Island of Echoes (15 page)

Daniel’s face, typically pale and bony, turned as bright as a ripe tomato. I could not help but feel joy at the revelation, for I shared many of Lady Pearson’s sentiments. We all scrutinized the priest, whose discomfort had become apparent in his posture.

I expected to hear a defense, but he instead turned to Sarmia and began to speak in Latin. “Your King is a lover of men,” he accused. She and Eireas were completely taken aback by his brusqueness.

“I am not sure why the romantic interests of his majesty are any of your concern,” she shot back.

“It does not bother you that his pursuits are of the same gender?” Daniel sputtered.

Eireas and Sarmia looked at each other with befuddlement. “We are not barbarians, Father,” she informed him. “Why would it?”

“This is a mad house!” Daniel shouted and leapt to his feet. “You would be in prison right now if we were home!” he roared at Rémy. He then glared at me. “Tell our hosts that I will be leaving. As to your fate, I only pray that God will have mercy on you all.” He sighed and stormed out of the room.

I dared not look at my companions in fear of being asked about the priest’s accusations. Travert was not a patient man, however.

“Does your mother know about this?” he asked of Rémy. “Is this why you left home?” His words were serious without being stern, and for that I was grateful.

The young boatman did not respond. His face betrayed anger and disgrace.

“Captain,” I began, “won’t you agree that this is hardly the time to speak of Daniel’s claims?”

Travert met my gaze for several moments before finally nodding. “His mind is made up,” the Captain pointed out, “and we must decide as well.”

“We have some time to think on it,” said Ella.

“It may surprise you to hear this, my dear,” Lady Pearson intoned, “but we are not being asked to choose between staying here and going home. Our only options are staying here or risk being transported elsewhere. You have your entire life ahead of you, Ella. I don’t want you to risk it.”

“Are you saying you would go back even if I were to stay?” Ella’s voice took on a note of sadness.

“I have much less to lose.”

“Heavens, Lady Pearson,” Travert scowled, “you speak as if life has no value beyond a certain age.”

“I can hardly walk, Captain, much less earn a living from nothing.”

“But just the other day you were told that the medicine here can help your limp,” Ella insisted, her voice rising. “And you just mentioned how lucky we are to be here. Are you really suggesting that you may go off into a terrible storm after which I shan’t expect to ever hear from you again? I would die not knowing what happened to you, granny! Please don’t ask me to bear such a burden.”

Lady Pearson’s lip trembled. She placed her hands atop Ella’s. “I won’t, my dear. You are right,” she admitted, her voice choking with emotion. “Whatever we decide to do, we will do it together.”

Travert watched the display with misty eyes and I couldn’t help but rejoice in the news. I had grown quite fond of Lady Pearson. Never is a person as enthralling as when their faults are revealed to be one’s own ignorance in observation.

“We must all take the time to think on it,” I said, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Sarmia escorted the others back to our apartment, but I elected to stay behind with Rémy. King Eireas likewise departed the chamber and left us alone on the couches.

“Tell me,” the boatman said, “how did Father Daniel know?”

“Rémy, I am so very sorry,” I answered softly. “We chanced upon you and the King on the ship yesterday.”

He nodded, his eyes still pointed at the floor. “So you knew the entire time yesterday?” he asked. “Yet you still shared a room with me? Conversed with me as equals?”

I walked over and kneeled before him, putting my hands on his shoulders. “We
are
equals, my friend,” I whispered. “Nothing shall ever change that.”

Rémy looked away, a single tear running down his cheek. “You are the greatest friend I’ve ever known,” he said softly. I pulled him up and hugged him. His lean muscled arms wrapped around me, and I felt him shudder as we embraced.

“I feel the same way,” I assured him.

We returned to our apartment. Daniel was nowhere to be seen, but the others were seated around the table, breakfast before them. I filled a small bowl with cheese, bread, and berries and likewise took a seat. Travert awkwardly glanced over at his nephew, but did not confront him.

The others talked quietly, but my thoughts continued to inexplicably return to the peculiar dream I had the night before. The maze, the cold bricks, the dirt, and weathered writing. There are those who say that dreams speak for the soul. I only wished my soul was less ambiguous.

Compared to the Lisispal, our cities were rigid and dirty, and the classes become increasingly divided by the day. A knowledgeable man would want to shape that into something healthier. Break down the old walls and clean it up, so to speak. It was a very tempting prospect. But another side of me saw the dream as a warning. That returning would make me feel trapped in that rigid world, forever longing to escape. Both prospects needed to be weighed heavily, for we had quite a decision to make with no opportunity to change our minds later.

Rémy and Daniel alone came to a swift decision about their fate; the rest of us were not so strong in our convictions. I spent many hours in a cloud of doubt, a cloud which neither passed nor broke into a storm. It settled over me, overshadowing my every thought in perpetual uncertainty. How cruel fortune can be. It thrust us into this foreign land just long enough to perceive its silver lining only to then tease its undoing. I realized the frivolity of contemplating with oneself when my mind cycled through the same endless misgivings, and so I sought the warm company of Ella.

She sat alone in the lounge with a cup of tea in her hand, the beautiful waves of her hair embellished with a modest lace coronet. I knew when I first laid eyes upon her that fate had conspired to bring us together. I felt it all the more as our travels in this strange new world progressed. She looked up at me as I entered and broke into a smile. When all the details of daily life are swept away, one realizes that joy is not so elusive an emotion. It can be felt from within as much as from without. It exists in the rustle of the trees, the smell of the grass, and it radiates from the smile of a person whom you care about.

I took a seat beside her. She must have sensed my internal unease.

“What ever is the matter?” she asked, placing her cup onto the elegant side table.

“I cannot think,” I told her. “The very importance of the decision before me precludes me from giving it the attention it deserves.”

“I know what that is like,” she sighed. “It has been all I could think of, yet I have gotten nowhere. I suspect part of the reason may be that my decision must also be weighed against that of others.”

“Has your grandmother said any more on the matter?” I asked.

“No. In fact, I cannot find her,” said Ella. “She is no doubt pondering these very same notions in solitude. But my grandmother is not the only person I meant.” She gave me a coy smile.

I raised my eyebrows. “Truly?” I asked.

“This is crazy, I know,” she admitted quickly.

“No, Ella,” I interrupted softly. “If you had asked me before this journey, I would have said otherwise. The truth is, as we have come to know, the world is full of mysteries far beyond our comprehension. We mustn’t question the good within it, but embrace it while it lasts.”

She began laughing and I gave her a quizzical stare.

“It’s just that,” she explained, “every word which has just escaped your lips perfectly reflects my own feelings. I have never before met a man who inspires me to speak out and act as freely as you do, and now I find that you share many of my own sentiments.”

“Then it is settled. Whatever we choose to do, we shall do it together.” Taking advantage of our privacy, I grasped both her hands and leaned in for a passionate kiss.

Although our entire group was not leaving the Lisispal, we decided to make the return journey to the ship together. It seemed only fitting, and it allowed for some flexibility with our decisions. While Captain Travert appeared much inclined to depart, Lady Pearson, Ella, and I made little progress with our choice. We all longed to stay and experience the wonders of the world before us, but we also wished to return and share its ideals with the people whom we left behind. For the first time in my life, I envied those with well-founded beliefs and resented my own ever-analytical nature.

We met in the great entry hall of the Tower of Marble shortly after the mid-day meal. King Eireas, Sarmia, and Yawa would be joining us for the journey back to the shores onto which we stumbled the previous week. We waited before the hefty bronze doors of the throne room and I studied the marble statues lining the great dividing wall, perhaps for the last time. It surprised me to spot a now-familiar face. Nestled among the other figures of importance was an elegant woman in modest Grecian dress and an intricate headdress carved to resemble a vulture. Each effigy had a neatly chiseled inscription in Anuprian, Greek, and Latin at its base. My curiosity drew me to the statue’s engraving.

The sword can conquer, but it cannot unite – Cleopatra Magna

I looked up into her eyes, outlined in the Egyptian fashion, which seemed to radiate wisdom through the ages. She looked down upon me, and I wished I could partake in her counsel. My concentration was broken by the opening of the throne room doors. Our hosts stepped out and greeted us. They led us to one of the great curved stairways at the end of the chamber and proceeded downward. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of withdrawal with each step as the magnificent entry hall disappeared above me. I looked back at the statue, I took in the details of the red porphyry columns, and stole a final glance at the intricately carved half-dome of the ceiling, all the while internally voicing my goodbyes.

I remembered wondering how deeply the tower receded below ground on my first day within its walls; I finally received my answer. The space at the bottom of the stairs resembled a small train station. There were tracks on either side of the platform extending into diminutive round tunnels. The dark shafts were scarcely taller than a man, and I could not imagine the miniscule trains which ran through their depths. The station was not very tall, but the arched ceiling gave it a sense of increased proportion. Both sides were lit by intricate wall scones. I studied the recessed tracks in detail as we waited on the platform, for their shape, spacing, and assembly resembled nothing of our own engineering.

“Your luggage has already been transported to Paphos,” Eireas informed us.

“Paphos?” I asked.

“The city closest to your ship,” he explained. “You heard its trumpets on your first night in Capribo.”

Paphos was a very ancient city closely connected to myths and legends of old. The Greeks believed that the goddess Aphrodite first stepped foot on its shores shortly after rising from the sea foam of Cyprus. It is no wonder that we spotted a temple at its outskirts, I thought. The locals no doubt continued her worship at the sight of her birth.

“Is this how they were moved?” I indicated the tracks.

“Yes,” said Sarmia. “They were taken by staytee. We will do likewise.”

“What is that?” Daniel asked.

“Ah, it is coming,” the advisor motioned to an approaching light at one of the tunnels.

It turned out the tracks did not convey trains as we knew them. A staytee was a small mobile compartment which roughly resembled a bullet from the exterior. The metal cylinder was windowless and ornamented only with Anuprian writing and numerals. It glided silently along the tracks and stopped at the mid-point of the platform. A segment of its upper half lifted with a hiss, exposing a room within.

Stairs were built into the transport, and we descended, wide-eyed, into a comfortable little lounge. The floor was wooden and a continuous couch curved along the perimeter of each of the bullet’s rounded tips. A table was positioned at the center and a little cupboard stood against the wall opposite the doorway. It is remarkable that so little a vehicle could seat the nine of us so comfortably.

“There is no driver,” Daniel pointed out curiously.

“No,” the King confirmed. “Staytees travel independently.”

I translated the message as we settled ourselves onto the couches. I sat at the forward end with Ella, Lady Pearson, and Daniel. Sarmia pressed her palm to the curved interior wall of the cylinder and the surrounding segment illuminated. She entered a command into the screen and the staytee door quietly lowered into place. Almost immediately, the vehicle began moving, but we had only the sensations of momentum to judge our speed and direction; the little bullet offered no exterior views.

“Would anyone like some kontrecense?” Eireas asked, and we politely accepted the offer.

He sat closest to the cabinet and we watched with curiosity as he removed nine petite handle-less cups from its drawers. Using a pair of tongs, he placed a triangular pouch resembling a tea bag into each. Hot water was dispensed from a charming miniature faucet within the cupboard. We each took our cup and offered him our thanks. It surprised me greatly that a King should take on the duty of service. But then, I was still unaccustomed to the Capribian social structure. I could smell from the brewing liquid that the pouch had indeed contained coffee, but I was baffled to find it had dissolved into the water in its entirety, leaving behind neither grounds nor bag.

“I admit,” Daniel began awkwardly, his first words directed to me and my companions since his outburst in the King’s chamber that morning, “I shall miss discovering the little marvels of this place.”

“The choice to depart is yours alone, Father,” said Lady Pearson pragmatically.

“Perhaps,” Daniel agreed.

“Of course, the money in your case would be of little use here,” she added almost as an afterthought.

Daniel sighed. “I suppose my quality of character is forever tarnished in your eyes,” he said mournfully to us all. “Since these are my final hours with some of you, I may as well admit to my crime. I fled to Africa after it was discovered that I was stealing from my monastery’s estate. I thought enough time has finally passed to allow for a return to Europe. And then this happened. I was absolutely wretched with remorse when we landed here. Truth be told, I believed God had punished me for my sins.”

“Did you think us equally guilty of something to be cast away at your side?” Ella asked.

“Not quite,” he said softly. “The more I learned of this place, the more I recognized I was banished here to spread the word of our Lord. My teaching serving as eternal penance.”

Lady Pearson raised an eyebrow. “And what has changed your view?”

“Why, the prospect to return, of course,” said Daniel.

“And your penance is over, just like that?” the old woman prodded.

“Being exposed to a world without light was enough to forever banish all temptations of sin, I can assure you.”

“That is the problem with religion,” Rémy said defiantly. “It can be twisted to mean whatever the speaker wishes.”

Lady Pearson nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

I could see a furrow of agitation forming on Daniel’s brow. “Surely you are not saying that you are godless?”

“We said nothing of the kind,” Lady Pearson countered. “Once again, you heard something which was not there.”

“Though I must admit,” I stated, “I never had much faith. I followed the traditions of my family, and found joy in them, but never believed the stories at their foundation.”

“You are American,” Daniel waved a hand dismissively. “A nation of such cluttered beliefs that your words do not surprise me. Many of your founders shared those sentiments.”

“Well I have always felt the same,” Ella chimed in proudly. “And it is refreshing to admit as much without fear of ridicule or damnation.”

“We are truly free here,” Rémy observed. “The beliefs we hold are not important. In fact, they are private and of no concern to others. This world values acceptance. It’s ironic that compassion for our fellow man, the bedrock of any faith, is found more prevalently in a faithless land.”

“To be good without God,” Daniel shook his head. “Who would have thought such a thing?”

“But you do recognize it to be true?” I asked.

The priest took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “Yes,” he finally declared. “In these people, and in yourself, I find it to be true.”

The journey to Paphos was very brief, lasting scarcely more than twenty minutes. We felt the staytee slow to a gentle stop and watched its door hiss open within a large and beautiful terminal. The station was monstrous, with brightly lit wall-screens, great arched doorways, and a hefty glass dome at its apex. I spotted dozens of staytee tracks, and many more of the little vehicles. There was a crowd of excited people at the other end of the hall, behind a line of purple sentries. They cheered as we stepped out onto the platform.

We were led through a side door and into a closed carriage which transported us through the city. I looked out at the hilly terrain and admired its beauty. Aleria was a city of white stone hidden beneath a canopy of tall trees. By comparison, Paphos was wide and lit. Its charming ivy-covered buildings were multicolored and exceptionally picturesque. Flowers of every type grew from beautiful bronze pots beside the road. In spite of its size, the city reminded me more of a quiet European village than a sprawling Mediterranean port. It was busy, but nothing compared to the bustle we witnessed in Alexandria. Life seemed to flow at a slower pace on Capribo. I inquired about this distinction.