Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (5 page)

For the next few months, Tiberius Fuller was quite busy.  True to his word, Sensei Okubo’s lessons were demanding, but rewarding.  For the first time in his life, Tiberius was getting some serious instruction in the arts of fencing and combat.  He thought he might have gone soft with the departure of his brother, but now Mr. Okubo was urging him to run and exercise more than ever.  Between his lessons, his chores at the print shop, the occasional Saturday evening dance with Marybeth, and his schoolwork, Tiberius was keeping quite a busy schedule.  He worried that his father would make him stop his quarterstaff lessons if he dropped behind in his schoolwork, so he worked extra hard.  He worked on his math lessons in particular, as that was one of his better subjects, and his father had hinted that it would be especially important in any possibility of his getting into the military academy.  

So, it was with some trepidation that Tiberius observed his schoolmaster, Mr. Johnson, dropping by one evening unexpectedly.  It was the end of the term, just after the Christmas holidays of the year 297 in the Steward’s Reckoning.  If he’d had a problem with his grades, this was the time that Mr. Johnson would be by to talk it over with his father.  Mr. Johnson came into the print shop, but he didn’t have any orders, and he didn’t seem eager to place one.  He just stood by as Tiberius was just finishing up with a customer. 

“There you are, Mr. Kozlowski,” Tiberius said, handing over a package of freshly printed leaflets.  “One hundred copies of A Beginners Guide to Esperanto,” he said.

“Bone, dankon Sinjoro Fuller,” Mr. Kozlowski answered.

“Estas plezuro. Ĝis la revido!”

“Adiaŭ!”  Mr. Kozlowski said, waving cheerfully.

Mr. Johnson cocked an eyebrow at Tiberius as Mr. Kozlowski left the shop, pamphlets in hand.  “Who was that, Master Tiberius?  And what language were you speaking?”

“That’s Esperanto, sir.  Mr. Kozlowski’s the head of the Esperanto Society of Sherwood City.  I printed a few English-Esperanto dictionaries for him.  You remember that I did a report on the language for you?”

“Oh, yes, I remember now.  An artificial language invented by a Polish mathematician, back in the Old World.  Trying to bring peace to the world with a common language.  Is he having much luck with that?”  Mr. Johnson asked. 

“Not really,” Tiberius said.  “Pity, it’s a pretty language.”

“He’s got you speaking the language,” Mr. Johnson observed.

“I sort of have to don’t I?  I print all his papers for him.  I have Mr. Kozlowski in all the time, checking things over.  I like him though.  He’s a good man and a good client.”     

“Quite interesting.  Still, it’s your father I was really looking for, Master Tiberius. Is he about?”

“Yes, sir, he’s in the back,” Tiberius said with some internal trepidation.

“I’ll just pop around to see him, if I may,”  Mister Johnson said, smiling. 

Tiberius watched him go.  So far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong at school lately.  He had been working extra hard, and Mr. Johnson didn’t seem displeased with him.  Still, there had been that math test, and he hadn’t seen the grades yet.  That last problem had been rather tricky.  He would have continued wondering, but he heard the dreaded voice of his father calling him. 

Rubbing his hands on his apron and jogging quickly to the back, he stood facing his father and the schoolmaster. 

“Mr. Johnson’s just been telling me here about your last math test.  Says he’s been giving you some advanced math.”

Oddly, neither Mr. Johnson or his father seemed especially grim.  “I knew young Master Tiberius was interested in a career in the army.  I thought some trigonometry might serve him well,” Mr. Johnson said, smiling. 

“Yes, sir,” was all Tiberius could think to say.

Mr. Johnson continued on with his curious tale.  “I was just telling your father how I was grading your last test.  I had a little trouble with your solution on the last problem.  At first I was going to mark it off, but then, when I studied your answer, I realized something quite odd.  You were right and I was wrong.”

“Sir?”  Tiberius said.

“You had the answer right, and I’d gotten it wrong,” Mr. Johnson explained.  “Every teacher faces this some time.  We always expect to learn from our students, but it told me something has to be done.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir,” Tiberius replied.

“He’s telling us he’s got no more to teach you, Tiberius.  You’ve gotten too far ahead of the class.  You’re going to need some sort of tutor,”  Julian Fuller explained.

Tiberius stood and blinked.  This wasn’t what he had expected.

“I was just telling your father that I thought if we played our cards right, we might just get you into the Military Academy in the Engineering program.  You’re certainly bright enough, and while I know your father doesn’t like to exploit his military career, I think a word or two in the right ear wouldn’t be inappropriate for a student of your ability.”

“The Engineering corps?  That would be great,”  Tiberius said.  Any way into the army would suit him.

“I thought you’d like that,” his father said, giving one of his rare smiles.  “Good, honorable military career.  Not something flashy like those knights who go around jousting.  This is what wins wars.  Checking supply lines, reducing fortifications, building bridges.  I know you’re not much interested in printing, but this is a career for a gentleman.”

“Yes, sir,”  Tiberius said, happily.  

“It will make that girl of yours happy, too.  Good respectable career being in the corps of engineers.  You get tired of the army moving you around all the time, you can always settle down and start your own firm.  Good engineers are always in demand.”

“It will require just a bit more work, I’m afraid,” Mr. Johnson said.  “You need to keep up with your mathematics.  But not with me, you need an advanced math program.  A specialized program, or better still, a tutor.”

“I’m going to have a word over at Standbury’s Academy, first thing next morning,” Julian said.

“Well, actually, I’ve taken the liberty of making a few inquires on my own,” Mr. Johnson said.

“Oh?” Julian said, slightly pleased and surprised.

“Yes.  I thought of Standbury’s of course, but I had the good fortune to run into Mr. Dallen this morning.  He said he’d be happy to tutor the lad.  On full scholarship, too.  Very generous of him, I might say.”

Julian nearly started out of his chair.  “What?!  Are you mad!”

Mr. Johnson started in turn.  “Why, whatever is the matter, Julian?  I thought you’d be pleased?!  Mr. Dallen’s the finest mathematical mind in the nation.  He’s written a number of treatises on mathematics.  He hardly ever takes on students, but as you’re an old friend of his…”

“Friend is hardly the word!  I forbid him to study with that madman.”

“Yes, well, if you feel that way about it,” Mr. Johnson stammered.

Tiberius was wondering, what, if anything, he should say.  Standbury’s sounded just fine to him.  But they all had an even bigger surprise when his mother walked into the room.  She hardly ever interfered with any family business matters, but from the look on her face, Tiberius could see she was bent on interfering now. 

“Julian, don’t be ridiculous.  Tiberius will take his math lessons from Dallen.”

“But … Don’t you see the danger?”  his father stammered.  “You of all people…”

“You know Dallen is a good man.  He’s going to teach Tiberius math.  Ti’s a bright, good, churchgoing boy.  He knows to stay out of anything unholy.”

“Yes, but…”

“I won’t hear of anything else.  We’re not going to send Tiberius to Standbury’s when there’s better and free education waiting for him with Dallen, just because we’ve both seen our share of witches and magic.”

“But dash it all…”

“Julian!”

Julian faced both an immovable object and the realization that he was in the wrong.  Whatever prejudice and distrust he had of Dallen and his sorcerous ways, he couldn’t deny the man had done great good and was in position to help his son.  Defeated, he turned to face young Tiberius.

“Oh, very well.  Your mother is right, son.  You start with Dallen when he’s ready.  But mind you, you stick to your math lessons and don’t get involved in any of his wizard tricks, you understand me, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”  It was all he could say.   

The next morning, Tiberius found himself mounted on one of the family horses, dressed in his Sunday best, and riding down the road.  What bothered him was that he only had the vaguest sort of directions from Mr. Johnson.  He thought he’d gone right, but his directions stopped at a crossroads just a bit out of town.  He looked about, puzzled, when he spied a small mechanical bird fluttering around in the intersection.  The bird flew over towards him and perched on the head of his horse.

"You’re Tiberius, I suppose,” it said, much to his astonishment.  It was a small silver bird about the size of a robin, yet it spoke with perfectly clarity.

“Er, yes,” was all Tiberius was able to say.

“Well, come on then, follow me.”

The bird flew off a bit in one direction, but Tiberius just stood still in shock.  After a moment, the bird returned and landed again on the horse.

“Do you want to see Dallen or not?”  the bird asked.

“Well, yes, I’m supposed to take lessons--- ” he tried to explain.

“Right, get moving then.  Haven’t got all day,” the bird said, and then flew off again.  This time, Tiberius motioned his horse to follow. 

The bird led him through a long gently winding pathway though a small woods.  Tiberius had the odd feeling that he’d been by here before, but never noticed this path.  Before long, the pathway opened up into a large clearing.   Here was a fine Georgian manor of red brick.  Two golden dragons were perched on either side of the steps at the entrance.  Fortunately they did not speak or move.  A man came up, identifying himself as Fredrick, the groundskeeper.  Tiberius was relieved to see there was apparently nothing at all magical about him.  He simply took the horse, mentioned that Master Fuller was expected, and pointed him to the front door.  The little mechanical bird popped on his horse again.

“Right.  My work’s done here.  Good luck,” it said, and flew off. 

Tiberius stepped up to the door and knocked.  A moment later the door was opened by some sort of mechanical man.   He seemed to be made of bronze and copper. 

“Master Fuller?” he said.

Tiberius had been warned by the bird, so a mechanical man didn’t seem so preposterous.  Still, he was a bit surprised.   

“Yes, er, you’re…”

“I’m Mr. Eumaios, sir.  Mr. Dallen’s butler.  I’m an automata, sir, a sort of wind-up doll if you will.”

“A wind-up doll?”

“Yes, sir.  A rather sophisticated one, but an automata all the same, sir.  If you’ll just step inside and have a seat, I’ll inform the master that you’ve arrived.”

Tiberius did as he was told.  The front hall didn’t seem anything so extraordinary.  There was a desk, a mirror, coat racks and hat stands, a place for umbrellas and a desk for the mail.  There was also a rather large grandfather clock placed prominently in the middle of the hall.  A brass chandelier was dangling from the ceiling.  Tiberius stepped over to look at the clock.  As he did so, the clock struck nine and a little bird popped out. 

“Coo-coo ... Coo-Coo ... Coo-Coo” it said eight times.  The ninth time it said “Coo-ack!” and seemed to cough.  Tiberius looked at it in surprise.

“Sorry about that,” said the little bird.  “It’s not easy doing the same thing over and over again, every hour on the hour.  I try and mix it up now and then, just for variety, but people complain.  They say I’m supposed to be a coo-coo clock, not a bird of paradise clock.  Still, if you’re going to put a magical alarm clock in your front hall, you may as well get your money’s worth, say I.  You're new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m Tiberius Fuller.”

“Oh, yes, we’ve been expecting you.  The master will be along in a minute, I suppose, unless Singh’s gone and blown something up again.  Well, nice meeting you, but I’ve got to go and rest.  Big performance coming along at quarter past the hour.  Think I’ll do a macaw this time.  Just remember, I take requests.  I do an excellent rooster if you’d like to place a wake up call some time.  Just let me know.”  With that, the bird disappeared inside the clock, the little door closing shut tight behind him.  Was it just his imagination, or could Tiberius hear a faint snoring behind the steady tick-tock of the clock?