Chapter Five
Nighttime in Gleomu
It was nighttime in Gleomu, and the moon was already a pale sliver in the sky, as Tavora directed her father to the place along the gorge, near the waterfall, where the cave had been.
Her march to that hidden place seemed to be going by rather quickly, for even though it was after nightfall, her father was in a dreadful hurry, as he stomped, and plodded through the overgrowth and shoved aside branches, not caring for her to catch up.
And deep in her heart, she had wished that she’d been brave enough to keep up the lie that she’d lost the trinkets. Oh, how she’d hated them, and perhaps that had been the real reason why she’d sold so few trinkets during the festival. In truth, it was not the weather, which had been lovely, nor the fault of the people in Ismere, it was her own failure. In truth, she’d hated them, every figurine, and chain, and small medallion. And it is hard to sell a thing that you despise.
They went cautiously along the rim of the gorge now, by the burning light of her father’s lamp and the distant stars. A long way ahead of them, Tavora heard the faint and continually crashing waterfall, where the cave would be.
Around her shoulder hung the bundle of rope they’d got from Myre’s stable before they’d left that night, traveling across the footbridge, and into the forest. It was not exceptionally heavy, but the fibrous strands chaffed her neck. And the weight of the rope reminded her, again, of her overflowing pouch of trinkets.
How her father could expect her to sell so many was beyond her explanation. After all, in the way that he’d buried himself over with his work, there was no way that she could ever keep up with him; And so, week by week, her pouch had grown heavier since the Giant War, and she could not sell them so quickly, and still her father’s exasperated pace was not altered. And the heavier her pouch had become, the more her father, Oded, had grown angry with her, and the more his anger grew, the more she’d hated him. And the more she’d hated her unchosen work, the less she’d sold, and the more his anger grew. It was a cycle, a spiraling sadness. And at night she would still sometimes cry, because she’d missed her mother, and the man her father had once been.
The continual beating of the water, far below them in the gorge, rang bitterly in her ears.
���So, let’s have it. Where is this storyteller’s cave you’ve been squawking about?��� her father said, standing with the light from his lamp burning too near her face.
���I’m not a liar,��� she said plainly. ���It’s hidden, that’s why we’ve never seen it,��� she said, as she walked past her father, pushing aside the closely intertwined branches of a patch of spiny bramble bushes that grew near where they stood, and showing below them, a deep, but somehow strangely lit cavern, that seemed as though it had been softly filled with starlight, as if the light had come from within the cave itself, but that of course seemed impossible.
Chapter Six
What Was Read
After the rigor of train rides, and boats, and buses, had been adventurously endured, the boys finally arrived at the Hayfield family’s flat in the busyness of downtown London. Though they did not stay for long, to give Ata time to explore as he’d wanted, but instead immediately called an emergency meeting of the friends and royalty of Earth.
Who met the following night in Mayfield: A group that now included Timothy’s parents, Thomas and Agatha Hayfield (or as they had been dubbed while back in Gleomu, the Duke and Duchess of Earth).
And they all sat closely together on couches in one of the downstairs sitting rooms in Wolcott Manor, as Ata tinkered with the buttons on some strange box device, that he had set upon the coffee table.
���I think I should warn you ahead of time,��� Ata said to the group, while precisely turning a dial on the device he’d brought back with them, from his father’s workshop. ���This may be weird for you,��� he said, pressing a red button, until the device had switched on.
And instantly, as he did this, as if appearing out of thin air, a giant leather bound book materialized in front of Ata, on the coffee table, laying open to the exact page where they had found their most important story, and the reason for their meeting that night.
This said, it was good of Ata to have warned them first, for there were several excited gasps in the room, with Thomas Hayfield jumping off his parlor couch to more closely examine this strange book, holding a wired telephone in his hands, and the receiver to his ear.
���You crazy genius, Asim,��� he said into the phone piece. ���Have you made a teleporter?��� he asked. But then listening rather intently to the professor’s explanation, as he stood there peering over the table in the center of the room, he said at random intervals, ���Oh, yes…��� and ���Oh, I see,��� and then ending with ���Well, still, I think you deserve a medal for it. This is really quite spectacular.���
Though that still hadn’t explained to the rest of the group, in any meaningful way, what the device truly was. And so to demonstrate, Ata began to dip his fingers through the page, so that half his hand had disappeared into the book. He let it settle there for a second, half submerged in the ancient pages, before pulling back his hand, completely unharmed.
���You see, it’s not real,��� Ata explained. ���It’s what is called a hologram, and this box here is just… [he paused to try to think of the best way to describe it] It’s like a slideshow camera.���
���Yeah,��� Timothy interjected, sitting on the same couch, with Barbara and Ata on either side of him. ���See, we were just lazy, and didn’t feel like writing out the whole story by hand, so Ata suggested we take a picture of it.���
���Then, is this one of those ‘history books’ you were telling us about?��� Barbara asked, leaning over, trying to turn the page, but finding her fingers would only fall through the image.
To this Ata answered that, yes, this was one of the volumes in the Histories of Earth, and that his father had a huge banquet hall filled with them, but that they thought it would be unsafe to bring the actual book on the train with them, from Turkey, and so they brought the next best thing, a picture.
All of this was of course new and interesting, but Wilbur Wolcott was all too curious about what story might be written into this book to wait much longer.
���Well, go on. Read it for us. What does it say?��� he asked, sitting on the edge of his chair, on a floral patterned loveseat near Matilde.
Though Ata didn’t begin to read immediately, but looking over at Timothy first, he replied with a certain formality. ���We thought, maybe, Mrs. Wolcott should be the one to read it,��� he said, turning the camera device so that the open book was now facing Matilde Wolcott, the Queen of Earth, and she came to kneel in front of the table, as the rest of the group folded in around her in a close huddle.
And here are the words as she read them:
(It was intermixed within a collection of other strange stories from the fall of 1909.)
September, 23rd ��� A peculiar man, in the greater London area, was admitted rather reluctantly into King’s College Hospital (being directed by his house maid, a Mrs. Bernadine Allen), on account of a deep, but non life-threatening stab wound in his side. However, after the surgeon had stitched and dressed his wounds, a nurse reported hearing a terrible crashing noise from the patient’s room. Though once she’d gone to investigate this strange phenomenon she found that the roof above had collapsed onto the man’s bed, yet the man himself was nowhere to be found.
Perplexed and not wishing to ensue any legal complications associated with the man’s disappearance, the hospital coroner, under significant pressure, declared the man to be deceased, while the real reason for his disappearance has never been confirmed.
Yet, after a minor investigation, we’ve later determined the man to be an Arthur Greyford, a retired businessman from Mayfield, England. In response to this, his h
ome and assets were thoroughly searched, but no other evidence was ever found, and the occurrence has remained unexplained, to date.
���Arthur Greyford is still alive?��� Barbara said as a question. ���So that means-���
���No, of course not, dear,��� Agatha Hayfield interjected, sounding mothering. ���That would have been… [then thinking through the math in her head] sixty-five years ago. He’d be over a hundred years old by now.���
���Should we tell Ilayda?��� Wilbur said, asking his wife’s opinion.
But Matilde didn’t answer directly, she still sat kneeled down in front of the book, her eyes staring into the distance, trying to wrap her mind around all that this had meant.
And once she’d had a grasp on it, she spoke up, over the murmuring talk, to discuss what should be done next.
First of all, saying, ���Yes, I do think we should tell Ilayda. It would rest her mind, and frankly, I can’t see any reason to keep it from her.��� And then continuing with her thoughts, ���Now let’s see if we have this straight,��� she began to say, transitioning into the timeline of events, and all that they had known about Arthur Greyford.
Saying that, Arthur leaves the world of Sonsuz Su, after sustaining substantial injury. He is then admitted into the hospital, where he’s later reflected, but to where? - She asked rhetorically. ���He leaves Earth, never to return, and Meris had thought he’d died as well,��� she said, turning to her husband who would know that part of the story. ���And he hasn’t come to Gleomu again, and not to Sonsuz Su…��� she said aloud.
But here Barbara interrupted, saying politely, ���But couldn’t he have come to Gleomu, and then used the globe there to travel to someplace else?��� she asked.
Howbeit, Wilbur now broke in, holding his chin in deep thought, coming to understand what his wife might be getting at. ���No,��� he said. ���I think we can rule out Gleomu all together. He likely wouldn’t have gone back there, knowing how dangerous Darius could be. Or, if he had, wouldn’t he have at least come back to Earth to let Meris know that he was alright?… I mean, they were friends and all,��� he said.
���That’s right,��� Matilde replied. ���And so, wherever he’s gone to, he’d have to have been pulled there, reflected away from Earth, pulled back to some other world, by the way that he’d left the hospital.���
This sparked in Timothy’s mind, so that he knew exactly what his grandmother was getting at, as he remembered vividly, their hidden cave in Gleomu, and the forgotten history of the Seven Worlds of Man painted into that giant underground mural.
���That means, he’s in one of the globe worlds, then, am I right?��� Timothy said, ���But not Earth, of course, not Gleomu, and not Sonsuz Su… ��� he said, counting down his fingers from a set of seven.
���Yes,��� Matilde answered, smiling at her grandson.
���But where then, mum?��� Agatha asked, who was still new to globe travel, and would not know the obvious answer.
���In one of the four, undiscovered Worlds of men,��� Matilde Wolcott replied, showing a subtle spark of adventure, for those who knew how to look for it, in her not so age worn eyes.
And here, Professor Asim chimed in, by way of his telephone conversation with Timothy’s father, to say that he couldn’t have agreed more.
Chapter Seven
New Beginnings
Roughly two weeks after their initial meeting, the friends and royalty of Earth gathered again in Mayfield, on the grass behind Wolcott Manor. It was nearly dawn, and the time for Timothy, Barbara, Wilbur, and Matilde’s reflecting had come due.
Ata was in the house, saying a last goodbye to his father, over the phone, and speaking in weighty scientific terms about the best means by which to run a successful search party. Timothy’s parents and grandparents stood under the back porch step light, while Matilde spoke in great detail, and at length, about how they would keep Timothy safe during their new mission. And giving exhaustive reasons for why this trip would be much different from their previous journey, with Wilbur offering a long history of how they’d spent decades in Gleomu, in complete safety, and saying, how it was really nothing to be fretted about.
Which then left Timothy and Barbara alone, seated beneath his grandparent’s knotted old beech tree. They’d been sitting for a while in a comfortable silence, watching the light slowly brighten on the horizon; And, at the moment, Barbara had been waving her hand over the soft grass, to feel the individual blades tickle against the palm of her hand.
���Oh,��� Timothy said at last. ���I almost forgot, again. I have a present for you,��� he said, pulling a small wrapped box from the pocket of his summer coat.
���You got me a gift?��� she said, holding the box and feeling the ribbon between her fingers. ���Is it for my birthday?��� she asked, somewhat incredulously, knowing that Timothy had never on his own given her a gift for her birthday, and that this would still be several weeks premature.
���Well, I guess it could be a birthday gift, if you’d like to think of it that way,��� he said. ���But it’s not from me, it’s from the Professor.���
���Oh,��� Barbara answered, feeling in some strange way slightly disappointed that the gift had not come from Timothy, personally. ���Still, it’s lovely though… thank you,��� she said, pulling at the ribbon, and lifting the tiny lid.
And within she found a necklace, a spectacular white gold or platinum, precious metal necklace, with a teardrop medallion hung around it, and a flawless powder blue stone set in its center, that was nearly the same color as the box that it was wrapped in. She felt the smoothness of the medallion in her hand, and ran her fingers along the chain, until she heard a distant ringing that interrupted her attention. The high shrillness of this sound, Barbara at one time had thought to be grating, and forever unlikeable, but now she’d slightly cherished it, because this sound was now always associated with Gleomu, like a bell to call her home.
She rose from her seat on the grass, beside Timothy. ���It’s time,��� she said aloud, with the most genuine smile upon her face.
What a fanfare they had when they arrived at the palace. And this was for two reasons: One, because the royal family and all those in Ismere were indeed undoubtably excited to welcome back the visiting dignitaries from Earth. But the second reason (and why Queen Delany was most excited and truly happy to have her dear friend Mattie there to share in her joy), it was that the Queen’s youngest daughter, Pemberley, had been with child. And coincidentally, the day of their returning to Gleomu, and the day of her delivery, had pleasantly fallen on the same day.
The palace was astir with excitement, and until the final hours there were still old maids and nurses making their guesses as to what the sex of the new royal baby would be. Which continued on until just after midnight, when King Corwan rode out to the main square, personally, to announce for all those who waited in eager anticipation, the birth of a new prince. And truly the excitement of this, and the ceremony and rites, surrounding the birth of a new prince took a week and a day to finish with all the formality of.
And so, when that was completed, King Corwan and Queen Delany were especially intrigued to learn about all that Timothy and Ata had found; Which Timothy read aloud from Ata’s holographic book, to the eager and attentive audience of the entire royal family (including the newborn prince, who slept soundly through all of it).
When Timothy had finished reading, King Corwan rose to speak his mind on the matter: Saying, that duty should compel them to seek out each of these four other worlds to the best that they were able.
And the following day, there was a great discussion as to what a search of that magnitude might look like. As they reclined on couches, drinking teas and ales, and as Matilde made efficient notes of all the best of their id
eas. Which in order were these:
In the first hour of the morning, Queen Delany said that, ���Reason would suggest that we first send out search parties, to report back to the group about the condition of each of these worlds, so that we might make a better assessment as to the task at hand.���
Then, later on, after a plate of apples and baked rolls for breakfast, Wilbur mentioned that, ���it might do us some good to break up the surface of each world into quadrants, to search each in a very organized fashion.���
After this, Asa shared the notion that ���it might be wise for them,��� if they were to use Darius’s flying machine to search these worlds by air. So that in this manner, it would likely be the safest and most efficient way to inspect each world in its entirety. Though Asa’s suggestion was not immediately adopted, since they all agreed that the flying machine, itself, would be far too large to fit through the portal of the globe painting.
That was, until long after this, nearing the end of their meeting (after a lunch of pheasant and spinach leaf pie), Barbara suggested, somewhat passively, not expecting it to even work, that possibly they could reengineer the flying machine, so that its wings and sails would fold, ���like a ship in a bottle,��� Barbara said. Which, after the principle had been explained to those from Gleomu, everyone took for a genius idea, as they heralded Barbara for her good wit.
That evening, after a day of long-winded discussions, Barbara sat before the ornate vanity in her room, unclasping pins that she’d used to keep her hair fitted in an elegant woven bun. She had on one of her favorite dresses from Gleomu: a hunter green, quarter sleeved gown, that felt as soft as silk, although she knew it wasn’t. But the thing she’d most admired that night was the Professor’s gift, that she had liked to think of as a birthday gift, draped with a long chain around her neck.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 42