Bedtime Story

by Robert J. Wiersema

  “He has something of mine,” I said, remembering Sarah’s comments about honesty, going further out on a limb than I had expected. “Something that once belonged to your grandfather. A book. I was going to return it to you, to the estate, on this trip, but he … well, how he got it is a long story. Just, if he gives you anything, could you please hang onto it?”

  “This is growing rather more cryptic by the moment,” she said.

  “I know, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’ll let you know if he calls again,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I said, practically shaking with relief.

  “I do want to hear this story,” she said, almost warningly.

  “Sunday afternoon.”

  “I’ll see you then.” There was a click as the line disconnected.

  David waited a moment in the doorway of the stone building on the beach, looking into the small room.

  “There has to be more to it than this,” he said, taking a step forward, as if that might reveal something that he hadn’t noticed.

  The room was rectangular, and small enough to be lit entirely by the daylight coming through the open door. The walls were plain stone, smooth. There were no other doorways, no stairways, no marks on the wall or carved symbols.

  There was only a stack of smoothly cut stone blocks, rising to his waist, standing in the middle of the room.

  An altar.

  And on top of it a gold chest that caught the sunlight and seemed to magnify it, burning with a silent, undeniable force.

  David entered the room and stopped, waiting for something to happen, some trick or trap.

  “Why are you delaying?” the captain asked from outside the door. “Is something wrong?”

  David took another look around the room, but there was nothing he could imagine posing a threat. Nothing he could see, at least.

  “No,” he said. “It looks safe.”

  “Then get the Stone and let’s get out of here,” the captain said.

  David hesitated, still not sure.

  “Come on,” the captain urged.

  It’s not like you have a choice, Matt said.

  That’s true, he thought, as he crossed the room to the altar. He didn’t have a choice about any of this.

  The gold chest was about the size of his mother’s jewellery box, with the symbol of the Sunstone carved into its lid. A ruby was set in the middle of the symbol. No handprints, no clues, no secret locks—just a beautiful box with a lid.

  David looked around the room as he opened the box. No flames, no flood.

  So far.

  Inside was a brown leather bag, still soft despite its age. As he lifted it out, his fingers brushed against something underneath it: a small book, bound in the same colour of leather, with the outline of the Sunstone on the cover.

  That looks like—

  Matt’s thoughts were cut off by the sound of the captain’s voice. “Do you have it?”

  Hardly able to breathe, David struggled to untie the knot closing the leather bag. The shape felt right. The weight felt right. If he could just get this knot untied …

  This is it, Matt thought excitedly. This is it.

  When the knot came loose, he reached into the bag and pulled out an amulet on a long, heavy chain. The pendant was thick, gold, and when he turned it over, he saw it was set with a large, blood-red stone.

  There was no doubt in his mind: after all the narrow escapes and false hopes, all the pain, he was holding the Sunstone.

  The ruby seemed to drink in the light, gleaming and growing warm in his hand. Warm! Just holding the Stone, he could feel heat moving through his body, a warmth that he had thought he would never feel again.

  He felt light and suddenly at ease. He’d done it! And now the Stone was doing its work, healing him, body and soul.

  As the warmth rushed through him, he felt something else: a sense of weightlessness, of moving out of himself. He blinked several times, and each time he closed his eyes, the world changed around him. One moment he was standing in the room on the island, holding the Sunstone; the next, he was in a warm bed, and he could faintly hear the sound of his parents’ voices.

  “Is that it?” the captain called out.

  For a long moment, David couldn’t speak, overcome by the warmth, the power, the strange sensations coming from the Stone. There was magic here, no doubt, and he soaked it up like a dry patch of earth soaks up a rain.

  “Dafyd?” he heard the captain, as if from a great distance. “What’s happening?”

  “I’ve got it,” he called, reluctant to break the spell. He could hear the shaking in his voice. “I’ve got the Sunstone.”

  As he turned toward the door to show the captain the prize they had won, he felt the cold tip of the man’s sword against his chest, over his heart.

  David froze in place. “Captain. We have to—”

  “We don’t have to do anything. You found the Stone. Your Queen will be grateful. But your part in this is done. Now put the Stone back in the bag and give it to me.” He spoke these last words through clenched teeth.

  David, give it to him, Matt urged. He’ll kill you.

  David looked at the captain’s face, felt the Stone heavy in his hand. The man’s eyes were dark, and so focused they seemed to bore into him. His jaw was hard, unmoving, his determination clear and grim.

  He’s going to kill me anyway, David thought.

  But maybe—

  “Give me the Stone,” the captain said again, pressing the tip of his sword through the fabric of David’s shirt.

  David could feel the cold steel against his chest for an instant before his skin gave way with a burst of pain. “All right, all right,” he shouted, stepping back slightly as he felt his own warm blood running down his stomach. “Here.” He held out the Stone.

  Captain Bream shook his head. “That’s not mine to hold,” he said. “Put it in the bag.”

  David moved slowly, deliberately, not making any sudden movements that might startle or anger the captain.

  When he held out the leather pouch, the captain snatched it away.

  You had no choice, Matt said.

  The captain lowered his sword slightly as he tucked the bag into a small pocket near his belt.

  “So what happens to me?” David asked quietly, watching the tip of the sword, now in line with his belly.

  The captain shook his head. “We’ve got what we came for,” he said, his voice cold.

  It looked like he shrugged, but his motions were too fast for David to follow: the captain stepping forward, a crunching noise just over his left ear, a flash of light and pain, and everything went dark.

  Cat Took had turned the television down when her phone started to ring; as she hung up, she turned it off altogether. There was no need for its noise now; there was nothing left to conceal.

  She left Tony Markus’s body where it had fallen, face-up on the bed, his expression frozen in surprise, the almost perfect circle of his mouth matching the smaller circle of the bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. He had fallen without a sound, the bed shuddering under the sudden force of his weight.

  She had already tucked the gun back into her purse. So heavy in the hand, so concentrated in its force, and yet so easily gone from her sight again. It was as if she had called a terrible creature into being for its one purpose, then allowed it to dissipate back into the ether once she was done with it.

  In the bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face and patted it dry. She reapplied her lipstick, erasing the memories of the repulsive man’s mouth on her own. She touched her hair.

  Pretty as a picture, she thought to herself.

  She used her purple scarf to wipe off the doorknobs, the faucets and the buttons on the front of the TV that she had touched. She was confident that she hadn’t touched anything else, but she wasn’t overly concerned: even if she had left a fingerprint or two, there was nothing in any database to match them against.

  T
he last thing she did before leaving the room was to cross to the desk and pick up the book that he had tossed so carelessly there when they got to the room. She held it carefully, tenderly, with an intimacy like that of a lover.

  “Hello, Lazarus,” she said. “Back again.”

  If you hadn’t given him the Stone, he would have killed you and taken it.

  Given the situation, David didn’t find the words comforting.

  “Instead,” he said. “He left me here.”

  They were sitting on the beach, at the edge of the lake, as darkness came.

  Alive is better than dead, Matt said.

  “Sorry.”

  They sat in silence for a long while. The water lapped at the rocks near their feet and the breeze rustled in the trees behind them.

  “So what now?” David asked.

  I don’t know, Matt said, and David thought he could hear a helplessness, a sadness that he had never detected before in his friend’s voice. This doesn’t fit.

  Reaching forward, David cupped a handful of the cold lake-water and dabbed lightly at the lump where the captain had hit him with the hilt of his sword. Good, it was starting to scab up. So was the small cut on his chest.

  “What doesn’t fit?”

  I never told you, he said. I always … I read the last page of a book first.

  “You read the last page first?” David almost laughed, thinking of what his father would have said about that.

  I can’t stand the suspense, he said, sounding embarrassed.

  “So To the Four Directions has a happy ending?”

  That’s why I was so sure that everything was going to be okay, he said. Matthias—Dafyd—was this huge hero, and there was a parade and a carriage and Arian …

  “But you said that me being here changed everything.”

  I thought that was just little things. I didn’t think … I mean, the book’s already been written, right?

  David sighed. “Does this look like a book to you?” he asked, gazing out at the lake. “This is it,” he said slowly, feeling a part of himself deflate with every word. “This isn’t a book. Not anymore. It’s a world. My world, now.” The truth hung in the cool air, the implications still echoing in his head. “I’m never gonna see my mom and dad again. There’s no happy ending, no ‘you’ll make it through to that end because that’s what happens in the book.’ There’s just—” He picked up a handful of gravel and threw it into the water. “Just this. This island. This beach.”

  And whatever you do.

  He looked out at the water.

  “I’m going to die here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m never going home.”

  You might not have to wait that long …

  David rose to his feet.

  Look, he said, as if David wasn’t seeing through the same pair of eyes. There’s a light.

  There was nowhere to hide. The only thing more daunting than hiding in the small building where he had found the Sunstone was the idea of running into the dark woods.

  “Who do you think it is?” he asked, touching his ankle, making sure that the knife was still there.

  We’ll find out soon enough.

  David didn’t become frightened as the minutes passed, as the light grew larger, as the boat came into view. So much had happened to him, he was content to just watch and wait. As the faint sound of oars on the water reached his ears, David pulled the knife from its sheath and held it in his lap.

  Not long now, Matt said.

  “No, not long.”

  He stood up when the boat was close enough for him to see the figure of the old man, paddling hard toward him. David held the knife loosely in his right hand, sure to be standing straight and tall as the light fell across him.

  “Dafyd!” the magus cried out when he saw him, but David stood stock-still, not allowing the slightest hint of emotion to touch his face.

  The old man dug his oars harder into the water, driving the boat onto the beach. Before it had even come to rest, he was clambering over the gunwale, opening his arms.

  “Oh, Dafyd,” the old man said. “Thanks be that you’re alive. I didn’t dare hope—”

  David took a step back from the old man and raised the knife between them. “Stay back,” he said, hoping his voice sounded firm.

  “You’re hurt,” he said, trying to reach the wound on the side of the boy’s head.

  David stepped back again, bobbing his head to avoid the man’s touch.

  “The captain did that to you?”

  “Loren,”—David pointed the knife at the man’s chest—“what the hell is going on?”

  The magus seemed confused.

  Maybe it’s the knife, Matt guessed.

  David ignored the voice in his head, and focused on the magus’s face.

  “The captain came back alone and ordered the men to break camp.” He shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake when the two of you set out alone, but I could do nothing …”

  David wasn’t used to seeing the magus so rattled. The blade wavered. “What did the captain say?”

  “He didn’t say anything,” the magus said. “Not about you. He told the men that they were going to ride hard, through the night if they had to. That they were going home. The men cheered when they heard that.”

  David could picture the scene, could imagine the joy he’d have felt to learn that he was going home.

  “When I asked him what had happened on the island, he said that your part in this was done, that you wouldn’t be returning to Colcott with us. And when he said ‘us,’ he looked at me and said, ‘And that goes for you as well, Magus.’ ”

  The knife point dipped. “He left you?”

  The magus nodded. “With enough food for a couple of days, and the slowest of the horses. And the boat,” he said, indicating it with his hand.

  “And you came to rescue me,” David said slowly.

  “I would not have put it past the captain to kill you once he had the Stone,” the magus said. “But I hoped that he had only abandoned you on this shore, the way he had so quickly abandoned me.”

  David lowered the knife to his side. “I’m glad you came,” he said, trying to keep the relief he was feeling from dissolving into tears.

  “I swore an oath to protect you,” the magus said firmly, “and to help you to the fullest of my ability to recover the Sunstone.”

  “Not necessarily in that order,” he muttered.

  “No,” the magus said. “In precisely that order. That is where the captain and I differed: he wanted the Stone for his Queen, regardless of the cost. The oath I swore, though, was to protect you, to ensure your return. Even at the cost of my own life.”

  “At least it didn’t come to that,” David said, hoping for humour to fill the air as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing, to make it fit with the events of the journey.

  “It might still,” the magus said gravely.

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “We’re not finished,” the old man said. “We haven’t much time, and we must get back to the castle before the captain. There are steps that must be taken—”

  “But you said the captain only left you with one horse.”

  “We won’t be riding.” The magus gave a meaningful glance behind him.

  “The boat?” David asked.

  The magus nodded. “It’s four days hard riding back to Colcott, maybe five, though I have learned not to underestimate the captain. By boat, we should take no longer than three. Getting to the river’s mouth at the north end of the lake will be the hardest part.”

  To his surprise, David was nodding. “Then we should get—”

  The magus lifted one hand. “We have a little time,” he said. “I took the liberty of adding a tincture to the drinking water as the men were breaking camp.” A smile cracked through his silver beard.

  “You poisoned them?” His hand tightened again around the knife.

  The magus shook his head. “I’m shamed that you wou
ld think me capable of cold-blooded murder after all this time. No, not poison. But they will sleep very well. Irresistibly.”

  David’s grin matched that of the old man. “That was clever,” he said.

  The magus shrugged. “These arms are not as suited for rowing as they once were. And you’re not apt to be much help.”

  “No, I can row,” David said.

  He looked at David with sudden curiosity. “The last time I saw you, you could barely hold your own weight,” he said warily.

  David nodded. “I’m feeling much better,” he said.

  “You touched the Stone, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” David said. “Why? Is that—?”

  “No. No, that’s fine. That’s just fine.” A smile broadened his face as he fell silent.

  David waited a few moments for him to say something. He didn’t. “I suppose we should go.”

  The magus nodded. “Yes, we should. But there’s one thing I want to do first.”

  PART SIX

  I

  DAVID GRUNTED AS HE DUG the oars into the water, a small sound of exertion that echoed across the dark, silent river.

  The magus, sitting on the small bench across from him, looked up at David from the book in his hands. The lantern was at his back, lighting both their way and his pages, but making it difficult for David to read his expression.

  “Are you tiring?” he asked, his voice warm with concern.

  “No,” David said, to his own surprise. He had enjoyed the past few hours, feeling the pleasant ache in his arms and the tightness in his back. “This morning I couldn’t have lifted one of these oars,” he said, digging in again. “Let alone actually rowed.”

  The magus nodded. “Such are the powers of the Stone, it seems.”

  Don’t say too much, Matt said. You still can’t be sure of him.

  “Is that what it says in the book?” David asked, looking at the volume the old man was holding. It was the book from the bottom of the gold chest.

  The magus had asked David to show him the small building, ‘the last of the hidden places’, before they left the island.

  “It was really that simple?” the magus had asked, standing outside the stone building, holding the lamp high to illuminate the doorway. “It was only a matter of walking through the door?”