced of what the King told us, neither are the others, I don’t think.”

  “Are you?” he asked me quietly. “I know you said you want to, as do I, but can you say for certain that we are on another world?”

  “If not, then why the illusion?” I countered. “And how would we explain the technology?”

  “I know, Phillip,” he agreed, “but can you say for certain that Capribo is what we have been told it is?”

  “For certain? No, I can’t. But we will know definitively tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “and that is why I am nervous.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The return journey to Alexandria had everyone in good spirits the following morning, our fifth on the island of Capribo. The breakfast fruit tasted exceptionally ripe, the coffee was particularly smooth, and even the conversation around the dining table was lighthearted. Everyone was looking forward to the trip, albeit for different reasons.

  Sarmia did not join us that morning, but she did send a message by attendant, written in block Latin, informing us that the King’s ship would be leaving shortly before dinner that afternoon. The hours leading up to our departure did not pass quickly. We hadn’t been granted free reign within the Tower of Marble, and I did not want to upset our hosts by drifting through its halls. I likewise had no intention of leaving the palace, for we were celebrated individuals on the island and I would surely be recognized. To make matters worse, Ella and I had no privacy within the chamber and we could not continue our brief exchange from the prior evening.

  I instead passed the time writing and observing the locals from the large apartment windows. I spotted what I presumed to be the King’s ship approaching Aleria from the East. It was a much smaller vessel than I expected, hardly larger than our Bigorneau, but it embodied nothing of the latter’s bulky construction. The ship was smooth and reflective, like white ceramic. The bow and stern tapered up into delicate stems. Silver trumpets adorned their tips. No, not trumpets. Carved lotus blossoms.

  Sarmia came to greet us shortly thereafter. We had gathered in the lounge, observing the vessel, save Ella who had not yet finished dressing.

  “Dinner will be served aboard the King’s ship,” Sarmia informed us. “A number of other advisors will be in attendance including Etia Yawa, whom you already know.”

  Daniel was about to respond when Ella entered the lounge and broke all our thoughts. Rémy and I had once again donned the Capribian garb, and our appearance had by this time become commonplace among our group. But it was an entirely different matter when Ella emerged likewise wearing the local attire.

  She chose a closely fitting tunic of pink, with long white trousers beneath. Her sandals and belt were similar to mine, but of a slightly darker beeswax leather. Her hair was left to hang freely at her sides and I noticed for the first time the lovely ripple of curls within her brown locks.

  “Ella!” her grandmother gasped. “What do you think you are doing?”

  Ella held her head high. “I am following the example of Mr. Laurence and Mr. Durant,” she proclaimed defiantly.

  “But what will happen when we reach Alexandria?” Lady Pearson piped. “People will think you’ve gone mad!”

  “Why would that be?” the younger woman questioned.

  Lady Pearson put a hand to her heart. “My dear,” she began slowly, attempting to keep her composure, “you are a Pearson and Egypt is under British occupation. You don’t believe you will be spotted and recognized?” She stared adamantly at her granddaughter. “It has happened before,” she added coldly.

  “Grandmother,” Ella’s tone was firm but not unkind, “Egypt is not under British occupation because the Alexandria we are traveling to is not the same one which we left. As for my name and my place in society…” her eyes looked up and stared directly into mine, “neither are of any consequence here.” A small smile appeared on her lips and I could feel my heart leap up within my chest.

  “Please inform Ella that she looks wonderful,” Sarmia requested approvingly. “The King will be so pleased to see her.”

  I passed the message to Ella, who erupted in a full smile.

  “Let us proceed to the ship,” the Etia suggested.

  Our group was escorted down to the first floor of the tower and we waited in the large semi-circular entry chamber. The great bronze doors to the throne room opened after several minutes and King Eireas emerged. Every detail of his appearance faultlessly imitated the way he looked when we first saw him upon the throne three days prior. Clad in pure white, silver laurel wreath atop his head, he gave us an acknowledging nod and led two rows of purple sentries out of the palace. We followed the procession.

  It was a beautiful day in Aleria. The warmth of the sun was perfectly balanced by the refreshing breeze from the sea. Three open carriages awaited us on the cobblestone road. The King and his sentries took the first, Sarmia, Etia Yawa, and three other advisors, all men of middle ag
e whom we did not recognize, took the second, while my companions and I were pointed to the third.

  We proceeded away from the tower, and away from the water, down the same path we had taken on our first approach to the city. The thelísta path eventually branched out to either side, leading straight into the dense wood which encircled the grassy lawn around the tower. The carriages turned down the right branch of the road. The temperature within the wood was noticeably cooler and the white stone buildings continued to remind me of some long-abandoned ruins within the Amazon or the Congo. Citizens stopped their daily activities to wave as we passed by. I could see that Eireas was particularly relaxed, appearing nothing like the stiff and distant royals of our own nations. The people called to him by name and he waved and nodded to each of them in turn. Our carriages made a wide arc around the Tower of Marble until our path left the city center and progressed straight through the gardens and out toward the sea.

  The King’s ship was a marvel to behold at close range. The silver lotuses carved into the bow and stern were not its only embellishments. The deck was adorned with large tiles of blue stone. A dozen striking columns protruded up into the sky, like white stems emerging from a calm lake. They supported a curved sheet of glass overhead. There were no docks at the water’s edge. A single elevated walkway led us out over the water and onto the polished vessel. I looked down at the waves below me as we made our way across the extended path. The King and his retinue instantly disappeared below deck, though Sarmia remained behind to lead us to the dining hall. We were escorted down the staircase and into a comfortable chamber.

  “Please make yourselves comfortable,” she requested.

  The room stretched across the entire width of the ship and accommodated two crescent couches of dark leather atop a plush carpet of Tyrian purple. A half-circular table stood within each crescent. I was grateful to see that the couches faced the windows rather than each other. To further my delight, Ella immediately sat down beside Rémy and me. I could see the look of disapproval on her grandmother’s face as she took a seat with Daniel and the Captain on the other couch. The seat backs were tall and we could scarcely hear the elders’ conversation, much less see them. The ironic privacy of the little room was a most-welcome relief.

 

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