Book of Knowledge

by Slater, David Michael

  “Tarik left and went right to the airport. He used a credit card to buy a ticket for a flight to Turkey that left this morning. I did the same. I’m sitting about ten rows behind him right now. I’m using one of those phones built into the seats. I left you a note explaining things as best I could. It’s taped under the kitchen table. Please read it right away and then tear it up. I am truly sorry for anything I wrote that pains you.

  “As for what you should do while I try to discover what he wants, I can only say make your lives as ordinary as possible until I can get home. You know I love you both. I’ll call again when I learn something. Erase this message right away.”

  Beeeep.

  Daphna hung up, then immediately got to her knees and peered underneath the tabletop. There was a piece of paper taped to it. She pulled it free with a trembling hand. Dex had taken his seat again and was looking at her expectantly. Daphna read:

  I was watching the house—I had been since I got your note. I know you understand what is going on. I followed behind that man who followed you to the rest home and listened at the door. He nearly ran me over on his way out. I heard what happened next, of course.

  It was the scene from my worst nightmare all these years—your father remembering he was Adem Tarik. You can be sure I was ready to intervene, but only if I had to. When Tarik left, I ducked into a closet in the hall, then followed him.

  He practically cartwheeled home. I held my breath the whole way, hoping that even if he remembered where he’d lived as Milton Wax, he wouldn’t remember me. I guess he didn’t, though he wandered all over the house looking at this and that.

  Thank goodness I removed every trace of my presence in his life. After a while, I guess he became exhausted. Right now, he’s sleeping in his bed, so I’m taking the opportunity to write this note—just in case things go drastically wrong. I’m going to sneak in and tape it under the kitchen table if I can.

  I’m sorry if my disappearing so completely caused you any shock. It felt to me like I was abandoning my own children. Let me try to explain what I’ve been doing since this all began.

  I know now, of course, that your father came home from his trip with that book. If only he hadn’t returned early, while I was still out shopping—though I understand he went directly to the bookstore with you, Daphna. But there’s no use in regretting what can’t be changed. I didn’t find out about the book until later.

  First you have to understand that I have been hiding all these years—hiding right under Adem Tarik’s nose, but hiding nonetheless.

  All I have concerned myself with was making sure you two were safe. If my constant hovering was difficult for you, I am sorry. You were all I had. Your mother, my best friend, told me her secrets, her mission to find the book, her pain at giving it up, her boundless love for you that made her willing to do it. I was able to fulfill my promise to watch over you as you grew up, but everything is in jeopardy now.

  It was when your father told you, Daphna, to go help at that bookstore that it all started. He mentioned the name “Mr. Rash,” and I nearly fainted. I’m sure you didn’t notice, but I had to leave the room. Later that night, your father told me about the book he’d sold, and I feared the worst.

  That, kids, is why I left you alone on your birthday morning. I went to try to get the book myself. Only, my nerve failed. I knew about Asterius Rash and couldn’t face him. And that is why—oh, gosh—please don’t be too upset by this, that is why I wrote that note to you from your mother.

  I knew you poor kids would find it searching for your birthday gifts. I hoped by telling you just enough about the book and its history, you might manage to get it while I watched over your father, whose returning memories worried me a great deal more than even Asterius Rash. (I saw subtle signs of it well before he went to Turkey and found the book.)

  I know this put you in grave peril, and I know now what must have really happened in the park. Your reading group! Of course, I knew nothing about that until it was too late. I don’t know whether you have the book or not. If so, you must destroy it.

  All I can say is I hope you understand how hard I’ve been working behind the scenes. The guilt I felt for having endangered you and the stress of seeing your father’s memory returning almost did me in. I did everything I could possibly think of to stop it.

  You must know that I saw him push your mother into the crevasse when the caves began to collapse. He tried to push me, too. Our best hope lies in the fact that he thinks he succeeded. He can’t know I’m alive, or he’ll try to kill me immediately. Then there would be no one left but you to stand in his way of getting whatever it is he wants.

  There I was, nearly losing my mind, trying to decide if I should stay with your father in the hospital and then at the Home to keep working on blocking his memory, or get away from him in case I failed.

  Finally, I decided to rely on you two again. Of course, I was terrified for you. If you are angry with me, I understand, but there is something special about you both. I have always, always known it. And I swear to God that I will not knowingly put you in harm’s way again, for as long as I live. I better go hide this letter now.

  “That’s it,” Daphna said, offering nothing further in the way of a reaction.

  “At least now we know why Dad didn’t believe we found a note from Mom in the mattress.”

  Daphna nodded. After a moment of tense silence, she took the note Latty had forged out of her pocket for the last time. She tore both notes to shreds, then tossed them in the trash. Then she got the phone again, erased the voicemail and recorded a new out-going message to replace her father’s, thinking that ought to be enough to show Latty they were safe. Then she sat down at the table and joined her brother in staring at nothing.

  The twins remained that way until Daphna finally said, “That note—from Mom—I—It felt like some kind of connection to her. It helped. Now there’s nothing.”

  Dex felt as disheartened as his sister sounded. He hadn’t been able to read the note, of course, but he was feeling cheated, too. “We’ve got to destroy the books,” he said, trying to get back to the issue at hand.

  “But Latty doesn’t know about the Ledger,” Daphna protested, “or that the Book of Nonsense is showing us some Words of Power again. I mean, isn’t everything different now? Wasn’t the Council’s big fear Rash anyway? No one ever thought Adem Tarik was the real puppet master. I know he wants us to learn the First Tongue, but would you really feel safe burning the books and just waiting around to see what he has in store for us?”

  “No,” Dex admitted, “I wouldn’t. But still—”

  “Me neither,” Daphna said, “and don’t you want to make him pay for what he did to Mom, what he’s done to us? He’s ruined our lives, Dexter.”

  “I don’t know,” was Dex’s response. Part of him really did, but another part of him was sure that going after Adem Tarik would be a very big mistake.

  Daphna could see which way her brother was leaning. “How about this,” she proposed, “let’s study hard for the next five days—I’m going to bed now, but I’ll get up early and start again. Then, when school starts, we’ll decide for sure what to do.”

  “Okay,” Dex agreed. He had no real hope of finding any more Words of Power, but he supposed there was no reason to make a hasty decision. He felt badly for having almost torn up the book without Daphna’s consent. “I’m going to bed, too,” he declared. He was also tired, even after all the naps.

  The twins stacked their dishes in the sink, both fully aware of the dismal mood that had settled over them. There was no point in discussing things any further, so they headed off to their rooms and went to sleep.

  The next few days were grueling. Daphna poured over the pages of Rash’s journal, pronouncing, proclaiming, shouting the stubborn Words until her voice grew hoarse. Though nothing worked, her efforts never flagged.

  Daphna had known for a long time that studying hard paid off in the end. Besides, being so completely engrossed
helped her ignore the gnawing disappointment that Latty had forged that letter from her mom, and that she’d put their lives at so great a risk—the woman who wouldn’t let them cross the street alone until they were ten years old!

  The only breaks Daphna took from her studies were for meals. She and Dex ordered what they needed for breakfasts and lunches from Latty’s web service. Dinner was delivered too, but by Evelyn.

  Like clockwork, something new and delicious appeared on their doorstep every evening: a bean soup called Fassolatha, a lentil soup called Fakes, even oysters one night. And there were always fruits and nuts and deserts, some kind of chocolate or honey dripped pastry. The notes that explained each meal were spritzed with jasmine or cinnamon or other scents the twins couldn’t name. It was embarrassing, but Eveyln never tried to come in.

  The twins didn’t discuss their progress with the books, though it was obvious enough to Daphna from her brother’s moping that he was faring poorly, too. She considered telling him how lousy she was doing, but decided he’d think she was lying to make him feel better.

  Anyway, she needed to maintain focus on her own problems. Odds were it was going to be up to her to find new Words of Power. She kept at it, putting in as many hours as her eyes would tolerate.

  Despite her resolve, on the third day, Friday, Daphna began to wear down. For a change of pace, and because it seemed prudent, she took some time to teleport around town again. Her first stop was the R & R, to check up on Evelyn, who she found talking to a colleague about Milton Wax and his children and all the ordeals they were going through.

  The next stop was the ABC, where she found Antin holed up, pacing around like a wild dog, muttering about cops and thieves and informants and birthdays and bad fast food. He’d chilled Daphna by muttering something about her and Dexter, but she couldn’t quite make it out. It wasn’t affectionate, that was for sure.

  After returning home, Daphna took up the Ledger again. She studied it diligently, reading Word after Word with renewed concentration. But it didn’t matter. She continued to fail with each and every one.

  It was late Saturday night when Daphna’s luck finally changed, though she’d never have known were she not terrified of spiders. It was black and hairy and as big as a quarter, and it crawled up the leg of her desk and right out onto the Ledger.

  Daphna had just called out a long throaty Word when it crossed into her field of vision. As usual, her muscles tensed up, and she teetered a bit in her chair, sweaty and shaking. When it headed down the center of the binding toward her lap, she felt faint.

  Daphna tried to scream for her brother but could only mouth his name. Helpless, all she could muster in her own defense was a pathetic, silent order for the thing to go away.

  Incredibly, the spider did exactly that. It reversed course, climbed off the book and then began descending one of the rear legs of the desk. Daphna was too rattled to make a connection between her thought and the spider’s actions, but when it started climbing back up, she ordered it away again—and it obeyed again.

  Uncertain, but curious, Daphna commanded it to go out her open window. Immediately, the spider climbed down to the floor, crossed her carpet and walked up her bedroom wall. She had to repeat her Word four times, but it did go out the window. When it was gone, Daphna beamed.

  Dexter didn’t last long at his studies. He continued his on again, off again approach, but as each day passed, it was more off than on. When he ate with Daphna, he could just tell she was learning tons of Words of Power. She was probably keeping them to herself so he wouldn’t get jealous and quit trying to help. Dex didn’t want to hear any more of her annoying pep-talks, so he just kept his mouth shut about his complete failure, not that she probably didn’t assume it anyway.

  Between meals he listened to the radio. He built stuff out of junk. He laid around. Even the sheer joy of being able to read couldn’t overcome the disappointment that compounded with every useless word he tried. They were probably all the best Words of Power, too. He was probably reading them wrong. Still, Dex didn’t give up completely, and finally, like his sister, he was rewarded.

  Despite sleeping in Sunday morning, Dex woke up groggy to the sounds of a song he hated on his talking clock radio. He punched it off. Then, before pessimism got the best of him, he grabbed the Book of Nonsense off the heap of junk on his bedside table where he’d tossed it before falling asleep.

  Slightly bleary-eyed, Dex looked over the first page. It was the only one he looked at anymore since it was different every time. He chose a word at random, a long, goofy Pig-Latinish word that struck him as funny when he said it. Nothing happened of course, so he tried the next one, a word that sounded Spanish. When nothing happened, he moved on once again, or tried to.

  Upon reading the next word, Dex did something bizarre. He started singing that song he hated. He stopped quickly, then threw the book on the floor. Enough was enough—he was going stir-crazy. He had to get out of there for a while.

  Dexter grabbed a hunk of cash from the pile on his floor and took himself to breakfast. Then he went to a movie. Afterward, instead of sneaking into a second show like he enjoyed doing, he went out and paid again, just for the joy of peeling money off the wad. Then he took himself out to lunch. Why not? He wasn’t spending that much money, and there was such pleasure in knowing he didn’t have to be the slightest bit concerned one way or the other. When he was done with lunch, Dex went out for ice cream.

  That’s where it happened, all because he didn’t realize he’d been unconsciously repeating that funny Pig-Latin word under his breath all day long.

  Dex loved ice cream, but for several reasons rarely went into the local shop. For one thing, Pops always hung out there. For another, the nasty old man who owned the place wouldn’t tell him about all the new flavors when descriptions were clearly written on the label cards. Choosing by the look of the ice cream was usually a disaster, and Dex didn’t dare ask for tastes of every one.

  Of course, he could always just order a boring flavor like chocolate or vanilla, but having to do that made him feel like a loser when they weren’t what he wanted. But Dex was riding high after his day of being rich and lazy. He wanted to try some exotic new ice cream flavor, and he was going to get one.

  “Speak up, boy,” the old man snarled two seconds after Dex stepped inside the store. “I don’t brook mumblers!”

  Dex was momentarily confused. He hadn’t said anything, but then he realized he had. It was that funny word. No other customers were there, so Dex decided to pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

  “What new flavors do you have?” he asked, bracing for more surliness. None came. Instead, the old man pointed to each new flavor and described them rather politely. Dex supposed it was possible the old crab could’ve suddenly decided to become friendly, but enough incredible things had happened lately to make him attuned to more unusual possibilities. The old guy’s eyes did look a touch hazy.

  Dex repeated the strange Word and then asked about the flavors again. The old man, looking dazed, repeated the entire list without the least sign of annoyance.

  “Do you recommend anything?” Dex asked. The old man screwed up his face at this. His eyes had cleared, and he looked annoyed, so Dex repeated his Word one more time, then asked his question again.

  “Brown Cow’s the way to go in my book,” the old man said. The mist was back in the eyes. He sounded almost pleasant.

  Dex, thrilled, ordered and paid for a triple scoop of Brown Cow. When he sat down to eat it, he noticed immediately that the clarity in the old man’s eyes had returned, as had his crabby disposition. It seemed further experiments were in order, but a group of girls filed in just then. They were giggling and chatting at a hundred miles an hour. Dex shrank a bit in his chair. They were Pops from school—all hip, all great looking, all totally oblivious to his existence on the face of the earth. They made him almost as nervous as the Pop boys.

  The girls ordered milkshakes, and while waiting, they continued
to chitchat. Two of them walked over to look at the ice cream cakes in the display freezer just behind Dex.

  “Only a few more hours until Wren’s party,” one of them said.

  “I know,” the other answered. “It’s gonna be the best thing ever. A cleaning party!”

  “Shhh! Don’t say that out loud.”

  “Why?”

  “True. At least something good came out of Wren’s sister making her wash her sheets all the time.”

  “What a witch. So, anyway, when’s it gonna be?”

  “During the New Pop Initiation. Lucky they stock up so well there, ’cause that stuff has totally been recalled. Oh, shakes are up!”

  The girls hurried to the counter before they got yelled at.

  Dex had forgotten all about Daphna’s surprise invitation. Too much had happened since then, but he got to wondering about it now.

  Wren and Teal had lied to Daphna about being at summer camp so they wouldn’t have to hang out with her. And as far as he could tell, for two years they’d been using her at school to cheat from. So the apology Daphna claimed they made must’ve been just to make sure they could keep using her this year. How could Daphna not have figured that out herself?

  She may be one of the smartest kids in the school, thought Dexter, but she’s also one of the dumbest. Dex tried to remember the way the invitation had been given. Daphna had acted nonchalant, like it was no big deal. And Wren—she’d looked sort of, well, afraid.

  Suddenly, Dex understood. Daphna had done something to them that day. She’d somehow forced them to invite her. And now she was somehow forcing them to make her a Pop! That must be what this initiation thing was.

  So this is what she’s planning to do with the First Tongue, he thought, bitterly. Well, isn’t that just grand. How could they even consider burning the books when there were Pop parties to attend? How stupid of him.