“I can’t see a way,” said Nat, “other than to fly up there.” He was watching some pigeons fight over scraps of bread when he suddenly slapped his head. “I’ve been stupid,” he said. “Nike is a pigeon and a Descendant. There are others like her, other birds. It’s the Network we should be looking for—those who can help us.”
Norika sat up. “You’re right. The Network has always been here, we just have to find it.” She tried to attract the attention of the pigeons on the grass, but the birds showed no interest despite her best efforts. “I don’t think this is working,” she said, “and people think I’m weird.”
“Don’t give up too quickly,” said Nat. “I just saw a bird fly into that hedge over there.” He walked across the grass to the dense thicket bordering the path and peered into the branches. “It’s a sort of sparrow,” he called to Norika. She came over and looked where he was pointing.
The bird stared back at them with an expression close to a frown.
“Seems bad-tempered,” said Norika, “whatever it is.”
Nat stared at the bird for a few seconds, feeling uncomfortably like an intruder. “Can you understand me?” he said.
The sparrow’s reply startled them. “Sure I understand you. No offence but I don’t like company. And by the way I’m not a sort of sparrow—I’m a Lincoln’s Sparrow. You heard of them? They’re the best, although the females don’t look so good.” He hopped further into the thicket and turned his back on them. “Watch the branches on the way out.”
Nat pulled back. “Sorry,” he said. “ Could we talk to you on the grass?”
“You deaf or something? Go away. Comprenez?”
Nat hesitated. “Listen. We really need your help.”
“My help?” said the sparrow. “If I had a dime for everyone who needs my help I’d be a rich bird.” He stopped and they waited. “You birders?”
“No.”
“Not birders, huh? I thought you guys were birders. Descendants? That who you are? Where you from?”
“I’m not a Descendant but I can understand you. We’re from Tasmania. Another timespace.”
“Big surprise.” The sparrow sighed. “Now you got me curious. What kinda help? Go ahead. Ask me.”
“Okay. Here it is,” said Nat. “Fly to the top of the statue and retrieve something for us. Not too difficult for someone like you.”
A pause. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”
“What do you want?”
The sparrow looked at him narrowly. “There’s this guy, a birder. Always going on about the Song Sparrow as if they’re the greatest. This is online I’m talking about—on a birders’ site.” He saw Nat’s expression. “Listen, I get around a lot, different timespaces, same as you. Anyways, this guy observes me, right? Posts a comment on the website. Calls me, and I quote, a skulker, afraid of its shadow. A skulker! Can you believe that?” He stopped and angrily ruffled his feathers. “This guy knows zilch.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” said Nat.
“I dunno. Maybe take him out?” The sparrow rolled his eyes and threw his head back, wings outstretched.
Nat stared at him. “Forget it. I’ll find someone else.”
The sparrow hopped to another branch. “Whoa. Didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, did I? Just kidding, you know? So where is this…whatever?”
“It’s part of a map, hidden somewhere in the crown,” said Nat. “You’ll probably find it under a piece of copper sheeting. Look for any loose edges and check under them.” He added, “That’s if you’re able to do it. I could post something about the Lincoln’s Sparrow on the website, maybe even an image of you. I have a camera.”
The sparrow considered this. “It’s not that I’m sensitive about it, right? But birders come looking for the Song Sparrow, always the Song Sparrow, and just because we’re smaller, got a shorter tail or something, I dunno, they’re not interested. Birders should get a life.” He ruffled again. “Am I able to do it? Of course I’m able to do it. I could do it now, even though I’m busy.”
“If you could help us, great! It’s important,” said Nat.
“Everything is.” The sparrow thought for a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Nat. What’s yours?”
“Linc to you.” He hopped out from the thicket and ruffled his feathers. “Where’s this section you want me to go to?”
“Here’s a scan of it,” said Nat, getting out his phone and opening the third diagram. He zoomed in on the section and bent down to show the bird.
“It’s only a single tile,” said Norika, “might be difficult to find.”
Linc turned to look at her. “Yeah? Who are you?”
She returned his look. “Norika to you. Will you be okay flying up there? It’s quite windy.”
“Sure. There’s a hawk gives me a hard time but that’s all. I can deal with him.” He looked briefly at the scan. “Okay, got it. Won’t take long.” He took flight, executed a few loops above them and soared towards the top of the statue.
“Do you think he’s okay?” said Norika doubtfully. “Seems a bit flaky to me.”
Nat was busy taking photos. “He’s all we’ve got.”
“Well, looks like we’ve lost him already. Can you see him?”
They peered up, searching the sky around the statue.
“There he is,” said Nat, “near the crown.”
“And there’s the hawk,” said Norika.
They watched as Linc flew above the hawk and dropped down in a sudden blurred attack before swooping up and out of view behind Liberty’s torch. In a flurry of feathers the hawk flew to safer territory.
They waited. Just when they thought Linc might have given up he reappeared near the crown and perched on one of its rays, his small shape clearly visible in Nat’s camera zoom. They strained to keep him in sight but lost him again. Minutes later they saw him flying at high speed down the side of the statue. They followed his flight as he made several showy loops before diving towards the statue’s base and disappearing from sight.
“Where is he?” said Norika.
“Who knows?” Nat said, annoyed by the bird’s aerial display.
A movement caused Norika to look behind. With a start of surprise she saw Linc hopping towards them across the grass, holding something in his beak.
She grabbed Nat by the arm. “He’s done it!”
Linc dropped the piece of parchment in front of them and shook himself. “Not too difficult,” he said, “but someone wedged it in real tight. Keep it safe from the weather, I guess.”
Nat picked it up. “This is it.” He placed it with the other segments in his notepad, then bent down to Linc and held out his finger.
“Hop on,” he said. “I want to show you some photos.” The sparrow perched on his finger and Nat held up his phone. “This is you, flying up the statue and swooping low. Good clear shots. I’ll post them on the birders’ site as soon as I can, with a story about how you helped us. Brave Lincoln’s Sparrow drives hawk from Statue of Liberty. Something like that.”
“No kidding?” said Linc. “Hey, you mean that? That’s great!” He sniffed scornfully. “’I should probably sue that guy, the birder. Hey thanks, Nat. Keep in touch, right?”
* * *
Clouds had gathered by the time they returned to the city and snow had started to fall. “We need to find somewhere quiet to match up this segment with the others,” Norika said as they stood in the fading light. People were walking faster along the streets to reach shelter.
“And to work out what the last diagram means,” said Nat, pulling his coat tightly around him. “Someplace warm! This weather’s getting worse.”
They found shelter in a doorway as the snow fell more heavily. Norika said, “It seems strange that this diagram should lead to our last destination.”
“Our last destination?” Her words annoyed him. What did she care, anyway? “Where is our last destination? Do you know?” The pitch of his voice ha
d risen and he checked himself.
Norika looked at him. “How could I? We haven’t discovered what it is yet. What’s wrong with you?”
“Just wondering.”
She gave him a measured look. “Nat, there’s something I need to tell you. Seb was at the cottage when I was there.”
Nat looked at her in astonishment. “Seb? You met Seb? That’s fantastic!” Seb had found them. He was okay. “Did you tell him that Rick’s still alive, he didn’t drown—that he’s in the clear. Where is he now? When will we see him?”
“There’s a barrier he and Demokritos are trying to get through. It prevents them from reaching you.”
“Demokritos? Who’s he?”
“Seb’s Guide,” Norika said.
Demokritos. Miss Irwin had told them about Demokritos of Abdera. He remembered Seb’s note with the cryptic quotation. Had Seb been telling them he was okay, he had a Guide?
Questions and doubts grew, became malignant tendrils in his mind. Why had Seb been at the cottage? Why hadn’t Norika told him earlier?
They stood, silent and apart, snow falling steadily outside the doorway, until Norika said, “We should go.”
They headed for an abandoned tenement building Nat had discovered one day while walking to the building site. The structure was about to be demolished and its ground floor was in disrepair but it offered shelter and warmth. Community and political groups used it as an unofficial meeting place.
They stepped on to the street, their runners sinking into the layer of fresh snow, and headed up Broadway towards Grand. The building was in darkness except for a dim light in a ground floor window. The front door was unlocked and from the hall they could hear voices behind a door. Nat knocked and they waited. The door was opened by a serious youth, who turned to rejoin a group of men deep in discussion around a battered table. Banners proclaiming workers’ rights were nailed to the wall and a single gas light threw soft shadows across the room. The men wore heavy coats and their breath condensed and lingered in the air.
No one looked up as they murmured excuses and made their way to the far corner of the room. A small heater had created a circle of warmth against the chill damp air and they dragged a nearby bench closer to it.
They talked together quietly, hoping not to attract attention. Nat removed the third segment from his notebook and scanned it into his phone. He saved the file then combined all three segments in a new, composite file he named Map. The third segment filled the lower left corner, leaving a space in the lower right for the fourth segment. Nat adjusted the layers and applied a blending mode. The map instantly became clearer. He sat back and studied it. There was no legend, no key to structures or pathways, and no scale, but in the plan he saw the Garden of Kenji as it had been when the earthquake struck. It seemed real to him.
“The missing segment must be the one containing the Zen garden.” he said.
Norika nudged him sharply. He looked up as one of the men approached him.
“Are you Nathaniel?” the man said.
Nat stiffened. “Yes.”
“Someone left this for you. He said you’d be here tonight.” The man handed Nat a small piece of folded paper.
“Who was it?” Nat said. “Did he tell you his name?”
The man shook his head. Nat thanked him and waited until the man had returned to the group before he unfolded the paper.
Nat– the fourth map segment is misleading and can take you in the wrong direction. There’s somewhere you can go, a bookshop on Fourth Avenue, near Union Square. The coin will help you find it –Seb
Norika said in a low voice, “I know that area. There’s a row of bookstores.”
“He must mean the coin Leontios gave me. But how would Seb know about that?”
Norika hesitated. “I told him. I said Leontios had given you a coin to pass on to him, that we thought it was to remind him of his time in Athens.”
Nat took the coin from his inside pocket and studied it closely for the first time. It was heavy, made of silver, with an image stamped on each side. One side showed the profile of a statesman or magistrate, on the other was an owl, carved in exquisite detail and shown in profile except for its head which turned to face them. The owl had a direct, wide-eyed stare.
“I can’t see how the coin can help us find the bookstore,” Norika said.
“Could be something to do with the owl.” Nat shrugged. “We’ll know when we get there. We can start with the row of bookstores and see where it leads us. Let’s go.”
“What, now? The stores will be closed.”
“Maybe not. It’s dark but not too late. We need to know the map is reliable.”
The snow was easing when they set out for Fourth Avenue, and by the time they turned at Astor Place it had stopped. The streetlights had come on and they looked down the street at the bookstores ahead of them. A few late customers could be seen browsing through the shelves of books in the shops still open.
“There must be dozens of bookstores here,” said Norika, “but most have CLOSED signs on the door.”
“We’ll head straight for Union Square then. Seb’s note said it was near there. Keep looking along the way for a connection with the coin.”
It occurred to Norika that Nat had become more decisive on his own. For the first time, she thought, she was relieved to follow his lead.
They walked quickly, looking at each store they passed for any sign or display linking it to the coin. Many shops were in darkness and it was difficult to see them clearly. They tried not to miss anything.
Norika found it. The small shop with mullioned windows appeared to be a better class of bookstore than its neighbours. Above the shopfront was a large painted sign with the name of the shop in ornate lettering: The Wise Owl Bookshop. Under the name was the line Rare Books and Maps, but it was the symbol above the name that excited them—an uneven roundel with an owl in its centre, painted with a drop shadow to resemble a coin. The coin was identical to the one they had with them.
A light burned behind the shop’s closed blinds. Nat went to the wooden door and used the heavy brass knocker. After a few moments they heard a sound and an anxious-looking woman raised the blinds to peer out at them.
“Can we come in?” Nat shouted through the door.
The woman shook her head and started to lower the blinds. Nat shouted, “Wait!” and held the coin up to the glass. The woman stared at it for a moment and then turned back to the room as if to confer with someone. Finally they heard the latch being lifted and stood back as the door opened.
“Come in, come in,” said the woman impatiently. She ushered them inside. “Wait here.”
The woman left through a darkened doorway behind the counter and they were alone. They looked around. They were standing in a large room lined with bookshelves. A wide carved shop counter with a lamp on it took up one side of the room. On the other were further rows of bookcases and two small reading tables.
“Where did you get the coin?” A thin man with a slightly unkempt appearance had emerged from the shadowed rows and approached them.
“It was given to me,” Nat said.
The man said, “Where? Not here?” He spoke sharply, looking at Nat over his eyeglasses.
“No. Not here.”
The man nodded slowly. “May I see it?”
Nat hesitated. Trusting his instincts, he handed the coin over. The man took it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. “Very good,” he said appreciatively, turning it over. “Did you know this is the owl of Athens? It appeared on almost all their coins, usually with Athena on the obverse. But not on this one. This is the best tetradrachm I’ve seen. It looks almost new.” He returned the coin to Nat who replaced it in his pocket.
The man removed his glasses and looked at them both. “My name is Declan O’Mara. I’m what you might call a research scientist. I run this bookstore on the side, as it were. We specialise in maps and books on science.”
Norika apologised for the
late hour.
“Quite all right,” said Declan. “I’m often here late. Or at odd times.” He smiled.
“What kind of research do you do?” Nat asked.
Declan hesitated a moment before replying. “My studies are in astronomy. I’m researching the destruction of an ancient star.” He invited them to be seated opposite. “May I ask who sent you here?”
“My brother Sebastian.”
“Ah,” Declan said, mildly surprised, “that explains it, then.” He paused in thought. “Very well. I think I know what you’ve come for.”
He went behind the shop counter and unlocked a drawer. From it he withdrew an old book, large and heavy, which he passed to them across the counter.
Nat read its title aloud: Great Gardens of the World. The book was bound in dark leather with the title in hand-tooled letters. Set into the cover were a number of small, finely printed paintings of rare plants from each of the featured gardens.
He opened the book and was surprised to find it was an elaborate pop-up book, richly illustrated and constructed with painstaking attention to the design of its intricate folds. These were listed in detail on the base of each double page spread: Parallel Plane; Slotted Plane; 180° Parallel Pyramid; 180° Angle Fold Box with Crossing Planes; 180° Angle Fold with a 90° Parallel Fold.
He turned the pages carefully. The more ingenious the folds in each illustration, the more realistic the gardens appeared. The effect gave the impression of entering each garden as its spread opened. When closed after viewing, its folds interleaved precisely and the world inside them disappeared.
Norika watched amazed as a succession of beautiful gardens opened up in front of her. Avenues of trees, statues, ornamental lakes, fountains—each spread was a small, perfect landscape. Every type of garden was here, some a profusion of colourful flowers, some formal and austere in subtle shades of green and white.
Nat stopped turning. “The Garden of Kenji. It’s here,” he said. He opened the spread. The illustration rose smoothly from its base in vertical planes of paper at different angles, revealing in 3D detail the garden of the map.
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