Broken Quill [2] (28 page)

Annie barked a short laugh. “What
just happened?” she asked. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me?”

“Nope, you’re looking at a touch of
wild Will—old enchantments and incantations that have seeped into the very
foundations of the Academy.” I gently touched one of the dew-soaked purple
blossoms. “Sometimes I’m of a mind that Will is more than intent and desire.
That its... origins... are somewhat more sentient. Eh, but who knows?”

“What is this place?” Annie asked.

“What I wanted to show you,” I said.
“For whatever reason—feral enchantment, maybe—this door only pops into
existence this time of the day, halfway between noon and dusk. Come along, Miss
Brie. It’ll disappear again in fifteen minutes.”

With a rush of old excitement, I
grasped a large, rusted brass handle and pulled the door open. The gentle aroma
of honeysuckle and vanilla became overpowering as fragrant air rushed over the
threshold and spilled into the small, narrow tunnel. Together, Annie and I
stepped into one of the most amazing gardens I’d ever seen.

“The Secret Garden,” I said,
gesturing with an arm across the wide expanse of green and sundry plant life.

Annie fell into a sort of quiet,
near-dumbfounded respect as she strolled with me through halls of creeping
vines, curtains of elongated cherry blossom branches, and carpets of soft
petals fallen from knee-high wildflowers. Our secret garden was about forty
feet across its length and breadth. Every few feet a cast iron bench, perhaps
centuries old, could be seen under a growth of plants. A thick canopy formed a
green tunnel through to the heart of the garden. Along the perimeter, the old Academy
walls rose up and enclosed the space. Pale sunlight soaked up the dew, giving
the thousands of petals a wet shine.

“Oh my,” Annie said, as we emerged
from the tunneled canopy. “I can
taste
lilac and… cinnamon… on the air.
And what’s that?”

“Something ancient,” I said.

In the heart of the garden on a
flat, cylindrical pedestal stood a large sphere of white stone. Lichen and moss
clung to the vine-encircled base. A latticed network of climbers formed loose
loops and curled contours against the stone.

Hundreds—probably thousands—of names
marked the monolithic globe of stone. Some had been scrawled hastily, others
with great care, burned into the rock with Will or etched with a knife. Most
had faded beyond illegibility, but a great many were still readable. Names
jumped out at me, but Annie silently mouthed the words to herself, staring at
the centerpiece amused yet bemused.

“You don’t recognize any of the
names?” I asked, with a small chuckle. “Here, look. This one may be familiar.”

William Shakespeare – 1589

“Well, yes, I know that one.”

I nodded. “Thought you might. How
about here?”

Charles Darwin – 1819

Annie frowned.

“Or this one?”

Francis Drake – 1562

Annie recognized a few more names,
running her fingers over the engraved, old letters. Some of them were barely
legible or even recognizable as English characters.
Isaac Newton – 1667
.
William Blake – 1777.

“I know these names,” Annie said,
looking at me with a careful smile. “Surely they didn’t carve them...” She
trailed away as I nodded.

“A lot of the names you don’t
recognize belong to Knights and other great figures throughout Forget, not just
those who made their mark on True Earth.” I tapped
Elan Spring – 1487.
“He slew a giant space serpent that tried to devour the moon. No, I’m not
kidding. And here, Oswin Burnett—she sealed the Final Vanguards and prevented,
if not all, then a good chunk of Forget from falling into the Void. Here,
Thomas Atkinson. He invented the Atlas Lexicon.”

“Fascinating,” Annie said, and I
think she meant it. “Who else?”

I moved my hand along the stone, and
my smile faded into something not so kind. “Aldous Axley, one of Forget’s most
infamous serial killers. Used Will to make people kill themselves. Killed
thousands before he was stopped and instigated a race war in the Uncharted
Realms that killed thousands more. Or here, look... Bruce Gallant. A nasty
piece of work. Wrote a world into existence that’s just cruel. A hell on earth,
I suppose you could call it. Nothing but fire and torment. He banished his
seven sons there.”

For every name I knew, there were a
dozen I didn’t. Even the libraries of the Knights Infernal couldn’t keep track
of history across thousands of worlds. I followed patiently in her wake as
Annie explored the stone, recognizing a name from True Earth here and there.

“Oh come now, really?” she asked.
“Does that say Merlin?”

“It sure does.”

“Like the wizard?”

I shrugged. “Stranger things in
heaven and earth...”

We circled to the far side of the
immense stone sphere, to a patch of bare rock devoid of any names. The
scribbles and etchings petered out to untarnished rock, save for one name at
the end of the very long list.

Declan Hale – 2002

Something almost irresistible
flashed in Annie’s eyes in that moment, and she drew Myth, the world-cutter,
from her inner jacket pocket. She stepped forward but nevertheless hesitated.

“Go ahead,” I said solemnly. “But be
quick. We’ve only got about six minutes left before the door to this place
disappears, and we’re stuck for a day. Heh, I learned that the hard way.” I cleared
my throat. “Still, make a mark on the world, Annie Brie. Stand and be counted
with the best and the worst history has to offer.”

“I don’t know if I should,” she
said, but pressed the razor-sharp tip of Myth against the stone just the same.

“Be warned, there isn’t a name on
this stone that hasn’t shaped the world in some way. For good or ill, murderers
and martyrs, heroes and villains, geniuses and madmen... I don’t know if
there’s a touch of destiny here—I’ve never believed in such nonsense, not really—but
there’s something about this place, no?”

Annie hesitated only a moment
longer. Then, with a gleam that may have been two parts excitement to one part
worry, she carved her name into the stone amid the scent of a hundred different
wildflowers. She chose a spot just next to mine—carved with Will-fire some ten
years ago now.

Annie Brie – 2012

She looked up to the sky once she
was done, as if expecting to be struck down or to see the heavens part. Neither
of those things happened.

“Does no one but you know about this
place?” she asked, slipping Myth back into her pocket. “Can’t it be seen from
those upper levels?”

“You’d think so,” I said, “but no.
I’ve tried. The Academy isn’t built like that, and centuries of students
burning through centuries of Will seem to have altered the very reality of this
place. It’s... well,
magic.
I wish I had a better word for that. I
hate
using the word magic.” I considered, then shrugged. “
Yūgen, perhaps, which means an
awareness
—an awareness of the
universe that triggers an emotional response too deep and mysterious for
words.”

I liked that. It
said a lot while saying nothing at all.

“What I’m getting
at,” I said, “is that this place, the Academy, is built on the back of history
long forgotten. What dark or wonderful secrets breed in the lost corners, hmm?
Secrets upon secrets, and no one bothers to delve below the surface anymore.”

“But there’s more?”
Annie asked.

“Oh yes. A whole
lot more. I found the way to Atlantis here, lost for ten thousand years, and I
still feel like I’ve only just scraped away the topsoil.” The work of a hundred
lifetimes, to truly explore the Academy. “But let’s get back. We stick around
much longer and we’ll be stuck here for a day. Believe me, there’s not a whole
lot to do.”

*~*~*~*

Locating Sophie and
Ethan proved to be more difficult than I’d anticipated. Perhaps because I’d
been away so long, I’d forgotten how
big
the Academy was, and that was
just on the surface of the place. Never mind the warren of underground tunnels
and buildings built into the horseshoe-shaped mountain range encircling the
school.

So as fourth bell
tolled toward fifth, I took Annie to somewhere I did know how to find—to
Edgar’s—a small pub on the river, famous for cheap ales, fine liquors, and the best
steak this side of True Earth.

As planned, Vrail,
Dessan, and Garner were there to meet us, already sipping at dark lagers around
a table constructed of old pallets in front of a roaring fireplace. Despite the
early hour, Edgar’s was doing a roaring trade—as it always had, even in the
darkest days of the Tome Wars. Some believed, myself included, that although
the Academy was millennia old, it had been built
around
this pub, which
had existed since the very moment of creation.

We ordered drinks
and sat sipping them quietly. It wouldn’t take too long for word to spread that
I was here at Edgar’s, and that would either clear the place out or bring a mob
hell-bent on melting my face, as it had done at Tia’s.
I hope she’s okay,
coming back from the dead...

“Ninth bell you’re
due back before the Dragon Throne, eh?” Dessan said. “What are you going to
do?”

“I’m thinking of
taking them up on their offer.” I took a big gulp of ale. “Hell, wouldn’t you?
Despite all the folk that hate me round these parts, I do like being back.”

“Here, here,” Vrail
said, and raised his glass.

Two shadows fell
over our table, almost silhouetted against the large licks of orange flame from
the monumental fireplace. “What’s all this then?” Ethan Reilly asked, his arm
linked in Sophie’s. “You started without us, boss?”

Sophie giggled and
sat down on my knee, giving me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad
you’re alive. We feared the worst when the Lexicon sort of threw you from the
train. But what happened to your eye? Broken quill, what happened on that
train?”

“Don’t rightly
know,” I said honestly, thinking of the way Annie’s eyes had changed and how
Emissary’s brand had burned. Had we both had a part to play in that misfortune?
“And my eye is a little... scorched under this patch. We took the long way
round, but guess who I found on my way to Ascension?”

Ethan pulled over
two more chairs, and Sophie sat herself down between Annie and me. “Who?”

I couldn’t help the
genuine smile that spread across my face. “Tia. Tia Moreau. Very much alive and
well, living in Meadow Gate these past seven years.”

Sophie’s eyes
blazed, and she damn-near squealed with delight. Something on my face must have
caught her eye, because she whipped her Polaroid camera up from around her neck
to snap a picture. I had to blink a few times to clear the dazzle of the flash.

I made
introductions for Sophie and Ethan with my Knightly guard and ordered another
round of ale and some sweet potato fries for the table.

“Here, let me take
a look at your eye,” Sophie said.

“I was hoping you’d
ask.” I lifted the patch and exposed my light-blinded eye to the world. I could
make out nothing, no dull colors or shapes, only darkness.

Sophie grimaced but
pressed her hand over the wound. “The white of your eye is completely red…” She
trailed away, no doubt thinking of her sister, Tal, and the Everlasting
Oblivion with eyes of blood. Cool, soft Will filled Sophie’s palm, and I
shivered as it sought to heal my blindness. “It’s intact, as far as I can tell.
Some damage to the optic nerve. Let me see…”

A few minutes
later, Sophie removed her hand. “Thank you,” I said, but half the light of the
world was still missing.

“I tried my best,
but eyes are funny things. It may come good. Give it a day or two to heal,
maybe, and keep it covered.”

I nodded and
lowered the patch.

“So how are you
finding it, Detective Brie?” Ethan asked. “All of this absurdity and
world-hopping? It threw me for a loop the first time.”

“Actually feels
more like we’ve been bar-hopping than world-hopping,” Annie said wryly. “Let’s
see. There was the university tavern, Paddy’s, McSorley’s, Tia’s, and now
Edgar’s. One might think you’ve a problem, Declan.”

“I do have a
problem. This drink has run dry,” I said, glaring into my empty pint glass.
“Where are my refills? At least this place hasn’t blown up yet.”

Ethan snorted. “Oh,
now you’ve done it. The night is yet young, Dec.”

The night wasn’t
even truly born yet. Sunset was closing in at about a quarter hour before six,
the clock in my head was telling me. That left three hours before I had to make
a decision on whether or not I would take Faraday’s deal and try to destroy
Emissary. The fight was coming either way, but did I want to come back?
Yes,
I truly do.
Friends and enemies surrounding me once again on all sides? Was
I better, alone and writing in my dusty old shop? At least on True Earth, I
could put my back to the proverbial wall and defend my small patch of
territory. Here, I would always be waiting for the next attack.