Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (10 page)

“Of course,” Washington said. “I apologize, Miss de Fleur.

“I formerly had a friend named Benjamin Franklin. He was instrumental in the founding of this nation. It is no exaggeration to say that none of this would have been possible without him.

“Ben’s mind was a fantastic wealth of information. There was one subject of which he was particularly fond of speaking: the Gnostagar.

From the assembled visitors there was an almost unanimous blurting out of “The what?”

“That is what Ben called them. He said they were a race of men from another world who came here many years ago.”

“Another world?” Farahilde said, incredulous. “What kind of nonsense is that?” She expected Leopold to immediately chastise her, but he was just as stupefied as she.

“I do not fully understand it myself,” Washington replied. “Alas, I have been many things in my life; a surveyor; a soldier; a diplomat; a general. But none of those pursuits gave me the knowledge to fully absorb Ben’s words. As I said, his mind was on a higher plane.

“But I digress. According to him, the Gnostagar came to our world in response to a certain event.”

“What event?” they asked.

“It occurred in the year 1431 in a town in France. A girl named Joan—”

Mary interrupted him. “
Jeanne
.”

“Yes, of course.
Jeanne
. Her name was—if I may be permitted to attempt the pronunciation—
Jeanne d’Arc
.” Mary nodded her approval at this. There was a flash of vague recognition in Farahilde’s mind as she witnessed this. She felt very strongly that she was on the edge of realizing something obvious.

The President resumed. “She was a peasant girl who it has been said was in contact with God the Creator. Legend has it the Lord called upon her to free France from the English.”

“I am familiar with the story,” Deschanel said. “Jeanne d’Arc fought well but was eventually captured by the Burgundians who were allied with the English during the Hundred Years’ War. She was convicted of heresy and sentenced to be burned at the stake, but she escaped.”

Washington said, “That is correct—or so I have heard from my sources. But do you know how she escaped?”

Deschanel was silent for a moment, as if searching her memory for the answer. Finally she said, “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“According to Ben, she possessed a great power far beyond human comprehension. That power allowed her to easily escape execution at the hands of the English.”

“I…had never heard that,” Deschanel said. Whether she was shocked at the revelation or embarrassed by her own ignorance, Farahilde didn’t care. Anything that irked the imposter bitch was welcome in Farahilde’s mind.

“Alas, now it is time to attempt to explain to you what happened when Jeanne d’Arc used that power. This may be rather difficult. You see, time itself was upset by the event.” There were numerous expressions of confusion at this statement by those present. “Ben told me to look at it this way: Time is comparable to a river. It normally flows in one great body. However, if it came to a fork in the river bed it would split in two. That is what happened to time on that day. The power possessed by Jeanne d’Arc was so great it
split time
. The Gnostagar noticed this even from their world and they came to investigate.”

“Wait,” Leopold said. “Do you mean to say that time itself was duplicated, for lack of a better term?”

“In a matter of speaking. Some people, events and locations were
recreated
, while others only exist in one time or the other.”

“Does that mean there could be another me out there somewhere?” Farahilde asked. She honestly couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Perhaps,” Washington said. “Or you could be the only one of you in existence.” She suddenly felt a little sad at the idea of being all alone in the universe. At least, the part of her brain that could understand what she was being told did.

Washington continued. “The Gnostagar came to our world and began secretly observing us. This was achieved by their astonishing ability to take on any form they wished. According to Ben, they had mastered the art of alchemy!”

“Alchemy? How does the changing of ordinary stones into gold relate to camouflage?” Leopold asked.

“Alchemy is much more than that,” Mary said. Thus far she had been very quiet, letting the President tell the story. Now, it seemed, she had something to add to the discussion. “Alchemy is, in fact, a process by which one material is converted into another—possibly very different—type of material,”

“By what means?” Deschanel said quizzically.

“That, we do not know,” Mary replied.

Farahilde had had enough of this. “This is a fantasy! You’ve all lost your minds.”

“Normally I do not condone my younger sister’s infantile outbursts. However, I share her skepticism. What proof is there that such beings ever existed?”

Mary smiled slyly. “Why don’t you ask Miss de Fleur?”

Surprise registered on Deschanel’s face. “Me?”

“Of course. You faced one of the Gnostagar in battle and emerged victorious, did you not?”

“I…I did?”

“Surely you remember the Count of Saint-Germaine, who attempted to assassinate France’s monarchy by bringing down the royal airship they were on. We now believe he was a Gnostagar.”

The imposter looked very uncomfortable as her eye dotted nervously about the room. “Well…yes, yes of course. He was fierce opponent, but he could not overcome the justice of my blade.”

Even if Farahilde had not known Deschanel was a charlatan, she would have had a very hard time believing the French woman’s words. Deschanel had obviously not been present at the battle in question. She clearly was not aware of what had transpired on that day.

That, strangely, raised another question about the President’s secretary, Mary Rose. Austria’s Department of Secret Intelligence had been able to learn very little data about the events that occurred in the skies above France on July 14, 1789. How, then, did an ordinary American get her hands on such information?

Leopold turned to face the French fraud. “Are you saying that these…Gnostagar…actually exist?”

Deschanel gave a deep sigh. She knew she was trapped. “Yes, alchemy exists. The previous ruler of France, Maximilien Robespierre, knew how to use it. But as for the existence of men from another world…” She shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

Robespierre knew how to use alchemy! Jeanne de Fleur—the real one—had never mentioned anything about that. Maybe she hadn’t known. Could she have come up against the tyrant’s alchemical abilities when she faced him in the Tuileries tower?

Farahilde suddenly remembered what had brought them to America in the first place. “But what about the stones? What are they?”

There were murmurs of agreement among those in the room. They, too, wanted to know about the mysterious stones. “The stones, I have been told, are the remains of the doorway the Gnostagar used to enter our world. If they are brought together again, the door will allegedly reappear and access to their world will be granted.”

“So you want to go there,” Leopold concluded.

“Think of all we can learn from them,” Washington said. “We have come so far in the past century because of their influence. I believe there is still much they can teach us.”

The President was certainly not lacking in ambition, Farahilde thought. Whether or not anything would come from his desire to help his fellow man—real or pretend—was another matter. “So how many pieces of this supposed doorway do you have?” she asked him.

“All but one. The final piece should be arriving by boat any day now. When it does, you shall all be privileged to witness the opening of the door to the world of Gnostagar.”

“If it works,” Mary Rose said softly.

“You mean you don’t even know if it will work?” Farahilde expressed her surprise.

Washington cleared his throat. “As no one has ever assembled all the stones, the story has yet to be separated from legend. I believe in the words of my late friend, however.”

“And how did
he
find all this out?” Deschanel asked.

“He never told me. He spoke of it as Plato spoke of the lost continent of Atlantis. At first I took the whole thing to be merely fantastical prose he had composed. Nevertheless, shortly after he died our workers unearthed one of the fabled stones while constructing the building you now stand in. It was then I knew Benjamin Franklin had been telling the truth.”

“Sir, perhaps it would be best to show our guests to their rooms. We have given them a lot to process, and I’m sure they could use some rest after travelling so far,” Mary suggested.

“Indeed, Mary. Sage wisdom as always.” Washington then addressed the assembled visitors. “Miss Rose will show you to your rooms.”

***

The Austrians—along with Frederick—were quartered in separate rooms on the second floor of the President’s Palace. The French knights opted to remain aboard the
Minuit Solaire II
, which was docked behind the building (they had obviously repaired the balloon at some point), per Deschanel’s insistence. She said she didn’t want to remain in close proximity to any Austrians.

Farahilde didn’t stay in her room long. She soon left, ostensibly to have a look around the President’s Palace. Her real goal, however, was very different. She had something she needed to confirm, and she refused to rest until that was accomplished.

Within a half hour she found in a supply room the object of her search: Mary Rose, the President’s secretary. “I finally found you,” Farahilde announced in a glorious tone she had used once before.

The secretary was evidently checking inventory. She turned to Farahilde. “Oh, Miss Johanna. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can cut the crap, for one,” Farahilde said in French while grinning.

Mary frowned and said in English, “Excuse me?”

The young Austrian pointed an accusing finger at her. “You may look and talk different, but I know who you really are.” She then added, for the purpose of removing all doubt, “
Fräulein
.”

Mary’s eyes widened, and she rushed past Farahilde to the door of the supply room and closed it, making sure to lock it as well. She turned back to face her accuser. “Be quiet, you fool. Do you want to give me away? How did you know it was me, anyway?”

Farahilde’s grin grew even larger. She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and held it up in front of “Mary.” It was the message she had received upon arriving in Washington. “This was my first clue. At first I was sure it had been sent by Deschanel.”

“Who?”

“That imposter claiming to be you.”

“Oh. Is that her real name?”

Farahilde nodded. “Yes—according to your former engineer.”

“Celeste? You’ve spoken to her?”

“That’s right. She should be in this city right now.”

The other woman’s face lit up. “I wish I could see her. That may be difficult, though…”

Farahilde interrupted. “Can we get back to the business at hand? Like I said, at first I was so sure this message had been sent by that imposter bitch. But she obviously knew very little of the history between me and you. She wouldn’t have known that I used to call you ‘fräulein’.”

“Why
did
you call me that?”

“Never mind that,” she said, waving away the question. She was too embarrassed to get into it. “That probably wouldn’t have been enough to let me figure you out. But you just had to go and reveal your knowledge of a classified French military operation that no one else would know about.”