 
## Beyond The Hero's Chamber

By

Ian Newton

Copyright 2016 Ian Newton

Illustrations by Marcia Adams Ho, Copyright 2016

Cover design and Cover illustration by Marcia Adams Ho, Copyright 2016

ISBN: 978-0-9913034-4-1

Smashwords Edition

## Dedications

Elizabeth -

Hand in hand, heart to heart, always by your side.

Gwynn -

For your limitless support and love and for being a zombie.

Connor, Brandon, and George -

Because you were there when I dreamt it and because I told you I would.

Lynn B. -

You're one of a kind and I'm a huge fan.

Neil, Geddy, and Alex -

If you read between the lines, you'll hear your songs.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

## Note from the Author

In the early morning hours of July 5th, 2006, I woke up from a dream. Since then, I've tried to write down what I experienced, to express what I saw, to tell the story of my dream.

The reason for my effort and the purpose of this book is to get the images, the story, the characters, and the emotions out of my head.

With my dream finally down on paper, I know I might never be able to put aside the unreasonably detailed visions that have danced through my head for years. After you read it, I hope you understand why I had to write it down.

Ian Newton

July 5th, 2016

## Warning

This is NOT a stand-alone story. **Beyond The Hero's Chamber** is the continuation of **The Hero's Chamber**. If you didn't read **The Hero's Chamber** , just go online and do a quick search. It's free and it's a wonderful story that thousands of people have enjoyed for years. You'll find the eBook available in every downloadable format on smashwords.com.

If you've already read the **The Hero's Chamber** , welcome back! You're in for a real treat. However, before you read **Beyond The Hero's Chamber** , I have a couple of suggestions you may want to consider.

First, if it's been a while since you read **The Hero's Chamber** please consider going back and reading Chapter 18, _Promises Fulfilled_ and Chapter 22, _Wisdom_. These chapters should quickly bring you back up to speed.

For those of you looking for a more extensive refresher, please read the synopsis on the following pages. This should help jog your memory and allow you to fully enjoy **Beyond The Hero's Chamber**.

## Synopsis of The Hero's Chamber

Andrew Weaver and Connor Duncan were left at an orphanage while their fathers went off to save the world. Andrew's father never made it back and Connor's father was horribly wounded, but survived.

Years later, we meet seventeen year old Andrew and eighteen year old Connor wandering the countryside. They take a swim, and Connor loses his big toe to a giant snapping turtle. Just as he's about to bleed out, his father Jacob shows up to save the day.

Jacob Duncan (Connor's father) retains his alias of Jacob Miller, essentially lying to Connor and Andrew about his true identity. Jacob introduces the boys to a magical shield and book that he and Andrew's father found years ago when they traveled to the Kingdom.

With the help of the magical items, Jacob convinces Andrew and Connor that saving the world is possible, and now's the time.

They all head out together across an unforgiving desert landscape where they are eventually joined by an imposing figure known only as a Wanderer. With the help of the Wanderer, Jacob, Andrew and Connor are escorted to the Kingdom.

When they execute their plan, everything goes wrong. Connor is banished into the desert, Jacob is mortally wounded and Andrew is left to die outside the Hero's Chamber. Connor and Andrew also learn the truth about Jacob's identity, and needless to say it's a real shocker.

Due to a series of improbable events, our Wanderer is revealed to be a young woman named Kaya Elbe. Kaya becomes overly involved in the circumstances at play and takes an enormous leap of faith.

Andrew also takes a huge leap of faith and both he and Kaya restore the Kingdom and save Jacob's life. In the process, they free Kaya's village from an ageless burden, restore hope to a dying world and become unsuspecting pawns in a master plan that's been playing out for more than twenty thousand years.

As we leave our Heroes, Connor is hopelessly stranded in the desert wastelands, while Andrew, Kaya and Jacob are about to embark on an amazing journey with an extraordinary being.

## Table of Contents

WARNING

Preface - STALEMATE

Chapter 1 - ALONE

Chapter 2 – PRACTICE LIFE

Chapter 3 – SPILL THE BEANS

Chapter 4 - CARETAKERS

Chapter 5 - RETURN

Chapter 6 – THE LADY MARIE

Chapter 7 - BAGGAGE

Chapter 8 – DISTANT EARLY WARNING

Chapter 9 – FIRST LESSON

Chapter 10 – ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

Chapter 11- NOW

Chapter 12 – OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY

Chapter 13 – SHADOW TALK

Chapter 14 – COME SAIL AWAY

Chapter 15 – SHOW TIME

Chapter 16 – ANY SINGLE REQUEST

Chapter 17 - INVISIBLE

Chapter 18 - LITERALLY

Chapter 19 – FOLLOW THE LEADER

Chapter 20 – THE ILLUSION OF CONTROL

Synopsis of The Hero's Chamber

My Team of Hero's

About the Author

About the Illustrator

Endnotes

Dedications

Note from the Author

# Preface

### Stalemate

In the fleeting moment linking the Defender with the Hero, Jacob came to know his son. It was miraculous to embrace the essence of the boy he always loved, but heartbreaking to feel the abandonment, shame, and anguish caused by so many years apart.

He reached out to soothe Connor's anger and bitterness, but the emotions recoiled, tightening into a knot of greed and pride. The dark, swirling mass overshadowed the boy Jacob once knew, and it began growing, making him feel small and unwelcome. Though the joining was brief, Jacob was not the only one learning.

At precisely the same time, Connor curiously probed the essence of the man defending him from far below. In a bewildering blur, the knowledge and skills of a Blacksmith and those of a Cooper transferred without words from father to son.

Connor watched Jacob Miller transform into Jacob Duncan, and he was electrified with emotions that spawned an unbelievable pain. His breath caught in his throat, his back arched in agony and with each beat of his heart he stiffened. He was unable to move and unable to look away from the visions in his head.

Lightning coursed through Connor as it flashed in the Chamber, transforming his view of the world. He witnessed and experienced a lifetime of people and places from Jacob's perspective.

When the thunder subsided, the two men pulled away from each other and time stopped. In their private, timeless void, ribbons of emotions became flesh and nowhere became the past.

Jacob stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the orphanage while Connor looked down upon his father.

Connor glanced from side to side, almost turning completely around. He knew the tragedy this place had to offer, and it fanned the coals of hatred within him like the bellows to a forge.

"Do you remember this place?!" he demanded of Jacob.

Jacob nodded, knowing there was no right way to undo this wrong.

"I'm not sure how you could! You only spent enough time here to abandon me!"

"Connor I'm..."

"How could you lie to me this whole time?!"

Jacob began to answer, but Connor wasn't interested in answers.

"Why did you leave me here all alone?!" he screamed.

Anger, loathing and bitterness rose like the welts of a switch across the fabric of Connor's soul. He and Jacob separated and the orphanage dissolved.

Jacob watched helplessly while the Light ruthlessly harvested the strongest emotions from his son.

Connor writhed and screamed in pain as the very essence of his being was torn to pieces.

With the menacing goliath of evil towering over Jacob and bellowing with rage, he knew there was no escape. He had gambled and lost.

Minutes later, his life slipping away, Jacob wedged his hand between the glowing spire and his broken back.

"You cannot have my son!" he screamed at the towering creature.

As the massive fists came crashing down, Jacob whispered, "Stalemate."

## Chapter 1

### Alone

In what should have been his moment of glory, Connor Duncan cowered in terror on the floor of the Hero's Chamber. With his arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried in his knees, uncontrollable screams of terror poured from his quivering body.

With the sound of a "pop", Connor disappeared. Concealed within the emptiness of nowhere, his darker, evil side was stitched back into the frayed tapestry of his soul. With another "pop", he reappeared far beyond the borders of the Kingdom in a tuft of tall dead grass. With his eyes shut tight and his knees clutched to his chest, he screamed in terror with every breath.

Long wisps of grass fluttered against his arms and legs as the dark silence of the moonless night slowly replaced the horrors of the Chamber.

Between sobs, he found tiny pieces of courage. When he had collected enough, he opened his eyes and peeked his head up above his knees. A little stem of grass flickered across his face, and he flinched, ducking his head back down to hide his face. With his eyes closed, the Chamber rushed back into his mind.

His heart raced, and his breath came in short, explosive bursts. He covered his ears, but it was no use. He couldn't hide from his father's disappointment or the creature inside the Chamber. The deafening screams echoed in his head, sending him adrift in a stormy sea of voices and images. He felt the liberation of madness, but forced his hands into fists, opened his eyes, and screamed, "Enough!"

Pushing himself up, he swatted at the visions dancing just beyond reach and lost his balance. With fear and frustration pounding in his head, he came down hard on his hands and knees.

The quietness of the desert landscape wrapped itself around his senses, soothing his troubled mind. Struggling back to his feet, an overwhelming need pulled him forward on unsteady legs.

Just ahead, a pair of half-buried wagon wheels stood out against the sand. They were twisted and broken with their wooden spokes sticking out at odd angles. He tripped over bits and pieces of wood and saw a half skeleton and a pile of bones.

Staring at Duke's remains, he hissed, "No! It can't be!"

Connor kicked at the bones launching the dismembered jaw from its sandy resting place. The old teeth scattered like pearls, lost in the dark of night.

Every muscle in his body went taut. "This isn't possible!" he growled through clenched teeth.

It had been weeks since they had come this way. And after countless steps and an unbelievable sacrifice, here he was, right back where he started. But this time, he was alone, humiliated, and betrayed!

"My father!" he seethed, with hatred in his heart.

"Everything is his fault," he yelled into the night sky, "EVERYTHING!

So this is it?! This is my reward?! This was your fool-proof plan?! At least last time you abandoned me, it was at an orphanage!

You can keep your stupid Kingdom!!" he screamed to the stars above, kicking at the tarp on the ground. It tangled around his foot, bringing him back to his knees.

He started picking up pieces of their old camping gear and throwing them into the distance, building his anger into rage. He kept on throwing things until he found a large, cast iron frying pan. His shoulder and arm ached from his pointless tantrum, and he suddenly felt exhausted and confused.

He dropped the pan, untangled the canvas tarp from his foot and curled up into a ball. Pulling the tarp over himself, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day, with the sun well past its zenith, Connor opened his eyes. "I need to go to the well," he mumbled, getting to his feet.

His arms hung lifelessly at his sides as he turned north and started walking into the distance. "I must drink from the well," he said flatly.

Clumps of dried grass became thicker, and the tendrils of long-dead creosote bushes pulled at his clothes. He walked around cactus and rocks, but never wavered from his course, never said a word and never took his eyes from the horizon.

With the sun in retreat and Connor mindlessly pushing on, the desert Wastelands slowly transitioned into a barren, endless collage of colorfully stacked sandstone.

As twilight obscured the scene, the first edge of the softly curving crescent moon took its place just above the horizon. Its presence went unnoticed as Connor moved ever closer to the insurmountable sandstone wall in the distance.

Just before reaching the cliff-face, he turned like a meandering river, adjusting his course to run parallel with the barrier. Walking ever onward, with the towering obstacle as his constant companion, he shuffled across timeworn stone that was as smooth as it was endless.

The subtle complexity of the barrier wall was wasted on him, just as it was on everyone who had been removed from the Kingdom. From any vantage point except that of a bird, it was impossible to see how the cliff face regularly indented, mile after mile.

Each time the cliff indented, it created the shape of a waxing crescent moon. Along the inner border of each crescent, twenty-one smaller crescents were pressed into the sandstone wall. Along the inner edge of each of these crescent shapes, fourteen fractures appear in the stone. Each of these fractures joined to form seven narrow crevasses, each one just wide enough for a single person to navigate. Along each crevasse, further bifurcation occurred, creating a staggering number of pathways.

Down the winding corridor of one singular crevasse, scattered amongst the endless possible choices within the barrier wall, rests a Sanctuary known only as the Oasis.

The Oasis is lost to all who have never entered the Kingdom, and those who cannot claim the right of Caretaker. It appears on no map and has never been found by the curious.

Connor was oblivious to these complexities. Even if someone had been there to question him, he would have been unable to explain why water from any other source would not quench his thirst.

Fortunately for Connor, none of this mattered. His senses were dulled, and his memory would fail should he try to recollect his journey.

As the night moved on, it carried Connor with it. Step after step and turn after turn, he deftly navigated his way, mile after mile. When the sky had finally awakened with the first light of a new day, he had already entered one of the enormous crescent shapes within the sandstone wall. Passing into one of the smaller inner crescents, he approached a narrow crevasse. He took no notice of the silty, brown stream of water running out of it.

The narrow pathway leading into the rock blocked the light and Connor pressed on into the dark, claustrophobic corridor. The water quickly rose to his ankles, burdening his every step.

Sloshing one foot in front of the other, he finally emerged into a spectacular clearing. The large area was completely encircled by a colorfully layered sandstone wall rising hundreds of feet into the sky. In the center of this circular Oasis, the ground rose to meet a simple well made of stacked stone. Standing near the well, watching the water pour out of it, were three men barely older than Connor.

Connor was only a few steps into the clearing when the ground began rumbling, reverberating the air with something too deep to hear. The vibration grew more intense as the force moved like a wave across the land.

Everyone watched as a ribbon of Light came ripping out of the base of the cliff wall. The energy wave came at them, traveling across the ground at an incredible speed. One man covered his ears while the other two desperately held onto the side of the well.

When the wave of Light passed under them, the man with his hands over his ears crumpled to the ground. The other two kept their grip and barely remained upright. Connor didn't even skip a step.

Before their looks of panic faded, before they even had time to help their friend from the ground, there was a "BOOM!!!" that rocked the world. It was so loud, none of them could hear anything except a sharp buzzing and no one except Connor was still standing.

Leaves fell en masse from the restless trees atop the cliff walls. Ancient rocks fell from permanent resting places, and the first rays of sunlight illuminated the top of the Oasis.

With their ears ringing, the leaves falling and all manner of rocks bouncing about, the men tried to help their friend to his feet, but he wouldn't take their hands. Instead, he started yelling, "Ross! Ross!! He's behind you! Look behind you!"

Another ribbon of Light rippled from the sandstone wall, lifting everything in its path. It traveled across the Oasis making the three men rise and fall like ships on the high sea. The accompanying "Boom!" was only slightly less intense than the first.

Oblivious to the mayhem unfolding around him, Connor continued walking toward the well. Ravi was flat on his back again, and Ross and Tarquin were on their knees.

Before the next wave hit, and it was clearly coming, Ravi looked at his friends. His eyes were open wide, and his arms were out, pointing at Connor.

Tarquin and Ross jerked around just in time to see Connor place his hands on the side of the well. Undisturbed by the newcomer, the water poured over his hands, covering his wrists as it continued down the ancient stones. Tarquin gasped, scooting away from the well until he bumped into Ravi.

Ross watched intently as Connor dipped his head down to the water. From high above, an acorn arrived with a little splash. Connor took a mouthful of the cold, sweet, mineral-laden water as the acorn bounded back above the surface. He swallowed, making his eyelids flutter and Ross captured every detail.

Another wave of Light rolled across the Oasis, but Ross stayed with Connor. It was incredible to see the awakening, the color returning to the man's face, the muddled eyes of an outcast returning to the present.

"BOOM!"

A heartbeat later, Ross and Connor rose and fell as a smaller wave went under them.

The well began vibrating against Ross' hands, sending bubbles to the surface.

"Boom!"

Connor stepped back from the frothing well, and Ross turned to watch the wave of Light pulse out of the cliff face. He relaxed, allowing himself to roll with it.

He smiled at Ravi and Tarquin, who were both on their hands and knees.

"BOOM!"

The stones surrounding the well were ripped away by a massive column of water shooting out of the ground.

When the geyser reached its apex, a downpour of fat water droplets began showering the Oasis with a thundering roar.

Tarquin got to his feet and stood with his hands up over his head as if he could keep himself dry. His eyebrows were knitted together, he was squinting, his mouth was open, and his hair was matted down.

Ravi stood up with his hands out to his sides, balancing himself against the next wave. Like everyone else, he was soaking wet, and his thick hair was plastered across his face, hiding one eye.

Ross held his hands out, cupping them together. Water was pouring down his face. It was such a heavy downpour, he had to open his mouth a little to breathe. Watching the water splashing out of his hands, he glanced up at the clear blue sky and started laughing harder than he had in a long time.

When the next wave of light passed under the well, the fountain grew. As the column of water rocketed to more than a hundred feet high, the rain paused.

Ross waited for it..., "Boom!" Then he started toward his friends. In the strangely quiet moment between the "Boom" and the absent rain, he gave his assessment of their situation and his orders.

"The Oasis is flooding. That man over there will not survive, and neither will we if we don't act quickly. Ravi, before the house is flooded, we need four blankets, all the money, and as much food as you can put into the old apple barrel."

The rain started again, but this time, there was much more of it. They watched a shimmering mist of water drops ripple above the next wave of Light as it zoomed toward them through the ankle deep water.

After the wave had passed, Ross put his arm around each of their heads, pulling them in with his mouth between their ears.

"BOOM!"

He yelled over the sound of the pouring rain, "Ravi, you'll need to put the lid on the barrel. We need our supplies to float out of here with us."

He could feel Ravi nod in agreement.

"Tarquin, gather every waterskin we have and all the rope you can carry. We've got less than ten minutes!"

Anticipating the arrival of the next wave, Ross stopped talking and released his friends. As soon as it passed, Ravi and Tarquin took off toward the house.

"Boom!"

The house was just like those in the village. It had been carved into the cliff face, exposing only the front door and several windows. Within the house, narrow shafts traveled up through the rock providing additional light and ventilation. There were ten rooms spread over three stories and several staircases.

Tarquin's longer legs got him to the door first. He opened it.

"BOOM!"

Ravi ran inside, and the sound of the falling water quieted to a whisper.

In the hallway, Ravi turned abruptly and put his hands out to stop Tarquin. Tarquin nearly ran him down, but Ravi's hands gripped him by the shoulders, and the two stood face to face.

He looked up at his friend, and asked, "This is it, isn't it? It's really happening?"

It took a few seconds for the concept to take form, then Tarquin smiled for the first time all day.

"Is that what's going on? Is it really time?"

Ravi nodded, and ran upstairs, yelling, "Hurry up! We've got to go!"

In the clearing of the Oasis, a wave of Light whizzed along the ground as Ross sloshed over to Connor. Connor glanced up, then went back to staring at the water gushing from the ground.

"You need to come over this way," Ross yelled, pointing toward the door, "over toward the house, all right?"

"BOOM!"

Connor didn't respond.

"I'm going to take you over to the house," Ross shouted, putting his hand under Connor's arm and gently pulling him toward the house.

Another submerged wave of Light came at them, making the water dance. Ross seemed to have the hang of riding it out and Connor was still completely oblivious.

"Boom!"

Getting Connor to move through the deepening water reminded Ross of walking his Grandmother Elbe through the soft sand streets of the village. Each step was slow, slightly out of rhythm and unsteady to say the least.

By the time they made it to the house, they had survived another twelve large and small waves of Light. The deeper the water got, the less the Light waves affected their balance and the big and little "Boom's" had faded away. The only thing they could hear now was the deafening sound of the unnatural rain.

The water was creeping up to Ross' chest when Tarquin came wading out of the house. He had five lengths of rope around his neck, and a leather sack held over his head.

"Quickly, let me have some of the ropes," Ross shouted, reaching over and taking two coils from around Tarquin's neck.

"Start filling the waterskins with air."

"Air?!" Tarquin yelled back, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, air! Breathe into them and start handing them over."

Ross looked over just in time to see Ravi's barrel coming out of the house, right at Tarquin's head.

"Watch out!" he yelled, shoving Tarquin to one side and stopping the barrel with his other hand.

The water was already up to Ravi's chin when he came out of the house. His progress was painfully slow, and his head bobbed up and down, just above the water.

Tarquin pulled an empty waterskin from the leather sack and started breathing into it as fast as he could.

Ross tied one of the ropes around the barrel and put the other one around his neck.

Ravi had finally moved next to Ross and was completely out of breath.

"Blankets please!" Ross yelled to Ravi.

"They weigh a ton, Ross!" he shouted back, pulling four wool blankets up to the surface of the water.

"Ravi, you got them all wet!" Ross laughed. "Did you get the top of the barrel on tight?"

"I did the best I could. By the time I got everything in it, it was bobbing around the kitchen!"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Ross shouted confidently, taking the blankets from Ravi and setting them onto the barrel. "Hold it steady for a second."

Ravi held the barrel while Ross secured the blankets with rope.

"All right, let go!"

The barrel flipped over with the weight of the blankets but kept floating. Ross took the last part of the rope and tied it around his waist.

Ross took two of the air filled waterskins from Tarquin and calmly lifted the rope off his neck. He wasn't hurried, nor did he give anyone the impression they were in any real danger. Tying the end of the line to the air bags, he yelled to Ravi, "Drop the money bag you silly man, unless you plan to drown with it."

Ravi ducked his head below the water and untied the gold from his belt. Tarquin handed Ross two more airbags, and he moved behind Connor. Ross slipped the rope under Connor's arm, positioning the airbags in front.

He put his mouth to Connor's ear, shouting, "This will make you float."

Ross measured the rope across Connor's back and finished tying on the other two airbags. With Connor's flotation device complete, all Ross had to do was finish putting it in place.

"Lift your arm please!"

Connor raised his arm, allowing Ross to push the last two airbags under it.

"All right, lower it!"

Again, Connor did as requested.

"Keep both of your arms down and these airbags will keep you afloat. Do you understand?"

Connor nodded.

Ross took the rest of Connor's rope and secured it around his waist, linking them together. Ravi was treading water to Ross' left. Tarquin was directly in front of him with water up to his chin while blowing furiously into the last waterskins.

Ross yelled to Tarquin, "Rope!"

Ross and Tarquin quickly assembled the remaining flotation devices while Ravi tied a long piece of rope to the bag of gold under the water. When all four men floated effortlessly, along with the bag of gold, Ross smiled at his friends and relaxed.

Ravi silently mouthed to Tarquin, "It's happening!"

Tarquin paddled closer to Ross, and shouted, "Is it really happening?!"

With the smile still on his face, Ross yelled over the sound of the falling water, "Have you ever heard a story about a City of Light?!"

# Chapter 2

### Practice Life

Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob watched as Marcia and her band of six stood in front of the outer archway, straining to read the words above it.

"Is it a warning?" Sakra asked.

"I don't think so," Marcia said reassuringly.

She turned to face her little band of Travelers, and announced, "We have nothing to fear. Trust me my friends. We are all here for a reason."

Everyone, including Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob, nodded in agreement.

"Follow me a while longer and we will all be home."

Marcia and her team stepped into the towering doorway. Inside the letters atop the portal, a cobalt-blue liquid swirled and rippled.

In the time it took each of them to walk under the archway, their inner-selves had been revealed, and the swirling within the letters quieted.

Simone, a thin, tall, leathery looking man wearing little more than dirty rags walked up behind Marcia. She turned toward him as he approached and smiled. Her yellow, broken teeth betrayed the inner giddiness she felt deep within her soul.

"Marcia?" Simone asked.

"Yes, my friend."

"That was truly the strangest thing, I cannot describe it."

Deep wrinkles flared from around Marcia's pale green eyes as tears welled up. She blinked, and they spilled over onto her cheeks.

"Do you feel like you just got recognized for being a good person?" she asked.

"Yes, but it was more than that," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

Sakra had taken up her post on Marcia's right, and added, "It feels like I just opened the front door to a house I could call my own. I feel welcome."

"Yes! That's it. I feel welcome here," Simone jubilantly agreed.

Marcia beamed with joy. Her months of traveling had taken her to exactly where she was supposed to be.

With every step, a scene too impossible to believe revealed itself, and the little band of seven kept pointing and gasping; never once taking notice of the lettering above the final, inner archway. As Marcia stepped out of the sand and onto the smooth stone, the towering spire dominating the City ignited with blue-white Light, calling to the world.

"Wow! I didn't see that coming!" Andrew said as the Light surrounded them.

" _And that is how it all begins."_

"So they just showed up, and the Kingdom came to life?" Jacob asked.

" _You're vastly oversimplifying things Jacob, but yes. When Marcia and her group finally arrive at the City, it all comes to life."_

"When you say it comes to life, you're speaking metaphorically, aren't you?" Kaya asked.

" _Not at all, this City is very much alive."_

"Alive like a tree or alive like a person?" Andrew thought to them all.

" _There is no difference to me. How do you see yourself as different from a tree?"_

Andrew started to speak, then stopped. He thought about what he might say, and it was heard well enough.

" _So the tree doesn't feel, and you do? The tree has no voice, and you do? The tree is alive, but not as you are?"_

"You know it's very disconcerting to have all my thoughts overheard by everyone, all the time."

Kaya reached out and shared herself with Andrew. It felt like she had taken his hand into her own.

"It's also very disconcerting not to have a body," Kaya added.

Jacob agreed with both of them, and asked, "Is it possible to do all this in our regular form, as people?"

" _Each of you would clearly like this more than your current state,"_ and in a flash of brilliant color, they regained their human form.

Kaya floated next to Andrew, holding his hand. Jacob was across from them, and the kindly, wise face with the twinkling eyes took them all in with His sweeping gaze.

" _Let's go to the Fountain at the east entrance, where we can sit and talk."_

Marcia sipped from the water of the Fountain just as the landscape around them blurred.

"Wait," Kaya insisted. "I want to see how each of them responds to the water from the Fountain."

" _There will be plenty of time for all that after you've lived a little."_

In the blink of an eye, they arrived at the Fountain of Knowing on the east side of the City. Falling forward on unsteady legs, they grabbed the edge of the Fountain.

" _It always takes time to get used to that,"_ their Creator said with a good spirited chuckle as He stepped up to the base of the Fountain.

"God?" Jacob asked.

The man cupped His hands beneath the shimmering curtain of water and began splashing water onto His face.

" _It will be easier if you just call me Father," He thought to them all. "Having someone call you God creates all sorts of issues."_

"Don't you like being God?" Kaya asked, hopping up and sitting down on the edge of the Fountain.

Father laughed aloud, sending waves of pure joy ringing through their souls.

" _That's wonderful, Kaya,"_ He said, with water dripping down His face and off His beard. _"I can't remember a time when anyone has asked me that."_

He wiped the water off with the long sleeves of His robe and hopped up next to her. Andrew and Jacob backed up from the Fountain until they were all facing each other.

" _Water is such a beautiful thing,"_ He said, playing with a small drop between His fingers. _"So simple and yet so versatile. You would be amazed at the messes I've seen cleaned up with this stuff."_

He looked up into their anxious faces, and said, _"When you're "God," people think you're going to solve all their problems. But that's just not how I do it. Father is a much more appropriate title. I see to it that you arrive, then it's up to you."_

"Is that why there is so much suffering?" Jacob asked, unconsciously rubbing his arms.

Father's eyes lit up at the question, and He tugged at His beard as He answered. _"You know Jacob, I get that question a lot."_ His forehead furrowed with deep thoughts, and He stared off into the distance, _"It seems strange to me that my creations look at their lives or the lives of others and see suffering. To me, there is only cause and effect. There isn't any one thing in this whole universe that doesn't have to come to terms with something, but that's not suffering, that's just how it works. I don't create suffering, it's all based on your perspective. Actually, that brings me to the very reason we're together right now."_

He brought His gaze back to each of them, and said, _"My precious cargo, you have a lot of living to do if you're going to make it through five hundred years of the real thing."_

"All of this still feels like a dream," Andrew thought aloud.

" _Well, it's about to get even stranger, but there really isn't any other way."_

"What is it, Father? What do we have to do next?" Kaya asked.

" _You have to become wise."_

"But the Fountain taught us more than I ever imagined possible. If that's not wisdom...," Jacob trailed off as Kaya cut in.

"Nobody who drinks from the Fountain gains wisdom Jacob, all they ever get is knowledge. That's what I know from my grandmother and our stories. That's what I know from the Fountain, too."

Jacob and Andrew looked concerned because they knew her words were true.

" _Wisdom is harder earned than any cup of water. Wouldn't you agree?"_

They all nodded.

"But I thought that's why you brought us back to the first Kingdom, so we could learn from those mistakes," Andrew insisted.

" _Oh, we'll get to that part soon enough, but watching someone make a mistake isn't quite as good as the real thing. If it was that easy, I could have you witness a million bad decisions, and you would be the wisest people ever, but it doesn't work that way. Wisdom only comes from creating cause and effect, and working through all the gritty little details. This is something you each have to do on your own."_

"I don't understand what you're saying," Kaya said.

"Neither do I," Jacob and Andrew agreed.

Father stood up from the edge of the Fountain and walked between Jacob and Andrew.

" _Have a seat please,"_ He said to them.

When Jacob, Andrew, and Kaya were all sitting on the edge of the Fountain, He turned around and looked at them.

With His hands behind His back, He looked over their heads at the splashing, playful water of the Fountain. He took a deep breath and slowly brought His gaze back to them. He smiled reassuringly, brought His hands around and rubbed them together like a coach ready to call out the game winning play.

" _Once we all go back to your time, to the seventh Kingdom, everything will be up to you. I can't meddle in your affairs, and I won't be there to give you advice. So, we're going to practice."_

"We're going to practice living?" Andrew asked, sounding very confused.

" _Brilliant, that's it exactly! You're each going to have a few practice lives. That way you can get the hang of it. You know, go make a bunch of mistakes, maybe learn a little something and you'll all be the wiser for it."_

Jacob reached his hand back into the cool water of the Fountain and wiped it on his face. He looked at Andrew and Kaya, and said, "My brain hurts. Are you getting any of this?"

"A practice life?" Kaya asked.

" _That's right. I'm going to send each of you out into a different part of the universe. You're going to live a life among people you never even knew existed. I'll remove any language barriers, and you'll know the basics of how your new body works, then you're on your own."_

"This sounds like a horrible idea," Andrew said. "We'll be clueless. We won't fit in. We'll be just like babies."

"Do we get to keep our memories? I mean, will we remember, this time, here with you?" Jacob asked hesitantly.

" _Of course, you will. Nothing will fade from your minds."_

"What else?" Kaya asked with a little enthusiasm.

" _You get to keep your power to heal, your gift of perspective and all the knowledge gained from the water of the Fountain."_

A smile spread over Jacob's face, and he pumped his fist in the air, whispering, "Yes!"

Andrew was still skeptical, and he asked, "What about when we die?"

" _You'll naturally come back to me, to this moment."_

"But we'll never be the same again, will we?" Kaya asked, sounding sad.

" _Nothing ever stays the same, little one, but how you change is up to you. This is also the kind of thing we could talk about endlessly. You've all got excellent questions, but the important thing is to begin. I'm quite sure all your questions will be answered in no time at all. I'll give each of you a few hints before you arrive in your new bodies,"_ He said, raising His hand.

He went to snap His fingers and paused. Not because of the protests being issued from Andrew, but for a chance to offer one last piece of advice.

" _Nobody really gets to do what you're about to do. Try to enjoy yourselves. This is only the first time, not the last."_

With that, He snapped His fingers and Andrew, Kaya and Jacob disappeared.

"First, you'll hear your mother, then you'll hear the doctor, then you'll hear your sister," Andrew kept repeating to himself. These were the only instructions he had received. That and his name was still Andrew, which he found very comforting.

The light around Andrew was fuzzy but bright. He blinked, but it didn't help much. Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes and a woman next to him started screaming hysterically, "He's awake! He's awake!"

The blurry face of a man hovered above him, shining an even brighter light in his eyes.

"Normal pupil dilation, that's good."

"Is he going to be all right?" the woman asked.

"It's still too early to tell, but this is a good sign. A very good sign."

"He's awake?! He's awake!" came the voice of a young girl running into the room.

Andrew turned his head away from the doctor and saw two blurry faces, both with golden blond hair.

His mother was holding his hand now, and his sister looked like she was hugging his mom, but it was too hard to see them clearly.

"Water please," Andrew managed to whisper from his parched mouth.

"A very good sign indeed," the doctor declared. "Jean," the doctor said to the little girl. "Please go to the nurse's station and get your brother a cup of ice chips."

With a squeal of excitement, Andrew's sister disappeared from view.

The doctor removed the stethoscope from Andrew's chest and pulled the blanket back up. Everything was still fuzzy.

"He's been gone from us for five days," the doctor said to Andrew's mother. "There is no telling if he'll be the same boy who left. We're going to need to give him time. Don't expect too much right away."

Her hand squeezed Andrew's, which felt small and weak, then she let go and grabbed his face. A shower of kisses and tears fell over him. His mother hugged him and gently stroked his hair.

Jean came running back into the room with a small plastic cup of ice. She quickly handed it to her mother and took Andrew's hand.

"I knew you'd make it back Andrew. I'm so sorry, it's all my fault." Then she started crying and buried her head into Andrew's chest.

In two more days, Andrew left the hospital. His five-year-old body felt small, and he was heading home to a place he had never been, with a big sister he just met, and a mother he had never known.

Kaya opened her eyes in a panic. She lifted the arm of a dead man off her chest, sat up, and clumsily removed her small dented helmet. Feeling the stiffness in her hair, she wondered how long she had been lying on the battlefield. The flies had started to gather around the bodies, the taste of blood filled her mouth, and the sounds of wounded and dying men filled the air.

She was cold, her hands were sticky, and she was afraid. She sat among corpses; waiting for the voice she knew would come.

"Take the boy, if he can walk. If not, end it here and now," the Slave Master yelled.

That was her cue. She got to her feet, felt a little woozy, fought against it and turned to meet the gaze of a man dressed in rags. His name was Slop, and according to Father, she was going to have to kill this man if she wanted to live this life.

Jacob woke up in a wet field of grass. His legs were a bit twisted, he was cold but other than that he felt fine. Turning his head to the right, he came face to face with a large rock. "Sorry about that," he whispered to the rock.

Turning away from the rock he watched his brother nervously pacing next to their horse.

"What will I tell Mother and Father?" he sobbed. "He can't be dead, he just can't be!" he cried, looking over at Jacob.

Jacob lifted his hand, smiled at his brother, and said, "I think I'm going to make it. Maybe you could help me up?"

"You're alive?!" his brother gasped, rushing over to Jacob and sliding in on his knees. "Jacob, I'm forever sorry I let you fall off the horse. Can you ever forgive me?" he begged between sobs of grief and elation.

"I think I'm going to be fine," he said reassuringly, "but I don't remember anything about how I got here. What's your name?"

"What's my name!" his brother exclaimed. "Oh no, you're not fine at all! What have I done?!" he wailed to the heavens. "What have I done to my brother?!"

"You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Poor Jacob," he proclaimed. "Let me help you to your feet, come off of this wet ground and ride home with me to Mother and Father."

Jacob's brother got to his feet, and Jacob took his hand. With a soft, but firm assist, Jacob was standing. Straightening his clothes, he felt their rich embroidery, their softness, and the bulk of layers covering him from head to foot.

"Come quickly my brother, I must get you back to the castle before more harm comes to you."

# Chapter 3

### Spill the Beans

Andrew couldn't sleep, again. It had been this way since he arrived, almost two years ago. Every night, after only two or three hours of sleep, he would just wake up. He wasn't tired the next day, he didn't need to go back to sleep, and it was frustrating because everyone else was asleep.

It made his mother worry, and it took its toll on her. After months and months of trying to convince her he was fine, she finally yielded to the exhaustion and began letting him stay up in his room. He started drawing about a year ago, then moved up to watercolors. Now he was experimenting with oils and pastels. His room was filled with tiny masterpieces that exuded emotion.

Some of his art would force a smile on your face without you even knowing it. Some of it would make you laugh out loud. Others transported you to fantastical destinations or just serene places where deep thoughts or perfect harmony resonated in the air. Some of them made his mother cry when she looked into them, and she struggled to understand the source of her little boy's gift. And these were just the pictures on the wall. Andrew had piles of pictures, sometimes he could finish four or five in a single night.

His favorite pictures were of Kaya. He had painted a new one about a month ago, and the unframed canvas hung on a nail, next to his child-sized art desk and easel. Her eyes would follow him anywhere in the room. He even managed to capture his own silhouette in the light bouncing off her chocolate brown eyes.

It was almost three o'clock in the morning, he was working on a picture of Father and trying to imagine what Kaya was doing; what life she was leading, but when he thought to her, all he got was silence.

That morning, when his mother came in to give him a hug and kiss, she saw the picture of the bearded man in his white robes. The Light emanating from him illuminated the beautifully ornate Fountain to his side. It had been hard enough to explain away who Kaya was, and here again was a portrait of a total stranger.

"He's fantastic sweetheart," his mother said breathlessly. "Do I know him?" she asked, tapping at the side of her head. "He looks very familiar."

Andrew could tell she was drawn to the eyes. He had started with those and worked his way out and from the look on his mother's face, he had done a pretty good job.

She was leaning in now, trying to see the details of the Fountain, and she asked, "Is he a wizard from a story, or is he right out of your imagination?"

"Of course you know Him, that's God."

Mom flinched like she'd been flicked on the nose and Andrew instantly wanted to take it all back; to have said anything but God, to have painted anyone but Father. But his words just hung out there, awkwardly, right along with the painting.

"Oh...well...that's wonderful. What's for breakfast angel?" she asked, brushing away any discomfort that might have entered the room.

"Oatmeal with bananas and brown sugar would be amazing, please."

His mother's heart melted, and she smiled, kissed his head and hugged him tight.

"I love you sweetheart, more than you'll ever know."

"I love you too Mom," he said, returning her hug.

Until the accident, Andrew always called her Mommy, but ever since the hospital, ever since he had drowned in the pool, she was just Mom. Part of her wondered where Mommy had gone, part of her didn't care, and part of her would never forgive herself.

She tickled him lightly making him squirm like a worm. "Downstairs in ten minutes, and wake up sleepy head on your way down please."

"Thanks, Mom, love you."

"Love you more," she said, taking a final glance at the man in the painting before heading out of Andrew's room.

Later that day, Andrew's mother called the doctor. Their conversation was brief but direct. Andrew was evidently dealing with bigger issues, and he needed someone to talk to, someone other than his mother or sister.

It was mid-summer, school was out, and Andrew watched Jean swimming in the pool from the back porch. Mom came out with a serving tray of lemonade and sat down on the step next to Andrew.

She handed him a cold glass, and he said, "Thanks, Mom."

"Still not going in sweetheart?"

"No thanks. I just like watching Jean do her thing."

Mom always gave Andrew the truth, no matter how much it changed things and today was no exception.

"We're going to see a counselor today sweetheart, in about half an hour."

"How come Mom? Is everything all right?"

Jean noticed the pitcher of lemonade and started getting out of the pool.

"I just think you need someone to talk to baby, that's all."

"So I'm going to see a counselor, not all of us?"

"That's right. He'll be your guy to talk to from now on. Somebody you can talk to about all the things you think about. About all the places you go when we're asleep, about all the things you want to see and do."

"Oh," Andrew said, sounding a little surprised. He didn't think he'd been quite so transparent, but there was no hiding the artwork; it just flowed out of him and covered every wall in his room. Mom had even put some of the bigger pieces around the house in frames.

Jean toweled off, walked over to the porch and took a glass off the tray.

"Thanks, Mom, you're the best!"

"You're welcome, Jeanie Bean. Say, can you get changed, we're going out in a few minutes."

"Sure, Mom, where are we going?" she asked, chugging down her lemonade.

"Andrew has an appointment. It's no big deal."

She set her empty glass down next to the pitcher and grabbed Andrew's ear.

In a funny sounding voice, she asked, "Are ya sick?" Leaning down, she looked in his ear and pretended to wave at Mom through his empty head.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi love," Mom said back, pretending to look through Andrew's other ear. "How's it going over there?"

"It's great!" she yelled into Andrew's ear, "It's great," she echoed.

"Have some more lemonade and go take a quick shower Bean," Mom called back.

Jeanie Bean poured another glass, gulped it down like a dehydrated desert nomad, kissed Andrew on the top of the head and disappeared into the house. The screen door banged closed.

Andrew pawed at his ear and gently complained about the water Jean got in it.

"You've survived worse," Mom said, with a hug and a kiss.

"Thanks for all the art stuff, Mom, it really helps."

"Did you meet him in the hospital?"

"It's sort of complicated," Andrew said, not wanting to tell any more half-truths to this wonderful woman who loved him with all her heart.

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart, I'm sure it is," she said reassuringly. "Come on slow poke, finish up that lemonade and let's get going."

Andrew flipped his perspective over to his mom's point of view. He immediately felt her wondering if what she was doing was the right thing. She worried if Andrew was really going to be all right, and he felt the struggle in her to ask the questions she knew would make him uncomfortable. The ones he had avoided answering in the past. The ones his artwork manifested in everyone who looked into them.

The ice clinked into the bottom of the glass as he wiped his mouth. Mom was standing up, when he said, "Thanks for getting me someone to talk to, maybe it will help. The least I can do is give it a try."

"Seven?" she said, kissing the top of his head. "So strong, so brave, so ready for next steps, but still my little boy."

Andrew blushed. He didn't need to flip his perspective to know she felt love and hope.

Doctor Dave started things off with a big handshake and a short speech about how this was Andrew's time to talk. He said Andrew could talk about anything he wanted, and he wouldn't tell anybody. He said he'd been talking to kids for fifteen years, and he was there to listen and help if he could.

Andrew had no idea this kind of thing was possible. At least there wasn't anything in his memory from the Fountain about counseling. "What a fantastic idea," he thought to himself.

Doctor Dave's office didn't feel like an office. He had lots of pictures on the walls, and a quirky bird thing that kept dipping its beak into a glass of water and coming up. It kept doing this the whole time, and Andrew couldn't figure out what kept it moving.

Doctor Dave didn't have a desk, just a small writing table off to the side, but he didn't seem interested in writing things down. He was more interested in talking or maybe listening, it was hard to tell.

When Doctor Dave was done with his speech, Andrew jumped right in.

"So you're like the best friend I might never have?"

"Sorta, but we're not going to go play catch or anything like that."

"So we're just talking friends, and my secrets are your secrets?"

"Pretty much."

"And you've been doing this for fifteen years?"

"I have."

"Can you come over to my house?"

"Maybe, what's at your house?"

"All my pictures."

"Pictures?" Doctor Dave asked. "Like the ones on my walls?"

"No, yours are from a camera. Mine are from my hands."

"So you're an artist?"

"That's what Mom says, but I just paint what I've seen, or sometimes just for fun."

"I would love to see your artwork, Andrew. If you'd like, I can talk to your mom, and you can bring some when you see me next time."

"There's too much for that Doctor Dave. If you want to see it, you'll have to come over."

"Then let's talk for a while and when we're done, I'll speak to your mom and set something up. Does that sound like a good plan?"

"That sounds perfect," Andrew said with a sigh of relief.

"You seem relieved. Can you tell me why?" Doctor Dave asked.

"I don't think you're ready for the conversation I want to have with you right now Doctor Dave. We've just met, and I'm carrying around a pretty heavy load."

"You sound like you're seven going on forty-seven. Has anyone ever said something like that to you?"

Andrew closed his eyes, thought about it, and said, "No, but I don't really talk to a lot of people right now."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm only seven, and all the kids I know are about the same age."

"What's wrong with being seven?"

"Nothing, I guess. Actually, I was excited about it when Father first told me I would be five again, but that wore off pretty fast. I'm just having a hard time relating to seven, or six or five for that matter. Don't get me wrong, being seven is great and all, but I can't tell a seven-year-old what I've seen or why I'm here."

Doctor Dave leaned in from his chair until he got to Andrew's eye level on the couch. "You've got a lot on your mind don't you?"

Andrew nodded.

"So where can we start? What feels safe to you?"

Andrew stood up, walked away from the dark green fabric couch and stood in front of the red, bobbing woodpecker thing. It kept dipping in and out of the little glass of water.

"How does it work?"

Doctor Dave pushed his rolling chair over to Andrew, and said, "The beak on this end soaks up a little bit of water with each dip. The water runs down its body into this round bulb." He pointed to the round bulb on the opposite end from the bird's head, "Every sip makes it a tiny bit heavier than it used to be. That makes the bulb drop and the head go up. When the head goes up, it has to bob back down because of gravity, and when it does, it takes on a little bit more water. The whole thing can go on for about an hour, or until it either runs out of water or fills up its small bulb."

"Osmosis?" Andrew asked.

"Brilliant!" Doctor Dave declared. "We're not but fifteen minutes into our first meeting, and you've brought up a physical law that's generally taught to high school students with an interest in chemistry." He patted Andrew on the back and told him to take the bird home at the end of their session.

Andrew wandered around the room looking at all the pictures and objects.

Doctor Dave just observed, and eventually, he said, "It's not osmosis. It has more to do with the capillary action of water than anything else."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Andrew replied, not paying much attention.

He was staring at a picture taken from atop a very high building. It was looking out over the horizon with all the smaller buildings below.

"Have you been here?" Andrew asked, pointing at the picture.

"I took every picture in here, so yes. I've been there."

"I don't believe you," Andrew said flatly.

"You don't have to. It doesn't change the facts."

"You're a liar Doctor Dave. You didn't take any of these pictures."

"Why do you say that Andrew? I've already told you I took them. The pictures out in the lobby, I took those too. It's my hobby. I'm a photographer."

"Liar."

"Interesting," Doctor Dave replied.

"Prove it!" Andrew demanded. "Prove you're not a liar. Prove to me you were there!"

"I'm not sure how to do that Andrew. What can I say to prove these are my pictures?"

"Nothing!" Andrew snapped back. "There isn't anything you can say or do to prove you're not lying."

"Then I guess we're just left with my word."

"What's that worth?" Andrew demanded, sounding rude and impudent.

Doctor Dave was taken-aback by this brash young man. He thought about the question and finally replied, "It's all I have. It isn't worth anything, except the conviction and honesty I put behind it."

"Are you a liar?" Andrew asked.

"No."

"Do you promise these are your own personal photographs? That you took every one of these pictures because it's not only your hobby but because you were there?"

Doctor Dave grinned. "I think we're going to get along just fine you and me, and yes, I promise," he said, holding up his right hand, "that these are my pictures, taken by myself when I visited these places."

"Great!" Andrew said, jumping back onto the couch. "When are you gonna come over to my house?"

"Tonight maybe, if it's all right with your mom."

"Let me go ask her if you can come to dinner."

Andrew hopped off the couch again and was making for the door, when Doctor Dave said, "Slow down, big guy. We'll have plenty of time for all that when we're done."

Andrew had his hand on the door handle and twisted. He looked back, and said, "This is as slow as we can take it, Doctor Dave. If I sit back down on that couch and spill the beans, like my sister does about everything, you won't want to come to my house. You'll want to run away from me and pretend like this never happened."

"I wouldn't do that Andrew, it's not how I do things," he said, with a wink.

Andrew released the door handle and flipped his perspective over to Doctor Dave's point of view. It felt like honesty and sincerity with a little surprise and excitement. He flipped it again, and from overhead everything felt pretty ordinary.

Andrew flipped back into his own point of view, and Doctor Dave asked, "Why don't you head home with your family? I've got your address. Just tell your mom I'm coming over for dinner tonight, I'll see you at six o'clock."

Andrew reached for the door handle again, when Doctor Dave said, "One last thing Andrew."

Andrew turned from the door, his little seven-year-old face was a mask of innocence.

"You're not a liar are you?"

"Doctor Dave, I'm probably the only person you're ever going to meet that you can trust completely. I give you my word on that."

"See you at dinner Andrew, I'm looking forward to getting to know you and your family."

"See you at six. The house is dark green with white trim, and it's a two story. If it feels like you're lost in an orange grove, you're in the right place."

Doctor Dave smiled, and Andrew went out to the lobby.

Andrew was kicking a soccer ball around the yard when he heard a car coming down the road. It was a few minutes before six, and Doctor Dave waved as he pulled his sleek, black convertible into the driveway.

"Is this an OK spot?" he called out.

Andrew gave him a thumbs up, and Doctor Dave killed the engine.

He got out wearing his work clothes and noticing he still had his tie on, he loosened it, took it off and tossed it in the front seat.

"That's better," he said, with a grin.

Andrew kicked the ball over to him, and he rolled it onto the top of his shoe, flipped it up to his knee, bounced it a couple of times, let it fall to his other foot and passed it back to Andrew.

"Did you use to play?"

"Use to?" Doctor Dave asked, sounding shocked. "I still do."

Andrew kicked the ball toward the front door, and said, "Cool."

"What's for dinner?"

"Mom made pot roast with mashed potatoes, gravy, and broccoli with cheese."

"That sounds fantastic!"

"It's my favorite," Andrew said, opening the front door for Doctor Dave.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome my good doctor, won't you come in," he said, with a bow.

"Seven?"

"Going on forty-seven," Andrew said, following in behind.

"It smells amazing," he said over his shoulder.

"Just follow your nose and you'll wind up at dinner."

Mom poked her head out from around the corner, and said, "You're just in time. Dinner is ready."

"Thank you for being so gracious Mrs. Sutton. I don't think I've ever invited myself to dinner before."

"Please, call me Emily, and thank you for taking an interest in someone as special as our Andrew."

Doctor Dave smiled, grabbed a water glass in each hand and followed Andrew and his mother into the dining room.

"Andrew sweetheart, can you please get the Bean?"

Andrew sidestepped his chair, walked a few feet out of the room and yelled at the top of his voice, "Jeanie Bean! Dinner is ready!!"

Stepping back into the dining room, Mom sarcastically said, "Charming. Thank you."

A moment later the sound of a bowling ball tumbling down the stairs shook the picture frame on the wall, then Jean swept into the room. She plopped herself into her chair, chugged down half her water and looked up at Doctor Dave.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, "Hi I'm Jean, I'm eleven, just finished the fifth grade, love yellow, play soccer, swim like a fish, drink like a whale, and Mom and I both think you're handsome, want some potatoes?"

"Yes please," Doctor Dave said, taking the potatoes.

"Are you also the Bean?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot that part. Everybody says I just "spill the beans" when I talk, so my nickname is Bean. Do you have a nickname too?"

He scooped the potatoes onto his plate and made a volcano-like hole in them for the gravy.

"People just call me Doctor Dave. It's sort of a nickname, but not really."

"Nope, it's not," Jean said, drizzling gravy over her pot roast and filling in her potato volcano. "It doesn't tell you anything about your personality, so it doesn't really count."

Doctor Dave nodded as he put pot roast on his plate.

"What about you Andrew," Doctor Dave asked, "do you have a nickname?"

"The kids call him Teacher. I think it's cool, but the Rock doesn't like it."

"Jean!" Mom corrected with authority. "That is not acceptable, and you know it."

Jean knew it. "I'm sorry everybody," she said, with her head down. "It just slipped out."

Doctor Dave looked at Andrew, then at Mom and shrugged his shoulders.

Andrew looked at Doctor Dave, and said, "A few years ago, when I was five, I drowned in the pool. When Jean found me, I was on the bottom, you know, like a rock."

Jean was still staring at her plate.

"Jean, why do you think your mom dislikes the nickname you just used?"

Jean looked over at Mom, and Mom said, "What's this gentleman's name?"

"Doctor Dave," she said hesitantly.

"And why is he here for dinner?"

"Because Andrew invited him?" she said questioningly.

"Remember what we talked about, and try again please."

Jean fidgeted with her napkin, moved her fork around on her plate, and finally said, "He's here to listen, he's here to learn, and he's here to help."

"Thank you, sweetheart, now please answer Doctor Dave's question, even if it hurts."

Tear's welled up in Jean's eyes. She tried to look at Doctor Dave, but all she could do was stare at her mashed potatoes.

Her nose got stuffy, and she blurted out, "When I call Andrew the Rock, it takes everyone back to the day he died in the pool, and the time we spent in the hospital, and the whole time we didn't know if he was gonna make it, and it makes me feel horrible for not being there when it happened because I had to use the bathroom, and left him out there by himself, and it's not even funny, but I still call him that sometimes, and I know I'm not supposed to and...," she said, looking up at Andrew, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Jean," Doctor Dave said.

"Thank you, Jeanie Beany," Mom said. "Now please go to the restroom and blow your nose."

Jean excused herself from the table, and Doctor Dave took a bite of the pot roast. The satisfying sound of "Mmmmmmm," rolled out of his chest as he slowly sank back into his chair. He closed his eyes, and Mom smiled.

"Told you," Andrew said.

"Delicious."

"Thank you," Mom said. "It's an old family recipe. I'm glad you like it."

Jean plopped back down and fired down most of her plate without saying another word.

"What's with all the orange trees?" Doctor Dave asked the table.

Mom smiled, but it didn't fill her face. The sadness in the corners of her mouth seemed to stop it just before it was genuine. "My husband," she started out, "their dad," she had to clear her throat and take a drink of water. "He planted these trees twenty years ago. Our little hundred eighty-acre farm has been in the family for almost seventy-five years." She looked at Bean, then at Andrew and finally back to Doctor Dave, and said, "He died five years ago next week. There was a terrible accident, and he didn't make it. It's just the three of us now, and we keep going, even when it hurts. Isn't that right guys?"

Andrew and Jean only nodded while Doctor Dave fit another piece of Andrew's puzzle into place.

"Mom, can we be excused. I'd like to take Doctor Dave up to my room."

"Of course, you may. I'll call you boys down for dessert in a little while."

Doctor Dave thanked Mom for the wonderful dinner. He offered to help with dishes and got rejected; learned they were having chocolate mousse pie for dessert and accepted. Then he was quickly escorted upstairs to see something nothing could have prepared him for.

Andrew flipped the door open to his bedroom and kept walking down the hall, "Go on in, I'll be there in a minute. I have to use the bathroom."

Doctor Dave cleared the top step and found himself thinking about all the waxy drawings he had seen over the years. Their subtle honesty, their crude lines, and the story each one told about their young artist. Not that he mentioned it to most people, but the interpretation of these subliminal glimpses was something he had taken a keen interest in during his entire career. He considered it a perk to be able to review and interpret the scratch work of his clients. Especially those with talent, the ones who liked details, the ones who could wield a stick of color or a pencil in a way that most could not.

With all this in mind, he stepped through Andrew's bedroom door and stopped.

From floor to ceiling, and even on the ceiling, and scattered across parts of the floor, there were pictures. Some looked like they had been taken with a camera, others looked like pen and ink. There was a whole section of sketches and finished drawings in pencil. On another wall, there were brilliant images in drawing wax and watercolor. Oil paintings hung on the walls, and the shelves were filled with tiny sculptures made from modeling clay; they looked absolutely real. Pieces of origami floated on a mobile above the bed, and Doctor Dave gasped.

He looked down to make sure he wasn't going to step on anything, then waded deeper into the sensory overload of Andrew's room.

Andrew was at the door now. It was exciting for him to be on the brink of sharing his secrets, it was also a bit frightening, but he was anxious to begin.

He flipped his perspective to Doctor Dave's. It was a mess. A complete jumble of overwhelm and trepidation, the discovery of a lifetime. Andrew's room was light years beyond Doctor Dave's expectations. The poor man didn't know where to begin.

"I've got to slow this down for him," Andrew thought. "I've got to give him time to process."

Andrew stepped next to Doctor Dave and took his hand. Doctor Dave flinched, almost pulling away. His mouth was open when he looked down at Andrew, so Andrew reached up with a single finger and pushed it closed.

"It's kinda hard to explain Doctor Dave. Would you like it from the beginning or would you like to look around for a while?"

"Andrew, I...," he started to say but trailed off as he got pulled into Kaya's eyes. "How do you do this? Have you always had this gift?"

"The answer to your question would put my explanation out of order. Why don't we do it this way," Andrew said, as he started collecting different pictures from around the room.

He carefully took things off the wall, from the floor and out of the stacks of work that seemed to challenge the capacity of the bedroom itself.

"Can you bring her with us, Doctor Dave?"

"What?" he asked, knocking into the easel and its wet painting. It rocked backward and started falling.

Doctor Dave grabbed the picture from the easel as it fell away, smearing the paint with his thumb.

"Oh my God!" he cried, looking at the painting.

"Let's bring Him too," Andrew said with a smile. "I like that one."

Shuffling his artwork into one arm, he started pulling on Doctor Dave's belt, saying, "Come on Doctor Dave, we need to get you out of here, it's not helping."

"What? What do you mean it's not helping?"

"It's way too overwhelming. I've never done this before, and I wasn't sure if this would work. Grab the picture of Kaya off the wall, we're going outside."

Doctor Dave grabbed Kaya off the wall and with a couple more tugs, Andrew had him backing out of his bedroom.

Mom heard them coming, and asked, "Is everything all right? That didn't take very long."

"I don't know," Doctor Dave said.

"We're good Mom. We're just going outside to talk. We'll be in the grove."

"All right sweetheart, just holler if you need anything."

Andrew was now pushing Doctor Dave toward the front door as he called back, "Thanks, Mom."

Andrew sidestepped Doctor Dave and backed into the screen door, pushing it open.

"Come on Doctor Dave, we're going this way," Andrew said, heading to the side yard where the endless grove of orange trees made row after row of cool, calming shade.

When they were about a hundred yards into the grove, Andrew stopped. He set down his armload of pictures and took the other two pictures from Doctor Dave. Then he asked him to sit against one of the trees.

When Doctor Dave had situated himself, Andrew flipped to his perspective.

"Calmer," he thought. "Now's as good a time as any."

"Doctor Dave I'm gonna give it to you straight from the top. I'm sure we're going to do this a bunch more times, so don't worry if the details slip away."

"I'm ready, Andrew. Let's hear it."

"You're not ready, but here it comes anyway."

Using the pictures from his room, he took Doctor Dave on an epic journey from the orphanage, through the Hero's Chamber, across time with God Himself and right into the orange grove. He'd never told the story before and even though it felt a bit jumbled, he was confident he'd hit the high points.

It was almost dark when Doctor Dave got to his feet. The shadows of the grove made it seem later than it was, but by the watch on his wrist, which he hadn't looked at since arriving at Andrew's, it was nine o'clock.

"How are you?" Andrew asked him as they walked back toward the house.

"I'm good, I think," he said, trying to make out the face of God in his right hand and Kaya in his left. "I just never thought anything like this would happen to me."

"I know how you feel," Andrew said with a chuckle.

"I still don't understand how the Fountain did all those things to you."

Andrew nudged Doctor Dave with his elbow as they approached the edge of the grove.

"You still have to act like I'm seven remember?"

"Yeah, I got it."

As they stepped out of the grove, Mom, and the Bean were waiting for them on the front porch. The yellowish light made everything look the wrong color, and Mom called out, "I was about to come in there after you two. Are you ready for dessert?"

"Yay! Dessert," Andrew said, picking up his pace and acting the part.

Mom opened the door, and Andrew ran in.

Doctor Dave handed the two pictures to Jean and asked her if she would be kind enough to take them upstairs.

"Careful, this one's still wet," he said, gently handing her the painting of God.

Jeanie Bean took them and trotted upstairs after Andrew.

"Thank you," she said, still holding the door open.

"The pleasure is all mine Emily."

"How is he?"

"Gifted, confused, brilliant, seven going on forty-seven."

"What about God?"

"God is just fine where He is. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Oh thank goodness, that is such a relief. You don't even know how much better that makes me feel."

The house shook, the screen door rattled on its hinges and the Bean came shooting off the bottom step, yelling, "Come on Doctor Dave, let's have some pie!" And she took off like a shot toward the kitchen.

"You gotta love that Bean," Mom said with a smile.

"You've got great kids Emily. I don't know how you're managing it all by yourself, but I've got to hand it to you."

"Thank you. That really means a lot coming from a man in your line of work. It's never been easy since he died. I do my best."

Doctor Dave knew better than to clarify which death she was talking about, so he stepped through the door and into Andrew's life.

# Chapter 4

### Caretakers

"...hope is epidemic, optimism spreads. Bitterness breeds irritation, ignorance breeds imitation..."i

The Song of the Shepard

The water level finally rose above the enormous column of water shooting from the well, and the Oasis quieted. Its center filled with churning whitewater, pushing everything toward the surrounding cliffs. And the only exit, the crevasse Connor had arrived by, now functioned as a drain.

Ross had tied everyone together for safety, and as the water poured from the Oasis, it pulled at them. As a team, they easily kept themselves, Connor and the old apple barrel between the center of the Oasis and the deadly crevasse.

Ross, Tarquin, and Ravi floated in silence, as the first direct rays of Light shimmered across their faces.

Connor was the last to have the Light touch him, and it felt like falling through the ice of a frozen lake. Every survival instinct instantly activated. He held his breath, jerked his head from side to side and surveyed his perilous situation.

He was in a lake surrounded by a sheer cliff, and he had some sort of airbags under his arms keeping him afloat! There was an unconscious man, held up by the same type of airbags, connected to him by a rope. It seemed like the man tied to Connor was also anchored to two other unconscious men, plus a small barrel.

He watched the water from the lake empty into a narrow crevasse filled with violently churning whitewater. Ominous crashing sounds emanated from the opening and blasts of mist-filled air licked out of it, showering the barrel.

Connor envisioned the twisting mouth of a giant, evil creature towering into the heavens. Fueled by adrenaline, instinct, and fear, he slipped free of the airbags and started swimming away from the point of no return.

There was a sharp tug against his waist as the barrel was sucked into the crevasse. It tumbled end over end in the churning whitewater, chafing the rope against his waist. He dipped under the water trying to get as much power as possible. His legs kicked, his arms pulled and the barrel bounced back and forth between the stone walls of the coffin corridor.

The lid to the barrel popped loose, yanking Connor backward as it filled with water. He surfaced, took a deep breath and dove. The blankets on the barrel slipped off, slamming the barrel against the wall and shattering it. As the debris washed away, the rope came free, and Connor moved forward.

Surfacing again, he took another breath, put his face in the water and fought for his life.

Ross, Tarquin, and Ravi all awoke at the same time. Ross had tears streaming down his face, and he slapped the water, yelling, "She did it! She did it!! She did it!!!"

Tarquin just floated with his face to the sky. Tears ran down his cheeks too as he watched the sunlight stream through the limbs and leaves of the trees above.

He whispered, "Home."

Ravi awoke a mere ten feet from the mouth of the crevasse. He had two extra airbags, to help hold up the bag of money dangling from his waist, like an anchor from a ship. His dreamlike expression faltered as he watched Connor's abandoned flotation device enter the mouth of the churning passage. It was pulled under the water, popped up above a tumbling wave of foam and disappeared into the maelstrom.

"Ahhhhh! Help me!" he screamed in panic.

Ross and Tarquin turned to Ravi, and Tarquin yelled, "Swim for the other side!"

Ross lifted his arms, and his airbags slid free. Diving under the water, he started swimming against the current with everything he had.

He came up for air when Tarquin's rope began pulling at his waist. Breaking the surface he turned his head, took a breath, and yelled, "Come on Tarquin!"

His next stroke hit something and Ross took a foot to the face.

Connor felt the collision and stopped swimming. Ross did too.

"You're awake," Connor said.

"I'm awake?! Look at you. You're swimming!"

"And we should keep swimming until we reach the other side of the lake."

"The lake?" Ross asked

"Hey, you're awake!" Tarquin shouted, swimming toward them with Ravi in tow.

Tarquin backstroked past Connor and Ross, laughing.

"Kaya!" he said aloud, with his face to the sky. "Kaya! Did you see how many rules she broke last night? Can you believe it?! It's like we were there! That was incredible!!"

Ross swept his hair out of his eyes. He was smiling as only he could smile, and said, "She really did it. I can hardly believe it, she...," he trailed off, turning away from Tarquin and looking at Connor.

"Come on," he said to Connor. "Let's get to the other side, then we can rest a minute."

"Hi, I'm Ravi," Ravi said, as he half paddled and half floated past Connor.

"I'm Tarquin! Come on Ravi, at least try to swim a little."

"I'm Connor. Connor Duncan."

"Nice to meet you, Connor, my name is Ross. I'm the eldest Caretaker for the Oasis. Come on," he said, motioning his head toward the far side of the lake. "Let's get to the other side."

"Nice to meet you," Tarquin added.

"A real pleasure," Ravi quipped, as Tarquin pulled him along.

Connor and Ross were swimming side by side. When they reached the center of the Oasis, the fountain of water pushing up beneath them gave them a brief rest. Suddenly Ross noticed how sensitive his waist was. He reached under the water feeling the raw skin across his hips and back.

"Do you want your airbags, Ross? I saved 'em for you."

"Not yet Ravi, but thank you. Please don't let go of them, we're still going to need waterskins."

Tracing the path of the ropes around his waist, he took an account of each one.

"One for Tarquin" he mumbled to himself, feeling the motion of his friend swimming. "One for Connor and one for...oh, no. The barrel!" The slack from the rope was in his hands. "Has anyone seen the barrel?"

Tarquin hadn't stopped swimming, and his rope yanked against Ross' waist.

"Ouch!"

Ross gave Tarquin a sharp tug.

"Hey, what gives?" Tarquin complained, popping his head out of the water.

"The barrel is gone!" Ravi shouted.

They were scanning the surface of the water when Connor said, "It's not in the lake anymore. It got pulled into the waterfall over there. I don't think it was a barrel either. I'm pretty sure it was a kilderkin, which is much smaller than a standard barrel. If it had been a full sized barrel, we probably wouldn't be alive right now."

Ross' expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Untie your rope and let it drop," he instructed Connor, then he asked, "What's a kilderkin?"

"A kilderkin. You know, it looks like a regular barrel, but it's only half the size. I think it broke apart after it started smashing around in the waterfall."

"But it was tied to my waist, wasn't it?" Ross asked, untying Connor and Tarquin's rope from around his waist and letting them go.

"It was pulling us into the crevasse, that's all I know. I hate to see good Coopering go to waste, but I really don't think I could have held out much longer. Especially with the three of you just bobbing around like dead fish."

"You saved our lives?" Ravi asked breathlessly.

Connor shrugged, tilting his head to one side. "Maybe you would have come around before it was too late. I don't know."

Tarquin took off the rope connecting him to Ross but kept Ravi tied to his waist.

"He's The One isn't he?" Tarquin asked, sounding unsure and confused.

"Connor we are certainly in your debt," Ross declared. "You have our thanks, and soon, you will have your new beginning."

"A new beginning? That would be an impressive trick."

"No, not a trick," Ross corrected. "We're here to help."

"Would you like my flotation device?" Ross offered.

"I'm fine, but thanks. I feel like swimming."

"All right, just remember, Ravi has it if you need it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Connor, would you mind swimming ahead to the other side of the Oasis, I mean the lake. I need to have a quick word with my friends. We'll be over in just a minute."

"Take all the time you need. I'll see you there."

Connor swam away with a confident stroke, his strong legs churning the water behind him into a bubbly froth.

With Connor out of range, Ross, Ravi and Tarquin huddled.

"This is a glorious day my friends," Ross declared, turning their huddle into a group hug.

"The Kingdom is reborn, and it's as though we were there to see it! I can't believe it was Kaya who found the way. I'm never going to hear the end of this." Ross was wearing his famous smile again, and Ravi and Tarquin sniggered like children.

"We're still Caretakers," Ross said, sounding serious, "and Connor is under our charge. Without the Oasis, helping him isn't going to be easy, and it's definitely not going to be like the old stories.

Along with the Oasis, our food is gone, we've got no blankets or shelter, and we still have a job to do."

"How can we?" Tarquin asked, sounding desperate. "The Oasis is gone, it's all gone!"

"Ravi?" Ross asked, "What's the responsibility of a Caretaker?"

Ravi lifted his chin, took a deep breath, and recited:

"The Caretaker is there when others are not, for those who have lost their way.

His job is to listen, with more than his ears, to what his guests do not say.

Encourage and guide, but judge them not. Your job is to help when others cannot.

Choices surround us every day; choose yours carefully, lest this be your day."

"Perfect. Tarquin, did Ravi say anything about the Oasis?"

"I guess not."

"Good, because I didn't hear it either. So here's what we're going to do. We're going to escort Connor Duncan to the Empire."

"To the Empire?! Ross, are you crazy?" Tarquin pleaded. "All we've got are fifteen waterskins and a guy who just drank from the well!"

"I've still got the bag of gold tied to my waist," Ravi reminded them.

"A little lower please," Ross requested.

Tarquin lowered his voice to a whisper, and continued, "We don't act like them, we don't talk like them and, and, and it's against the rules."

"Good," Ross said. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Tarquin stared at Ravi in disbelief.

"Ravi, what do you think?" Ross asked.

"I think you're crazy too," Ravi said, "but for the life of me, I can't come up with a better plan. If we stay here with him, like we're supposed to, well...Well, we don't have any food or shelter to offer him. And without a map or even an extra shirt to give him, we can't send him on his way. We can't just give this guy a sack of gold and a waterskin and point him in the right direction. We can't exactly stay here either."

"Tarquin?" Ross asked.

"Let's take him with us. You know, back to the Kingdom, to the City."

Ross took a deep breath. "Tarquin, he just got kicked out of the Kingdom. If he tried to re-enter, he'd just bounce back."

"Oh yeah, sorry," Tarquin said, avoiding Ross' eyes.

"I get it," Ross said. "Going to the Empire, looking like we look and talking the way we talk, with a sack of gold tied to your waist is dangerous. We could be robbed, we could be killed, let's face it, anything could happen."

"Anything," Ravi agreed.

"Anything," Tarquin warned.

"What do you think would have happened if Kaya hadn't risked everything last night? Have you ever heard of a Wanderer complaining about what could happen?"

Now both Ravi and Tarquin were avoiding Ross' eyes.

"Come on you two, I didn't mean it like that. I know all this is new and unexpected, but new is good. Being nervous about what might happen is good. Helping Connor isn't just good, it's why we're here. He's The One, and you know as well as I do we can't just leave his fate to chance."

Tarquin chuckled, "She broke every rule and rebuilt the City."

Ravi looked at Tarquin, then at Ross, and said, "Your sister broke every rule and rebuilt the City. I still can't believe it."

Ross looked at them, and said, "We're going to have to throw the rules away if we plan on helping this guy. Not because we want to, but because the rules just don't apply anymore.

The Oasis is gone, the path out of the Oasis is gone, we've got no food, no shelter, and none of the items this guy needs to even try to start over. If we send him off on his own, I couldn't live with that. We're up. It's our turn. This is what we've been waiting for."

"I guess you're right, this is our moment," Ravi said.

Tarquin looked at his friends, and said, "I just never thought it would be us, you know? I never thought it would...I always hoped it would..., but now it really is. It really is happening, that's him!

I'm a Caretaker," he announced, "and I agree. If we don't do our very best to help this guy, right here, right now, how could we ever go to the City? It wouldn't let us in. Heck, I wouldn't let us in. Ross, count me in!"

"Me too," Ravi agreed enthusiastically.

"Perfect!" Ross announced. "Then we're all in this together. By the way, in case you haven't noticed, we're about to have another problem."

"What now?" Ravi asked.

"The Oasis is almost full. When the water reaches the top of the cliff, it's going to spill out over the edge. We need to be out of this water by the time that happens."

"Why? I don't get it," Tarquin said.

Ross pointed at the top of the cliff surrounding the Oasis. "When the water starts flowing over the edge, it's all going to run downhill." Moving his finger from the far side of the Oasis all the way down to the crevasse, he said, "It's going to be moving in that direction, and eventually over the edge of the barrier wall. The water will pull us with it, and unless you want to ride off a gigantic waterfall, we need to climb out of here and make a run for it."

"Oh," Tarquin said.

"Once we get out of here, it will take about four days to get to the Empire. We're going to improvise along the way. Answer his questions, but offer nothing additional. If he asks about you or about anything personal, redirect the conversation. Remember, we're not a topic of conversation, he is. We have to help him figure out how to help himself.

What we're not going to do is tell him he's The One. We're not going to talk about the Kingdom, or it's re-birth or anything like that. This little adventure is not about us at all. In fact, with any luck, he'll forget all about us.

We know where Connor came from, but we have no idea why. It doesn't matter either. He's The One, the very first one to be removed from the Kingdom. I'm not sure that's something I would want to remember, or be reminded of, but we all know he's our signal. After two thousand years, he could have gone to any one of the Sanctuaries, but he's at ours. And before we can go home, we have a job to finish.

Everything we do and everything he does matters more than we may realize. Right now he has no path except the one we lead him down, but soon enough he's going to have to make a choice."

"What if he goes down the wrong path?" Ravi asked.

"We can't let that happen, but the choice is his to make," Ross whispered.

"Encourage and guide, but judge him not. Our job is to help when others cannot," Tarquin recited.

"That's what we've got to work with," Ross agreed, feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility. "Our job is to listen and guide, and we've got one chance to do this right. I have to believe we're going to do it right too, or he wouldn't be here."

"I know what you're saying is true," Ravi said. "It's just that the stories are so...so...well, you know."

"I know," Ross agreed. "And I don't want to be responsible for unleashing that upon the world any more than you do."

# Chapter 5

### Return

Andrew sat on the edge of the Fountain with his eyes closed. The sound of falling water added to the dream-like quality that had surrounded his old, weary body for months.

"Andrew?"

His eyes fluttered. It had been almost eighty years since he had heard that voice, but he had never forgotten it.

"Kaya," he mumbled to himself. "My dear sweet Kaya."

"Andrew, we're back!"

Andrew opened his eyes and saw the painting from his room.

"Kaya, is it really you?!"

"Oh Andrew, I've missed you more than..."

Andrew kissed Kaya with more passion and longing than he had known in all his years as Andrew Sutton, and she kissed him back.

They held each other for what felt like the first time.

"How long has it been?" she whispered in his ear, holding him tight.

"Too long my love, far too long."

Father stepped toward them, wrapped His arms around them, and said with a chuckle, _"It hasn't been any time at all."_

They each wrapped an arm around His waist, and He said, _"Welcome back. I won't be bringing Jacob back for at least another day. I thought it would be nice for the two of you to catch up before he arrives."_

"Thank you, Father," Kaya said, hugging both of them.

"Thank you," Andrew repeated.

" _I know just the place,"_ Father said. _"I'll send Jacob along to see you soon enough. Until then, relax. You've both earned a little time away. Oh, I almost forgot,"_ He said, tapping His finger to the side of His head. " _The place you're going has an "I wish I had" attached to it. I hope you like it."_

Father winked, and Andrew and Kaya disappeared with a "pop" and reappeared on the shore of a lush tropical island.

"We're all alone," they said to each other at the same time.

"Did you just use your...," they said in unison.

"I did," they said together.

Kaya kissed Andrew and hugged him until her arms hurt.

"How many times did you die?" she asked him.

"Just the once," he said, sounding surprised. "How about you?"

"Twice for me. The first time I got burned at the stake!" she said, sounding exhilarated. "It only took six years for me to get killed, then Father sent me back into another life."

"Burned at the stake!" Andrew exclaimed, holding her out at arm's length.

"But I didn't really die," she said, twirling around in the warm sand. "We're alive Andrew, and we're just like we use to be."

Andrew sat down on the sand and gazed out over the endless sea.

"What's the matter, isn't this amazing?"

"It is," he said, looking up at her, "but I would be lying if I told you I was the same person you knew eighty years ago."

Kaya stood in front of Andrew, and said, "Remember my love, it's not if you change, it's how. That's all the control we have. It's all we'll ever have."

She offered Andrew her hands and he took them.

"Let's take a nice long walk," she said, hauling him to his feet. "I can't wait to hear all about your life."

Andrew kissed her, and they walked along the beach, hand in hand.

"Where did you live?" she asked as a wave washed up over their ankles.

"I lived in lots of places. As a kid, I used to live in a farm house. It was in the middle of a huge grove of orange trees."

"What's an orange?" Kaya asked.

"I wish I had one to show you," Andrew said, and an orange fell from the sky, landing on the beach in front of them.

Kaya smiled, and said, "I wish I had my old sword," and next to the orange, sticking out of the sand, was the sword from Kaya's first life; the one she used in all her battles.

Kaya picked up the orange and Andrew pulled the sword from the sand.

"Peel it," he said.

"Swish it around," she instructed.

With juice running down her chin, she said, "This is delicious!"

Andrew went up the beach and attacked a slender palm tree. He walked away with the blade still stuck in the trunk.

They walked on, littering the beach with everything from automobiles to elephants. Rainbows that made circles floated in the tropical blue sky while airplanes and strange birds filled the air. They shared all their favorite foods, talked about old friends, favorite songs, and the things that fill a lifetime.

As night slowly settled in, Andrew and Kaya picnicked on a large soft blanket in front of a roaring fire, high up on the beach. With their love for one another rekindled, they spent a passionate night in each other's arms.

Andrew had been asleep for about three hours when he rolled over and opened his eyes. He watched the stars slowly twist overhead when Kaya asked, "You too?"

Under the endless kaleidoscope of stars, he reached down, took her hand, and said, "Me too."

"That's a relief. I thought it was just me."

"Sometimes it's three hours, but usually, it's closer to two."

"Exactly. I'm never tired either."

"Same for me. I wish you could see all the pictures I've painted when everyone else was asleep."

The wish wasn't intended to bring about the images flickering across the sky, but the slide show above their heads went on for more than an hour. There were many kisses awarded by Kaya, Andrew narrated a fair portion of it, and more than a few tears were shed.

When it was all over, they held each other. Kaya with her head on his chest, and Andrew with his arms around her. After a while, she asked, "What do you miss the most?"

"Doctor Dave. He was the father I never had. The incredible part was he never questioned who I was. After our first time in the grove, he never doubted me for a second."

"Should he have?"

"What I told him wasn't possible. What he saw me do wasn't possible. Everything in my life wasn't possible, but he didn't seem to care at all."

"You mean because you went to college at fourteen and became a doctor before you were twenty? Because you finished law school in two years or was it the astrophysics you mastered, or the doctorate in math, you said you got. Maybe it was the physics you predicted, then proved to be true," she said, tracing the never ending figure of infinity on his bare chest as she talked. "What are you going to do differently next time?"

"Everything," Andrew sighed. "What about you?"

Kaya rolled onto her back and watched the stars. Eventually, she said, "Well, I played the God card in my first life. That worked out well for everyone, but me."

"Burned at the stake!" Andrew chuckled.

"In my second life, I still didn't have any of the technology you did, but I played a lot of the same roles as you. You know, I went the science route, and it was easy because of the Fountain."

"Yeah," Andrew agreed. "I didn't really need to learn anything new, I just had to apply what I knew."

"Uh huh," Kaya acknowledged. "So, next time I think I'll try keeping my mouth shut more than I keep it open. I also think I used my power to heal people too much."

"It's funny you say that because now when I look back, all I did was solve other people's problems. Sure I taught along the way, but now that I'm gone..."

"What," Kaya asked, "Now that you're gone, what?"

"There isn't anybody to carry on my work."

"I guess I was a one-woman show too."

"We need to get better at this," Andrew said.

"Much better," Kaya agreed.

"But you made a difference in your first life, didn't you?"

"Sure, but it probably wasn't going to last. I was just a teenager, leading an army against a bunch of bullies. My country hadn't won a major battle in over a hundred years, and the only reason they followed me was that they were desperate."

"Did it hurt when they killed you?"

"No. Father took me away before it got too ugly. Did it hurt when you died in the hospital?" she asked in return.

"No. I just drifted away. Then I was back at the Fountain."

"I wish we could have talked to each other, you know, by thinking," Kaya said.

"Me too, but it would have changed everything. Not that I didn't try to every night, but I think we're supposed to be alone."

Kaya rolled over, putting her head back on his chest and he put his arms around her.

"I'm glad we're together," she said.

"I love you."

The night had cooled, and Andrew wished for a blanket that drifted down and covered them. The sky lightened, turning pink as the sun made its way above the horizon.

"What's for breakfast, love?" Kaya asked.

"I wish we had some oatmeal with brown sugar and bananas in it," he said smiling.

Kaya's spoon clinked against her bowl as she laid back on their blanket.

"Delicious," she declared.

"Where's mine!" came a voice from down on the beach.

Andrew and Kaya looked up, and yelled, "Jacob!!"

"That's King Jacob, to you," he announced, with a huge smile and his arms spread wide.

Andrew and Kaya bowed and curtsied, respectively.

"You may rise," he said, sounding very proper.

"Jacob," Kaya said, hugging him.

"Welcome back," Andrew said, over-hugging Kaya until they smooshed her in the middle.

When they separated, Jacob said, "Seriously, what have you got to eat around here? I'm starving."

"Hold your hands out, like this," Andrew said, "right over mine."

Jacob held his hands out above Andrew's.

"I wish I had a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar and bananas in it," Andrew said.

Jacob laughed out loud, and Andrew said, "Catch it!"

With the steaming bowl of oatmeal in his hands, Jacob laughed again and took the spoon.

"So that's what He meant," Jacob said, taking a bite.

"Oh my, that is delicious!" he announced.

"A meal fit for a king?" Kaya asked.

Jacob nodded, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

"I've missed you both so much," he said. "Wait until you hear about my life, it was wonderful, I had so much fun."

"I wish you could have seen my throne! It was the..."

A huge, ornate, oversized chair made of wood and inset with gold and precious stones thumped into the sand.

"Well it looked just like that!" he said, pointing at the throne.

"It's wonderful," Kaya said.

"That thing is incredible!" Andrew declared, walking over to touch the towering tribute.

"Ever seen an airplane?" he asked Jacob.

They spent the rest of the day making all manner of things fall from the sky. By the time the sun began to set, Jacob, Kaya, and Andrew felt like they had never been separated.

Jacob had just finished telling them about his death when he turned to Kaya and asked her, "Who were you in your first life? How did you arrive?"

Kaya touched her finger to Jacob's forehead, forming the connection between them.

Jacob tasted blood as Kaya lifted the arm of a dead man off her chest and sat up. She struggled with her little helmet, and her hair was stiff with blood from a head wound. Flies buzzed around her face, and the sounds of wounded and dying men filled the air.

"Take the boy, if he can walk. If not, end it here and now!" the Slave Master thundered.

She got to her feet, felt a little woozy, fought against it and waited.

The man in rags walking toward her was called Slop, and she watched a dying soldier pleadingly reach toward him. The horrible looking man pushed his sword into the soldier's chest without breaking his stride. As he approached her, his sword dripping with blood, she couldn't stop from shaking.

The man looked down through his long dirty bangs, examining her like a piece of fruit.

When the stench of Slop combined with her overwhelming fear, she fell to her knees and vomited.

"Welcome ta my world," Slop grumbled. "Come with me if ya want's ta live."

Kaya wiped her mouth with the back of her leather gauntlet, stumbled over several corpses and followed Slop as they waded deeper into the battlefield.

Kaya wept silently while Slop delivered passionless steel to all those who could not manage to follow his command. Within an hour, five men and Kaya staggered hopelessly behind the man in rags, out of the field of death.

From atop his black horse the Slave Master, a fat man of absurd proportions, bellowed, "That's it?!"

"That's all that's worthy, Master."

"Throw the stinking lot in the wagon, and get on with it, you horrible excuse for a life!" Brandishing his crossbow at Slop, the Slave Master screamed, "Or I'll put another arrow in your back!"

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

Slop turned around and took the flat of his sword to each of the men in line.

"It don't matter what ya use ta be, cause yer all slaves now. The Master there owns ya like a dog owns a bone! Yer all a bunch of cowards too, or ya'd be dead in the field with a touch a honor. Now git in that wagon or yer dead!"

One of the men spoke, and Slop punched him in the face hard enough to knock him off his feet and onto his back.

Kneeling down on the man's chest, Slop pulled a long dagger from somewhere under his rags.

"I'm happy ta end it fer ya nice and slow if that's what ya was 'bout ta ask fer," he whispered, placing the blade across the man's neck.

The man spat in Slop's face, and said, "Do your best, you stinking coward. You spineless..."

He never finished the sentence because Kaya launched herself headlong into Slop's side.

Saving the life of the man on the ground was Kaya's only real plan if she even had a plan. Fortunately, she had done such a good job of catching Slop off guard, he not only dropped his knife, but he was sprawled out on the ground.

Kaya had fared about as well as Slop and was also sprawled out on the ground. She heard the Slave Master yelling something and figured she would be dead any second, when the man on the ground picked up Slop's dagger, sat up, and let it fly.

The Slave Master was trying to aim his crossbow when the blade took him in the eye. As the enormously fat man fell from his horse, he let his quarrel fly, striking Slop between the shoulder blades. The steel tip partially exited the center of his chest.

Kaya could hardly believe the chain of events she had let loose, and she didn't hesitate to capitalize on her good fortune.

"Can we take the cart someplace safe?" she asked the man on the ground.

"Well I'm not sticking around here," he replied. "Come on men, let's get out of here while we still can."

One of them hauled Kaya to her feet, and they all piled into the back of the wagon. Everyone was bloodied, and none were without wounds.

Kaya took a moment to play with her powers of perspective, flipping her point of view into the man across from her. It felt strange to look at herself through the eyes of another, but it wasn't what he saw that disturbed her. It was the complete hopelessness within his heart that threatened to drown her in misery.

Flipping from soldier to soldier, the dark, brooding sense of lament did not change. Finally, she changed her perspective to the view from above and there she was, sitting with five hopelessly defeated soldiers. Surprisingly, she felt hope and a relative sense of importance.

Resting her hand on the arm of the soldier next to her, she brought her Light into it. She let it flicker there, unconsciously playing with it as she combed through her vast knowledge to find the reason for hope.

Suddenly, the man's eyes grew very wide. He raised his face to the sky and every muscle in his body went stiff, making him straight as a board. Kaya jerked her hand away and stared at the man's face. It was frozen, except for the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

"Stop the wagon," she yelled, "Stop!"

Before the horses could bring the heavy wooden cart to a complete stop, the soldier gasped as if he had been holding his breath for hours. The stiffness left his body, and he slumped back against the wooden sideboard, breathing heavily.

The wagon stopped and the man who was driving, the one who had thrown the dagger into the Slave Master, turned to see what warranted the emergency.

Only the labored breathing of the horses filled their ears.

Without warning, the soldier Kaya had touched leaped to his feet. Looking down on her, he demanded, "What have you done?!"

"I...I...I...didn't do anything," she stammered, shuffling across the bed of the wagon, trying to escape.

The crazed man jumped from the wagon, reached over the side and plucked Kaya out of it.

He swung her around as he embraced her, yelling, "You are my miracle, my miracle. Little one, you have saved me. You are my miracle."

"Put the boy down and get back on!" the driver demanded. "We must keep going, we have to make it back!"

"I am Remi," the soldier said to Kaya, "Your loyal servant. If I had a sword, I would swear it to you."

"Remi, you are most kind. I would have you put me down, please."

Remi swept her up, cradling her in his arms like a baby, then he gently set her back on the wagon.

"Get in you fool, before we are captured!" the driver insisted.

The reigns cracked on the backside of the horses, and Remi boarded the wagon with an amazing burst of strength and dexterity.

"I am healed in my body, and my heart," Remi declared. "This young lad has made it so."

"Look at my arm," he said, holding it up for inspection. "It was cut by a sword in battle, and now it is healed."

"You are mad," scoffed one of the soldiers. "I have seen this before. You are not healed because you were never injured, you fool. You are elated because we are free, because we survived the day, not because of the touch of this boy!"

The thigh of the soldier next to Kaya was severely cut and had not stopped bleeding.

She recalled Father's advice and smiled.

"And you boy!" the soldier demanded. "Why do you sit there smiling like a fool as this mad man depicts you as a messenger from God?!"

With confidence and grace, she looked the man in the eye, and said, "My name is Kaya Elbe, and I am not a boy, I am a woman. One who was brave enough to go into battle, strong enough to come out alive and this man tells the truth. I am on a mission from God."

"I really, really hope I'm not overdoing this," she thought, placing her hand on the wounded thigh of the man next to her. The cut was twice the width of her palm.

Kaya brought her Light into her hand, and the man's entire body shook with spasms. She lifted it, ever so slightly, blinding the soldiers. Seconds later the wound was gone, and the man looked terrified.

Kaya flipped her perspective into the man she had just healed and realized she had only healed his leg, not his mental state.

She quickly placed her hand on his chest, and the panic faded from his eyes.

Remi let out a long, loud, playful laugh.

"What's happening?!" the driver yelled over his shoulder.

While the soldiers inspected the man's unblemished thigh, Kaya scooted to the front of the wagon. She had already used her perspective to look around them, and she knew they were not being followed.

"Slow the horses and come to a stop when you're inside the shelter of the forest," Kaya instructed. "No one is following us. I need to speak with all of you before we reach camp."

"I will not!" the man argued. "We will all be captured and killed if I listen to you!"

Remi crawled along the bed of the speeding wagon until he was next to Kaya.

"She has worked two miracles in this wagon, brother," he said to the driver. "If she tells you we are not being pursued, then we are not. Please do as my lady asks or we will remove you from this bench."

Pulling hard on the reins, the driver directed his team of four horses into the shadows of the forest.

After the wagon stopped, Kaya quickly healed the other men. When she had finished, each of them knew Kaya Elbe was more than a mere girl of thirteen, she was indeed sent by God Himself.

She lifted her finger and Jacob slowly opened his eyes. He smiled, and said, "You just put it all out there, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to hide it, and besides, Father told me to have fun."

"Well I only told Dave," Andrew said. "She told the whole world."

"Wow!" Jacob exclaimed. "I went my whole life without telling a soul, and you two...You did something totally different."

"But none of us created anything that would last," Kaya pointed out.

"Not for three thousand years, that's for sure," Jacob acknowledged.

"We're going to need a plan," Andrew noted.

"We're going to need to experiment," Jacob replied.

"I can't wait to do it again," Kaya said.

They spent another two weeks on the island talking through all manner of strategies. When they were done, Kaya called out to Father in her mind and the three friends disappeared with a "pop" and reappeared at the Fountain of Knowing.

" _Ready to try again?"_ He asked with a smile.

Three heads nodded.

" _Jacob, who does a King serve?"_

"A good King serves his people, a bad one serves himself."

Father nodded approvingly and looked at Kaya.

" _And where does the warrior lead?"_

"To martyrdom," she said.

" _And where does the man of science take his people?"_ He asked Andrew.

"To a place, only he can see. To a place in the future where other things are possible."

Again, Father nodded approvingly, and said, _"Wonderful. Simply wonderful."_

Kaya reached out, taking Andrew's hand and Andrew took Jacob's.

"Father?" Jacob thought.

" _Oh, I think I can do better than that Jacob."_

"But I..."

" _Jacob,"_ Father said, with a twinkle in His eye, _"It's me, remember?"_

Jacob blushed.

"Then we'll all be able to hear each other?" Kaya asked excitedly.

" _Not exactly. I thought it would be nice if you returned to the island each night. None of you sleeps more than three hours. Why don't we give your physical bodies a rest while your minds wander?"_

# Chapter 6

### The Lady Marie

Each night while their bodies rested comfortably, their spirits returned to the island. As a team with a plan, their nights became working sessions. They discussed problems, strategized different outcomes and went back to their respective lives each day with renewed purpose.

Twenty years into their new lives, with their bodies fast asleep, they sat on the beach of the island.

"Who wished for that?" Kaya asked, looking at the ship on the horizon.

"It wasn't me," Jacob shrugged.

"Well don't look at me," Andrew said. "I don't need a ship."

There was no breeze to speak of, but the tall masts held huge, billowing, rectangular sails. Instead of anchoring off the coast, the ship beached itself in the soft sand of the breaker waves.

" _Ahoy,"_ yelled Father, from over the side. _"I'll lower the ladder."_

"Brilliant," Jacob exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Andrew scooped up Kaya's hand, and they all ran into the surf like children.

"I wish the sun would come up," Kaya said, sending the moon into retreat as the sun leaped into the sky.

The ship's hull, all its rigging, and even its sails shimmered with the luster of pure gold.

Wading through the water, Jacob whistled admiringly and ran his fingers along the ship.

"Ladies first," Jacob said, holding the golden ladder hanging from the deck.

"She's beautiful!" Kaya exclaimed. "What's her name?" she called to Father, but as the words left her mouth, she realized she already knew.

"The Lady Marie," Andrew whispered to Jacob.

"Marie?" Jacob asked.

"Our daughters' name, or at least it will be."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd settled on a name yet."

"Now you do," Andrew said, starting up the ladder.

"You never did see the Lady Celeste, did you?" Jacob asked.

"When would I have seen that?"

"It was toward the end of her diary, but you never made it that far."

"I don't think I was even halfway through when we got to the Kingdom."

"Can you believe that was more than a hundred years ago?" Jacob asked, stepping onto the ladder.

"What are you talking about?" Andrew laughed, "It hasn't even happened yet."

When they were all standing on deck, Father said, _"Welcome, to the Lady Marie."_

"Please, tell us all about her," Kaya said.

Father stroked his beard thoughtfully, and said, _"Marie will be born on..."_

"No! Don't tell me that!" Kaya interrupted.

" _I was only joking,"_ Father said, with a smile that sent love rippling through them. _"I would never spoil that surprise."_

"Darn," Jacob said, "I wanted to know."

" _First of all, this is not the actual Lady Marie,"_ He said, sweeping His arms wide. _"She's close, but not exact."_

"What's she missing?" Andrew asked.

" _We'll get to that in a moment. For now, let's talk about what this amazing ship can do."_

"She's unsinkable," Jacob said to himself.

" _That's correct Jacob, she is literally unsinkable."_

"That's a nice quality in a boat," Andrew said, running his hand along one of the countless golden ropes that made up her rigging.

" _She's also invisible, at least to those who cannot see her."_

"I don't take your meaning," Kaya said.

"She's always in two places at once," Jacob added.

"You got me on that one," Andrew said, rubbing the side of his head.

" _And no one will ever spend a single day or night on this ship except for her captain."_

Jacob's grin had spread to a smile. "Just like the Lady Celeste," he said dreamily.

" _They are one and the same,"_ Father agreed.

"What's her purpose?" Kaya asked.

" _Jacob?"_ Father asked encouragingly.

"This magnificent ship is both a beacon and a bridge," Jacob said, running his fingers along the railing, "and we can sail her to any port we wish. Anyone who can see her is welcome to come aboard."

"Neither of you is helping very much," Andrew said, sounding irritated.

Jacob started walking around the main mast with his eyes closed, lightly brushing his fingers against it.

"One of us, any of us," he said smiling, "will Captain this unsinkable ship to any port or any sea we choose. And only those who may be welcomed into the Kingdom will see the Lady Celeste, I mean the Lady Marie, gleaming like the sun itself.

They may arrive by ladder or gangplank, but they will never board this ship."

"How is that possible?" Andrew asked desperately.

"Because my dear friend, they will not be boarding this ship, they will be boarding the Lady Marie docked just beyond the City of Light; because this ship is always in two places at once."

"That's fantastic!" Kaya announced.

" _She sails by her own wind, and even if run aground, she will reverse her course when willed to do so by her captain,"_ Father added.

"So what's missing?" Kaya asked again.

" _The two places at once thing,"_ Father said. _"There's no point in it right now."_

"So she won't sink, she doesn't need the wind, she can't be seen by anyone who would want to harm her, and nobody who comes aboard actually comes aboard; they just appear on the ship in the harbor outside of the City?" Andrew asked.

" _How many must you gather?"_ Father asked, trying to add some perspective.

"Half the world," Jacob thought aloud.

" _And who will Captain this ship when the three of you are gone?"_

Andrew started to say Marie, but stopped short, realizing Marie could never leave the City once the three of them were gone.

"No one," he answered.

" _Then how long do you have to sail her?"_

"Five hundred years," Kaya whispered, looking down at the deck.

" _Don't be sad,"_ Father said, lifting her chin and meeting her eye's. _"These are all gifts. Magnificent, imaginative, thought provoking, dream inspiring, gifts._

_Oh, I almost forgot,"_ He said, with a smile. _"Each of you gets one of these."_

"One of what?" Jacob asked.

" _Oh, where did I put those silly things? I thought I had them right here,"_ Father said, looking around the base of the mast.

"Those, over there?" Andrew asked, pointing at four shepherd hook walking staffs lying in a jumble toward the bow of the ship.

" _Yes, that's what I'm looking for,"_ He said, holding up His hand and calling them into it.

Handing one to each of them, He said, "I brought them along because I thought they might help."

"The staff of The Wanderer," Kaya said excitedly.

"The what?" Andrew asked.

" _Tell them, Kaya,"_ Father said, holding the fourth staff in His hand.

"It's one of the oldest stories among my people," she said, staring into the large looping hook on the staff. Her eyes were wide, and a smile snuck onto her face. "This is the staff of The Wanderer."

"I thought you were a Wanderer," Andrew said, looking at the staff in his hand. "But you never had a stick like this. Did you?"

"No, of course not. Nobody did except The Wanderer."

Turning to Jacob, Andrew asked, "Are you getting any of this?"

Jacob was poking his finger at the image of the City hovering within the loop of the shepherd hook. "That's amazing!" he said, sticking half his arm into the hole. "Magic, right?" Jacob asked, looking up at Father.

" _Any technology far enough beyond what you currently understand is usually perceived as magic."_

"So how does it work?" he asked.

" _The image of the City, floating in the loop of your staff, is there to be seen just like the Lady Marie."_ Father held up a single finger toward Jacob's forehead, and said, _"If you wish to burden yourself with the subatomic constructs of the forty-two dimensions simultaneously combining to create the space-time continuum that is "now", and how this image is projected into it, I am willing to share."_

"Nope," Jacob said, pulling his arm out of the loop, "magic is fine by me."

" _That is wise."_

"See," he said, patting Andrew on the back, "this whole life experience thing is paying off."

"None of this is helping," Andrew said. "Are we to be shepherds or sailors or caregivers or glorified greeters at the gate of our own home?"

" _Yes,"_ Father answered. _"All of those things plus much, much more if you wish to succeed."_

"Succeed at what?" Andrew asked. "At imprisoning our daughter for thousands of years? At making the City permanent? For what?"

" _You have all debated this for some time now, and you already know the answer to your questions."_

"But the answer isn't logical," Kaya spoke up. "It's just another riddle we don't understand."

"What's behind the door?" Jacob asked.

" _If the City of Light stands for three thousand years or half the world's population comes to live within its walls, then yes, the City will live forever. The rules change a little,"_ He said, waving His hand dismissingly, _"but that's nothing to worry about. Then there is the matter of the door."_

"Do you know what's behind the door?" Kaya asked.

" _What I know is it's not what lies behind the door that will lead you to success."_

"Why not," Andrew asked. "Is it more magic?"

" _Yes and no,"_ He said, tugging at His beard. _"The door is a gateway to a place I must go, and only you can unlock it."_

Intrigued, Jacob asked, "Why do you have to go there?"

" _For the same reason, you must succeed."_

"And what reason is that?" Andrew pleaded.

" _Because this is our last chance."_

# Chapter 7

### Baggage

It was three o'clock in the morning and the night air was unseasonably cool. Giant, billowing rain clouds obscured the waxing crescent moon as Connor slept restlessly by the fire.

They had left the Oasis three days ago, and tomorrow they would reach the Empire. Ross had the last watch for the night. He poked at the small fire, occasionally adding to it from a small pile of branches and twigs.

The fire popped, sending an ember in a high arc. The tiny, glowing shard cleared the ring of the fire pit and rolled along the damp, sandy ground. It collided with a pebble next to Ross' foot and the flickering light of the ember set Ross' mind adrift.

He dreamily wandered the trail they had blazed for the last three days, but it wasn't the path that captivated him; it was the man they accompanied.

Since leaving the Oasis, Connor had snared four rabbits, taken down two pigeons with a sling of his own making and started three fires without flint and steel. His conversations with the Caretakers ranged from what it was like to be a Blacksmith, to how to Cooper just about any wooden container imaginable.

He spoke about iron and steel as if they were his friends. He described different trees and the wood they yielded like a father describes his children.

Connor's energy and charisma flowed naturally, making the Caretakers feel both needed and appreciated. His conversational dynamics frequently created open debate within the small group but never a confrontation. He was so articulate and genuine that Tarquin, Ravi, and even Ross had unexpectedly given up restricted pieces of knowledge about the village or being a Caretaker.

Ross watched the sputtering light from the ember, wondering why the fire had discarded it or if it left by choice? Was it defective in some way? Did it offer no value or was it sent out to try and start more fires? Was it hurled across the void to get his attention? Was there something he was missing?

Connor's dream brought forth the creature from the Chamber, and he jerked hard enough to send sand spraying into the fire. He woke up and yawned, rolled over onto his back with his eyes open and rubbed at his ears.

"Another bad dream?" Ross asked quietly.

"It's the ringing of the hammer against the iron, and the iron against the anvil," he lied. "It's enough to drive you mad." He stretched and yawned making Ross unconsciously do the same thing.

"If there weren't any clouds, how many stars could you name?" Connor asked.

"Maybe a hundred, how about you?"

"My grandfather is a sailor. As a kid, I remember getting up to about two hundred, but I don't know if I could still do it."

"Did you sail with him?"

"Every summer for five years. Back then, he was just a ship's Blacksmith, but now he's the Blacksmith Guild Master for the King's fleet."

"Is that how you know so much about the trade?"

Connor propped himself up on an elbow and stared at Ross from across the fire. The heat from the embers distorted Ross' face, making him look like a mirage.

"It's complicated."

"My father always says you can lighten your load if you set down the bags you're carrying."

"I don't think you want to look inside my baggage, Ross. There are demons in there."

"How long are you going to carry them around?"

"I don't know how to put them down."

"I'm a Caretaker. If you can't tell me, you may be hard-pressed to find anyone you can tell."

"If I told you what I carried, you and your friends would leave me here. Not even you would want to take care of the real Connor Duncan."

"That bad?"

"I was banished from the Kingdom. I'm rotten to the core."

"How much do you actually know about the Kingdom?" Ross asked.

Connor's eyebrows went up, pulling his mouth into a smile.

"How much do I know?"

Ross nodded in response while Connor shuffled around the fire until he was sitting next to him.

"Caretaker, right?"

"My only job is to assist you. I won't judge you, I won't turn against you, I won't abandon you, and I will never lie to you. There are things I am not supposed to tell you, but if you're interested, I'll make concessions if you will."

"Concessions?" Connor asked.

"I'll ask you a question, and you answer with the truth. You ask me a question, and I'll do the same."

"Is this a Caretaker game?"

"No, it's me taking a chance. It's me trying to help, it's me breaking the rules because sometimes the rules stop making sense. My grandmother always taught us that sometimes you have to let your heart lead you down the right path."

"I know more than you think, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Under one condition."

"Name it."

"Our conversation is between us. Whatever we learn from each other goes no further."

"I was banished from the Kingdom for being a disgraceful human being, are you sure you can trust me?"

"Can I?"

"I'm a liar and a bully. I'm damaged in places I can't even describe."

"That wasn't my question."

"I'm not sure I can trust myself, but I promise to honor our agreement."

"Where I come from we shake hands to formalize a commitment. We also make promises that can't be broken."

Connor held out his right hand, and said, "Ross Elbe, you can trust me. I will not lie to you, and I promise to keep everything we discuss between only you and me."

Gripping Connor's hand, Ross said, "Connor Duncan, you can also trust me, and I will only speak the truth. I promise to keep our conversation between us, and may the Light forgive me if my actions cause harm."

They shook briefly, released each other's hands and paused.

"It's pretty obvious I'm the first visitor at the Oasis in a very long time. Would you mind telling me what a Caretaker is?" Connor asked. "I mean, why were you there?"

"A Wanderer escorts the Hero to the Chamber. A Caretaker waits for the exiled. For the last two thousand years, we've just been waiting for you."

"For me?" he asked, chuckling a little. "That doesn't even make sense."

"A long time ago," Ross said, looking up at the stars, "when the Kingdom stood for all to see, it was our job to help the exiled find their way. We're still here Connor, watching and waiting because there's one person left who needs our help."

"Me?"

"The path you choose will affect us all."

"The path I choose?" Connor mumbled to himself. "Speaking of paths," he said, looking at Ross. "There are two ways out of the Kingdom. One is banishment, and the other is the village. I was banished and yet none of my memories have faded, probably because I never received the gift of knowledge."

Unable to fathom how anyone could know what Connor knew, Ross stared at The One in amazement.

"You have all the mannerisms of a brave and honorable man. You have no use for money, and yet you carry thirty pounds of gold. Your friends are wise, trustworthy, and strangely innocent. I would ask you to confirm that you are from the village."

Ross winced at the question, thought about his promise, and answered, "We are."

"I've read most of Celeste's diary. I've held and used the magic shield. I've entered the Hero's Chamber, answered the questions, battled the demon that is myself and I'm still alive."

Ross' mind was reeling. The only thing he could say came out as a whisper, "Wow!"

"Your turn," he said, nudging Ross with his elbow.

Looking up at the stars, Ross whispered, "My cart is missing a wheel."

"Your cart?" Connor asked.

"It's just an expression. It means I no longer control my own path. Unless I jump from the cart I've lost control of my own destiny."

"Do you really think you have control over your own destiny?"

Clapping Connor on the back, Ross declared, "Wonderful. So, how did you answer the questions in the Chamber?"

"Badly."

"Go on."

"The Light is within me. I am the Light. I was there to acquire wealth and power, mountains of it. My father defended me with the magic shield that can't be destroyed. We lost, and somehow I survived."

"That's amazing! Do you know the right answers?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. Did Andrew?"

Ross sighed knowing he had crossed the line long ago, and answered, "Yes."

"Who defended him?"

There was a full on war in Ross' head, and he wondered if this is how Kaya felt. He imagined himself in a small cart speeding down a steep slope. The front wheel had just come off, and it was bouncing along next to the wagon.

"My sister, Kaya."

Connor smiled with such warmth it made Ross confident in his decision to have the conversation.

"So far, I really like your family."

"You are very kind. Thank you." Bumping Conner with his elbow, Ross asked, "I've heard you refer to yourself as we or in the third person. How many people are in your head?"

Connor chuckled as he stared into the glowing embers. Reaching behind Ross, he picked up a branch from the pile. Little sparks flickered above the coals as he pushed at them with the stick. When the tip of the branch caught on fire, he stuck the twig into them, making it stand straight up. They watched as the fire began to consume the dried fuel.

"Much to my surprise, there are three people in my head. There's me, Connor Duncan, an eighteen-year-old orphan, and there's the person I've always talked to. You know, the person who answers when you ask yourself questions?"

Ross nodded.

"There's also Jacob Duncan, my fifty-year-old father. He crawled in here," he said, tapping his finger on the side of his head, "when we bonded with each other in the Chamber."

"I've heard of that," Ross said. "Sometimes when one of the men survives, he's not himself anymore. He's what you just described."

Connor stared at the fire spreading up the branch.

"Did you really know your grandfather, the sailor?"

"Yes and no. Connor didn't, but Jacob did. What we told you about him was Jacob's memory."

"You just did it again."

"Did what?"

"You referred to yourself as we."

"Oh. I'll try to stop doing that, I'm sure it sounds crazy."

"Are you angry at Jacob?"

"Furious."

"Why?"

Connor held up a hand and was about to start ticking off the reasons when he realized that's exactly what Jacob would have done. It made him angry, and he stuffed his hand back between his knees. "He orphaned me, abandoned me, lied to me, and led me on some crazy expedition to the Kingdom. Which as you can see, didn't end very well."

"It didn't end very well?"

"Not for me it didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you serious? I feel like I'm insane. I'm not myself anymore. I'm sure as heck, not my father. I can't seem to tell when I'm remembering my own past or his, and I always feel like making a barrel! I've never made anything in my life, let alone a barrel!"

"That aside, if I'm not mistaken you've acquired his skills. What about those rabbit snares you came up with or the sling? You lit this fire, and I'm still not sure how you did it. You're both a Cooper and a Blacksmith. You have knowledge and abilities that take a lifetime to obtain, let alone master. And this is a bad thing?"

"Well, what about him? It's not like he survived the Defender's Portal."

The wheel bouncing next to Ross' runaway cart hit a rock and shot off into the distance. It picked up speed, and his stomach lurched as he careened to one side.

"He did," Ross said, grabbing the front of his shins and squeezing. "He stood with Kaya and Andrew as the Kingdom was rebuilt."

Connor made a snarling sound between clenched teeth and stood up. He walked into the distance, his hands balled into fists.

He couldn't stop hating Jacob. Not after what he'd done, not after the risks he'd taken, not after the fool he'd made of Connor. By all accounts, Connor should be dead and Jacob with him. Jacob had the whole thing wrong from the beginning, and he was willing to let Connor and himself die while he figured it out. Now Jacob was standing in the City of Light, on top of it all! His suffering was over, but Connor's would never end.

"I'm better than he ever was, and I'll use every ability, every scrap of knowledge, and every memory I have to prove to the world who Connor Duncan really is," he mumbled under his breath. "I refuse to become a sorry, broken down old man living in a crooked old house with a skinny old horse. I'll show them all! I'll be the best Blacksmith and Cooper anybody has ever seen. I'll be respected, and I'll be rich. I'll be powerful, and I'll be the one in charge. I don't need the Kingdom, and I don't need Jacob or Andrew. One of these days he'll come back, then we'll see what he thinks about his son."

With his new resolve, Connor walked back and sat next to Ross. The branch in the middle of the fire had broken in half and was engulfed in flames.

"You said we're going to the Empire. Who is the King of the realm?"

"He's an old and bitter man. His name is Gothel Pridarius the Third."

"I know Gothel! We're going back to our home, I mean my home. Dammit! I mean we're going back to Jacob's home."

"Then it's not surprising the Kingdom sent you to the Oasis. It's the only Sanctuary within three hundred miles of the Empire."

"Why do you call it the Empire?"

"It's just the name we use for it. It's the largest city on this side of the ocean for five hundred miles north or south."

"Perfect, I can hardly wait."

"What can you hardly wait for?" Ravi asked, rolling over to face them.

"I'm going home," Connor said.

"You lived in the Empire?" Ravi asked, sounding surprised.

Connor held his hand out to Ross, and the two shook. There was no need for further discussion.

"Ravi my dear Caretaker, I most certainly did. I'll even take you to both of my houses."

"Both of your houses," Ravi said laughing. "You're joking right?"

"I'm not kidding," Connor said, standing up and dusting off his pants.

Reaching down, he helped Ross to his feet, and whispered, "If it's all right with you, I think I'll leave a couple of those bags right here."

"Good. Feel any lighter?"

"Yes, actually I do."

Tarquin rolled over, and asked, "What's for breakfast?"

The dirt road they'd been walking on since before sunrise finally gave way to cobblestones and Connor asked Ravi how much gold they had.

"I'm not really sure," he confided. "We have coins from all over, not just from the Empire. Why?"

"I was just curious. Do you have any silver or copper?"

"A little," said Ross. "What are you planning?"

"At the moment, food."

Tarquin's pace quickened until he came into stride next to Ross. "Do you think we could, just this once?"

Connor knew Tarquin was excited about visiting the Empire, so he encouraged the conversation by asking Ross, "Just this once?"

Ross spoke for the group, saying, "We avoid the Empire and everything in it. It's the same with all permanent towns, villages or cities. We don't eat there, we don't buy things there, and we certainly don't stay there."

"Why?" Connor asked.

"We avoid attention of any kind. Think about it."

"Yup, I get it," Connor said, "but one little rabbit and some half cooked roots between the four of us doesn't make for a very filling breakfast. And unless one of you has some secret stash of food, we're out."

"We do need supplies," Ravi said to Ross.

"I know, but let's take it one step at a time."

"Are all three of you coming in with me?" Connor asked, to nobody in particular.

He could practically feel Tarquin begging Ross, and he knew Ravi would follow Ross' lead; so as usual, it was up to Ross.

It didn't really matter to Connor one way or the other, but he thought Ross might want another option.

"If you like, you can all stay at my house outside of the city while I go in."

"Can we have a few minutes to discuss this?" Ross asked.

"Of course, take your time. I'll keep walking, just catch up to me when you're done."

"Thank you," Ross replied.

Connor kept walking, and called back, "Take your time, Caretakers. I'll be safe enough."

Ross, Ravi, and Tarquin stopped in the middle of the road.

"I like that guy," Tarquin said.

"He is very likable," Ravi agreed.

"Be that as it may, we have a job to do," Ross reminded his friends. "And we need to figure out the best way to do it."

"We need supplies," Ravi said.

"Ravi, I know. I'm just not sure walking into the Empire with sacks full of gold is the right way to go about it. Besides, we need to make sure Connor is going to be all right before we leave. That's our job."

"Should we go in and get a room?" Tarquin asked.

"In the Empire?!" Ross demanded.

Tarquin's eyes went to the ground, and his head fell forward.

"I'm sorry Tarquin. I'm just hungry and tired. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Looking up, Tarquin said, "I guess it was a silly question. I just really want to see what it's like. You and Ravi have both been there, but I've never had a chance."

"We've only been in there for information," Ravi said. "It's not a very nice place anyway. You're not missing anything."

"He's right," Ross added. "It's not a very nice place. The people are rude, ill-tempered, and it's dirty and crowded. It's not the place for us."

"Then how do we help Connor, and how do we get food and supplies?" Tarquin asked.

"That's the problem isn't it?" Ross acknowledged. "If we're not going in, how do we help?"

"Maybe if we stay outside of town at Connor's house, a solution will present itself," Ravi offered.

Reaching out, Ross put a hand on both of their shoulders. "That is wise advice my friend," he said approvingly. "We'll accept Connor's offer of lodging, and in return, we'll provide him with something so meaningless I find it bothersome to even think about."

"He could even buy a horse. It would be much easier for him to come and go," Ravi added.

"The sooner somebody makes it back with food, the better off we'll be," Tarquin complained as his stomach gurgled and groaned.

"We'll give Connor enough gold to buy a horse and supplies, and we'll see where we go from there," Ross said.

# Chapter 8

### Distant Early Warning

"Time after time, we lose sight of the way. Our causes can't see their effect."ii

The Story of Tomorrow

"We have to do it in five hundred years or less," Andrew said for the third time as he and Jacob stood next to the Fountain of Knowing.

"I understand that," Jacob said. "I just don't see how it's possible."

Kaya appeared next to them, sitting on the edge of the Fountain. She had just been killed by an assassin.

"I knew it!" she yelled, jumping to her feet. "Stupid laser guns! Those idiots! My whole life spent trying to keep the peace, trying to keep the planets united, trying to make a difference, and they shoot me! I'm gonna..."

"You're dead, get over it," Jacob said.

"Get over it?! Get over it?! Is that all you have to say?"

"Welcome back my love," Andrew said, trying to take her hand, but she pulled away.

"There was so much left to do," she said, clenching her fists.

"There always is," Andrew agreed.

"He's back on the five hundred years or less thing," Jacob complained to Kaya.

"It's the only way!" she insisted, pointing her finger at Jacob. "Unless you want Marie to spend eternity as a prisoner, we have to try." She took Andrew's hand, and said, "I don't want to do that again. I don't want to go back and be someone else. I want to go back to our time, to our City. I want to be with you until we're done with this whole crazy thing."

"I have to agree," Jacob added. "I'm about as wise as I care to get. If I don't have what it takes by now, I'm never going to have it."

"I think we're all on the same page," Andrew agreed.

From nowhere, Father said, _"Then let us begin."_

"Whoa!" Kaya shouted as the landscape blurred around them.

In an instant, they were outside the column of Light pouring from the completed spire of the first Kingdom. Marcia was below them, and they felt her emotions as she sat on the edge of the Fountain.

"It's not fair," Kaya thought aloud. "How can she possibly do this all alone? She can't even tell her friends what's happening or why. Listen to her. Oh, this is terrible. Father, can't you do something?"

" _The burden is too much. Marcia will not succeed, but you must learn from her, even if it's painful to watch."_

"Why is she alone?" Jacob asked.

" _It's a test."_

"A test of what?" Andrew asked.

" _That is something you must figure out on your own."_

The passage of time sped up.

" _We have five hundred and eighty-seven years to witness, let me know if we're going too quickly."_

They watched the City below them as Marcia, and her world moved at a fevered pitch.

Time slowed as Marcia attended to the passing of each of her original band of Travelers. Kaya cried.

"She's an incredible spirit," Jacob said with a heavy heart.

" _We are less than fifty years along our path."_

The dial of time turned, and Marcia continued working tirelessly. They marveled at her ability to identify those who suffered, and to bring her Light when it was needed.

There were subtle events along the way that changed her; that drove her to question the purpose of her Kingdom and her endless obligations.

After five hundred and fifty years she had isolated and condemned herself. Her prison was her tower, her sentence was never ending.

She welcomed those who entered the City, but could no longer find the strength to help anyone, even herself.

When the second person turned to stone, Marcia flew from the window of her tower. She fled the City, escaping her prison, and in doing so, she abandoned her people and her obligations. Only at the last instant did she realize what she had done, but it was too late.

In mid-flight, Marcia turned to stone, then to sand as she hit the floor of the valley.

As the first Kingdom crumbled to the ground, Andrew asked, "Why does everyone have to die? It's not right."

" _The City is dying, and those within it are collateral damage. Cause and effect."_

"She was brilliant," Kaya said admiringly. "So caring and attentive. I don't know if I could ever do what she did."

"But she locked herself away, like Celeste," Jacob pointed out. "She trapped herself. She turned paradise into a prison."

"It seems to me that any job, any task, and any obligation can become a prison if you let it," Andrew commented.

"We mustn't let that happen to any of us, including Marie," Kaya affirmed. "The citizens are here to help us just as much as we are here to help them. It's the tower that separates. That's the problem, that's the trap."

" _Excellent,"_ Father said, and they all disappeared with a "pop".

When they re-appeared, it was night time. The first edge of the waxing crescent moon hung just above the horizon, and two young people flew past them on their way to the half-spire.

" _We are now in the second Kingdom, one thousand seven hundred years in the future. They,"_ He said gesturing toward the two young people flying through the air, _"are Abhishek and Camilla. They are wonderful people, I love them very much. They're on their way to the half-spire for the first time."_

Time sped up, and they watched Abhishek and Camilla rebuild the Kingdom and eventually welcome their only daughter into the world.

" _Her name is Tana,"_ Father said. _"She is a brave spirit, full of questions and the need to explore."_

The dial of time turned, and they watched as Tana's parents tirelessly split the duties of raising her, and welcoming new citizens.

"She has to open the door to the spire doesn't she?" Kaya asked.

" _Yes,"_ Father confirmed. _"On her eighteenth birthday, she must open the door."_

"Or the Light goes out, doesn't it?" Andrew asked.

" _Or the Light goes out."_

"Another test?" Jacob asked.

" _Indeed,"_ Father replied. _"Opening the door to the spire proves she is capable of the tasks ahead. It also rebuilds the top of the spire."_

"And the prison cell that awaits," Kaya quipped.

Tana's parents saw to her every need and surrounded her with toys and dolls and everything she asked for.

Her wish became their command. Even the citizens were recruited to ensure the little girl was continually occupied, and left in want of nothing.

On her eighteenth birthday, when she couldn't open the door, she flew into an all too familiar rage. She threatened everyone in sight, she cried, she demanded the door be broken down, but it was no use. The Light faded from the Beacon, the spire was never completed, and hope faded. Eventually, very few people sought out the City of Light.

Five hundred years after it came into existence, Abhishek, his wife Camilla, and their spoiled and spiteful daughter perished as the Kingdom died.

"I certainly hope the two of you do a better job than that," Jacob said.

"Don't you see?" Andrew asked, "It can't just be us. It has to be everyone's job. Marie can never be treated like she's some kind of princess. And she should certainly never know the fate of the whole City is riding on her."

"If she doesn't arrive at that door humble and feeling generally unworthy of such a huge responsibility, she will fail," Kaya insisted.

"So far we haven't seen the ship used once! It's like they don't get it," Jacob observed.

"Well Marcia couldn't use it, and these two were so busy making sure their daughter had every little thing she could ever want, they forgot about their purpose. It's like it didn't matter to them how many people came to the Kingdom," Kaya said.

" _Remember what you have seen,"_ Father instructed. _"We're moving on,"_ and they disappeared with a "pop".

Two thousand, two hundred years later, they watched as the daughter of the third City of Light successfully opened the door. With the small, unassuming door open at the base of the half-spire, the Light of the Beacon grew much brighter. Within the column, block by block, the tower was rebuilt. Her parents were caring, thoughtful people, but they too failed to effectively recruit new citizens. Their lackluster attempt did not begin until well past their three-hundredth year.

Watching the golden ship leave port on her first real journey, Jacob scoffed, "They've waited too long. This one is doomed to failure too."

" _When should they have started?"_ Father asked.

"Right away," Andrew said. "They've got their staffs and the ship and their own two feet. Why would you wait?"

"We've got to hit the ground running," Kaya announced. "We still need to figure out who's staying behind, but I can tell you this, it's only going to be one of us."

"The thing is," Jacob said, "it can't be just us recruiting people. We need help, everyone's help. It's got to become a shared mission."

"We're going to need marketing support on this!" Kaya announced. Then she slapped her forehead, and said, "I can't believe I just said those words."

"That's genius," Andrew declared. "For the first time in history, I can actually see the value of a marketing team!"

"Do either of you mind telling me what marketing is?" Jacob asked.

The scenes below them continued in fast forward, and Kaya said, "Oh brilliant. There goes the mother, all by herself to try and convince the world. How long until this is over?"

" _These are real people who are doing the best they can."_

"No, they're not," Kaya insisted. "We're getting this thing done in less than five hundred years, as a team. We'll show you how it's done." Then she realized who she had just spoken to, and she blushed a brilliant shade of red.

They disappeared and reappeared with a "pop".

" _Below you is the fourth Kingdom,"_ Father narrated. _"Manoj and Michelle were beautiful together. They created a whole support network. Everyone here lived to learn and teach, and they cherished everything that was."_

The lives of the main characters played out before them like a movie set to the wrong speed.

" _Their Kingdom was a magnificent system of barter and trade. Founded on love and respect. Each citizen was a master tradesperson, or working on becoming one. Their skills in all arts made them famous throughout every land, and their army of advocates scoured the globe. Of course, wandering the world isn't without its dangers,"_ Father said while they watched Manoj slip off the edge of a very tall cliff.

"Oh no!" Kaya whispered.

" _He's always been a bit clumsy,"_ Father explained, as Manoj and his staff were dashed upon the boulders below. _"It's one of his more endearing qualities."_

"Endearing?!" Jacob protested, "He's dead!"

" _Oh, it didn't hurt any more than it did for any of you,"_ Father casually commented. _"Come on, I'll show you what happens."_ And the scene before them blurred at an incredible speed.

" _One of the fun things about the Fountain,"_ Father pointed out, _"is that it only looks small from up top."_ Splashing into the Fountain, He took them below the surface where they watched Manoj reappear at the bottom with a "pop" and a flurry of bubbles. He was standing at the bottom of a long flight of stairs that circled up to the top of the Fountain.

" _From the bottom,"_ He said, pointing up, _"it's as big as a pond, and I just love the stairs. It's a brilliant touch."_

"What about his body?" Andrew asked.

" _It's back on the rocks."_

"You mean his corpse is just going to stay back there?" Kaya asked, sounding appalled.

" _It disappears in three days,"_ Father said, holding His hand up to Jacob. _"I didn't make up the rules, I don't know why it's three days, it just is. But look at Manoj, he's got his staff back and up he goes."_

Over the next two hundred years, they watched Manoj klutz himself into the Fountain five more times.

" _This is Betsi, Manoj and Michelle's daughter. You know her,"_ Father narrated as He slowed down the passage of time. _"This is a lovely moment. She's six years old."_

Manoj was sitting next to Betsi's bed telling her a bedtime story. It was dark in her room, she was tucked in for the night, and all they could see was her cute little face sticking up above the covers.

"And that's why everyone in our City gets to live happily ever after," he whispered, finishing his story. Betsi turned and smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"We're going to live happily ever after aren't we Daddy?" she asked adorably.

"Our family will be together for a very long time my sweet. I will not die, mommy will not die, and you certainly will not die for a very, very long time. We're all special that way," he said, leaning over and kissing her goodnight.

Betsi snuck her arms out from under her covers and wrapped them around his neck. She hugged him tightly, and whispered in his ear, "You're not leaving for a very long time because that's the rule and we don't break those around here."

"That's the rule," Manoj agreed, kissing her tiny neck and making her giggle. "I'll never leave you, you'll see."

Betsi kissed his cheek and fell back onto her pillow with a big smile on her face.

As they said goodnight one last time, Father sped up time and the days, weeks and years began racing by.

They watched Betsi standing at the south Fountain. She was greeting new citizens and saying kind words to those departing.

" _She's seventeen right now and almost ready to open the door to the tower,"_ Father said, slowing things down to a normal pace.

Without warning, they were redirected thousands of miles away from Betsi until they hovered over a filthy, derelict land. They watched as Manoj was attacked from behind and they felt him open his mind; allowing Betsi and his wife to know and feel what was happening.

" _What Betsi didn't know,"_ Father explained, as He quickly brought them back to the Fountain, _"what her parents had never bothered to tell her, was any time one of them would have died, they simply appeared at the bottom of the Fountain of Knowing."_

Clutching her chest, Betsi fell to her knees and started screaming. Father projected Betsi's feelings into them as the life drained out of Manoj's body half a world away.

When his soul disappeared from her heart and mind, Betsi collapsed and started to cry. Her heartbreaking sobs did little to convey the infinite depth of her hopelessness and agony. She was numb, unable to hear, unwilling to see and she was falling, endlessly falling.

Manoj was disappointed to be at the bottom of the Fountain again, but he did what he always did; he climbed the stairs. When his head was finally above the water, he saw Betsi. Michelle was landing next to her, and she was surrounded by citizens, but she was crying like he had never seen before.

Manoj stood on the edge of the Fountain, soaking wet, hair across his face, looking down, and he called out to her with his mind, "Betsi?"

When Betsi looked up to see her father standing on the edge of the Fountain, Andrew, Kaya and Jacob felt a bewildering torrent of emotions. In that moment and with every ounce of her conviction, Betsi made a wish and a promise and a commitment all at the same time.

In a brilliant flash of Light, she was connected to the Beacon by a long, jagged filament of white-hot Lightning. As it crackled and pulsed, she whispered, "You will never be killed again."

The blinding ribbon flickered between Betsi and the ground next to the Fountain, then it faded, and an earsplitting clap of thunder exploded. Everyone around the Fountain collapsed under the crushing blow of the sound wave, and three rectangular slabs of crystal appeared next to the Fountain. Within seconds, each slab grew into a pedestal of crystal blocks erupting with Light.

The citizens watched with apprehension as the Light consuming each pedestal disappeared, leaving something behind.

No one was quite sure what had happened, and Betsi was trembling and sobbing as her mother and father helped her to her feet. Manoj wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly and reassuring her everything was going to be fine, when she whispered, "They're for you Daddy, so you'll never die again."

Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob were speechless as Father introduced them to Betsi's gifts, " _A sword that if any are foolish enough to strike, they will be frozen in time; vulnerable, unable to respond for three days. A shield that will cripple or destroy any force brought against it. Finally, and perhaps most ingenious, the Ring of Truth. The wearer of the Ring is not just compelled to tell the truth. They will also divulge any withheld truth, along with any knowledge of harm that might come to the bearer of the Ring._

Even when she wanted to destroy her creations of Light, and there were many times, she could not. The objects you just watched come into existence will last forever, however long that is to be.

The problem with the gifts is not in their design. Betsi's imagination created detailed works that master craftsmen dare not attempt, but the work was tainted. Tainted by her emotions of revenge, selfishness, and control. Anyone who uses them often enough, can, and eventually, will be corrupted."

They watched it start with Betsi's father and end like all the rest of the Kingdoms.

Exasperated as the final act against the Kingdom was committed, Kaya exclaimed, "Are you kidding me?! That went from perfect to horrible in the blink of an eye!"

"Tragic, absolutely tragic," Andrew conceded. "They were incredible for almost two hundred and fifty years. Then it all just fell apart."

"I thought Celeste created the sword and the shield," Jacob said, thinking back to Celeste's diary.

" _They were waiting for her in the tower. She only gave them as gifts."_

"Didn't you warn her?" Kaya asked.

" _I did all that could be done."_

"Did you see the circles of exploitation swirling around those objects?" Jacob asked in amazement. "Each of them created death and destruction no matter where they went, and it was all masked by something very sinister."

"Corruption," Kaya said.

"Why?" Andrew asked.

" _Because for almost any reason, anyone can surrender to its appeal."_

"That's quite a test," Kaya said as they disappeared with a "pop".

They reappeared nearly three thousand, five hundred years in the future, only to watch the glorious rebirth and the all too predictable ending of the fifth Kingdom.

"Nobody is getting this right," Jacob said in frustration.

"Not even close," Andrew agreed.

"I'm still surprised their daughter was able to open the door to the spire. She was quite a piece of work," Kaya added.

"Have you helped all the others the way you've helped us?" Kaya asked Father.

" _In certain timelines, yes, and in others, no."_

"Which timelines did we get to see?" Kaya asked.

" _Both."_

"How can that be?" Jacob asked.

" _It's a difficult test."_

"But it's not your test to pass, is it?" Jacob observed.

" _Have you figured it out?"_

"It's our test," Jacob answered. "I mean it's a test of the people you've created, of all of us, isn't it?"

"That's why you can't interfere once the test has begun, isn't it?" Kaya asked.

"How many chances do you get?" Andrew asked.

"We're the last chance, aren't we? That's what you meant, isn't it?" Kaya asked.

"But you already know how this ends," Jacob insisted. "You're not bound by time, you're not limited by anything."

"Do we make it?" Kaya pleaded. "I need you to tell me if all this has a purpose or if we're just going to end up like the rest of them."

" _That's up to each of you,"_ Father said.

"What you really mean is you're still not going to tell us," Jacob objected.

Father met Jacob's eyes and thought into all their minds, _"I already have."_ Then He snapped His fingers, and they disappeared and reappeared with a "pop".

Jacob and Andrew delighted in watching the sixth Kingdom, even if they already knew how it ended. For Kaya, it was her first introduction to Celeste and her parents, and it was easy to see why she was enamored with the whole family.

When Celeste put the sword, shield, ring and her ill-conceived diary in what she hoped would be their final resting place, everyone cheered. When the spire finally cracked and fell, all three of them felt a piece of themselves die with it.

" _It's been one thousand nine hundred eight years since that happened,"_ Father said.

"You mean since we rebuilt it?" Andrew clarified.

" _Yes. Your bodies are still waiting for you at the Fountain."_

"Is it time to go back?" Jacob asked.

" _When we left on our journey, you each had more questions than you knew what to do with. I told you what we would do and why. I also said you would be able to answer and explain the answer to each of your questions before we returned. So the question is to each of you. Are you ready?"_

"I only have one question," Kaya said. "What is the purpose of all this?"

"The only purpose to life is the one you give it," Jacob replied.

"Thank you, Jacob, that's incredibly wise, but I was asking Father."

" _Jacob's statement is accurate, little one. There is nothing I can add that would be of help."_

"Seriously? That's what I get to work with for the next five hundred years?"

Father embraced her, and Kaya glowed from within. Then He hugged Andrew and Jacob until their full glow returned.

"I'm ready," Andrew said, taking Kaya's hand.

"I guess I am too," Kaya said, taking Jacob's hand.

"This is the part I've been waiting for," Jacob said exuberantly, taking Andrew's hand and completing their circle.

" _You are my most precious creations,"_ Father thought to them, pulsing out rings of love and hope that filled their souls. _"Trust in each other,"_ He said aloud, meeting each of their eyes. _"And know that I love you."_

With a wink of His eye, Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob arrived in the seventh Kingdom, in their City of Light. The Fountain splashed its welcoming sounds behind them, and they pulled their hands from its mystical water.

"We've got company coming," Kaya said, hopping down off the Fountain.

"The whole village, right?" Jacob confirmed, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

Kaya smiled and nodded, then Andrew asked, "How many are there Kaya?"

"There are more than two thousand of us," she said, smiling from ear to ear. "And they're all coming home."

# Chapter 9

### First Lesson

Before parting ways, Connor gave his Caretakers directions to the old Miller house outside of town. He told them where to find the hidden key, where to locate the emergency food stores, and not to expect him until after dark.

He calculated aloud the cost of a horse, supplies, and the necessary bribes. There was a brief, passionate debate over the moral implications of bribery, but in the end, Ross conceded and counted out the coins. He put them in a small leather pouch and held it out to Connor.

Connor reached for the gold, and Ross said, "You know we make children's toys out of this back where we come from."

"Of course, you do," Connor said sarcastically. "Isn't that what everyone does with their extra gold?"

"When I was a kid, I had a miniature team of horses made of gold and silver," Tarquin said. "Altogether, they must have weighed ten pounds. My little sister still plays with them."

Lifting the pouch from Ross' hand, Connor gave a half-hearted chuckle. The gold felt heavier than he expected, and he playfully tossed it in the air and caught it.

"It's just kid stuff," Tarquin said, trying to make the point clear. "We use diamonds and rubies and all the other pretty stones as decorations at parties. The little kids use them all the time on their dolls and toys. It's all just play-stuff."

"Play-stuff huh?"

"We learn at an early age what's important and what's not," Ross said, looking directly into Connor's eyes. "Gold, silver, diamonds, they're not much more than shiny metal and polished rocks."

Connor's grin split into a smile as he slid the pouch into his pocket. "You guys never cease to amaze me. Here I think you're the wealthiest people I've ever met, but you don't have a clue what to do with it."

Ravi looked at Tarquin, confirming their suspicion that Connor just didn't understand.

"What?" Connor asked, shrugging his shoulders. "You're not expecting me to buy any of this, are you?"

Connor turned to Ross, but Ross just stared back, and casually asked, "What's King Pridarius have that you don't?"

"Other than a castle, an army, a fleet of ships, a queen, and an empire, he's got lots of gold."

"Fair enough," Ross said, "but what if he didn't have any gold, what if he never had any to start with?"

"Then he probably wouldn't be the king."

"If that was the case, how would Gothel Pridarius be any different than you?"

"I see where you're going with this Ross, but it's not going to work."

"If you truly understand my point, what happens when you follow my reasoning to its logical conclusion?"

"The problem is your reasoning isn't logical. This bag of play-stuff," he said, taking the pouch from his pocket and holding it out to Ravi and Tarquin.

"Play-stuff, right?"

They nodded in agreement.

Connor shook his head in disbelief and looked away. His eyebrows were smashed down, his lips were white and tense, and anger flashed in his eyes.

"This play-stuff is what everybody in the real world works for! It's what puts food on the table, clothes on your back and a roof over your head! It's what separates kings from commoners, and you can't change that! Nobody can!!" He glared at Tarquin, and shouted, "And you grew up with ten pounds worth of gold and silver that somebody made tiny horses out of?! What do you all take me for, a complete idiot?!"

Tarquin shrugged, and Ravi started to answer, but Ross cut him off by asking, "What if everyone owned ten pounds of gold Connor, what if everyone owned a thousand pounds of it?"

"Reality Ross, give me a question that deals with reality, then I'll play along!"

"I'm not trying to upset you," Ross said calmly. "Thank you for the hospitality of your home, we will see you when you arrive this evening."

Ross motioned to Tarquin and Ravi, and the three turned away from the cobblestone road.

Connor stood watching them as they slowly made their way up the wheel-rutted hill.

"What?! That's it?" he called after them. "What about my big lesson?"

Ross said something to Tarquin and Ravi that Connor couldn't quite hear. They kept on walking while Ross stopped.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Took the second one and ran his fingers through his hair. On his third breath, he closed his eyes, cleared his mind, steadied his breathing, and finally turned around.

Walking slowly and deliberately toward Connor, he stopped when they were toe-to-toe. Ross lifted his head meeting Connor's defiant stare with a calm, placid expression.

He said in his calmest, most non-judgmental voice. "You've already been asked the questions. You've already taken the test. All we're doing now is debating the answers."

Connor's face reddened as his grip tightened on the bag of gold.

"If the gold in your hand defines who you are or how you treat others, then you're about to walk into a place that will make you feel right at home."

Connor was furious, "But it's not a place you could call home?" The knuckles of his fist had turned white.

Ross' tone was unphased by Connor's anger, and there was kindness in his voice, when he said, "Connor, you have a great deal of knowledge, almost too much for your own good, but you lack the wisdom to apply it."

Connor started to say something, but Ross held up his hand. Connor paused, quite uncharacteristically and waited for Ross to complete his thought.

"I confess that like you, even after all my lessons, after all my experiences, and after all I have seen and done, I too lack wisdom. The difference between us is I realize this, and I look to my teachers, to my lessons, and to the wisdom provided by others to guide me."

"I've never had what you've had Ross," Connor said bitterly. "My parents, well let's not even go there. I'm an orphan. My lessons were taught to me with a switch or a fist or a boot. Where I grew up, you took first, or there was nothing left. For the longest time, I thought going to bed hungry was what everyone did.

Lying was a skill I learned early, and it was always every man for himself. I've never owned a new piece of clothing and until today, I've never held a piece of gold, let alone a bag of it.

According to you, having more than two coppers to rub together, or worse yet, using them to buy something is a bad thing. And from what you've said over the past few days, being respected for what you've earned and maybe even for what you have, makes you a bad person.

Can't you see how different we are?" Connor's face was tight with anger, and his cheeks had flushed bright red. "I told you, I'm a bad person. I've made bad decisions, I've hurt good people, and I'm right where I'm supposed to be; I'm outside the Kingdom!

Look at you!" he said, slipping the gold into his pocket and holding out his hands toward Ross. "You don't just belong in the Kingdom. You should be leading the parade to get there!

As for me, well I'm just not like you. I'm the kind of person the Kingdom shoots Lightning at." Connor spread out his arms, and shouted, "I'm the guy who got banished!"

Ross had been trying to hold back any type of emotional response, but his eyes misted over. With Connor's arms still stretched out wide, Ross stepped forward and hugged him around the chest.

"What?" Connor responded in surprise.

His arms were still sticking out and after an uncomfortable silence, he slowly wrapped them around Ross.

"Was it something I said?" Connor asked, still feeling awkward in the embrace.

He felt Ross let go, so he did too. Ross stepped back and wiped the tears from his face.

"Humble," he said, with a sniff. "I'm sorry for not being humble enough or tactful enough or insightful enough. I lack wisdom and frequently feel unworthy to be your Caretaker. You are quite unlike the person I expected to meet at the Oasis. My preconceptions have led to assumptions, and for that I am..."

Connor interrupted, "Ross, I'm sorry if that was too harsh."

"It wasn't too harsh," he said, placing his hand on Connor's shoulder. "It's just what I needed. Truth and honesty should never be avoided or withheld."

"If it helps, I feel better for getting it out."

Ross smiled, and his face lit up like a child. His smile spread upwards making dust filled wrinkles flare from the corners of his eyes. His forehead even wrinkled a bit, and Connor couldn't help but smile back.

"I'm glad you're here," Connor said, feeling foolish for losing his temper. "I'm embarrassed about who I am and what I've done."

Ross listened patiently, knowing he needed to understand Connor's message without any preconceived notions.

"I miss Andrew. He was like a brother to me. And now, I guess I'm starting to realize I wasn't even worthy of that."

The smile faded from Ross' face, but his expression remained pleasant. He nodded as Connor spoke, acknowledging the emotions and accepting the words for what they conveyed.

"Thank you for listening. I really am trying to figure out who I am."

"I know you are," Ross agreed. "And from your actions and your words, it appears you have lost your pride. Would you agree?"

"My pride?" Connor asked, in barely more than a whisper. His head fell forward as he spoke, "If you're talking about my dignity or self-respect or what value I think I bring to this world, then yes, I've lost them all."

"How did you lose it?"

Connor hesitated, considering the question. "I think they were taken, but I let them go," he said, shaking his head. "I can go on lying to everyone else, but if it's just you and me," he paused and took a deep breath, letting his shoulders slump forward. He let the breath out slowly, as though he didn't even deserve to breathe the air around him.

"Since it's just you and me," he started again without raising his head, "Once I saw how easily they could be stripped away, I knew I didn't deserve them. It's hard to explain really. One minute I was going to be the king of the world, and the next, I knew I was going to die, and nobody would have cared.

My pride took me to a place where they serve humble pie for breakfast. I thought I was passed that when I left the orphanage. I thought I was better than that. I thought I was...," he trailed off when Ross placed his hands on either side of Connor's face.

Throughout his life and especially during his formal education, Ross had endured countless lessons on pride. From philosophy to fact, he had learned and witnessed how this inner perception of oneself was a defining and driving quality of all humanity.

He was a boy born in the village, a place where only those who have failed can live. A place where the only hope of redemption rests upon keeping a single promise. He had taken his lessons seriously, and it was still difficult to understand the insidiousness of pride.

It wasn't until this improbable event that the knowledge from his lessons manifested into something more.

Looking up, Connor saw the rounded reflection of his face in Ross' eyes. Behind his reflection, behind the intricate striations of brown, Connor saw the kindness, the honesty, and the wisdom he knew he lacked.

Ross was looking at Connor, but he wasn't focused on him. His mind had drifted into a place of deep reflection, a place of tranquility, and from this place he spoke.

"Capture this moment and everything about it," he said, with incredible intensity.

"How you feel right now, right this very second, may well define the rest of your life. A man who abandons his pride opens many doors. If you can keep pride's warm and comforting embrace away from your soul, you will walk a different path."

Ross lowered his hands, but their eyes remained locked.

"So feeling worthless will make me a better person?"

"You're close," Ross said, with a glimmer of hope in his eye. "If you would allow me to share some thoughts from my village, you may come to see things differently."

"We're still debating the answers aren't we?"

"Of course," Ross confirmed, briefly dipping his head to acknowledge Connor's astuteness.

"I'll take the lecture or the lesson. Whatever you think might help."

"Frankly I think lunch would help more, but that's going to have to wait a little while longer."

"It's all right," Connor said. "I'm used to being hungry. It doesn't really bother me anymore."

Ross and Connor stepped to the side of the road, under the broken shade of the trees. Looking down, they noticed a shallow culvert running next to the road. Ross motioned to Connor, inviting him to sit while he took a seat on the other side.

"I'll try not to make it a lecture, and I hope my words only reinforce what you already know."

"Fair enough," Connor agreed. "Like you said, I've got nothing to lose by listening. I just hope I can translate the stories from your village into the real world."

"I'll do the best I can, and please try to keep in mind I claim no mastery of the things I teach. I'm only providing information that may or may not be of use."

"My head is already swimming with information that makes no sense. Anything you can do to help me navigate the path ahead is more than I could ask."

"It's strange," Ross mused, sounding far away, "the difference between knowledge and wisdom." In a couple of blinks, he wandered back from these thoughts and enthusiastically announced, "Well, I don't want to spend all day sitting here, so let me start by sharing a few of my favorite lessons. They've always stuck in my head, maybe they'll stick in yours too."

"Here's hoping," Connor said optimistically.

"You cannot fill a cup that is already full."

"I guess that's true, but what does it mean?"

"It means a lot of things, and I'm not going to spell them out for you."

Connor pulled up a blade of grass, and asked, "Pride?"

Ross nodded.

"It's an interesting comparison. I hope there is still plenty of room in my cup."

"To the beautiful, the powerful and the wise, the mirror always lies."

"The mirror always lies?"

"It sure does. Anyway, those are my two favorites. The last lesson I'll offer you this afternoon is called the First Lesson. If you can learn the meaning and the purpose of the First Lesson, you will grow in ways that cannot be described. Many say it's the first step of a very long journey, perhaps a journey that never ends.

I like to think of the First Lesson as a fishing pole that has a line with a bare hook at the end. It's not everything you need to fish, but it's a good start."

"This is the stuff you teach the littlest of children, isn't it?"

"It is the beginning, yes. And the point of the First Lesson is not to give away a fish. The point is to give away a fishing pole with a line and hook on it. There is an old proverb that tells us, if you give a man a fish you will feed him for a day, but if you teach a man to fish, he will feed himself for a lifetime."

Connor laughed, and said, "I've never heard that before. I like it, it makes sense."

"Depending on how hungry you are and how well you pay attention to what comes next, the more successful you'll be in catching something.

Remember, if it were easy, we would call it catching, not fishing."

Connor laughed again and threw his little blade of grass at Ross. "All right, let's hear it."

"You must listen to understand, not with the intent to reply."

Connor repeated the words to himself several times, trying to commit them to memory.

"This is my fishing pole?"

"It can be, but only if you accept it for what it is. The First Lesson is all about listening without any preconceptions. Is that part clear enough?"

"It is now."

"Good. So, here's the problem you're trying to overcome. When someone talks to you, you immediately start filtering their words, their message, and their intent.

The filter you use is so deeply ingrained within yourself, you don't even know it's there. It's a combination of your experiences, your values, your opinions, even your perceptions. Basically, it's what makes you the person you are. It's what makes you unique.

The problem with your filter is it only lets you hear the things affecting you. And since this is the only information making it past your filter, it's the only information you use to decide if something is right or wrong. If it's good or bad.

Are you still with me?"

"Maybe, keep going."

"So there you are, filtering away critical elements of what's being said because you're trying to figure out where you fit in. Without even realizing it, you start figuring out what the other person is trying to say before they actually say it. You're creating a response before they've even finished talking because you stopped listening.

You can see the truth of the First Lesson every time someone interrupts. You can see it every time people offer advice or counsel when they were never asked for it. Or when they give a solution to a problem that has nothing to do with them.

For most people this whole filtering and getting ready to respond process isn't a conscious decision. It's what they've been taught to do their entire lives. It's like they have to do it. If you pay attention in the Empire you'll see it everywhere, it's how everyone behaves. It's how you behave.

People pass judgment on everything around them based on their own set of values, then they decide to agree or disagree."

"So I don't even know I'm doing this filtering thing, but I'm doing it all the time?"

"Yes."

"And my filter lets me hear only what I want to hear because why would I care about anyone other than myself?"

"Good, now the trick is to turn off the filter."

"How can I turn it off if I don't even know when it's on?"

Ross grinned, and said, "If you accept the wisdom of the First Lesson, then you know you have a filter. If you accept that it's there, you can learn to turn it off."

"How do I know when I'm filtering?"

"I'm sorry to say you're always filtering. I can only help you recognize when your filter might be off. I say might be, because sometimes even when you think it's off, you're just listening to yourself.

When you stop trying to listen for information that will help you make a decision or judge a situation, your filter might be off. If you have no response other than "thank you" and no questions you're hoping to ask, your filter might be off. If you can see from the other person's point of view without regard to yourself, your filter might be off.

A good rule to remember is this. If you need to ask yourself "was my filter on," then it was."

"So that's lesson number one?"

"It's a lot to take in, I know, but just knowing about the filter may help you find new answers to old questions."

"Does anyone ever come back for lesson number two?" Connor asked, with a grin.

"Very funny, and I'm sorry for the lecture."

"It's going to take me a while to process what you've said, but I think I understand. I'm still not sure how all that makes a fishing pole."

"The First Lesson is just a tool, a foundation, a beginning point if you will. In time, you may learn to apply it. You may learn to turn off your filter, in which case you'll actually be fishing. Without the First Lesson, you can never learn to fish. If you can't fish for yourself, you will always have to rely on other people to feed you."

"Can we go back to the whole pride thing? I still feel as worthless and embarrassed as I did when I got banished. Unless you can help me understand how worthless is helpful, I'm really not sure how I'm going to walk into the Empire and come out in one piece."

"Excellent," Ross exclaimed. "Let's see if we can't tie all these ideas together with some real world examples."

"All right," Connor agreed enthusiastically. "Let's see if you can teach me and I'll do my best to turn off my filter."

"Good, here we go. Have you ever heard of a king who lost his kingdom?"

"Sure, I mean I guess. Mostly in stories, you know. Usually, there is a war or an invasion or something and the new guy wins and the old king is out."

"What usually happens to the old king?"

"I'm not sure you ever really hear about that part, but I guess he's either killed or he runs away or something."

"Then it's possible to be the king one day and nobody the next?"

"Or dead," Connor offered.

"Or dead," Ross added, with a nod of his head. "Is it also possible for these things to happen to ordinary, honest people who are just trying to make a living?"

"If you mean can a regular person lose everything overnight like the king, sure. It happens all the time."

"Has it ever happened to someone you know?"

"Come on Ross, you're looking at the biggest loser you'll ever meet. It also happened to my father and to Andrew's father and to Jacob Miller and to a whole lot of people we know, or I mean knew, and dammit, I said we again."

"Stay with me here, I'm just trying to make a point with some relevance."

"I understand. Please," he said, waving his hand casually toward Ross, "keep going."

"If anyone can lose everything overnight, how is any person in this world different than you? Why is your tragedy so unique?"

Connor didn't respond, he just sat there chewing on a stem of grass considering the question.

"Did you know there are many more Sanctuaries than just the Oasis? Do you recall that as long as the Kingdom stands and even after it falls, the village must remain? An entire support network exists for those who failed."

"I never thought of it like that."

"Do you have any idea what drove these people to their point of ultimate failure?"

"Pride," Connor offered flatly.

"Pride is used as justification for being who you are. It's the result of you telling yourself what you want to hear. That way you can protect yourself from the realities of the world around you. It's your filter's sole purpose to fill your cup with pride, and when it's finally full, or full enough, you'll proclaim yourself to be perfect, you'll be infallible. You'll be the only person that matters. You'll be blind and deaf to everything around you. If you're lucky, you'll wake up face down in the dirt one day wondering what happened.

And where does your pride go when everything changes overnight?" Ross asked.

"It disappears like it was never there at all," Connor said, feeling silly and childish.

"Only if you're lucky," Ross said, with a hardened stare. "So you got kicked out of the Kingdom because you weren't ready. You were knocked down in the dirt and had to pick yourself back up again. Did your pride pick you back up again or was it nowhere to be found?

Would you like your pride back now? You could go into the Empire and stick out your chest. Be a big proud man. Boast to everyone who will listen about your skills as a Blacksmith and a Cooper. Look down on all those little people who have nothing, or on the timid but brave who've been wise enough to keep their glasses empty. You could laugh at the people who are just like you, whose pride was shattered by their own mistakes and harsh realities. Why not flaunt yourself, because everyone should know there isn't anyone better than you."

Connor was speechless.

"If you've got a chest full of pride you don't even need to worry about tomorrow or the day after because everything will be fine. Unless of course it isn't."

"How are you at fishing?" Connor asked.

"I have good days and bad days, but it's not because my fishing pole doesn't work."

"What's the problem?"

"I forget to use it."

Connor scratched his head and thought about what Ross was sharing. He pulled up another piece of grass and began twisting it around his finger while his mind wrestled with the First Lesson.

"Listen to understand, not with the intent to reply?"

"The First Lesson," Ross confirmed, nodding his head and brushing a curious, little bee away from his knee. "I've given you enough to think about for the afternoon," he said, getting to his feet.

He offered his hand to Connor, pulled him to his feet and they stepped back onto the cobblestones.

"Your path is that way," Ross said, clapping him on the back. A small puff of dirt billowed off his shirt and drifted away in the breeze. "You've got a pocket full of gold and a list of items to acquire."

Connor patted his pocket, reassuring himself that his treasure was still safe.

"I'll see you back at the house as soon as I can," Connor said as they separated.

"Connor?"

"Yeah Ross?"

"Maybe you should stop focusing on who you are or who you were and start focusing on who you want to be. That's really all any of us can do."

Connor turned to look at him, but Ross was already walking away.

"Now that's some advice I can work with."

"Good!" Ross called back, "Now go buy a horse, and try to find something that doesn't taste like dried meat or old roots for dinner."

"I'll see what I can find," he said, stepping confidently toward a place that seemed like home, even if it was only a memory of home; a memory that fell short of being his own, but was close enough to fool anyone but himself.

"And try not to bribe anyone!" Ross called out.

Connor starting walking backward, and called out, "I won't need to. That's not the man I want to be."

It wasn't long before Connor was approaching the rear, and subsequently least used entrance to the city.

"Be the man you want to be," he kept repeating to himself. Lost in thought, he never even looked up at the two guards sitting on barrels or at the jumbled pile of stones mixed up with old gray mortar.

"And where do ya think yer headin' off ta?" asked a short, round man from atop his barrel.

"Oh!" Connor exclaimed, jumping sideways in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

"Well now ya do!" snarled the other man. His tone was surly and the teeth behind his thin lips and unkempt beard looked mostly rotten. "The question's been asked! What's yer answer?"

Connor stepped toward the man and stuck out his hand. "My name is Connor Duncan, I'm new here."

Ignoring Connor's hand, the man stood up. He was at least four inches taller than Connor and very thin. His metal helmet tilted forward, almost covering his eyes as he looked down and spat onto the road.

Connor dropped his hand to his side and tried to keep a pleasant look on his face.

Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, the guard sneered, "We didn't ask yer name, boy. We asked where ya was headin'."

Connor paused, and said, "Well, that sort of depends on the two of you." He saw a third barrel off to the side of the road, and asked, "Do you mind if I pull up a barrel, and we can talk about it?"

The short, round man started laughing and pushed his friend, saying, "So's we can talk about it!" He went right on laughing, as though it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"So's we can talk about it," the tall man mumbled, "So's we can talk about it?"

He took his hand off his sword and sat back down on his barrel. "Go on then," he said, waving his hand toward the barrel, "git yerself a seat, and we'll just sit right here and have a nice, little chat."

Connor tipped the barrel over, rolling it until it was in front of the guards, but instead of standing it back up he just sat on it. He had to crane his neck to see the tall man's face.

"What happened to your guard house?" Connor asked, trying to start up the conversation.

"It fell down," the short one snapped.

"I can see that, but how?"

"What's it got ta do with where yer off ta?" the tall man insisted.

"Nothing, I was just curious."

"It was them waves a Light that done it," the round man said. "We ain't had time ta get it fixed yet, not with all the other damage that's been done."

Looking around, Connor asked, "Is that what happened to the gate?"

"That old gate popped right off its hinges, it did. Nearly took old Johnny's head off."

The tall man nodded enthusiastically, making his metal cap fall over his eyes.

"So you're Johnny?" Connor asked, looking up at the tall man. Johnny held onto his pointed helmet, nodding his head some more.

"I'm Connor, and you are?" he asked looking at the short man.

"Shaker's the name, that's what everyone calls me anyway. Duncan, did ya say?"

"That's right, Connor Duncan."

"Any relation to old Jacob Duncan?" Johnny asked.

"I'm afraid so," Connor said, looking up at them. "He's my father."

Shaker started laughing again, and he pushed Johnny. Between gasps, Shaker managed to say, "Did ya hear that Johnny? This is J.D.'s kid. He even looks like 'em."

# Chapter 10

### All the World's a Stage

Johnny and Shaker bantered back and forth, forgetting about Connor as they fell backward in time. With his mouth shut and his ears open, it became evident that not only had Connor's father known these two men, they had been close friends. Close enough for them to be surprised, and skeptical about Connor's claim. With his spark of realization, a flood of hidden memories rushed through his mind.

When Shaker and Johnny's conversation finally circled back to Connor, the interrogation began.

Shaker plopped down off his barrel, jiggling inside his poorly tailored uniform.

He held up a hand to his friend, saying, "I got's this Johnny."

"So yer J.D.'s boy are ya?" Shaker asked.

"I am."

"How come's we ain't never heard a ya before?" Johnny shot, from atop his barrel.

"Johnny!" Shaker insisted, "I got's this!"

"Well then get to it Shaker! If this kids lyin'," Johnny said, putting his hand back on the hilt of his sword, "I'm gonna stick 'em."

"Me and Johnny known yer old dad since just 'bout the time he messed up his arms, and he ain't never mentioned ya. Now here ya is, showin' up, tellin' us some tall tale 'bout being our friend's boy, an we're just suppose ta believe ya?"

"It's good to know I bumped into friends of my father."

"Well, we ain't yer friends," Johnny growled.

"That's right," Shaker agreed. "Now tell us yer story or Johnny here's gonna stick ya fer lyin' ta us!" He made a jabbing motion toward Connor as if he had a sword in his hand.

Johnny pulled his sword out of its scabbard a few inches, twisting it until the sun glimmered off the blade onto Connor's face.

"My story," Connor repeated, trying to piece together a version of his current situation that not only shed a positive light on his father but didn't break his agreement with Ross. "My story is complicated, but I'll tell you what I can."

"We wants the whole thing or nothin' at all," Shaker insisted.

"I can respect that," Connor acknowledged. "Do you mind if I stand up while I talk it out? I do my best talking when I'm walking."

"Where we heard that before Johnny?" Shaker asked, smacking Johnny on the arm with the back of his hand.

Johnny smiled down on Shaker, showing the blackened stumps that fit like broken puzzle pieces into his swollen pink gums.

"Just like old J.D.'s said a couple a hundrit times," Johnny said, pointing to the ground next to Connor. "Right in this very spot, he has." He nodded his head making his helmet rattle around like a tin cup at the end of a stick.

"All right," Connor began. "How about I tell you some things you probably already know? Then I'll tell you some things you don't. Will that help convince you I'm J.D.'s son?"

"We're listenin'," Shaker said, pulling his barrel closer to Johnny's. It took him two tries, and he was a little winded when he finally got back on his perch. He adjusted himself, looked up at Johnny, and said, "Not a word! Not today, I'm not in the mood."

Connor paced back and forth in front of his audience. "Here's what I know, that you already know. First," he said, holding up his hand and sticking a finger into the air.

Shaker elbowed Johnny.

"My father got his arms chewed up when he went to the Kingdom. Second," he stuck up another finger, "Jacob Miller died on that trip and left his house and everything he owned to my father. It's just down this road about three miles." He lifted another finger, "The emergency key is behind a loose rock in the wall of the well," another finger went up, "and there is a hidden forge under the pile of hay in the barn."

Connor stuck out his thumb, opening up his whole hand, "Fifth, the old man was both a Blacksmith and a Cooper, but he got kicked out of both guilds on account of his arms."

Johnny's cap rattled around in agreement, and Shaker was smiling and squirming around on his barrel.

Connor held up his other hand with a finger raised, and announced, "The old Duncan house inside your walls was built by my father and my grandfather, and it's still standing today. At least it better be. Seven, my grandfather is the Blacksmith Guild Master for the King's fleet and has been for a long time now. Eight, my father owes money to a lot of people behind these walls, including yourselves."

Connor lowered his hands and pulled out his pouch of gold. Taking out three gold coins, he placed the bag back in his pocket and stepped directly in front of the men.

"Nine," he said, holding out one coin to Johnny.

Johnny held out his hand, and Connor dropped the coin into it. "Here's the ten silver he owed you, plus interest."

Holding out the remaining two gold pieces for Shaker, he said, "Ten, Timothy, you were more than generous, and I think this covers what you loaned, plus a little."

Shaker's mouth opened, and he and Johnny looked at each other with expressions of joy and bewilderment.

Connor bowed deeply, raised himself up, and said, "Per my father's request, his debt is repaid. He also wanted you both to know that because of your generosity, he will always be in your debt."

He turned away, not wanting to dwell on the gold. It needed to be given and forgotten as if the act itself was of no consequence and unworthy of gratitude.

With his back to them, he held up a single finger, announcing, "And now for what you don't know."

Turning left to resume his pacing, he caught the reaction of Johnny and Shaker out of the corner of his eye. The gold was quickly tucked away, and both men had been moved beyond words.

"First," he said, waving his finger, "I am the boy J.D. dropped off at an orphanage eleven years ago when he left for the Kingdom." He turned on his heels, pacing back in front of the men. "That trip cost him his arms. Second," up went the next finger, "I just got back from the Kingdom, that's where J.D. was headed the last time you saw him. I'm sure you knew where he was going, but I'm not sure you realized who was going with him, or why he thought it was so important."

He turned again and when he was in front of Johnny and Shaker, he stopped, and asked, "Did you know where he was going? Or who he was going with?"

Johnny started out by saying, "Well we had a pretty good idea he was goin' there, but none of it made no sense ta us."

"Yeah, but we's didn't know who he was gonna do it with or why he'd be doin' it again. We seen what happened to his arms, but he didn't say that happened at the Kingdom. He said it was an accident from when he was smeltin' in the barn, out at old Miller's place." Shaker said, self-consciously rubbing his arms.

"Yeah, well those burns didn't come from fire or metal or anything like that. And he was definitely going back to the Kingdom to try again, but this time, he had a secret weapon."

Hitting Johnny again with the back of his hand, Shaker doubled over laughing. "Secret weapon ya say? That's the funniest thing I ever heard. Did he have the Crystal Sword?"

Connor didn't move a muscle, he just stood there looking at them as they had their fun.

"He never did tell you how it happened, did he?"

Shaker regained some of his composure and managed to say, "His arms ya mean? Yeah, I told ya. Smeltin' accident."

Connor rubbed his arms for effect and stepped closer to Shaker. "So I guess he didn't tell you the truth on that one either."

Shaker and Johnny stopped their fooling around and focused on Connor.

Connor started pacing again and held up his third finger. "Three," he announced in a severe manner, "This one is probably going to take you both by surprise. When he was at the Kingdom the first time, he discovered the magical diary of Celeste. It's a book so fantastic, it actually transports the reader back in time, into the Kingdom!"

Johnny and Shaker were wide-eyed and rigid atop their barrels.

"Four!" he announced with great bravado, "He also discovered the magic shield Celeste gave to her father at the same time she gave him the Crystal Sword. I'm sure you know the stories about the shield. The fact that it's indestructible, and anything that strikes it is punished by a fate worse than death."

Johnny got down off his barrel and walked up to Connor. He put his hands on Connor's shoulders, stopping him in mid-stride.

"Git up on the barrel. I needs ya ta stop walkin' round so's we can git all this straight."

"All right," Connor said obligingly, walking over to Johnny's barrel and hopping up.

Shaker slid down off his barrel, and he and Johnny stood in front of Connor.

"How did J.D. mess up his arms?" Johnny demanded.

"He tested the shield on the way back from the Kingdom. He hit it with his mace and the shield fought back. A lesser man would be dead."

"So yer tellin' us yer dad came home with the shield and the magic book, but he never told us 'bout nothin'?"

"He knew it was too risky to tell anyone."

"Well I'll be jiggered!" said Shaker. "Ya think ya know a guy."

"It wasn't because he didn't trust you. It's because those magical things call to people. If you knew where they were, you wouldn't have been able to help yourself. You would have taken them from him at any cost. You would have murdered your friend to get at them."

"So why did ya go ta the Kingdom with yer dad?"

"J.D., myself, and my friend Andrew Weaver set out for the Kingdom a little more than a month ago. We had the shield to protect the Defender from the onslaught above. You know how the whole thing works right?"

"Don't go gettin' smart with us. We knows more 'bout it than ya might think," Johnny said indignantly.

"We went there because my father had finally found me. He'd been looking all over because Andrew and I had left the orphanage years ago. After he had found us, we came up with a plan. It was simple really. If the shield couldn't be destroyed, then the Defender couldn't be defeated. If the Defender couldn't be defeated, then the Hero was sure to emerge from the Chamber. Since I'm J.D.'s son, and since both Andrew and I wear the mark of the crescent moon, well, this was it. This was the time to rebuild the Kingdom."

"Go on!!" screamed Shaker. "Don't leave us hangin' like that. What happened?!"

"The short version is the plan didn't work. My father used the shield, but the creature in the Chamber is something I can't even come close to describing. When it was done attacking him, his back was broken, his arm was shattered, and I was still up in the Chamber. Then something happened, and I got kicked out, all the way back to the border of the Wastelands. There wasn't anything I could do for him."

"Maybe that's why them waves a Light came rollin' cross the land an wrecked everythin'? Maybe that was all yer doin'," Johnny spat.

"It wouldn't surprise me a bit," Connor lied.

"All right, get down off me barrel," Johnny demanded. "Yer makin' me head hurt with all this stuff."

Connor turned to Shaker, and asked, "You believe me, don't you? You know I'm J.D.'s son, right?"

Shaker stepped past Connor, ignoring his questions and moved next to Johnny.

"Johnny, a word with ya over there please."

Johnny nodded, his cap rattled annoyingly, and he took it off his head. He looked back at Connor with anger and hurt in his eyes.

"So he's dead isn't he?" Johnny demanded, gripping his pointed helmet with all his might.

"I didn't see him die Johnny, but you know what the Kingdom does, and I don't see how he could have gotten away. I guess it's possible, but in my heart, I could feel him go." It was a terrible lie, but Connor knew he was just about to get his standing ovation.

Johnny threw his helmet at the broken down guardhouse. It pinged off a brick and bounced off into the underbrush.

Connor caught sight of a tear on Johnny's cheek before he turned and walked over to meet with Shaker.

"Kneel down ya giant," Shaker said. "I wanna see yer eyes."

They were out of earshot from Connor when Shaker asked, "Do ya believe 'em?"

Johnny wiped his face, and said, "We knowed J.D. better than any. We was his closest friends, especially with him bein' an outcast an all. I'm really pissed off he never told us some a them things, but the crazy thing is, I'm kinda glad."

"Yeah, me too," Shaker agreed.

"I think the kid's the real deal. He knows way more an somebody just makin' up stuff ta try an convince us. He even called ya Timothy. Did ya notice?"

"He did? How would he know me real name if this's the first time we's ever met?"

"The only thing I figure is J.D. taught him everythin' we just heard and more. Lot's more by the sound of it. What do ya think, does he know more than he's lettin' on?"

"You mean 'bout us?"

Johnny nodded his head nervously.

"If he does, then he really ain't no different than J.D. 'cept we's don't know where his loyalties lie."

"Just what I was thinkin'."

"So we agree he's the kid?" Shaker asked.

"We do," Johnny confirmed.

"Good. Then there's only one thing left ta do."

"What ya thinkin' Shaker?"

"We asks him straight out if he knows our business."

"And ifin he says no?" Johnny asked.

"Stick 'em!"

"And ifin he says yes?"

"We swears him ta loyalty, cuts 'em in fer ten percent and treats him just like he's J.D. After all, this kid's gonna need our help if he's gonna come outa that place with any gold left in his pouch. And any kid a J.D.'s really should take the old man's place."

"What if he don't wanna swear?

"Stick 'em!"

"Shake on it!" Shaker insisted.

They both spat in the palm of their right hands and shook.

Johnny walked over to Connor and grabbed him by the arm.

"Hey, what's the big deal? Didn't I pass?" Connor asked, trying to pull away, but the man's grip was like a vise.

"Oh, ya passed all right. Problem is, we's got one more problem."

Johnny pulled and pushed Connor over toward the broken down guard house until he was backed up against the pile of rubble.

"What's the big idea boys? I thought you knew who I was."

"We do," said Shaker, "and cause a who ya are, we got's a sneakin' suspicion ya know a wee bit more 'bout us than we's cared to ask."

Johnny pulled out his sword and pushed Connor on to the pile of debris. Connor fell backward and was half lying on, and half sitting on the old bricks and mortar.

Johnny leveled the point of his sword at Connor's chest, and said, "Ya gets one shot at this kid. We's gonna ask ya two questions and if you gets 'em wrong, yer dead. If ya gets 'em right, ya can take yer dad's place, and we all live happily ever after. Deal?"

"Since you're the man with the sword, and I'm the man on his back, I'm going to go along with whatever you have planned."

"Of course, ya are," sneered Shaker.

"Well, go on!" Connor insisted. "Let's get it over with."

"Question number one," Shaker said, holding up a single finger. "What do we do fer a livin'? And if ya say guard the city, it'll be the last words that ever come from yer mouth."

Connor touched the tip of Johnny's sword playfully and smiled at them. "Shaker," he said, looking at the short, fat man. "You are without a doubt the biggest supplier of the King's finest whiskey on this side of the city wall. And you," he said turning to Johnny, "your brother, the man running the King's distillery, is probably the single largest thief in the whole place. Together, you run more barrels of whiskey and ale out the back of this city than anyone dreams to imagine."

"If yer with us, yer take is ten percent. Yer job is ta keep yer mouth shut and do whats we tells ya."

"What if I'm not with you?"

Johnny pushed the tip of his sword into Connor's chest until it drew blood.

"On three conditions," Connor said, with a confident grin.

"Name 'em," Shaker replied.

"One, You pay me no money, we keep to your original deal and in return, you help me when I need your help. I need contacts, I need introductions, and I need to know who to avoid. I need to know what you know, and if I need your influence, you'll be there to help."

"Agreed, but it don't less'n yer commitment, it just brings ya in closer."

"Precisely."

"What's yer second request?"

"You will never mention my father's name again. I am Connor Duncan, not J.D.'s son. I will pay off his debts, and I will be my own man. Others may speak his name, and you may agree that I am who they say I am, but neither of you will ever mention his name again."

"Agreed."

"My last request is simple honor amongst thieves. Knowing I can trust no one else, I must trust the two of you. With that trust comes an oath that you will never steal from me, and you will never lie to me. If you can't keep to that, drive your blade home right now; because if it's not now, it's just a matter of time."

"Agreed, but that goes both ways."

"Agreed," said Connor.

Shaker looked up at Johnny, and they both reached a hand out to Connor, hauling him to his feet.

"I assume ya ain't got nothin' but the clothes on yer back?" Shaker asked.

"That, and a terrible hunger."

"We can fix both of 'em. Johnny, ya got watch until the next two idiots shows up. Connor and me, we's goin' into town."

"What's that smell?" Connor asked as they made their way through the crowded, dirty streets of the marketplace.

"Ya really are a country boy ain't ya?" Shaker said, laughing and patting Connor on the back. "It's just what ya think it is, and lots of it."

"Seriously?" Connor gagged, holding his nose. "Do people just do their business right out here in the street?"

"Well most of 'em go's in the gutter, but that's the smell a humanity at its finest."

"It's disgusting!"

"Yeah, it sure is, but don't worry, ya get use ta it."

"I was hungry, but now I don't think I could eat anything," Connor said, feeling sick as he watched the brown, lumpy water running down the cracked and broken cobblestone lane.

"Come this way," Shaker said, pulling Connor by the sleeve. They made their way down a long, narrow alley. "Let's get ya somethin' that'll stick ta yer ribs, then we'll get ya cleaned up a bit."

They quickly came upon a faded, weathered wooden sign sticking out into the alley. It had a picture of a howling wolf sitting in a crescent moon with stars around it.

"Come on," Shaker said, "we're eatin' here. It's the best a the worst. You'll love it."

Shaker put his shoulder to the old wooden door, and Connor noticed a large paper nailed to it.

"Come on!" Shaker said impatiently as Connor stood in the doorway reading the flyer.

"Wait a minute, I want to..."

Shaker walked over and tore the paper from the door, crumpling it as he shoved it in Connor's chest.

"Stupid things are everywhere. Ya can read it at the table. Now let's get a seat and a bite ta eat!"

They walked into a dark, smoky pub that smelled of stale ale and fresh vomit. Things squished on the floor as they walked through the crowded room and Shaker yelled something to the nearest serving girl. Connor was busy trying to read the poster from the door, but the candlelight was too dim, and the smoke made his eyes burn.

"Corner booth," Shaker said to Connor, half leading him and half pushing him into it. "I'll be back in a minute. I gots some business ta look after."

Connor slipped on something greasy and caught himself on the edge of the table. He scraped his foot across the wooden floorboards and scooched himself into the "U" shaped booth. The table was sticky, and the light from the small candle butt made him think twice about setting anything on it, even his elbows.

The serving girl appeared out of nowhere and started wiping the table down with a dirty rag.

"This oughta help keep yer elbows from stick'n," she said, offering Connor a smile.

Connor looked up and was taken aback by her black eye and missing front teeth.

"What?! Is there somethin' in me hair?" she asked, laughing in his face. Her fishy, rancid breath made Connor feel queasy.

"What? Oh, no. I'm sorry, you just startled me that's all. I didn't know you were there."

"Yer sweet," she said, touching him on the cheek. "I'll be right back with drinks and somethin' ta eat."

"Thank you," he said, smiling back. "Could I get another candle too, please? I wanted to read this."

"With a smile like that," she said, winking at him, "an ya can read, I'll fetch ya anythin' ya wants love, anythin' at all."

Connor blushed as the smell of old fish, rancid body odor and stale ale filled his nose.

"Just the candle would be nice, thank you."

The girl giggled and limped off to some darker corner of the pub.

Connor looked around for Shaker and saw him come out of a back room. The girl was limping back toward the table with two candles in a small holder. When she got to the table, she started to say something to Connor, but Shaker grabbed the candles and shoved her aside. Her head bounced off the wall, and she slumped to the floor.

Shaker slammed the candles on the table and was just about to kick her, when Connor yelled, "Leave her be! She was only doing what I asked. You didn't need to push her like that!"

Connor got out of the booth to help the girl while Shaker laughed.

"Sit down!" Shaker demanded.

"You sit down! What gives you the right to treat anybody that way?!"

"Oh, go on then," Shaker said sarcastically. "Go ahead, help the poor little miss." He laughed, hopping into the booth. "Better make sure ya still gots yer money when she walks away."

Shaker leaned out of the booth, and yelled, "Get up ya lazy piece a trash, an' git me my food or yer gettin' the boot!"

Glaring at Shaker, Connor helped the girl to her feet.

"Thank ya, kind sir," she said, holding her hand to her head.

"Are you all right?"

"Don't nobody never mind 'bout that sir. I'm sorry ta bother ya. I've gots ta get back ta me customers."

"Now GIT!" Shaker yelled, "And hurry it up!"

"I'm sorry mister Shaker sir, I'll do better next time."

With blood running down her forehead, the girl attempted a dignified exit and disappeared into the crowded pub.

Connor sat down in the booth, scowling at Shaker.

"Still gots yer money?"

Connor patted his pocket, "Yes. Why did you do that to her? She wasn't doing anything?"

Shaker just laughed. His triple chin and his entire body jiggled. "What are ya gonna do, make a sword?" he asked, still laughing.

"What?"

He pointed to the crumpled flyer on the table, and Connor read it for the first time:

By Royal Decree

In honor of our beloved King Pridarius the Third, all Smiths are hereby requested to make a funerary sword worthy of our magnificent and glorious former King.

All swords will be presented for judging at ten bells on the morning of the fourteenth day of this month in the inner courtyard of the castle.

By order of our new and glorious King, Pridarius the Fourth, the winner will be granted

Any Single Request

He read the final words aloud, "Any single request?"

Two mugs of ale hit the table and a plate of sausage, chicken, potatoes and carrots were tossed in front of them by the bartender.

"Put it on me account," Shaker said, without looking up.

The bartender grunted and left them to their meal.

"Pridarius is dead?"

With half a sausage in his mouth, Shaker mumbled, "Yeah." He swallowed and washed it down with several gulps of ale. "He was sitting on his high and mighty throne, in his high and mighty throne room when the ground started shaking. That's when his high and mighty castle fell on his fat, pompous head." He started laughing again, making the entire booth shake in rhythm with his chortling.

"What day is it?" Connor asked.

"The tenth. Why, ya gonna do it?" he asked, still laughing.

"I don't have the skill to make the blade."

"Thought ya was a Smith?"

"It's not steel that'll win the prize. The blade needs to be made out of crystal or maybe glass."

Shaker screamed with joy, and started yelling, "Glass! A glass sword?! That's the funniest thing I ever heard! Yer a funny guy! Now eat yer food, ya got lot's ta get done."

Connor was completely full by the time they stepped out of the pub. He hadn't eaten that much in his entire life, and he wasn't quite sure why the world kept moving in and out of focus.

"A horse!" Shaker announced, staggering from the doorway into the alley. "Let's do that first!"

"It's going to take too long. I told you, I've got to hurry if I'm going to have any chance of making the sword."

"All right, all right," Shaker slurred. "Ya can borrow one a mine fer a few days."

"I need saddle bags too, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Saddlebags. Got it!"

"Can you meet me at the bakery in three hours?"

"Ya know, yer kinda pushy fer a new guy. It's a good thing I really liked yer old dad," he hiccupped, looking like the perfect picture of drunkenness.

Swaying back and forth, Connor held up three fingers in front of Shakers face, and said, "Three hours, please. A horse with saddle bags is all I ask."

Shaker looked at the fingers in his face and pushed them away. Reaching up, he grabbed Connor's neck, pulling him down until they were eye to eye. He got overly serious, the way drunk people do when they try to appear sober, and said, "Can ya really do it, my boy? Do ya really thinks ya got a chance?"

Connor put his hands on either side of Shaker's face and the two locked eyes.

"Trust me," he said. "I'll make the closest thing to the real thing anyone has ever seen, and when I get my request, you'll be glad we're working together."

"Three hours it is then," Shaker said, reaching out for the wall to steady himself.

"I'll see you at the bakery."

Connor patted Shaker's overly round cheek and started moving toward the smell of the market. By the time he exited the alley, the smell of humanity made him want to vomit.

# Chapter 11

### Now

At sundown, the entire village arrived. Over the next fifty-three hours, Kaya, Andrew, and Jacob welcomed just over two thousand seven hundred new citizens. As the final inaugural citizen walked from the Fountain into the waiting arms of her family, Jacob said, "I was born for this! It's incredible!"

"We didn't have a single bounce-back," Andrew proclaimed. "Now that's unheard of!"

"You get it, right?" Kaya asked Jacob.

"I totally get it now! This is why we only need two hours a night. And it's a good thing because this is awesome!!"

Andrew ran toward Jacob and high fived him. "We are the best team ever!" he shouted, passing Kaya for a five down low. Their slap echoed in the giant entryway and across Kaya's entire family, who were gathered around the Fountain.

Before anyone could speak or even move toward them, Andrew leaped onto the edge of the Fountain, taking center stage.

In former lives, he had stood before every type and size of audience that could be assembled. His experiences, his expertise, and his inspiration took over, as he called out, "Kaya Elbe, will you be kind enough to join me? I have something important to ask."

Kaya took a running jump at the Fountain, popping up to the lip with just one foot. She walked the long, curving outline of the Fountain until she stood next to Andrew.

"Yes, Andrew?"

"My love, may I have your hand please?" he asked, holding his hand out to her. "I will need strength to get through this."

"Of course my love," she said, smoothly interlacing her fingers into his. "All you ever need to do is ask."

"Thank you," he said, with a smile, "the tighter, the better."

Kaya gave him a questioning look as he gripped her hand and took a deep breath.

"Hello Elbe family," Andrew called out to the small crowd. "Thank you for your Promise Keeper!"

Her family applauded, pouring their words of love and congratulations onto their beautiful, wonderful, little Wanderer.

Locking him in with a death-stare, she thought, "What are you doing?!"

"Surprising you," he said aloud, smiling wide.

Kaya's parents and Grandmother stood directly in front of them. Surrounding them were brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and their related families. And it is to them that Andrew said, "We have all received the gift of knowledge, and you have all seen how this came to be," he paused brilliantly, stretching his arms out for effect. "You have also seen into our hearts. You know us."

Heads nodded, and more than a few people teared up.

"I have but one important question to ask you," he said to her family, but specifically to Marco, Kaya's father.

Marco stepped forward, and said, "Please Andrew, what is your question?"

Acknowledging Marco, Andrew turned from him and looked at Kaya. He took her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "I hope to be right back," he said, loosening his grip and smiling at her family.

Several people laughed, taking the meaning of his line.

Kaya let go with a smile and offered him a beautifully executed curtsy.

Andrew bowed back, turned to face Marco and hopped down from the Fountain.

"Marco!" Andrew said, in a loud, friendly voice.

The two stepped toward each other and hugged.

Everyone's newly acquired perspective was getting a thorough work out.

In their embrace, Andrew whispered, "Your daughter is an amazingly special woman, and I love her. Will you honor me by consenting to our marriage?"

Marco squeezed until their cheeks were touching, and he whispered back, "Yes."

They separated, and Andrew bowed, saying "Thank you."

He spun around like a military man and leaped back onto the edge of the Fountain.

Kaya held out her hand for Andrew to take, and as he did, he took a knee and looked up at her.

"Are you...?" Kaya asked as their eyes met again.

"Yes I am!" he said.

"What did he ask?" and "What did he say?" was being whispered to and from everyone around the Fountain.

Loud enough to be heard in the back row, Andrew announced, "Kaya Elbe, you are my best friend. You are my soul mate, and I love you."

Kaya blushed, and making her do that was even harder than surprising her.

"Will you marry me?"

Nobody breathed or dared to speak a word.

Kaya's mind replayed every scene with Andrew in it, and she smiled even wider.

She threw her arms around his neck and cried out, "Yes!"

A cheer rang out. First through Kaya's family, then throughout the City.

They jumped down, gathering Jacob in their arms. As the three hugged, Jacob said, "Nicely done, and congratulations to you both. Let me know when you've picked a date."

"I'm thinking now," Andrew said.

"What?" Jacob replied, sounding shocked. "Didn't you two just meet," he teased.

"Now," Kaya agreed, squeezing them. "Three of these guys can perform the ceremony right here, right now."

"What's the rush!?" Jacob asked.

She looked at them, and said, "We've got less than five hundred years boys, and every day counts! Now!" she reiterated.

"Best man?" Andrew asked, patting Jacob on the back.

"I'm in," Jacob said, "Let's do this!"

As the family washed over them, Kaya hugged her father first, and said, "I love you, Papa. Would you please tell Uncle Walt we need him?"

Then she and Andrew were swept into the arms of everyone at once.

By the end of their first week, Kaya knew she would be the one staying behind. It was long after dinner, Jacob was busy welcoming new citizens, and she and Andrew were resting in two small chairs they had placed outside of their apartment home.

"You and Jacob will need to be heading out soon," she said, taking Andrew's hand.

Children played within earshot and old friends occasionally strolled by.

"I thought you would take the Lady Marie, and Jacob could set out on foot," Andrew said. "You're the better navigator, and Jacob needs to stretch his legs."

"I would love that, but in about nine months," she said, squeezing his hand tightly, "The Lady Marie will arrive."

Andrew jumped up, pulling Kaya from her chair. They hugged and silently celebrated the unexpected news.

"This is fantastic my love," he said, kissing her. "I feel like telling the whole City."

"We can tell my family later tonight," she said, with a smile. "By noon tomorrow, everyone will know."

"Jacob," Kaya thought, "the Lady Marie will be here in about nine months."

In a frightening blur of motion and color, Jacob appeared in front of them, and said, "Congratulations! You two are moving pretty fast, aren't you?"

"Look who's talking," Andrew said. "You've really got this flying thing down, haven't you?"

"Excellent," Jacob said, "we've got two new visitors at the south entrance, I've got to go," and he moved away in the blink of an eye.

"If Kaya's not going to take the Lady Marie out of port," Jacob thought to them, zipping across the sky, "I would really like to make a go of it."

"She's all yours Jacob," Kaya thought back. "I'm about to make our first announcement, anything you want to add?"

"Nope, just good luck, and let's keep to the plan."

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it?" Andrew asked.

"I'm sure."

Kaya thought about it one last time, took a deep breath, and said, "I just hope it works."

"Just because nobody else has done it before, doesn't mean it won't."

Kaya closed her eyes and changed her perspective, allowing herself to see the entire City from above. "Hello everyone, this is Kaya, can everyone hear me?" she thought.

The City stopped. Every citizen set down whatever they had in their hands, all conversations paused, and everyone listened intently.

"They can hear you!" Jacob thought to Kaya and Andrew. "Unbelievable, oh sorry, keep going."

"Tomorrow at noon, Andrew, Jacob and I would like everyone to gather in the marketplace for our very first weekly meeting. Please eat before the meeting. We have lots to talk about, we'll see you all then."

"That's much better than sending out a lot of invitations," joked a couple of Kaya's friends as they walked by. "We'll see you in the marketplace tomorrow, have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you," she said, "good night."

"That worked perfectly," Andrew said. "Nicely done."

"Did it sound like a loudspeaker or was it in everyone's head?"

"Come to think of it, I couldn't tell you. But I heard it just fine. It was just like when we think to each other. Maybe it was just in everyone's head."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "What is important is we can do it. It was going to be difficult to keep everyone focused if that didn't work."

"Agreed," said Andrew, just as Jacob streaked in from above.

"It was awesome," he said. "Everybody could hear you perfectly." Jacob shifted his perspective, and said, "We've got five more at the east entrance. I've gotta go!" and he blurred away faster than they could say goodbye.

"Tonight is my night anyway, why don't you two go have some fun," he thought to them in mid-flight.

"Thank you, Jacob, just let us know if you need any help," Andrew thought back.

"Will do."

"Let's go over to my parent's house," Kaya said to Andrew. "I've been missing them for a couple hundred years."

Andrew nodded, and she took his hand. They walked the short distance to the home her parents had moved into, and Kaya opened the door, calling out, "Knock, knock, is anybody home?"

The next day at noon, with almost three thousand people gathered in the marketplace, Kaya, Andrew and Jacob held their first weekly meeting.

Kaya flipped her perspective above the marketplace and began her speech.

"Hello everyone," she said.

Every voice replied.

"As you all know I'm Kaya Elbe, this is my husband Andrew Weaver, and this other fine gentleman is Jacob Duncan. With a fair amount of luck and courage, the three of us have rebuilt the City of Light!"

The crowd exploded with cheers and applause. When it eventually quieted down, Kaya continued.

"Needless to say, we've all been waiting for this remarkable event for a very long time, and now that it's finally here, it's up to everyone to make sure it stays here."

The citizens mumbled and grumbled.

"Please," Kaya said, "please be patient with me. We're not here to debate the Sentinel Rule. We're here today to tell you about things you didn't learn from the Fountain of Knowing; things everyone must know if we're going to be successful."

Suddenly, it became very quiet.

"Thank you," she said, with kindness and patience. "None of this is easy, and all of it is of the utmost importance.

I have practiced what I am about to say more times than I care to discuss and no matter how difficult it may be to accept, you all know, above all else, I speak the truth. What I am about to share is not done for pity or sympathy or any such motivation. Those things have no place in our City.

Let me begin by stating that neither Andrew, Jacob nor I are in charge of anyone in this City. As you all know, that is not necessary, and it is certainly not wanted. Though many of our legends refer to our City of Light as the Kingdom, we have no king or queen. We are a free people."

The ground shook, and the air reverberated with applause.

"Andrew, Jacob and I are responsible for two things in this City and to ensure we meet those responsibilities, we must have your assistance. If you cannot, will not, or do not aid us in our tasks, this City will fall in less time than you can imagine."

The wind picked up, and it swirled around the marketplace bringing a welcome and refreshing breeze.

"We have visitors at the south entrance," Jacob said to Kaya and Andrew.

"Go slowly," Kaya instructed. "I'll use your exit to demonstrate."

"Our first responsibility is to welcome each new citizen to our City and to offer them water from the Fountain of Knowing. Jacob has used his power of perspective to see the three approaching visitors at the south entrance. If you use your perspective, you can do the same. Just look from above and keep pulling away until you see them."

As the citizens experimented, Jacob slowly lifted off the ground.

"Jacob, Andrew and I can all fly at great speed, anywhere within the City walls."

As she finished the sentence, Jacob accelerated like a rocket toward the south entrance. Oooh's and Ahhh's came from the crowd.

"This gift only works within our boundaries, and it allows us to attend to our welcoming responsibilities twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of our lives. To us, it is a task second to none, for should we fail, the City will fall."

There was more rumbling until Kaya held up her hand, and said, "None who have held this post has ever failed in this task, and we will not fail you now, or ever.

None of us requires more than two hours of sleep a night. This is yet another gift to help us keep our endless vigil. However," she added with caution, "should Jacob, Andrew or I be alone in the City, which will happen a great deal of the time, we will need to sleep, and you must be our eyes and our ears. We will talk more about this next week."

The citizen's faces went from concerned to curious as Kaya continued.

"Our second responsibility is no less important, and unfortunately, it is much harder to perform. The difficulty does not lie in the task, but in knowing when to execute it. You see, Andrew, Jacob and I, all have the ability to heal."

The citizens marveled at this new knowledge, and before the questions could be asked, Kaya attempted to answer them.

"I will be as succinct as possible," she said, feeling the group's curiosity coming to a boil. "We can heal virtually any wound, but we cannot do it alone. You must also recognize that a wound can be both physical and emotional, but again, we cannot heal without your help. Also, unless the wound is life threatening, we will not be aware of it. If it is life threatening, we'll be there quickly, but our actions must be supported by you."

Flipping her perspective through the crowd, Kaya could feel the confusion. She was prepared for this, it was all part of the plan.

"I know this can be a bit confusing," she said comfortingly. "Andrew will demonstrate the act of healing, and you will all be surprised at just how much you already know."

Andrew's mind had wandered back to Celeste's diary, to the marketplace, to the time young James' arm was broken by the wagon wheel. Behind him was the bakery and he looked down for the blue wooden ball, half expecting it to roll by.

"Andrew," Kaya coaxed, "You're up!"

"Oh, right," he said, blinking past his déjà vu. Holding up his hand, he asked, "Will the citizens of our Kingdom please show me their Light?"

In response, as though it had been perfectly choreographed, every person in the marketplace held up an open hand above their head, and said, "My Light shines for all to see."

Small orbs of blue-white Light formed in their open hands. It moved and pulsed as if it were alive.

"My friends, will you please lend me your Light so I may heal with it?"

In unanimous response, the people said, "My Light is your Light."

The orbs of Light flew to him and in the blink of an eye, he was consumed by it.

Andrew flipped his perspective as Kaya had done, and spoke to the marketplace, "This is the Light that heals, it is not my Light, it is yours." Then he said, "I return that which has been given. There is only one Light."

Suddenly, Light shot from his fingertips forming rainbows over the crowd. The colors quickly came together, forming drops of glistening Light that fell upon the people and the marketplace went wild!

"How did that feel?" Kaya thought to Andrew.

"Like a dream coming true," he said, with tears in his eyes.

"Wonderful my love," she said, taking his hand. "I can hardly wait."

As everyone settled down, Kaya sifted through the marketplace, looking for signs of uncertainty.

"The key to our success," Andrew continued, "is understanding these essential responsibilities and helping each other every step of the way." He paused to check in with Kaya. She nodded, indicating most everyone was following along without issue or misplaced concern.

Andrew recalled his portion of the presentation flawlessly, and continued, "There is no easy way to tell you what comes next, but I will try. When I do, please do not be saddened or worried. Jacob, Kaya and I have already come to terms with what you are about to hear.

After we had rebuilt the City, we learned our new responsibilities would last a lifetime. One that will not end for five hundred years."

Even though the people from the village had told this story for hundreds upon hundreds of years, it was still difficult to accept. The few citizens not from the village appeared outraged, angry, and most of all sympathetic.

"We will all be better for this," Andrew declared, with optimism and hope ringing true in his voice. "In time, you will see the truth of it."

Kaya's mother and Grandmother wept as they embraced each other.

"We must keep going," Andrew announced, "We still have much to cover."

The marketplace quieted back down, and he continued.

"Kaya is pregnant!" he exclaimed, with all the exuberance of a new father, and again, the marketplace exploded.

After five minutes of boisterous congratulating, Andrew struggled to quiet them back down. Eventually, he said, "Our daughter, and yes, we know she will be a girl, but that's an even longer story, will be named after my mother, Marie, and Kaya's mother, Erynn. We also wish to preserve the village custom of keeping Kaya's last name, so in about nine months, we will all be welcoming Marie Erynn Elbe to the City of Light."

People applauded and blew kisses to the parents to be.

When Kaya and Andrew were done waving and thanking people, the announcements continued.

"As Kaya mentioned yesterday, I hope everyone ate before they arrived because we still have a few more items to cover."

The citizens acknowledged they were anxious to continue, and so it went on.

"Marie will also be blessed with an unnaturally long life, but we would like to save that discussion for another day. With that said, I would like to introduce our last topic.

As you all know, our City of Light is not the first of its kind. We all know there was one here thousands of years ago, but would you believe this City, our City, is the seventh City of Light?"

Most people were clearly surprised.

"This cycle," Andrew continued, "has been going on for almost twenty thousand years."

He paused while the citizens struggled with this new information.

"The reason the cycle keeps repeating itself, the reason we believe the City exists, is because we are being tested."

Questions started to percolate out of the crowd the second Andrew had finished the sentence. He quieted them by saying, "Please, let me continue and I'll share everything I can."

The crowd slowly quieted, and all eyes were on Andrew.

"This City is here to test us. We believe humanity is being judged as a collective work of art. We are on display, and our every action matters. Of course, when art is evaluated it is never truly about the art, but about the artist.

You have all drank from the Fountain. Is there any doubt, in any of your minds, that you have a creator, that God exists?"

No one objected.

"The test itself is easy enough to understand," Andrew continued. "Since only the virtuous may enter, the challenge is to see just how many people living on this planet are worthy.

To pass the test, half of all the world's people must enter our City of Light, and we must all gather within these walls at the same time.

There is a second way to pass the test," he said. "The Kingdom must stand for three thousand years. The only way that can happen is if the Sentinel Rule isn't broken three times.

Kaya, Jacob and I have seen every one of the six Kingdoms rise and fall, and we are here to tell you three thousand years is a very, very long time. No City has ever come close to surviving that long.

Based on this knowledge, we know we must do everything possible to complete this test as soon as possible. We must gather, shepherd, escort, and lead by whatever means necessary, the world to our door.

Unless every one of us accepts that our collective purpose and the purpose of our society is the gathering of souls to this City, we will not succeed. We must grow in number until everyone on this planet has been given the opportunity to join us.

There is one last thing I have to share, then we will adjourn until next week. We are the seventh City of Light and we are the last City of Light. Should we fail, no one will come after us. We have run out of chances."

# Chapter 12

### Other People's Money

Connor headed north to the edge of the market. His memories, or at least Jacob's memories, told him what was around the corner. Rounding the final building, off in the distance atop a large hill, the real thing took his breath away. It was huge! The outer wall, the towers, and all its parapets were made of a blackened stone. It looked and felt like power, making Connor grin as he turned northeast, toward the Blacksmith's shop.

"Keep your eye on the prize," he whispered to himself. "We'll get there."

The castle disappeared as he turned down another street, and it wasn't long before he heard the all too familiar sounds of the hammer and anvil. Looking up, he saw a thin column of smoke from a well-tended forge and his pace quickened.

According to Shaker, if you wanted a sword, this was the place to go. His advice triggered Connor's recollection. He knew this shop, he knew this Smith, but unless he was Jacob Duncan, he couldn't do anything but act like the stranger he was.

Approaching the shop, he slowed his pace and casually walked to the front of the open-air Smithy.

Connor watched an apprentice hammering away at a glowing rod of iron. His strokes were painfully uneven, his hammer hopelessly angled. The diamond point he was attempting to make kept getting worse with every blow. Connor just smiled, waiting to be noticed.

Finally, as the boy reheated his mangled piece, he noticed Connor.

"Can I help you sir?" he called into the street.

"Is Jeb around?" Connor asked.

"No sir, the Master's out for the day. Can I help with anything?"

"Perhaps," Connor said, stepping into the Smithy.

"I'm in need of a blade, two actually. Identical, if you have them."

"Two swords? You need two swords, sir?"

"Yes and no," Connor said, looking around at the impressive display of weaponry.

"I don't take your meaning sir. Do you need a sword or is there something else you require?"

"What's your name apprentice?"

"Malvrik, sir."

"Well Malvrik," Connor said, pulling a rapier off its display stand. "What I need are two of these."

Holding it by the blade, he handed the sword to the boy and noticed his freshly blackened eye. "I need the blades to be as identical as possible."

"Yes sir," Malvrik replied. "The sword you hold is the only rapier we have for sale. It has a sister, but she is not yet complete."

"Not yet complete?"

"No, sir. My Master is still working on it, but they will be the same sword, so to speak."

"May I look at the unfinished version?"

"My Master does not like to display his unfinished work, sir."

"I understand Malvrik, but this is very important. I only wish to see it."

"I suppose it would be all right sir, but it's not for sale. It's not finished."

"Of course. I am however short on time, would you please find the sister to the one you hold?"

Malvrik nodded, set the rapier back on its stand and went into the back of the Smithy. He returned with an identical sword, except its blade was only half polished, and the pommel was not permanently attached. He handed it to Connor for inspection.

"Is the tang the same?"

"The same as what sir?" Malvrik asked innocently.

"Malvrik, the blade is obviously unfinished, but the part that goes into the handle, the tang, is it the same on both swords?" Connor asked, motioning his head toward the other rapier.

"Oh, yes sir. The blades were made at the same time with the same steel. They are identical."

"Excellent, how much for the finished sword?"

"Four gold pieces, sir."

Setting the unfinished blade down on the massive anvil, Connor stepped back over to the finished sword. He lifted it off its stand and balanced it on his finger, just in front of the guard. "It does have a nice balance."

"It's an elegant piece, sir. My master has great skill."

Connor held the blade out and looked down the length of it, pretending to inspect the weapon's quality.

"The steel Malvrik, what's the quality on this?"

"It's three-bit steel."

"Is it a fine blade?"

"Yes, sir. It's the best we make."

"Then it will have to do. Malvrik, I know you're just the apprentice," he said, swishing the rapier around and jabbing at nothing, "so I'll go easy on you. I'll give you six gold pieces for the one in my hand and the unfinished blade."

Connor turned, putting the point of the sword toward Malvrik. The poor boy turned white, and Connor slapped six pieces of gold down on the anvil.

Malvrik looked at the gold, then back to the sword and finally up at Connor.

"I'm not allowed to sell unfinished work, sir. My Master will...he will...," his voice was low, almost a whisper as he gently touched the side of his bruised face. "He'll have my head, sir."

Leaning against the anvil, Connor set the sword down next to the other blade. He smiled at Malvrik, and asked, "You're going to be a Smith one day, aren't you?"

"I hope to be sir."

"Well, this is part of the business. You can't just make pretty things. You have to sell them too."

"Yes, sir."

"How many hours will it take your Master to finish this other sword?" he asked, flicking the blade with his finger.

"Many, sir. I'm not sure how many, but there is still much to be done."

"In its current condition, is it worth two gold?"

"I'm not sure sir, but I'm not allowed to sell unfinished pieces. That's the rule. If I break it, I'll lose my apprenticeship."

"Let me tell you something Malvrik. This sword," he said, picking up the finished rapier. "This sword is only worth what someone will pay you for it. It's not even worth the four gold I'm willing to pay you, but since you're not Jeb and since you're not a Smith, I can't actually negotiate with you. For the sake of our little conversation let me just do this." Connor took two gold pieces off the anvil, and said, "I'll take the sword. Do we have a deal?"

Malvrik sighed with relief and nodded his head. "Yes sir, we have an accord. The sword is yours for four gold pieces."

Malvrik slowly stepped forward, took the gold from the anvil and placed it in the pocket of his leather apron.

"Excellent," Connor announced. "Now let us begin again."

"But sir..."

"The unfinished blade, for two gold."

"I..."

"Is the offer not generous?"

"It is sir, but without my Master's permission, I am bound by my code."

"Your code," Connor said, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, let's talk about your code. Can you tell me, Blacksmith's apprentice, what your code says about the sale of a weapon, forged from steel? What qualities did you commit to when you sold me this sword?"

Malvrik was obviously unprepared for a quiz, and he began to stammer.

"Let me help you," Connor offered, sounding fatherly and kind. "I'll walk you through the lesson, and you do your best to chime in on the parts you know, all right?"

"Sir, I'm just the apprentice."

"How many years, Malvrik?"

"Three, sir."

"That's more than enough. And you're here minding the Smithy, so you're the man in charge, right?"

Malvrik just looked at his shoes.

"Good, so here we go." Connor reached out and gently lifted Malvrik's chin. "I'm not here to take advantage, Malvrik. I'm a Smith, and I will teach you, or at least remind you, of what you should have already been taught. When we're done here, you'll be able to present these events to your master, and avoid another beating. Actually, he should praise you for saving his reputation."

"I didn't know you were a Smith sir. I'm sorry to be impolite to a Master."

"That's not important right now, but thank you."

"May I know your name, sir?"

Connor stuck out his hand, and said, "The name is Duncan, Connor Duncan."

Malvrik firmly gripped his hand and vigorously shook it.

"You can tell a lot about a person from his handshake, Malvrik. I like you. I think you're the kind of person who will make a fine Smith."

"Thank you, sir," Malvrik said, blushing. Releasing each other's hands, Malvrik asked, "Which guild are you with, sir?"

"It's not important Malvrik," Connor said dismissively. "Here, sit down," he said, pulling a stool over. Malvrik sat while Connor grabbed a stool and sat across from the young man.

"You spoke of your code. What can you tell me about it, I mean when it comes to selling weapons of steel?"

Malvrik lowered his eyes again and was shuffling his feet. With the young apprentice struggling to begin, Connor offered some assistance.

"Didn't you tell me this was the finest blade your master makes?"

"Yes sir," he said, never looking up.

"Do you know the characteristics of the best steel?"

Malvrik looked up timidly, then back down at his feet. He started to recite his lesson, "It needs to be strong, but not brittle. It should be flexible but hold an edge. It should do well in battle, meaning it won't break or fail you at a critical moment."

Connor smiled, reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder. "I'm a Master Smith, and I don't think I could have said that better myself. Well-spoken, sir."

Malvrik still avoided Connor's eyes, but he smiled and nodded his head.

"Then you've guaranteed me this blade will be all those things, correct?"

"I suppose so sir, though I'm not sure my Master would agree."

"Who's in charge today?"

"I am sir."

"Good. Then let's follow your code and your big day of being in charge will work out better than you expect.

How can I tell if the blade you sold me is all the things it's supposed to be?"

"I suppose you could test it, Master Duncan."

"That's a very insightful idea from an apprentice. What would happen if this magnificent piece of craftsmanship didn't pass the test?"

"I would have to replace it, sir, that's what the code says. It also says if the failure caused you harm or loss of property, the Smith is responsible for damages. That's the burden of a weapons Smith. That's why most don't do it."

"I knew you were a smart lad," Connor said, tousling the boy's hair.

"Malvrik, I propose a test of this steel, but as the man in charge, you must agree the test is fair. As a Smith myself, I wouldn't try any trickery, just a fair and honest test of the quality of this steel."

"What kind of test, Master Duncan?"

"A simple test, the most common test, the easiest one of all. Pass the test and I accept the blade as is, and go on my way."

"And if the blade fails?" Malvrik asked.

"You replace the blade with one of equal or greater value, depending on your inventory or on your ability to make a new one. That's the code isn't it?"

"Yes sir, that's the code."

"Fine," Connor said, standing up and lifting the unfinished blade from the anvil. "Let's get this out of the way," he said, handing it to Malvrik.

Malvrik set the blade aside and stepped back to the anvil.

"This is the sword I just bought from you, isn't it?"

"Yes sir, it is."

"Good. Do you agree this steel should not be brittle?"

"I do."

"Do you agree it should stand up to the blow of another weapon, without breaking?"

"Within reason, yes sir."

"Should it survive the blow from a small three-pound hammer?"

Malvrik looked around the Smithy at all the horrible instruments of war hanging on the walls. Most were far heavier and larger than the three-pound hammer he had been using to shape the iron rod when Connor arrived.

He reached down, next to the base of the anvil and picked up the small hammer. Turning it in his hand, he was confident the polished steel blade would be undamaged, even by the hardest blow.

"After all," he thought, "the hammer helped create the blade, and if the two could no longer meet without causing damage, then the steel must be inferior."

"The blade will be fine," Malvrik said confidently. "It may flex and recoil, but you won't damage it."

"If your master's steel is worthy, you are correct. If not, you'll owe me a new sword. Agreed?"

Malvrik forced his hand forward into Connor's, and they shook.

"The three-pound hammer please?" Connor requested.

Handing over the hammer, Malvrik backed away until the small stool brushed against his legs.

Connor took the flawless silver rapier and set it on the massive anvil, resting the guard on the end of the horn. The blade angled down until it touched the far end of the anvil.

"No, no. That's not fair," Malvrik objected. "You need to lay it down flat. Don't angle the blade like that."

Connor nodded, pulling the handle until the blade rested flat against the anvil.

Looking up, he asked, "Good enough?"

"That's fine, and remember only one blow. I'm not interested in watching you ruin your new sword."

Pinning the blade down with one hand, his mind's eye found the center point of the blade and divided the top half into two equal parts.

He twirled the hammer one last time, glanced back at the apprentice, secured his grip and focused on the area just between the middle of the sword and its tip.

With more force than expected, he drove the hammer directly into the weakest part of the sword.

The steel rang out as it compressed between the immovable anvil and the unstoppable force of the hammer. As the hammer pulled away, steel shards danced atop the anvil and Malvrik's face became a mix of fear and surprise.

Malvrik stumbled, hitting the back of his knees against the wooden stool. His bottom came down, but only half of it made it on the seat. The stool shot across the dirt floor, leaving the poor boy sprawled across the ground, struggling to regain his composure.

With a tiny twinge of guilt, Connor dropped the hammer.

"Here's one more gold for the unfinished blade," he said, setting it down on the anvil. "And I'll be keeping the broken sword for good measure. Pleasure doing business with you Malvrik and congratulations, you sold a terrible sword for an outrageous price."

Connor left the Smithy with the young apprentice still sprawled across the ground. He smiled knowing he was one-step closer to his objective, and because he knew just how upset Jeb would be.

Recalling the map in his pocket, he turned left, heading directly for the Hot Shop. In less than ten minutes, Connor stood in the street watching the Glass Smith.

He pulled his blowpipe from the furnace, twirling a large vase at its end. Its orange glow made the piece seem alive, like iron from a forge.

The Smith moved to a wooden bench with an iron rail on either side. He set the long blowpipe across them and rolled the rod back and forth. The vase spun, and the Smith shaped it with his iron jacks. It cooled quickly, and within seconds, it was back in the furnace.

His back was to Connor, but like any good salesman he could feel a customer.

"How may I be of service?" he called out, taking the vase back to the small bench.

"I'm not sure if you can, what I'm looking for doesn't exist."

"Everything exists within a grab of glass. You just have to know how to pull it out," he said, twirling and shaping the piece until it cooled again.

"I don't want to interrupt your work, would it be better if I came back a little later?"

"Nonsense, come in and tell me what you're looking for."

Connor stepped into the Hot Shop, and the temperature jumped by twenty degrees.

"That's a beautiful piece you're making," Connor said, admiring the fluid motions of a skilled craftsman.

"No, it's not," he said, looking up. "It's crap. I'm just wasting time here."

Noticing the broken sword and the unfinished blade, he said, "The Blacksmith is just down the road. Looks like you could use his services more than mine."

"That's where I just came from. I needed to get you some examples. I need you to make me a blade."

"You're joking right?" he asked, putting the vase back in the furnace.

Connor set three gold pieces on the wooden table in the center of the shop.

The Smith smiled, took the vase from the furnace and walked over to a small bucket of water. Taking out a spoon, he dripped water along the narrow connection between the blowpipe and the vase. Then he stepped into the street and hit the pipe with the spoon. The glass broke free from the pipe, shattering as it hit the ground.

Stepping back into the shop, he stood the pipe in the corner and offered Connor a seat at the table.

Connor placed both of the swords on the table and stuck out his hand.

"Connor Duncan," he said.

"Brian Farmer," said the Smith, shaking Connor's hand, "Most folks just call me Farmer."

They both took a seat, and Farmer asked, "So, what are you looking for?"

"Do you want the short version or the long one?" Connor asked, fingering the broken steel.

"Depends," said Farmer. "If you want something truly unique, it helps me to know the details. If you just want some simple piece of glass, it doesn't really matter."

"I want both," Connor said. "I need two blades. Both need to be shaped exactly like this." He pushed the unfinished sword across the table. "One will be broken almost immediately and doesn't need to be perfect. It has to look good, but it doesn't need to be a work of art. The second blade is what this is really all about."

"I'm listening."

"Have you ever heard of the Crystal Sword?" Connor asked, hoping for a reaction.

"Go on," Farmer said, as a smile spread across his face.

"I've held it," Connor lied, "I can describe it in perfect detail, and I need you to make me an exact replica."

Farmer grabbed his wooden mug from the table and took a long drink.

Half an hour later, Connor stood up from the table. Farmer rubbed his hands together, and Connor could see him working through the fabrication steps in his mind.

Farmer stood, offering his hand to Connor.

"I need both blades in three days."

"And after you win," he said, shaking Connor's hand, "you'll come back with three more gold, right?"

"A promise is a promise," Connor agreed.

Their hands separated, and Farmer clapped Connor on the back. "I'll see you on the thirteenth Mr. Duncan, and I promise, you won't be disappointed."

"Thank you, Farmer. Please don't let me down. Everything is riding on you."

Farmer turned back to his table and stared at the barely blue vase that would serve as the color match. With the sword as his guide, he knew he was up to the challenge.

Connor left and made his way around a row of uninteresting shops. Stopping in the middle of the dirt street, he pulled the map from his pocket and saw the drops of wax. Shaker's idea of a joke. Holding the broken sword under his arm, he fumbled with the map until it was refolded and back in his pocket.

Turning around, he headed toward a small, but well maintained shop. Its windows were barred with thick iron rods and hanging above the door was an ingot of gold.

He entered, conducted his business, handed over the broken sword, paid an outrageous sum in gold, and promised to return in three days.

With the wind at his back and the castle disappearing behind a row of drab buildings, he stood at the edge of town overlooking an unplowed field.

"Right where it's always been," he said to himself, looking at the old faded barn.

Turning into the field, Connor walked toward the strangely comforting building. A honeybee flew past his ear, followed by three more. He watched them fly off toward the row of wooden hives farther back in the field.

Connor's mouth began to water at the thought of honey. It had been forever since its thick sweetness had touched his tongue. He added honey to his mental shopping list.

"I remember when this was just an old hay barn. And it may be the home of ordinary, but sometimes ordinary is just fine," he thought, visualizing the items he would be purchasing.

Above the weathered, sliding barn door, the large, faded white lettering of the "Chandlery" called to all those in need.

# Chapter 13

### Shadow Talk

Connor's horse lazily clip-clopped along the old dirt road as the sun threw its last rays into the billowing clouds overhead. Pink and purple fanned out in all directions until they melted into a brilliant orange along the horizon.

Ravi and Tarquin were sitting on the front steps of the old stone house when they heard Connor yell out, "Did you find everything all right?"

Looking up from their conversation, they watched him arrive.

"The real question is, did you find everything all right?" Ravi asked, from his perch on the steps.

Tarquin ravenously eyed the long loaves of bread sticking out of the over-stuffed, leather saddlebags. He watched Connor take extra care not to hit their contents with his leg or foot when he dismounted.

Jumping down from the saddle, his new boots sunk into the thin layer of mud.

"I did!" Connor said, taking out a long loaf of bread.

He broke it in half, handing the pieces to Ravi and Tarquin.

They both thanked him, and Tarquin yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Ross!" not noticing the door behind him had swung open.

Ross bent down and whispered in Tarquin's ear, "Yes Tarquin?"

"Ahhh!" Tarquin squealed, dropping his bread on the wooden step and scooching off to one side.

Ravi and Connor laughed as Ross bent down, picked up the bread and started eating it.

"Hey?!" Tarquin objected.

"Tarquin," Connor said.

"What? But he has my..."

"Tarquin," Connor said again.

Tarquin turned away from Ross and looked at Connor, who was pointing another long loaf of bread at him like a sword.

"Oh, thank you," he said, sounding a little too desperate.

This time, everyone laughed. Connor lifted the fat saddlebags from the dappled mustang and flopped them over the railing on the porch.

Looking up at Ross, he said, "Smoked fish, fresh vegetables, fruit, sausages, a pheasant, and some potatoes. It's all in here." He patted the bulging leather pouches. "Help yourselves. I'm going to go take care of this handsome animal, then I'll be back."

Ross nodded approvingly, and all three of them thanked Connor.

Leading Shaker's prized stallion casually toward the barn, he called back, "There's a pot of honey in there, and a pound of butter. It's delicious on that bread."

That evening, after Ravi and Tarquin had fallen asleep upstairs, Ross and Connor sat alone in the main room just off the kitchen. They had their bare feet up on a large, shared ottoman and the coals of the evening fire burned low.

"There's a bit of a contest going on in town amongst all the Smiths," Connor said casually, trying not to sound enthusiastic.

Ross sipped at his mug of hot water and honey. "Contest?" he asked, taking another sip. "What's the prize?"

Connor waited patiently, then casually answered, "Any single request."

Ross wrapped his hands around the unglazed mug. He breathed out like an exhausted parent at the end of a long day. "That leaves a lot to the imagination."

Connor watched as the steam from Ross' cup wafted across his face. The candlelight bounced off the vapors, reflecting back onto Ross' face, making him look pale and ethereal.

"I want to be a Blacksmith, and I think this is the fastest way."

Ross set the mug down and pushed himself up in his chair. He leaned forward, looked at Connor, and asked, "Is that any way to earn yourself a place in that guild?"

"I think it's a way," Connor said flatly. "I didn't say anything about ideal situations."

Ross fell back in his chair.

"I'm supposed to try and have a life, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"You're supposed to help me reintegrate into this world, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You wish I weren't like this, don't you?"

"It's not that, Connor. You just seem to challenge everything I've been taught."

"Maybe that's why you're here."

"Maybe," Ross said, sounding tired. "Maybe."

"Maybe you could help me?"

"I'm afraid to even ask."

"Don't be like that Ross. I really need your help."

"What are you going to ask for if you win?"

"I told you. I just want to be a Blacksmith. If I can do this, I would ask to be a Blacksmith and to be in the guild."

"Are you gonna ask for a Smithy too?"

"No, I sorta have one of those already?"

Ross sat up again, looked at Connor, and asked, "You have a workshop? You own a Smithy already."

Connor shrugged his shoulders looking innocent of whatever crime Ross was imagining. "It's the barn out back," he confessed. "There's a forge hidden under the bales of hay. It wasn't legal for my father or Mr. Miller to have it. But if I could make it legal, then I could use it and make this place my home. Besides, all my old tools are down in the basement."

Ross' hand smacked against his forehead, knocking him back into his chair.

"It's either that or some humiliating apprenticeship. But with a name like Duncan I don't think that's very likely. Do you?"

"What's the contest?"

"Pridarius is dead."

"The King is dead?"

"He died when the waves of Light knocked down the ceiling of his throne room. I guess it fell on his head."

"Then they'll be crowning his son."

"I think they already did," Connor said. "It's his son who's holding the contest. He wants a funerary sword made for his father."

"When does it need to be presented?"

"In three days."

Ross picked up his mug and took a sip.

"You don't need my help, you need a miracle."

"Or maybe just a clever plan," Connor suggested.

"I'm listening," Ross whispered into his cup.

"I'm going to make the Crystal Sword."

Ross choked on his drink until little dribbles of it came out his nose. His whole body shook with wet, coughing gasps. Desperately slamming the mug down on the table, he stood up. The candle stub flickered as he bent over and coughed up the last of his drink.

"I need to get some air," Ross managed to say, and with a final sputter, the candle went out.

He stumbled down the dark hallway to the front door and went outside.

"He took it better than I thought," Connor whispered to himself.

Without reaching for a wall, Connor navigated through the dark room, down the hallway and out into the night air.

On the porch, Ross was bent over, holding onto the railing.

"Are you all right?"

"I just need a minute," he said, waving his hand in the air.

"I know," Connor said, sitting down on the steps and looking up at the stars. "Take your time. I didn't come out here to pester you."

Ross took several deep breaths, put his hand on Connor's shoulder and eased himself down next to him.

To the north, a ribbon of Light trailed up into the night sky.

"How long did you say it would be like that?" Connor asked.

"Five hundred years."

"So does any of this matter right now? I mean who's to say any of this will matter in a few thousand years."

"It's times like this that matter the most," Ross said.

Connor knew if he could get Ross talking and more importantly get him teaching, he stood a chance.

"So entering this contest, making the sword from the Kingdom, you think all that's going to change the world?"

"That's not what worries me, Connor. I think it will change you, and I think you, just like any of us, can change the world."

"So you don't want me to change the world?"

"I'm not going to bite on that hook. We're leaving for the Kingdom tomorrow after the supplies arrive. I think your reintroduction is complete."

"But I still need your help to make the sword."

"You don't need my help."

"Yes, I do. I don't know how to make the basket go around the hilt. Without that, it won't be right."

"I saw the list of supplies you ordered from the Chandlery. Tomorrow you'll have the materials to make it."

"That doesn't mean I can make it. Honestly, Ross, I need your help now more than ever."

"What did you learn in the Empire this afternoon?"

"I learned you were right about what was in there."

"Pretty disgusting, isn't it?"

"It's worse than disgusting. Seeing how those people live and how they take advantage of each other, it made me ashamed of humanity. I used to think it was such a better place, but now I think I might have been one of the lucky ones growing up the way I did. Why do we treat each other that way? Why are we like that?"

Ross looked at Connor, who was looking up at the stars.

"Say that again."

"Say what again?" Connor asked.

"The part where you were lucky."

"Oh, I think I was lucky to grow up outside of the city, outside of Pridarius' walls."

"That's an odd thing to hear you say."

"I'm actually surprised I said it myself."

"What about the little boy who was abandoned at the orphanage?"

"I think you already know, but if I had been left here instead of there, I could have turned out much worse than I am now...much worse."

"Do you think Jacob knew that?"

"I know he did because I do, and I only spent an afternoon in there."

"So what happens if you get the reward you're looking for?"

"I don't really know," Connor said, standing up. He stepped out in front of the house where the moon threw his murky shadow against the ground.

"Look at your shadow," Ross said.

Connor turned his back to the moon and looked down at his shadow. He waved to himself.

"Maybe that's the future you, you're waving to."

"What?"

"It's a thing we do in the village. It's probably going to feel silly for you, but do me a favor and just play along."

"All right."

"Repeat after me."

Connor nodded.

"The moon is full just once a month, and it always shines on me. When I look upon the ground, I see the me I'll be."

Connor repeated the verse.

"If I wander from my path, I would tell myself these words. I say them now so I can hear them when they sound absurd."

Again, Connor repeated Ross' words. Looking over at Ross, he asked, "You really do this?"

"We do. You don't have to say it out loud, but most of us do."

"What do I do next?" Connor asked.

"Give your future-self some advice, but don't tell yourself what not to do; tell yourself what you're going to do. It can be a little difficult when someone else is watching. I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Ross stood up, stretched his arms wide and yawned, pawing at the air.

"Ross?"

"Yeah, Connor."

"What do you call this?"

"We call it Shadow Talk," he said, stepping up to the front door.

"Does it work?"

"It's just like everything else Connor, it only works if you want it to."

"Good night, Ross."

"Good night, Connor," he said, gently closing the front door.

Connor stared down at his shadow for a few minutes feeling silly and thinking about what Ross had said. The chirping of the crickets and the wind filled his ears as he pictured the ax hanging in the barn.

"They're not leaving with that gold," he whispered to his shadow, wondering what tomorrow might bring.

"I'm excited for you, I really am," Connor said to Tarquin. "I'm sure I'll see you there soon enough, but it's something I have to earn, something I have to become."

Ross shifted the pack on his back and wrestled with himself for the hundredth time. Everyone had said their goodbyes and Ravi was practically dancing in place. Finally, Ross stepped behind him and opened the main pouch on Ravi's pack.

"What are you doing Ross?" Ravi asked, trying to turn his head and see.

"I'm just going to lighten our load a bit."

As Ross lifted, Ravi's back straightened, and the smile on his face grew even larger.

"I told you he would," Tarquin said to Ravi. Both of them were now beaming with excitement.

Ross cradled the thirty-pound leather sack in one arm as he pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.

Stepping out from behind Ravi, Ross moved in front of Connor and held out the piece of paper.

"What's this?" Connor asked, taking the folded square from between Ross' fingers.

"Directions on how to make things using the technique of Lost Wax."

"For the sword?" Connor asked excitedly.

"It doesn't matter what you make with it, just know that we," he said, motioning to Ravi and Tarquin, "trust you to do the right thing."

"Thank you," Connor said, acknowledging all three of his Caretakers. "This means everything to me."

"I'm not sure what you told yourself last night in your Shadow Talk, but I would like to give you one last piece of advice."

"All right," Connor said, thinking about the ax he had placed next to the side of the house.

"You can't fight the fire while you're feeding the flames."

Connor thought about the statement and nodded in agreement. "I don't want to become what they are in there, but I'm still not sure how to avoid playing by their rules."

Ross smiled, and Connor knew his prize was almost in hand.

"I will miss these moments," Ross said, handing Connor the sack of golden coins.

Connor's mouth fell open.

Ross smacked Connor on the arm, and said, "Promise me if you become a Blacksmith, you'll never charge for your services."

Connor thought it might come with some strings attached and he'd already done the math. Knowing the bag of coins was worth a lifetime of backbreaking labor, he said exactly what Ross wanted to hear, "You can't fight the fire while you're feeding the flames."

One by one, they shook his hand for the fourth or fifth time. As Connor stood in front of the old stone house, Ross, Ravi, and Tarquin walked around the corner of the road and disappeared.

# Chapter 14

### Come Sail Away

As the citizens assembled in the marketplace, Kaya looked at Andrew, "Has it been a week already?" she asked. "I feel like we just did this."

"The problem is, it's going to be fifty years before you blink again. At least that's how it seemed to go for all the other Kingdoms."

"Please try to relax a little," Jacob interjected. "We've only been here for two weeks. We're not exactly behind schedule."

"You're right," Kaya said with a sigh. "It's just me. I always do this to myself."

"Then stop. Stress is self-induced. We've got a lot to do, but we're not alone," he said, gesturing to the assembled crowd.

"Are you going or am I?" Jacob asked Andrew.

"You took the last ones. I'll go and be right back," Andrew said, lifting into the air.

As Andrew flew off to the east, the citizens applauded and cheered.

"It's time," Kaya thought to Jacob.

Jacob shifted his perspective and began the weekly meeting.

"Hello everyone," he thought, "this is Jacob. Welcome to the weekly meeting."

More than three thousand voices called back to him.

"As Kaya and Andrew so eloquently stated last week, we had all better get used to our weekly meeting, because now that we're on a roll, we couldn't possibly stop."

There was some laughter and applause, and Jacob continued.

"It's only been a week since our last meeting, and there is much to share. As most of us have learned, a regular drink from any one of the three Fountains of Knowing will do a lot to improve your circle of friends."

Heads nodded in confirmation, and most everyone smiled at the playfulness of Jacob's style.

"It can be a little overwhelming at first, but if you haven't stopped by for a drink in the last week, please do. It's a great way to learn the name of anyone who's entered the City since you last had a sip.

Based on the information shared at last week's meeting, I understand some groups are being developed. There is also a new board behind me with the group names, along with their meeting times and locations.

The groups we have thus far are the Welcoming Support group, the Census group, and the Public Relations team.

The Welcoming Support group is offering to assist Kaya, Andrew and myself at all three entrances and their support will be needed almost immediately.

The Census group is heading up the effort to keep track of how many of us there are. I think they'll be posting some sort of large tracking board here in the marketplace in the coming weeks.

Also, we have our first team of volunteers departing with Andrew tomorrow. They will begin spreading our message and recruiting new citizens. I'm sure we'll all learn a great deal from their initial efforts.

All of this recruiting activity will be supported by our Public Relations Group and on behalf of all of us, I want to thank you for your efforts. Together, we will succeed."

Applause and shouts of support rang out across the marketplace, while Andrew returned, landing next to Kaya.

"Welcome back," Jacob thought to Andrew, allowing everyone to overhear.

"Three new citizens," Andrew reported, and the cheers and celebration continued.

"Wonderful," Jacob announced. "Let's keep going, shall we?

For those of you who don't already know, I will be leaving on the maiden voyage of the Lady Marie tomorrow morning."

When the applause finally quieted down, he kept the announcements going.

"We have no charts, except what we can see with our perspective, so my mission is twofold. First, I will begin mapping our coastline and making note of the ports along the way. I will also be gathering maps from all possible sources. These maps will be combined with those from the village until we have completed our map of the world.

Second, I will be visiting the Empire. It is the closest large city with a port, and I'll report back regularly. I'm confident we'll learn a great deal from these early voyages, and I hope to use the gateway of the Lady Marie to its fullest advantage.

Thank you, everyone," he said, wrapping up. "Kaya also has a few items to share."

Applause and kind wishes filled the air as Jacob pulled his perspective back into himself.

"Thank you, everyone," Kaya said, quieting the celebration. "As Jacob mentioned, Andrew will be leaving tomorrow with two hundred volunteers."

The anxious volunteers applauded and whistled with enthusiasm, and they were met with the applause and approval of the entire City.

"Thank you, volunteers!" Kaya added. "They will be heading east, and hopefully, they will return with many more in their ranks."

Again, the applause overtook the marketplace.

"Jacob is departing for uncharted waters, leaving the responsibility of welcoming new citizens to me. Please remember, no new citizen can be allowed to pass the Fountain until I arrive. Thanks to the Welcoming Support group, I will be able to sleep for a few hours every night."

The citizens acknowledged the importance of the expectation and Kaya continued.

"As a reminder, one we will continue making every week, our mission is not to simply call out to the world. We are more than a Beacon," she said, pointing to the column of Light emanating from the half-spire. "We are a refuge, we are the only safe haven, we are the City of Light, and we must shepherd to our City all those who can hear our message."

Thunderous applause erupted from the marketplace.

"Jacob, Andrew, and all our volunteers," she said, trying to keep her tone steady and her heart brave, "be safe, and thank you. Everyone else, I'll see you here next week."

It wasn't just the applause and enthusiasm making her smile. It was the unanimous commitment and resolve within the citizens.

The next day at sunrise, Andrew and Kaya bid farewell to Jacob as he exited the City. As he turned and waved from beneath the enormous archways of the southern portal, he appeared tiny and frail. In front of him, patiently waiting to escort Jacob to the Lady Marie, was a group of fifty children, each holding a long colorful ribbon.

"He's in good hands," Andrew said, leaning down and kissing Kaya. "I hope he fares well."

"It's not Jacob I'm worried about," she said.

"I'll be all right," Andrew said, putting his hand to her cheek. "We've been over this. We have a plan."

"Plan or not, we're putting citizens in harm's way."

"We will not succeed by waiting here, and we cannot do this alone. We must take risks, and this one is small."

"I know," she confessed. "I'm just worried about how this is going to progress. Today you're leaving with two hundred. In a year, it will be two thousand, and in ten years it will be tens of thousands."

"Before we're done it might be hundreds of thousands," he added. "We're only at the very beginning, and we have hundreds of years before us. I'm just glad we're taking these steps together."

She nodded, wrinkling her forehead.

"Don't over-think it," he said. "The time for that has come and gone. We had today planned out so long ago it feels like a dream."

"Was it?"

"Was it what?"

"A dream."

"Anything is possible," he said, taking her hand and lifting off into the air. "It certainly felt like one. Then again, so does this."

As they sped off into the east, Kaya hummed a little tune she had heard a child singing in a place she couldn't remember, "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream."

Andrew joined in as they touched down in front of the volunteers waiting for them at the east entrance, "merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."

"I have an army of Wanderer's at my side," he thought to Kaya. "If everything goes well, we'll return with someone who use to think of themselves as a king or a queen and maybe a few loyal subjects."

"I know you'll be fine, it's them I worry about," she thought back.

"Mind the entryways and tend the flock," he said, with a kiss. "We'll be back in a few weeks."

Kaya gave him one final hug, and said, "Don't come back empty-handed."

"There's the woman I married!" he said. Turning to face his group of volunteers, and yelled, "Are we all ready to go make a big first impression?!"

A cheer exploded from the huddled mass as someone announced, "Backpacks on!"

Finnigan, a short red haired man, handed Andrew his staff and pack and the group headed out into the rising sun.

# Chapter 15

### Show Time

"The Blacksmith and the Artist, each must know his part, to forge a new reality, closer to the heart."iii

The Smith's Hymn

A day and a half after his Caretakers left, Connor was cinching the saddle onto Shaker's horse, musing to himself, "If they'd forgotten anything and needed to come back, they would have done it by now." He buckled the strap and led the horse out of the barn.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said to the animal, "Times up."

He closed the oversized door, took his mount and urged the mustang into a canter.

Passing in front of the house, he felt something poking his thigh. He stood up in the stirrups and rummaged around in his pocket until he had Ross' Lost Wax parchment in his hand.

"What a waste of time," he said aloud, "I've got a sword to make, not a tiny team of golden horses!"

Crumpling the paper into a ball, he sat back down and drove his heels into the soft sides of his mount. With a cloud of dust in his wake, Connor raced toward the city and indifferently tossed the crinkled wad of paper into a tangle of blackberry vines.

When the toppled guardhouse finally came into view, he reined the horse in and slowed to a walk. Off to the side of the road, under the shade of an old, twisted cork tree, Johnny and Shaker sat atop their barrels.

He coaxed the winded stallion toward the men. Looking up, Johnny's helmet rocked back on his head, and his gap-tooth mouth remained connected to his grizzled turkey leg by a long strand of greasy drool. It glistened yellow, fluttering back and forth with his breathing.

Shaker smiled around a bite of apple too large to fit in his mouth. With juice dribbling off his hand and chin, he asked, "Da oo ge i?"

Connor pulled his eyes away from the strand of spit connecting Johnny to his lunch and looked at Shaker.

"What did you say?"

Shaker pulled out the enormous wad of apple, and now he too had a line of drool swinging from his mouth to his food.

Turning to Johnny, Shaker noticed the repulsive yellow strand, and his face transformed into a mask of disgust. He hit Johnny's arm, and yelled, "Johnny, that's a bit a nasty right there it is!"

As he yelled, the tendril of spit coming from his own mouth actually transferred from his lower lip to his upper lip and back again.

"Me?" Johnny demanded. "Ya should see yerself! Now that's a bit a nasty! At least I got's an excuse on account a me teeth an all."

Johnny self-consciously wiped his mouth, while Shaker lifted up his apple and looked at it.

"What's all nasty 'bout this then?" he demanded, making the quivering strand jump from lip to lip. Shaker held up his apple to Connor and Johnny started belly laughing.

"What?! What are ya goin' on about, ya stupid git!" Shaker yelled, waving the apple in Johnny's direction.

Johnny laughed even harder, and Connor smiled at their shenanigans.

Shaker got redder and smashed the piece of apple in his hand until the juice ran out of it. He drew his fist back against his chest, and yelled, "Shut it, Johnny!" Then he unleashed his backhand.

The blow to Johnny's arm snapped the long wet string attached to Shaker's hand, and it floated in the breeze just long enough to be enjoyed for the wonder it was. Johnny's eyes twinkled with delight as it whiplashed back toward Shaker's face.

Shaker saw it coming, but his attack against Johnny had sent him past his balance point. He tried to dodge the spit, but his barrel rocked backward, and his thick legs shot out to counterbalance his load.

Johnny let out a "whoop" of ecstasy.

"Ooofff!" came the sound of Shaker getting the wind knocked out of him.

His barrel rolled off to one side, leaving Shaker on his back with all four limbs flailing around. Shaker was beet red, and Johnny staggered away, bent over with laughter.

With a great deal of effort, Shaker finally made his way to his side and started laughing. Looking on, Connor could only shake his head and laugh along with them.

When Shaker had finally composed himself, and Johnny stopped laughing, the two men looked up at Connor.

With mud on his ear and dust clinging to the loop of spit on his face, Shaker pulled at his uniform, and said, "Did ya get it?"

"I did."

"Ya best get goin' then. Ya got's a sword to make, hadn't ya?" Johnny asked, wiping away the last of his joyful tears.

"I do," Connor said, feeling distracted. "I just stopped to tell you both. And Shaker?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a little something on your face."

Without waiting for a response, Connor urged the horse into a canter. As the two men faded away, Connor heard Johnny laughing and Shaker yelling at him to shut up.

Minutes later, Connor was riding through the marketplace. His eyes watered, and he coughed as the stench of the place filled his nose and burned his throat.

He tried to look past the dirty faces and the hopeless stares, but every child looked like an orphan.

He felt himself growing angry, not with the people, but at their King.

"It won't always be like this," he told himself. "Someday, I'll make it better."

Keeping to the center of the lane, he quickly passed the bakery, the cobbler shop, and the Cooperage. In short order, he was climbing the soft dirt road toward the Chandlery. With his eyes on the castle, Connor pulled the reigns to the right and made his way toward the row of Smiths.

As he came up on Jeb's Smithy, he quickened his pace until he got to the far end of the row.

The little bell hooked to the door rang as he walked into the Goldsmith's shop. It was small inside, at least the area for those looking to buy or sell.

The face of an old man popped through a curtained doorway behind the counter and Connor did his best to contain his excitement.

He heard whispering behind the curtain, then it was drawn to the side, and the Goldsmith stepped out. His back was hunched with age, his fingers blackened by his trade and his face was sunken but wise. His pensive expression did little to hide his excitement, and Connor smiled as the Smith's young apprentice brought in something draped in red velvet.

The boy set the object on the counter and stepped away.

"Did you have any trouble?" Connor asked.

"It is exactly as you requested," the Smith said with pride. "I don't think I've ever made a finer piece, and I've never seen anything as exquisite."

The old man moved his fingers toward the velvet cover and just as he snatched it away, he said, "Behold!"

Connor's breath caught in his chest. He reached out to touch it and pulled his hand back. It was better than he had drawn it. It was exactly as he had described. It was as close to the real thing as anyone would ever get, but he had to be sure it would work.

"The blade of the sword, I need the broken blade."

The Smith nodded to his apprentice who quickly retrieved the broken sword. The boy removed the pommel and slid the handle off, handing Connor the broken blade.

With the half-blade in one hand, he picked up the solid gold, intricately woven basket handle from the counter. With delicate precision, he slid the handle onto the tapered tang of the sword. The fit was perfect.

"And the pommel?" Connor asked.

The Smith reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden rose bud.

"It is beyond compare," he said, gently placing the flawless work of art into Connor's hand.

Connor examined the piece and smiled. It was far more than he had expected. It was exquisitely crafted. It looked like an actual rosebud, cast in gold and frozen in time.

With great care, he twisted the rose bud pommel onto the base of the tang until it was secured against the handle. Everything was in order, and even better than he had requested.

The Smith motioned to his apprentice, and the boy disappeared into the back. He quickly came back carrying a large scale with its weighing pans noisily clanged back and forth on either side of the tall stem.

The Smith stepped forward and quieted the delicate device. When all was calm, he motioned to Connor, who quickly disassembled the sword.

The Smith held one pan as low as it would go, and Connor set the golden handle and pommel onto it.

"Now for your part," the Smith said, through thin, dry lips.

Connor removed a leather pouch from his satchel and set it on the opposite pan. The golden basket and pommel offered no resistance, and the Smith reached out, steadying the swinging scale.

"Are we done here?" Connor asked indifferently.

"We are, my lord," the Smith replied, licking his bottom lip.

Connor gently removed the pommel and basket, wrapping them in cloth from his bag. While he put the wrapped pieces in his satchel, he complimented the Smith on the quality and speed of his work.

Gathering up the old handle and pommel from the broken sword, he also placed them gently in his bag. He thanked the Smith one last time and left as quickly as he had arrived.

He walked Shaker's horse down the row until he was standing in front of the Hot Shop. He started getting nervous when he noticed there was no fire lit, and Farmer was nowhere to be seen.

Connor stepped into the shadows of the Hot Shop and was about to call out when he noticed a note on the table in the center of the room. The note read, "Connor, ring the bell, LOUDLY!"

Next to the note was a small metal bell with a wooden handle. He picked it up and shook it as hard as he could for five seconds, then he pulled back a chair and waited.

A few minutes went by and just as he reached for the bell, a door opened in the back of the shop.

"Don't ring it again," Farmer said, from behind the door. His voice was gravelly and tired. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

Connor watched Farmer slowly meander from the back of the shop to the table. With great effort, he pulled back a chair and collapsed on it with a giant sigh.

Connor's stomach twisted, and his palms started to sweat. "Is everything all right?"

"I have not slept in three days," Farmer said, resting his head on the wooden table. "I did not know the difficulty of your request."

"Is it done?" Connor asked desperately.

"It is the hardest thing I have ever done."

"Where are they? I must see them!"

Farmer wearily pointed to a long, narrow wooden box against the wall.

Connor knocked his chair over in his rush to retrieve it.

With his face against the table, Farmer whispered, "If you break either one of them, I will kill you."

Connor lifted the box with great care and carried it to the table.

Holding his breath, he gently removed the top and there, nestled within a bed of very fine pine shavings was the work of a master craftsman.

"Gently," Farmer whispered.

Connor dug his fingers into the tiny curls of wood until they were just below the glass. With the greatest care possible, he removed the three-foot long, pale blue blade.

"It's flawless," Farmer mumbled.

Connor carried it into the light and held it up. The perfectly straight, translucent blade tapered into a deadly point, and there was not a single bubble trapped within it.

"It's incredible! Farmer, you are truly a master at your craft."

He lifted his head off the table, looked at Connor with bloodshot eyes, and said, "Its twin is deeper in the shavings. There are three tiny bubbles toward the tip. If you must break one, make it that one."

Connor gently set the blade back into the pine shavings and sat down. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the golden handle with its intricately crafted basket. He unwrapped it and set it on the table in front of Farmer.

The tired eyes of the Smith opened with excitement, and he sat up in his chair. His fingers delicately caressed the soft loops and curls of gold, and he unconsciously let out a small soft whistle.

"It's solid gold," he said, lifting it into his hands. "How did you ever...?"

"The Goldsmith is an expert at the art of Lost Wax, and I had a little extra gold lying around."

Farmer stood up, took the blade from the box and married it to the handle. Connor reached back into his bag and handed him the rose bud pommel.

"The old man has truly outdone himself," Farmer said, admiring the rose. With careful precision, he screwed the pommel onto the tang until it was snug.

For the longest time, neither of them said a word. They just stared at the unbelievably beautiful work of art.

"It's the finest thing I have ever held," Farmer said, sounding both proud and sad at the same time. "You wanted a sword fit for a king," he said, looking Connor in the eyes and handing him the sword, "and now you have it."

Connor took the sword, saying, "Thank you, Farmer. Thank you for all your effort. Thank you for your unbelievable skill and thank you for being brave enough to accept my challenge."

Farmer nodded in appreciation, then they disassembled the sword and packed its parts away.

"Will I see you there tomorrow?" Connor asked.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Farmer said, collapsing into his chair. "But right now, I must sleep."

Connor placed three gold pieces on the table.

"But you haven't won yet," Farmer said, pushing the gold back.

"It doesn't matter Farmer. Win or lose, you've earned this. I'll see you in the morning."

Connor didn't sleep much that night. All he could think about was the presentation. By the time the sun was up, he had already washed, dressed, and eaten his fill.

Having returned Shaker's horse the prior day, all that was left to do was set out for the castle and hope everything went according to plan.

With the leather satchel draped across his chest and the wooden box under his arm, he headed out.

"With any luck," he thought, turning to lock the door, "by tonight, I'll be somebody who matters."

When he came over the dirt hill, he was surprised to see a mass of people, horses, wagons and pack animals, moving away from the city.

The people smiled at him and invited him on their journey to the City of Light; where, according to them, he could expect all manner of ridiculous things to happen. At first, he politely refused, but with each passing smile and each hopeful invitation, he found himself growing angrier.

By the time he reached the back gate he felt like a fish swimming up steam, and he had grown so disgusted by their naiveté, he was yelling to the people, "There's nothing there but broken dreams and disappointment!!"

When he saw the guard through the throngs of people, he made his way over to the man and asked about Shaker and Johnny.

"Theys been called up ta the castle on account a the ceremony. Like most everybody else," the thin man said, in an official sounding tone. "Theys won't be back 'til tomorrow."

"Why aren't you doing something?!" Connor demanded.

Without making eye contact, the guard shouted over the sound of the passing wagons, "I only guards against what's comin' in, not what's goin' out!"

"Well, you better open your eyes!" Connor shouted insultingly. "The King won't be happy about this!"

The guard didn't acknowledge the comment and Connor moved on.

The road narrowed as he entered the city, and he had to step aside several times to protect his fragile package.

He wasn't too surprised to hear about Shaker and Johnny being called to the castle, only that they hadn't mentioned it. He also wasn't surprised to see every coward in the city had carefully timed their exit to coincide with the event at the castle. They all knew the regular guards would be pulled away from their posts, and only the poorest excuses would be manning the gates.

Inside the city, the push and pull to escape felt like it was everywhere. Only when he left the stench of the poorest quarters did the commotion die down.

"What fools," he scoffed. "Wait until they get shot back to the beginning of their journey. Then they'll understand rejection. Then they'll know there's no place better than where they left."

Walking directly toward the castle on official business, he kept his shoulders back, his chest out and tried to look like anything other than what he was.

Eventually, beautiful carriages and well-dressed men on horseback began passing him on their way to the castle.

"They don't even recognize me," he thought. "Not yet anyway, but they will. Soon enough, they all will."

By the time he set foot on the drawbridge, Connor was completely enthralled with the spectacular and powerful world around him. From the gravity-defying spires to the fortified and deadly parapets. He knew he was at the heart of the Empire. This was where decisions were made, this was the seat of power, this was where men were made and broken.

Just inside the portcullis, a smartly dressed gentleman approached Connor and asked his name, his trade, and his business.

"Connor Duncan, Blacksmith, I have come to offer a sword for his majesty's consideration."

The man nodded, and said, "You are to proceed through the gates ahead, into the inner courtyard." He handed Connor a piece of parchment with a number on it. "You are at table number seventeen, it's at the very end to the right. You must have your sword ready for display by ten bells. You have little time, I suggest you hurry."

"Thank you," Connor replied, looking ahead. Nearly a hundred yards across the killing field, a large iron gate stood open, and Connor quickened his pace.

Entering the inner courtyard, he paused to stare. Before him was a vast semicircle of short wooden tables. Behind each table, with their back to him, stood a craftsman. In front of the tables, a crowd of lavishly dressed guests sauntered about, scrutinizing the swords on display.

"Showtime!" he said to himself, casually walking behind the tables.

When he was behind Jeb, he stopped and gazed upon the masterpiece of flawlessly polished steel and meticulously inlaid gold. The spectacular handle was inset with precious gems, and the pommel accentuated a ruby the size of a walnut! Creating the sword had taken all his skill and a great deal of his wealth.

With his impeccable offering and all his blustering, Jeb was easily garnering the most attention.

As one of the admirers held the magnificent creation, Connor called out from over Jeb's shoulder, "I'm sure your steel is as brittle as a dried up chicken bone!" The crowd at Jeb's table quieted right on cue, and he added, "Just like the one I bought from your Smithy the other day. It's a shame too, I paid good money for that worthless blade."

Leaving his scandalous insults to corrupt Jeb's mind, Connor casually resumed his stride.

"Outrageous!" declared one of the gentlemen, creating a murmur of indignation throughout Jeb's admirers.

When Connor reached his table, he took out the red velvet tablecloth Shaker had suggested he bring. With a dramatic flair, he popped it out into the air and laid it on the table. He set his box on the table and removed one of his pre-assembled swords.

Playing to the crowd, he held the blade straight up in the air. The long rays of early morning sunlight played within its prism-like structure, scattering brilliant shafts of blue-white light across the courtyard. It's beautifully inlaid, silver handle and matching pommel had been salvaged from the broken blade.

When he slowly rotated the sword, heads turned, and a crowd of admirers immediately flocked to his table.

He gently set the sword onto the velvet and placed the wooden box under his table. By the time he stood up, he was already warning the courtiers not to touch his one of a kind creation.

The public humiliation outraged Jeb, and watching his admirers flock to Connor's table was more than he could take.

If he hadn't been absolutely furious, Jeb would have looked comical waddling toward Connor with his clenched fists and his arms locked against his overly round sides. His face was purple, and he had twisted his eyebrows and forehead into something so wrinkled, he almost looked like a different man.

"Too brittle is it?!" he muttered and grumbled under his breath. "I'll show you, you insolent little pup!"

Jeb was just a few tables away and closing fast when the trumpets sounded, announcing the arrival of the King.

Protocol demanded that everyone kneel when the King entered, and that's what everyone did; everyone except Jeb. There was also a reverent pause to every conversation while the King majestically strolled in with his guards.

On bent knee, Connor watched the King ascending the small, raised platform in silence.

Oblivious to the honorary moment of repose, Jeb shoved Connor to the ground, yelling, "I'll show you what a brittle blade looks like! You insolent little pup! I've made a sword for a King, not a princess!!"

Everyone, including the King, turned and looked at table seventeen. Stepping past Connor, Jeb put his hand at the base of the glass sword, right where the hilt met the blade.

"Noooo!!" Connor yelled, but Jeb had already transferred his weight to the blade.

The snap resonated throughout the assembled masses, jolting Jeb back to reality.

Looking up from table seventeen, he seemed quite surprised to have everyone's complete attention. His legs visibly trembled as he stepped back from the table, and his hands shook like leaves in the wind until he clenched them back into fists.

"I didn't mean to do that," he mumbled to himself. Pointing his trembling finger toward Connor, he announced with a trembling voice, "But he drove me to it. He had it coming!"

Jeb looked at the broken sword, then back at Connor, and growled, "This is your fault. You started this, and I finished it!"

Jeb stepped back a few more paces and walked back to his table. The entire time, no one said a word, and everyone remained on bent knee, in honor of their King.

As the bell tower sounded its first of ten chimes, the King motioned for everyone to rise and held his hands up, commanding silence. He turned, motioning for his guards to accompany him as he stepped down from the raised platform.

With the bell tolling in the distance, the King slowly walked over to Jeb's table. As he approached, Jeb wisely decided to kneel.

It was uncomfortable to watch, but no one moved and not a mumble or whisper came from the crowd. Connor silently congratulated himself a hundred times over and had to touch his face to make sure he wasn't smiling.

With the King on one side of the table and Jeb kneeling behind it, the King began his inquisition.

"How is it, Master Blacksmith," he asked, without urgency or anger, "you failed to notice my entry?"

"I am sorry your majesty. I was upset. It won't happen again."

"Did my trumpeters not blow loudly enough?"

"They played beautifully, your majesty. It was not their fault but mine."

"You heard them?"

"Yes, majesty."

"Then you chose to ignore them and hence to ignore me."

Jeb started to speak, but he was sharply corrected.

"I have asked you nothing, and you will not speak out of turn!"

Jeb bowed his head lower.

"Stand Blacksmith," the King ordered.

Jeb did as he was told.

Turning his back on Jeb, the King walked over to Connor's table as the crowd of courtiers parted before him.

"May I have the honor of your name sir?" the King asked Connor.

"Your majesty," Connor said, presenting the King with a deep bow. "I am Connor Duncan, born of your kingdom and only recently come home."

"Excellent Mr. Duncan," there was genuine kindness in his voice. "And what of your trade?"

"A Blacksmith and Cooper by training your highness. I also dabble in other crafts," he said, looking down at his broken sword.

The King picked up the broken blade and examined it.

"Remarkable," he said, watching the light bounce back in brilliantly faceted shapes.

"It reminds me of a dream I've had," he said, looking past Connor and sounding far away. "The hilt is all wrong," he said, without paying it any attention, "and there are flaws in the glass near the tip, but your attempt is well made Mr. Duncan."

"Thank you, your majesty. It breaks my heart you could not at least swish it in the air for good measure."

With a piercing stare and a tone that required a single truthful answer, he asked, "Why did Jeb break it?"

"He was angry about something he badly misconstrued, your majesty. I have slighted him in no way, told no untruths about the man nor his work, and I have not taken any unfair advantage. At least none that I see. In short your majesty, Jeb is an angry, vindictive man with great skill. But the latter does not make up for the former."

The King nodded, but Connor had no idea what the action implied.

"What debt is owed you for his action?" the King probed.

"Your majesty, that is beyond my wisdom."

Again, the King nodded. He looked to be deep in thought, then said rather playfully, "Don't go anywhere."

"Yes, your majesty."

With the translucent blue blade in his gloved hand, the King, and his guards walked back to Jeb's table.

Jeb did not meet the King's eyes when he returned.

"Are you a constable, Master Blacksmith?"

"No, your majesty."

"Under whose authority do you pass judgment on those within my kingdom?"

Jeb couldn't find the words to save himself, and he only shook his head.

The King raised the glass blade and slammed in onto the edge of the table, shattering it into a million pieces.

"UNDER WHOSE AUTHORITY DO YOU JUDGE MY PEOPLE?!" he demanded.

A tiny shard of glass had found its way into the Kings' cheek, and as Jeb looked up, he saw the small trickle of blood begin to flow.

Jeb's lip trembled along with his entire body. He clasped his hands in front of his face, fell to his knees and threw himself on the mercy of the King.

"If he moves from his current position," he instructed one of his guards, "kill him.

Did you hear that Jeb? Were you paying attention?"

"Yes, your majesty," Jeb whimpered.

"Good," the King said threateningly as he picked up Jeb's sword and walked away.

Once he was back on his platform, his cheek was quickly attended to, and he formally welcomed everyone to the event. He thanked the participants for their brilliant work, their dedication to their trades and for their loyalty to the crown. Almost immediately, the mood changed back to what it had been before Jeb's breach of etiquette.

The King gave a speech eulogizing the type of man his father was and his incredible accomplishments. Many of his words spoke to the sword that would most honor his father.

When the time for speeches and flowery words had ended, the King made one final announcement.

"After I inspect your sword, you will retire to the north end of the lawn where there are food and drink. Please help yourselves until I have completed my review. When I am done, you will be called back to hear the results."

The King summoned his scribe to accompany him and asked his guards to stay behind.

All of the finely dressed courtiers pulled away from the tables, giving the King a wide berth.

The King was very gracious to each of the craftsmen. He asked why they had designed their sword the way they did and how they felt it represented his father, the late King.

He would hone in on one or two design details and ask about the artist's technique. This allowed each man to express himself and to know his efforts were thoroughly and fairly reviewed. Then he would ask if the man had anything else he would like considered as his offering was judged.

After the review was completed, the King warmly and sincerely thanked the man for his efforts and dismissed him to the north end of the lawn. Then he would turn to his scribe, who had already written down the Smith's name and a brief description of the sword, and the King rated the sword on a scale of one to ten, ten being the best.

By the time he arrived at Jeb's table, Jeb was calm and somewhat relaxed.

"Jeb, you may now stand and face your King."

Jeb stood and reluctantly met the Kings' eyes.

"Jeb?" the King asked.

"Yes, your majesty."

He took Jeb's sword from under his arm, where he had kept it the entire time and set it on the table in front of him.

"What would you request if you won?"

"Forgiveness," was all Jeb said before dropping his gaze.

"Your reputation proceeds you in all you do. Your skill is beyond that of any here today and yet," the King paused, "it is not your skill that bolsters your reputation. Look at me Jeb."

Jeb raised his eyes, but not his head.

"The sword you made today is no longer your own. It now belongs to Mr. Duncan. I am exchanging it for what you did. I will not judge this sword today. Instead, I will judge the man who created it.

You are a bully. You fear anyone who threatens your skills, and you prey on anyone smaller or weaker or less able than you. You treat your apprentices badly and teach them little. In short, you do not have the skills of a Master Blacksmith.

Your talents are without value unless you use them to teach and mentor. From this day forth you are no longer a Master Blacksmith."

Jeb began to weep, and the tears rolled down his large face.

"I am replacing your title with that of Professor, a title given to a learned and educated man. With this new title comes a new role, and new expectations."

Jeb nodded.

"My scribe will write up a contract for us based on what I am about to say. I suggest you pay very close attention."

Jeb wiped away his tears and looked the King in the eyes.

"Your Smithy is now a school, and you are its teacher. Your students will call you Professor. Not Professor Jeb, not Professor Blacksmith, just Professor.

You will no longer create anything with your own two hands, should you do anything other than teaching with them, I will have them removed. Is that clear?"

Jeb nodded, and the tears kept rolling.

"You will not drink alcohol again, ever. Should you choose to do so, a single pint will cost you a month in my dungeon. Am I clear Professor?"

Jeb nodded again, and his body shook as the sobs silently came forth.

"You will be assigned no less than five apprentices and five younger assistants who may or may not become apprentices. Your little Blacksmith school will train and graduate each apprentice within three years. And, in order to graduate they must be able to replicate the sword in front of you, minus the precious gems and perhaps with a little less gold, but it had better be damn close!"

Jeb's mouth was open, but he did not speak.

"You will be the Professor until I see fit to remove you, or until you die," he added the last part with emphasis.

"Lastly, and this is crucial Professor. If you yell, hit, bully, intimidate, or treat a single student with any less respect than you would a member of the royal family I will send my man to your Smithy, and he will remove a finger.

Your other choice, should you be unwilling to become the Professor, is my dungeon, my rack and finally, your head on a pike.

Do we have an accord?"

The life had drained from Jeb's face. He was not the same man who had arrived earlier. After weighing his options, he finally said, "Yes, your majesty, we have an accord."

"Excellent, Professor," the King said, sounding refreshed. "I'll have my scribes draw up a contract."

The King removed Jeb's sword from the table and turned to finish his inspections when he stopped. Without looking at Jeb, he said, "Professor?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"You will return to me in five days. You will bring a list of potential apprentices, and we will execute your contract.

I do not wish to see you or hear from you until your return. You are dismissed from my castle.

And one more thing. If you ever fail to kneel in my presence again, it will be the last mistake you make."

Jeb bowed deeply, said nothing and quickly left the castle as if he had a tail between his legs.

Connor marveled at the King's solution, his mannerisms, and his calmness.

It was astounding to watch the King transition to the next table and engage the next artist. It was as though Jeb had never existed, as though the only thing that mattered was the magnificent sword on the table in front of him and the craftsman who made it.

After sixteen tables, the King finally arrived.

"You haven't much to display, have you?" he asked Connor.

"It depends on what you found at the other tables, your majesty."

"I suppose it does. Well first things first," he said, taking Jeb's sword out from under his arm.

"This is yours," he said, handing the hilt to Connor. "It was made by the man who broke yours, and I hope you can consider his debt repaid."

Taking the sword, Connor inspected it, marveling at the gold inlay work and the quantity of precious stones incorporated in its hilt.

"Thank you, your majesty," Connor said, with a bow.

"Jeb's actions were unfortunate, and I am confident they will not be repeated."

"May I speak freely, your majesty?"

The King raised an eyebrow, and said, "What you ask is privileged to only my closest advisors. I trust you will conduct yourself appropriately?"

"You have my word."

"Very well, what's on your mind, Mr. Duncan?"

"This sword is far too much for a man of my means. I would like to use its value to improve things. There is an orphanage within your realm."

"Am I correct that you are not refusing the sword, you are just trying to find a better use for it?"

"Yes, your highness. That is my request."

"A very noble action Mr. Duncan. I accept your offer. We can see to the particulars of your request when time allows.

Make a note of this and set a time for us to meet," the King told his scribe.

Is there anything else?" the King asked.

"Yes your majesty, there is one last thing."

"Very well, you may proceed."

"When you held the glass blade, you spoke of a dream."

"I did," the King replied. "What you created reminded me of a dream I've had for years. My father had the same dream, and together, he and I sought the object from our dream, but I fear the sword is lost forever."

"The sword of power?" Connor asked.

"It goes by many names," he said rather breathlessly, "but its ability to unite men and conquer foes is beyond legendary. How is it you know of the sword?"

"I too dream, my lord."

"I'm afraid that's all they are Mr. Duncan, dreams. What we seek is not to be found."

"Perhaps not, but in another life, I know I have held it."

"Are we done here?" the King asked.

"My father taught me something a long time ago your majesty."

"And what is that Mr. Duncan?"

"He taught me to never put my best merchandise in front of my customer until I have his full attention."

"What is it you wish to show me?"

"You've seen sixteen exquisite swords made by the finest Smiths in your realm, and I would like to show you one last sword. Perhaps one you've seen before, once upon a dream."

The King placed his hands on the top of the velvet covered table as Connor bent down and grabbed the box from under it. He set the box down with the lid on it, and said, "The item in this box is for your father. I hope it embodies everything he worked for and everything he was. It is without comparison. It is flawless, and unless you have the power to make dreams come true, I doubt you'll ever see the like of it again."

Connor stepped back from the table, inviting the King to open the box.

The King lifted the lid and gently set it on the table. Tiny curls of pine filled the box, obscuring its contents and heightening the suspense.

The King brushed the shaving aside until he saw loops of gold. With great care, he grabbed the loops and slowly pulled the sword from the box.

The King gasped ever so slightly as he turned the work of art in his hands.

"Is it real?"

"Does it matter?" Connor answered.

"It's the sword from my dream," he said in awe, examining the rose bud pommel all the way up to the razor sharp tip of the blade.

He grabbed it by the handle and swished it in the air like a child fending off imaginary foes.

"It's the sword from my dreams too," Connor said. "But it's not the sword you seek, only a replica."

"I swore I would never see the like of it and yet here it is!"

"It was nearly impossible to craft, but knowing who it was for and why it had been requested, I could not help but try."

"Genius," the King proclaimed. "A sword fit for my father, a sword fit for a king!"

Connor set the box back on the ground and invited the King to place the sword on the table.

"Rapier, of course," Connor said, running his finger down the blade. "Flawless blue crystal that took more effort to craft than I have words to describe. The hilt," he said, running his fingers along the softly interwoven loops and curls, "is pure gold. Eight pounds of it, woven as if a pixie had done it herself under the light of a full moon. And the pommel," he said, delicately tracing the contour of the petals, "A rosebud, almost ready to pop, signifying rebirth and life to come."

"Never did I expect this."

"Be warned, she is fragile. But as beautiful as a dream."

The King held out his hand to Connor, and he took it. With a good grip and a smile, the King said, "Congratulations, Mr. Duncan. You have won the contest."

"Thank you, your majesty," Connor said, returning the handshake. "I think your father would have loved it, and I hope you are as proud as I am knowing it will rest with him eternally."

"Please put your new sword in the box you came with, we need not share our conversation with the others, but should you have a need to explain how it came to you, speak only the truth."

"Yes your majesty," Connor said, quickly burying Jeb's sword in the pine shavings and snapping the lid onto the box.

"I will take your sword with me, and we will continue our conversation in private. Follow my guard, he will escort you to my personal chamber. Wait for me there and touch nothing. I will arrive shortly."

The King motioned for a guard, gave him his orders and Connor was quickly and quietly escorted away.

The King slid the red velvet off the table, wrapped the sword within it and walked onto the platform. He spoke in private with the sergeant-at-arms and disappeared into the castle.

# Chapter 16

### Any Single Request

The private halls leading deep into the fortress were empty and five minutes after Connor arrived, the King appeared. He walked the guard out into the long, stone corridor, pointed to his station on the ground and told him he was not to yield ground to a single living thing.

The King went back down the hall about thirty feet and turned into his private study. He shut the heavy oak door and set a bar across it from the inside.

With the same level of casual authority, he'd demonstrated all day, the King turned and got right to the point.

"Connor, sit in any chair you choose, but please sit."

The overstuffed high back next to the fireplace was nice looking, so he took it.

The King grabbed Connor's chair by the arms and spun it until he was looking out into the room. Then he took a smaller chair from the table and sat across from him.

"For any of this to work," he said, "I must know your request."

"What?"

"Your request Connor. You've won the prize, "Any Single Request" and now, in this very private room, I need to know your request. We must talk about it, work together and see just how much is possible."

"I don't understand your majesty. You want me to tell you what I was going to request, here? Now?"

"Don't play the fool with me. I'm in the middle of a very real, very dangerous and incredibly compelling game. And I am looking for allies."

Connor took out his fishing pole, and asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"We must reach an agreement, right here, right now. But we cannot do this until you tell me your request. Speak it, and I will do all I can to help you understand the impact of your words."

Connor baited his hook, and said, "Your highness, I cannot tell you my request until I know I'm not your pawn."

"You are the key to our continued success Connor Duncan. Together, we can do great things, but we must work together. I have far more to lose than you by revealing secrets. To win you over and demonstrate my commitment, I will tell you my secret first. Then you must tell me your request.

If that's not fair enough, I'll have you killed after I tell you my secret and before you ever leave this room."

The tug on Connor's line almost pulled him into the water, and he said, "I will speak first your highness. Your willingness to see us as allies is clearly of greater advantage than taking separate paths."

Connor closed his eyes, and said, "My single request is to be officially appointed to the station of Blacksmith Guild Master."

The King smiled immediately, stuck out his hand, and said, "Welcome to the trade business, my boy. You're going to love it!"

"So we have a deal?" Connor asked, in total disbelief.

"We do, Guild Master Duncan. I'm sure your grandfather will be proud. Imagine, you in charge of the land and he's got the sea."

Connor remained astute and shrewd enough to ask, "So what's the real plan?"

"We've got about ten minutes until we'll be missed. When we leave, you'll go with my guard. Are you ready for the plan?" the King asked.

"I'm all ears."

"The sword in my hand," he said, taking off the velvet cover, "is real."

"No, it's not. It's just a replica made of glass and gold."

"Let me say it again. This is the important part. The Crystal Sword in my hand is real. It offers the powers to destroy at will, unify a city and kill virtually any attacker. In short, I now hold ultimate power."

Connor shot off a salvo of questions:

"What if it breaks?"

"Who's going to believe you?"

"What if you have to use it?"

The King smiled, and said, "You're going to make many more swords, just in case this one breaks. No one will ever notice or even care because people are stupid.

Second, everyone already believes it's the real thing and with your side of the story, it will stick forever."

"What's my side of the story?"

"You went to the Kingdom, just before the waves of Light came and before the Light in the sky could be seen. It was your last trip with your father. While you were there, you found the sword."

"I know just the place," Connor added.

"How did I get back here with it?"

"After your dear old father died in the foothills, you walked back. He is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Good, then just like everyone else, you used your backup stash from the desert and just barely made it back alive.

That's your story. Can you work with it and make it convincing?"

"I'm your man," Connor said, shaking the King's hand and sealing the bond.

"There are currently only two Blacksmith Guild Masters. One for my navy and one for the land. Your grandfather has my navy. Virgo, my Guild Master of the land, will become responsible for the weapons foundry. It needs full-time attention if we're going to win this war.

You," he said, pointing at Connor, "will become responsible for everything but the foundry. You cannot fail. This is your "Any Single Request". I hope you really meant it, and you better be up to the challenge, because if you fail, I fail and as allies if I fail, you fail. Are we aligned?" the King asked, standing up.

"We are your majesty, but we have a minor complication. The Glass Smith, Farmer and the Goldsmith, the old man along with his apprentice helped craft the sword. We will need them to manufacture our replacements."

"Are they in the courtyard today?"

"They are, sire. You'll find them hiding above us with your archers. They're listening and watching, but it's all a harmless secret."

"I will have them picked up before you and I give our performance. Later, when we're all together, we can decide as a group how to keep secrets."

"Your majesty," Connor asked, as they moved toward the door. "What about my third question?"

"On that matter, you must trust me. My plans will create the greatest Empire the world has ever seen and you my new friend, your wildest dream just came true."

Connor was smiling and didn't even realize it.

"In just a few minutes I will present you publicly, and you must be as far from scrutiny as possible. My guard will take you to the same section of the wall your friends are hiding on. They will be detained, you will feign ignorance because the guard who escorts you is only doing his job."

Connor nodded.

"I am your King. You speak when spoken to, you kneel along with everyone else when I enter a room. You are no different today on the outside then you have ever been before. It will be rare if we ever talk in public. You will learn more about your new responsibilities in the days and weeks to come. As a Guild Master, we will see each other weekly and occasionally, privately. Even during our private discussions, you must play your part, forever. And for god's sake, do it well or we're all dead. Have a little fun with it and really throw yourself into the work. Win the hearts and minds of the Blacksmiths. Be the man you've always wanted to be!

Remember, above all, the sword is real. You found it, brought it back, found out about the contest and here we all are today. The first version, the fake; that was a clever bit of sales, from a smart man."

The King went out of the room and told the guard where to station Connor on the wall. He also told him about the two uninvited guests he would find when he was up there.

"These guests should be blindfolded and taken to the dungeon," the King instructed. "The command to the jailor is solitary confinement, regular diet, regular water, and wine privileges."

Placing a hand on the guard's shoulder, the King said, "None of this ever happened. You are sworn to me."

The man looked him in the eye, and said, "I am sworn to you, my lord." Then he went back for Connor and the two left in a hurry.

"Guild Master," was his only thought as he blindly followed the guard through the maze of narrow, torch-lit hallways.

With the footfalls of Connor and the guard fading away, Pridarius schemed. For generations, the loyal subjects of his forefathers had participated in the relentless consumption of every natural resource within their reach. With each passing year, there had been less and less.

For the past three years, even his father's fleet of fishing vessels returned with empty nets and disappointment. A smothering heat blanketed the land. The once plentiful flocks of livestock failed to thrive and each season the crops had withered in the relentless sun.

The once bountiful royal treasury now held barely enough gold to pay his army, his staff, and his expenses through the months ahead. Every available resource had been used to build his fleet of warships and equip his meager army of five thousand men.

But defeating the fortress city of Colesco would take more than brute force. It would take more than treachery, intimidation, brutality and murder. In order to penetrate the walls of their citadel, it was going to take a miracle.

Picking up the Crystal Sword, Pridarius covered it with the red velvet drape and laughed, filling his chest with pride and his heart with malice.

Just before noon, Connor was escorted onto the upper defensive wall surrounding the inner courtyard. The Goldsmith and Farmer went without resistance, and no one below took any notice.

When the bell tolled twelve, the tradesmen were summoned back to their tables. With everyone back in position, the trumpeters announced the arrival of the King and everyone respectfully took a knee.

When the King had taken his place, he asked everyone to rise. The gaggle of fancy courtiers was now off to one side of the courtyard, and the only thing between the King and the tradesmen was the tables they stood behind.

"We have a winner!" the King announced with great exuberance from atop his stage.

Everyone applauded with excitement and looked around to see if they could identify the winner, but nobody was claiming the prize.

"Here today, we have Smiths with fantastic mastery of their craft," he swept his arms wide, "but this contest was more than a challenge of skill. It was a challenge to imagine a sword befitting my father and his legacy."

There was a spontaneous cheer in the courtyard, "The King, the King, long live the King."

"Only one of you thought about what this blade would need to look like if it would be held forever, in my father's hand. If it was to serve as a symbol of his strength, his cunning, and his wisdom."

The King paused and motioned to have something brought forward.

"There is a lost sword of legends called the Crystal Sword," he announced, pausing for effect. "The legends tell us the sword was created within the City of Light, and it possesses incredible magical powers.

Such a sword has always lived in the dreams of men and kings," he said, in perfect oration. Then he spoke as he had done earlier with Connor, looking into the distance and speaking to no one, "The legend says, you will know the sword of kings by its flawless crystal blade of blue, its woven basket of pure gold and the bud of a rose for a pommel."

Silence and the wind of an early fall day filled the inner courtyard.

Heads turned back and forth scrutinizing the swords on the tables, but nothing fit the King's description.

The King took a wrapped object from one of his guards, left his station on the stage and walked across the lawn until he was directly in front of the tables. He held the object out and slowly removed the red velvet cover, revealing the Crystal Sword.

Lifting it over his head, the rays of sunlight turned the polished gold and flawless blade into a reflective beacon of unimaginable beauty.

The crowd gasped.

The King sauntered elegantly across the lawn until he stood before table number one. The silversmith behind the table looked on in fascination, and the courtiers gazed upon the magical sword from their lavish sitting area.

"The sword is flawless in every way," the King announced.

Right on cue, the courtiers declared, "Perfection," and, "It's the real Crystal Sword," and, "That's the one from my dreams."

"This sword," he announced, walking down the row of display tables, "possesses the ability to utterly annihilate an enemy. Anyone challenging this sword or its owner will pay with their lives! It will unite us in cause and purpose. With this sword, we will expand our borders, replenish our dwindling resources and conquer all who oppose us!"

With his miracle held high above his head, the courtyard exploded with celebration.

Before anyone had time to settle down, the King held up his hand, requesting silence. When the only sound was the wind-ruffled banners, he pointed the sword at the top of the wall, high above the tables.

"This is Connor Duncan, the man who found the Crystal Sword."

The guests below as well as the soldiers around him delivered a thunderous applause.

"With this gift," the King shouted with great enthusiasm, "he is also the winner of our contest."

Only with the King's gentle coaxing did the cheering and applause finally settle down.

"We have one last matter to resolve with Mr. Duncan, isn't that right?" he asked, playing to the overly excited crowd.

"Mr. Duncan," the King called up. "I will hear your request now if you please."

"Thank you, your majesty, and thank you, everyone. This is the greatest day of my life."

"Your request, Mr. Duncan, if you please."

"I have the skills of a Master Blacksmith and a Master Cooper," he said to the crowd below, "and I have always dreamed of being something more.

Your highness, my one single request is to be officially and permanently appointed to the position of Blacksmith Guild Master."

"The Crystal Sword!" the King yelled, holding it up in celebration and whipping the crowd into another frenzy.

The noise, but not the enthusiasm was quieted just long enough for him to say, "Your request is granted, Guild Master Duncan. I will meet with you and your fellow Guild Masters at my table for our evening meal. Together, we will work out the details.

Until further notice Master Duncan, you are my honored guest.

Thank you all for participating," he said to the tradesmen at their tables. Turning to the courtiers, he thanked them and returned to his platform. The sword was recovered in velvet, the King briefly spoke with his event coordinator and his Sergeant-at-Arms, then excused himself along with half a dozen armed guards.

Two days later, just as his spies had confirmed, an impressively large ocean-going ship from Colesco arrived in the King's harbor. She was tied-in on the northernmost slip, but only after half a dozen warships had been relocated. Her large, white flag fluttered and snapped atop the center of three masts, displaying her golden symbols of peace and prosperity.

The sergeant-at-arms greeted the three "peace delegates" at the bottom of their gangplank and brusquely instructed them to take a mount. Each of the delegates was offered a sway-backed pasture horse with a worn out saddle and only one stirrup.

With a quick signal of his hand, the sergeant, and his mounted soldiers surrounded the delegates. With uncooperative horses, the delegates were unceremoniously escorted up a winding switchback road, while balancing on the single stirrup.

Struggling to maintain their poise, the delegates voiced concerns over their mistreatment, but silence was the order, and their complaints fell to the wind.

When they arrived at the castle, there was no formal greeting. There was no announcement of visitors; there was nothing beyond a cold fall breeze warning of an early winter.

"The King awaits," was the only statement issued by the sergeant as he led the three men from Colesco through a maze of hallways and stairs. With spear points leveled at their backs, the peace delegates reluctantly followed.

Outside the enormous ornate doors of the King's Throne room, the delegates were held under armed guard for no less than two hours. When the doors were finally opened, the King had just dismissed a serving girl and was dabbing at the corners of his mouth with an embroidered linen cloth. As the delegates were escorted in, the girl dutifully moved her golden serving cart behind an enormous tapestry and disappeared.

Next to the King, a simple wooden stand rose several feet off the floor. Atop the stand and available to him at his whim, rested the magnificently beautiful and mystically powerful Crystal Sword.

The guard stopped twenty feet from the dais and knelt to his King. When the delegates from Colesco remained standing, the soldiers behind them brought the length of their spears across the back of their knees. The King smiled maliciously as the delegates crumpled.

With a soldier's hand on either shoulder, the delegates were not permitted to stand until the King finally commanded them to rise.

"This is an outra..!" one of the delegates started yelling as he got to his feet, but he never finished his sentence because the soldier in front of him had turned around and punched the man right in his mouth.

"You will only speak when spoken to," the King offered casually as the man held his bleeding face.

"Whoever is in charge of your little delegation, step forward," the King ordered.

The red-faced, middle-aged man took three steps forward.

"What is your title?"

"I am the vice-chairman of the Colesco Senate."

"Have you come to surrender?"

"No, we have come to negotiate peace."

The King laughed malevolently while gently caressing the Crystal Sword.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, lifting the sword from its stand.

"It cannot be!?" the vice-chairman mumbled in horror as he retreated several steps.

"Oh, but it is!"

A mile away, atop a steep and winding road, Connor and Virgo struggled to roll a huge iron sphere into the base of a massive watchtower.

"What are these?" Connor asked his fellow Guild Master. "And why are we moving them into the watchtower?"

"Each sphere holds two hundred pounds of black powder," Virgo explained as they began rolling the second of three giant balls into the base of the five-story monolith. "A discovery of our King."

When the third sphere was in place, Virgo carefully unscrewed a small circular plate from each of them.

"I don't understand," Connor said.

Virgo pulled an intricately crafted device from his satchel and held the delicate mechanism in front of Connor. "In fifteen minutes," he said, "this will strike flint against steel." Then he carefully screwed the small mechanism into the iron ball where the circular plate had been. When all three mechanisms had been installed, Virgo and Connor raced to their mounts and fled from the watchtower as quickly as their horses would carry them.

With the Colesco delegates standing atop the King's citadel walls he reached into his pocket and felt the small timer ticking down.

"The watchtower in the distance is as thick and as tall as the walls of your impenetrable city!" the King announced. "Watch!!" he screamed at them. "Watch and see what awaits your precious city! Feast your eyes upon the power I command!!"

He leveled the sword at the tower in the distance, and a fiery blast engulfed the entire structure. Huge pieces of stone went sailing through the air, and a black cloud of smoke rolled into the sky as they watched a distorted wave of air racing toward them. It pushed at everything in its path, and when it hit the delegates, they crumpled to the ground like rag dolls.

Every window in the castle shattered and pieces of the watchtower started raining down.

The King looked down at the delegates and pointed the sword at them. They turned white as snow and began shuffling across the top of the wall in a vain attempt to escape their fate.

The King reached inside his shirt and pulled out a roll of parchment just as five guards came running toward him.

"These!" the King yelled, shoving the parchment in the vice-chairman's chest. "These are my terms for your surrender!! When my army and my navy arrive at your gates, they had better be unlocked! If they are not, everyone in your city will die, and it will be on your head, not mine!!"

He turned to the guards, and commanded, "Take them back to their ship. Throw them on board and cut their lines. The delegates from Colesco are no longer welcome in my kingdom!"

# Chapter 17

### Invisible

Jacob patiently worked with each child, helping them tie their ribbon onto an ever growing chain of color. When they were all done, the banner stretched more than twenty feet.

"I'll tie it to the very top of the mast as soon as I get up there," he told his group of supporters.

"That way we'll always be able to tell them apart," said a little girl no older than four.

"That's how we'll do it," Jacob agreed, tousling her hair.

"Thank you, everyone," he said smiling. "I'll be able to talk with Kaya, and I'll keep you posted."

With a final farewell and one last wave, he crossed the gangplank and disappeared.

Everyone gasped. "Jacob!" they shouted, "Jacob!"

"What's wrong?" he asked from the deck of the ship.

"We can't see you anymore!" the children shouted.

"Wait until I cast off, then tell me if you can see me," he said.

In a few minutes, Jacob had cast off his lines and was moving away from the pier.

For the citizens on the dock, watching the separation of the Lady Marie pulled at their minds. Like an image in a broken mirror, she rippled as two things separated back into each other. Until Jacob had sailed outside of the original silhouette, the image was almost painful to watch.

From high above the deck, Jacob and the long ribbon of color waved at the dock.

"Can you hear me and see me?" he called back, headed out of port.

"There you are!!!" shouted every little voice, just like they had practiced.

"I see you too!" Jacob called back.

Sailing the amazingly golden, surprisingly sophisticated-looking ship from the crow's nest with only his mind, Jacob thought, "What a perfect way to sail."

He laughed and pointed to the banner of color flying from his Lady Marie. The children were right, it comforted the mind.

Kaya was already greeting a group of five at the east gate. The family had walked for the past two days, without rest, because they could see the City.

Andrew's group had already greeted them a mile out, and everyone's spirits were alive with the possibilities of what needed to be done.

Four days after Jacob's departure, Kaya waited at the south entrance. She had seen the three people on approach and waited patiently on the edge of the Fountain.

As they walked under the archway of the outer wall, Kaya jumped to her feet. She wanted to run out and greet them, but she couldn't leave the City.

When Ross saw her standing just inside the inner archway, he yelled to her and started to run.

Kaya danced in place with nervous excitement as he cleared the final twenty yards. Jumping the inner threshold, he leaped into her open arms.

Ross spun her around and around, shouting, "You did it! You really did it!"

Kaya cried with joy as she spun, and whispered, "Welcome home big brother, I've missed you more than you'll ever know."

Ravi and Tarquin were right behind him, and when Ross finally let go, Kaya hugged her friends and welcomed them all to the City of Light.

Later that evening, while having dinner at her parent's house, she turned to Ross, and asked, "What took you so long to get here?"

"That's right," Ross said. "I didn't tell you yet. We were at the Oasis, Ravi, Tarquin and I, and he showed up."

"Who showed up?" Ross' mother asked.

"The One!"

"The One?!" Kaya asked with trepidation.

"Yup. We got him at the Oasis. It was crazy, the whole thing flooded. We took him to the Empire. He should be fine."

"What was his name?" Kaya asked slowly, afraid of the answer she would hear.

"It was Duncan, Connor Duncan."

Kaya's fork fell out of her hand, pinged off her plate and hit the ground. She went to stand but stumbled getting out of her chair. She made a desperate grab for the back of Ross' chair and missed.

She couldn't get her feet to move, everything twisted, her eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor.

Kaya sat up with a jolt, making the damp cloth fall onto her face.

"Easy there," Ross said, taking the cloth. "You gave us quite a fright."

"I'm fine," she said, trying to sit up, but Ross had his hand on her shoulder.

"All right, all right," he said, "but take it slowly, would ya?"

"I fainted, didn't I?"

"You'll be all right, sweetheart," her mother said, offering Kaya a cup of water. "With everything going on, I don't know how you manage in the first place."

"Ross, why didn't you tell me when you got here?"

"You mean before I swung you around, or after I drank from the Fountain?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, taking the water from her mother. She drank it down and handed the cup back.

"Thank you," she said. "Maybe I'm just dehydrated."

"Nobody's at any of the entrances," one of her little brothers reported. He was sitting at the table with his eyes closed.

"That's a relief," Kaya said. She felt her head and took an assessment of herself. "I don't think I hurt anything. How long was I out?"

"Just long enough for us to move you off the floor and get that cloth on your head," Ross told her.

"I don't think I've fainted in all my lives," she said, looking at Ross.

"In all your lives?" Ross asked. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

Kaya smiled, and it spread to Ross, then to everyone in the room. Grandmother winked at him, and Ross said, "You're going to have to bring me up to speed, Sis."

"Let him lie down before you do it to him," Marco said, from the table. "I nearly fell over when you did it to me!"

"I said I was sorry."

"I know my sweet. I just like giving you are a hard time about it."

"Before you do what?" Ross asked.

"Do it to me at the same time," one of her little brothers yelled, running in and sitting next to Ross.

"No fair! It's my turn," yelled another little voice from the other room.

"This is for Ross only," Kaya told them all. "And I'm not the entertainment."

"Ross, lie down, and I'll show you something."

"That cannot be your introduction," her mother interjected, stepping next to both of them with her hands on her hips.

"It wasn't going to be," Kaya said, looking up with a smile. "I'm just getting warmed up."

"Good, because so far, nobody's been quite ready for your...for your...," Erynn touched her finger to her forehead, "your whatever you call that."

"I've got a better idea," she said to Ross. "Let's take a walk. I'll tell you a story, then I'll show it to you."

"I sure wish she'd done that for me," Marco said, winking at Ross.

"Come on," she said, pulling Ross to his feet. As they headed for the door, she thanked her mother and father for dinner, hugged her grandmother and told everyone they would be back later.

"Good luck Ross!" Marco called out, "You're gonna need it."

Long after the moon had set, Kaya and Ross sat on the edge of the Fountain. Ross was still struggling with all she had shared, but Kaya had moved on. She was focused on Connor.

"If you knew what could happen, why did you give him all the gold?"

"I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. And besides, I didn't want to carry it all the way back."

"I don't think this is going to end well. He's not the person you think he is."

"You know the story as well as anyone," Ross said. "He can go either way."

"Either way?!" Kaya snapped. "One way is horrible for everyone, and the other is only good for Connor."

"You can't just assume he's going to start killing people and spreading evil in his path. At least that's not the person I met. Besides, the legend of The One isn't very clear in the first place."

"I'm also not assuming he's going to choose a path that leads him back here. At least not without a little evidence," she insisted.

"He's the one who can make the choice," Ross pointed out. "If he has the resources to choose either path, what's the difference?"

"You know the difference."

He did, and it bothered him.

"When are you going to tell Jacob?"

"I don't know. I'm going to have to talk it over with Andrew first, but Jacob has to know before he gets there."

Jacob had sailed for the better part of two weeks before he began regularly encountering warships.

They sat low on the water. Mostly built for rowing and ramming and the closer he got to the Empire, the thicker they appeared.

Not a single ship he passed could see him. It was no use yelling to them either. These were hardened men who watched the ocean for a living, and not a single one of them ever saw or heard the Lady Marie.

It was twilight when he arrived in the King's harbor and even for a ship steered by thought, it was challenging to maneuver. Every mooring ball was thick with floating machines of war. Every slip and every dock ending was fully loaded.

There was at least one sentry on every deck, confirming the King and his Empire were going to war.

"I'm here," he thought to Kaya and Andrew, "and being invisible certainly has its advantages.

There isn't any room in this port to even drop anchor. The Empire is close to war," he thought to them, sailing out of port. He ran the Lady Marie aground a few hundred yards up the shore from the farthest ship.

"I'm going ashore."

"Wait," Kaya thought back, "there's something I need to tell you before you go."

"I'm hungry, tell me while I walk into port," he answered, disembarking the Lady Marie.

"It's about Connor."

Jacob stopped in mid-stride. "What about him?"

"He's there, he's in the Empire."

"He's here! Are you sure? How do you know?"

"My brother Ross helped him get there a couple of weeks ago. It's a long story; I wasn't sure how to tell you, and I can't put it off any longer."

Jacob wasn't sure how to react. He loved his son, he blamed himself for putting him in the Chamber and for what had happened.

"I need to see him."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Andrew chimed in.

"I'm his father aren't I? How could it be a bad thing?"

"You don't think he's going to be the least bit angry?" Kaya asked.

"If he's not already over it, he'll get over it. It's been so long."

"Not for him," Andrew thought.

"Do you know where he is? Did Ross tell you anything else?"

"He said he would probably be at the house outside of town."

"Perfect. I'll get a bite to eat at this horrible place just off the docks, then I'll walk out to see him."

"Be careful Jacob," Kaya warned.

"Careful of what?"

"He may not be the same person who went into the Chamber," Andrew said.

"It's not a question of if we change, it's a matter of how. Isn't that right Kaya?"

"He's only eighteen Jacob, and he's probably still angry. If he's not ready, leave him be."

Jacob started walking down the shoreline, and thought back, "It'll be fine. I'll let you know if I find him."

Connor and his grandfather had taken an immediate liking to each other. They were very much alike and tonight they were at a tavern, down by the water. Neither of them was drunk yet, but it was still early.

His grandfather sat across from him telling stories Jacob never could. They were incredible scenes from a long history of sailing, warfare, and exploration.

Connor left the tavern about ten seconds before Jacob was about to walk in. There was no eye contact between them and Jacob dropped back, far back. He followed Connor to his horse and from there, back to the farmhouse outside of town.

Having ridden home, Connor arrived well before Jacob.

He was out in the barn, pumping the bellows to his forge when Jacob arrived. The sound was unmistakable, and it set Jacob on edge.

Jacob debated with himself for the better part of fifteen minutes before he reached for the oversized wooden door. By that time, Connor was already hammering away.

As the door swung open, Connor looked up, and Jacob stepped in.

Connor dropped what he was working on.

"You're dead!" he whispered, backing away from the anvil.

"Just thought I would stop by," Jacob announced, with a friendly smile. "I thought it would be great to start over. You know, from the beginning."

Jacob's death in the foothills was a critical part of Connor's story. He'd told everyone how tragic it had all been. He'd even made up Jacob's last words!

With his mind slipping into a panic, Connor mumbled, "You can't be here."

"It's a really crazy story, if you have time to listen," Jacob offered warmly.

Panic had spread into fear as Connor envisioned the world with Jacob Duncan in it.

"Pridarius will kill me! He'll kill us both!" Connor thought.

Mistaking Connor's repose for acceptance, Jacob started looking around for a stool. Finding nothing but bales of hay, he turned to sit and found Connor not five feet from him.

As the blade pierced his chest, Jacob opened up his thoughts to Kaya and Andrew. They watched and felt as Connor pushed the blade up to the hilt.

"You need to stay dead old man. There isn't room in this world for the both of us!" he spat.

As the life pulsed out of his body, Connor put his foot to Jacob's chest and pushed him off his blade.

Kaya and Andrew clutched their chests, Jacob fell backward, and everything went black.

# Chapter 18

### Literally

In a flurry of bubbles, Jacob appeared at the bottom of the Fountain at the east entrance. He looked up into the filtered moonlight, then down at the steps in front of him and started to climb.

"I'm on my way," Kaya thought to Andrew as she streaked across the sky.

"Go easy on him," Andrew thought back. The sound of his team percolated around him, and their concerns began to quiet as he returned to them and explained what had happened.

By the time Jacob's head broke the surface, Kaya was sitting on the edge, waiting for him.

As soon as his mouth was above the water, he shouted, "What was that! I stop by for a little chat and he kills me?!"

"You're dead, get over it."

He turned and saw Kaya smiling at him.

"Get over it?" he asked, placing his hands on the side of the Fountain. "Very funny," he said, sweeping his leg over the side. "I'm going to get a dry robe. I'll be right back," and he walked toward the changing rooms located off the courtyard of the Fountain, sloshing and dripping as he went.

When he came out, he was wearing a fresh, dry robe and called out, "You've been saving that one for quite a while, haven't you?"

"Well I wasn't going to just waste it," she said, standing and hugging him tightly.

"I'm angry and disappointed, but I'll figure it out," Jacob thought to Kaya and Andrew. "Looks like I get the prize for being the first one to visit the bottom of the Fountain."

"Yeah, congratulations on that one," Andrew thought back.

"What did I do wrong?"

"I don't think you did anything wrong," Kaya replied.

"The question we need to answer is," Andrew thought, "What do we do next?"

"I'd like to go back and freak him out," Jacob grumbled.

"Father did say to have fun, but I don't think that's exactly what he had in mind," Kaya offered.

"Maybe we should move past Connor and look at the bigger picture," Andrew suggested.

"I love you both," Jacob thought to them, hugging Kaya. "And right now, I need some time to think. I need some time to heal, and I need some time to let go."

For two days, Jacob meditated at the top of the half-spire until an epiphany finally arrived. He almost discarded it, but wisdom made him pause while he applied his hopeful idea to every matter of importance. With the thoughtfulness of a master sage, a hypothesis developed, one that needed testing.

In the same instant he formed his theory, he rejected it, but if he was right, that's exactly what was supposed to happen. Knowing he couldn't accept the truth was part of the puzzle; it was part of what had been carefully constructed and deconstructed before his very eyes.

When he started looking at everything from a different perspective, it was obvious what they were doing. They were doing what everyone else had done and once he saw the pieces, he saw the puzzle.

"It's perfect," he said to himself, admiring the cleverness of it all. "You can't win if you play with the pieces you're given, and you can't win without them. That's quite a test," he mused to himself, wondering if Father was smiling from above. Thinking back to Celeste's diary, he finally realized why Father had called it ill-conceived.

"I think I've got it figured out this time," he whispered, knowing there would be no answer. "You took us as far as You could, You brought us into this world, just like You said. Now the rest is up to us."

He smiled at the rising sun knowing he was wrong, which proved he was right. "I'm probably going to go kill myself now, but if I don't wind up at the bottom of the Fountain, I can't wait to see the look on Your face."

He knew everything they were doing, everything they had planned, and everything they were about to do was wrong, but he had to be sure.

Jacob focused his mind and flew into the sky until he was too high to be seen.

"Anything," he said to himself, "anything," and he flew toward the sea. The barrier of the outer wall pulled at him, slowing his progress like an ominous warning, then it was gone. He grinned and accelerated, breaking the sound barrier as he headed out over open water.

Speeding across the sky, miles from shore and far from any line of sight he silently commanded, "To me." Thousands of feet above the ocean, Jacob playfully navigated through a patchwork maze of billowing clouds as a glint of gold made its approach from below.

He stopped to watch as the Lady Marie drifted up, nestling her keel deep into a brilliantly white cloud, awaiting his command.

Lastly, he held out his open hand, thought about his staff and watched it appear in his palm with a little "pop".

"If anything is possible," he said aloud, "the only limits are the ones we create."

From the corner of his eye, Jacob saw a rainbow in the loop of his Shepard hook, and when he turned, it was gone.

Turning back toward the towering Beacon of Light he gave his command to the Lady Marie and set off to share the news of his discovery.

"How are you?" Kaya asked Jacob as he floated in. She was sitting on the edge of the Fountain looking out through the archway.

"I've given that a great deal of consideration," he said, leaning over and putting his hand into the water. "And I've decided I've been looking at everything from the wrong perspective. I think we've all been looking at things the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm not really sure where to start," he said, wiping the water over his face and sitting down.

"How long were you up there?"

"Two days."

"Any thoughts about Connor?"

"Not really," he said shrugging. "Actually, he was all I could think about for the first day, then he just faded away. Now I'm stuck on something else."

"Go on," she prodded.

Jacob watched the citizens going about their day and thought about how easy it was to get snared in the trap, how easy it was to look past the obviousness of it all. He wrestled with himself, trying to figure out how to bring Kaya into a place she couldn't see.

Finally, he asked her, "What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?"

Kaya reflected on the question, she could be meticulous when choosing her words. When she was ready, she said, "Everything, anything."

"Do you remember Father telling us anything was possible?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember how many times He told us?"

"Several I suppose, why?"

"What do you think He meant?"

Kaya waved to friends walking by and eventually she said, "I think He was just telling us life is unpredictable, and you can expect just about anything to happen at any time. You know, life is random and all your philosophy stuff."

"Like improbable things can happen no matter how random or unlikely they seem?"

"Something like that," Kaya acknowledged. "Why, what are you thinking?"

"What if He meant it literally?" Jacob asked, turning to meet her eyes.

"Maybe you should go back up on the spire for another few days."

"Will you humor me for a few minutes while I teach you what I learned up there?"

"If it's going to be a philosophy lesson, I would rather not indulge you. No offense, I just have a hard time following you or Andrew when you go there."

"Trust me, you're going to like this, even if you hate it."

Kaya sighed and reluctantly agreed to what she hoped would be a short bout of philosophical waxing by the master himself.

"Good," he said. "I'm going to show you something unexpected, but you have to see it for yourself."

Kaya closed her eyes and did her best impression of someone who was interested.

"Where is your staff?" Jacob asked.

"It's behind me on the edge of the Fountain. Where's yours?"

"It's in my hand."

Kaya opened her eyes and closed them again, "No it's not."

"Where did Father tell us our staff would be at all times?"

Kaya's forehead wrinkled, and she said, "Your staff will be with you at all times."

"Is that literal or figurative?" he asked.

"Obviously, it's figurative," she said impatiently.

"Open your eyes please."

Kaya placidly opened her eyes, looking bored, but willing to play along.

Jacob focused his mind and whispered just loud enough for her to hear, "With me."

A pinpoint of blue-white Light winked into existence just above Jacob's open hand and "pop", his staff appeared out of nowhere. It gently rocked side to side as it came to rest in his still open hand.

Kaya flinched but didn't pull away.

"Literal or figurative?" Jacob asked.

"All right Jacob, you have my attention," she said, repositioning herself on the edge of the Fountain to face him.

"Where can you fly?" he asked.

"Only in the City."

"How do you know that?"

Kaya's forehead wrinkled again as she combed through every nook and cranny of knowledge, and finally said, "Because that's how it works."

"How do you know?" Jacob asked patiently.

"You're just being philosophical now, and this is the part that bothers me. You know that's how it works. That's what Father told us, that's what we've seen in every Kingdom for the past twenty thousand years. You can't fly outside of the City it's just the way it is. Don't you remember when Marcia flew outside of the City walls? It was the very first Kingdom, and it killed her. She turned to stone."

"Father never told us we couldn't fly outside of the City and Marcia turned to stone because she abandoned the City, not because she flew outside the walls."

"Of course, He told us, and if your plan is to frustrate me, it's working."

"Before I came and sat next to you I was flying over the ocean."

Kaya knew Jacob wouldn't lie and yet she knew what he was saying wasn't true. She felt his forehead and there was no fever. She looked into his eyes and thought to him, "What are you playing at Jacob Duncan? This isn't like you at all."

Jacob reached up and gently touched her cheek, "Fly up to the clouds and go to the ocean. The worst that can happen is you'll crash and reappear at the bottom of the Fountain."

"Why Jacob? Why would I do that?"

"Because anything is possible."

"Figurative," she said, staring at him with her eyebrows smashed down in frustration.

"Literal."

Kaya took several deep breaths, considered everything at play and decided Jacob was wrong. The problem was she didn't know why he was wrong.

"I'll be right here when you get back."

"You're wrong about this Jacob. I don't know what you saw in your meditation, but it's got your thinking all turned around."

"I have never lied to you and right here, right now, I'm trying to save your life."

Kaya flipped her perspective above them and was immediately overwhelmed. This moment and whatever came next wasn't just important, it was a defining point of immeasurable magnitude. Her breath caught in her chest, and her eyes opened wide. She stared at Jacob and in the blink of an eye she abandoned reason, and logic, and everything telling her to stop.

"I will die for you, but I will only do this once," she said, floating into the air. She picked up speed as she approached the clouds above and shifted her momentum toward the ocean. In the blink of an eye she had left the City behind and her fears with it.

With the ocean spreading out below, Kaya opened up her mind to Andrew. He watched her soaring above an endless field of blue as they shared the impossible.

"Andrew?" Jacob thought.

"Yes Jacob, I'm here," he stammered, pulling away from Kaya's vision, "but Kaya's flying over the ocean. What's happening?"

"If you look to the south, into the sky, you should be able to see something?"

"What am I looking for?"

"I need you and everyone in your group to come home. Everything has changed."

"Come home? Jacob, what's going on? How is Kaya...?" he paused as the sun gleaned off the golden ship descending from the clouds. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Come home Andrew, bring everyone home. I'll explain when you get here. Trust me, you're going to love this."

Andrew and his band of wanderers stood mesmerized as the Lady Marie made it's graceful decent. He opened his mind, allowing Kaya to witness it. "I don't understand any of this, but I'm coming home," he told her.

Kaya sent him love that rippled with hope, and she told him, "Anything is possible my love. I'll meet you at the Lady Marie in port."

Kaya patiently waited at the dock while the two hundred Wanderers in Andrew's party stepped off the Lady Marie. When Andrew finally stepped off the gang plank, he and Kaya embraced. With everyone gathered around them, Kaya announced, "Thank you all for the unexpected return. I'm sure you were just as surprised as we were to see the Lady Marie flying through the sky. I can't explain what is happening because I'm not entirely sure myself. For now, please return to your families and let them know you are safe."

To her surprise, the entire group was very accepting of her request and instructions. She and Andrew walked hand in hand alongside the group, back to the south entrance where Jacob was waiting for them at the Fountain.

The three hugged and Jacob thought to them, "There is no one on approach, I would like to talk on the half-spire."

"Lead the way," Andrew said.

As they touched down on the top of the spire, they watched the Lady Marie returning to port.

"How is that possible?" Andrew asked him.

"How is it not?" he replied.

"That's not fair Jacob," Kaya said, stepping next to Andrew.

"You're right," Jacob agreed. "I'll start from the beginning, and when you can't accept the truth of it, you can prove me wrong. If you can't prove me wrong, we'll all be in the same place."

Kaya took Andrew's hand as Jacob started to explain.

"When I was up here meditating about what had happened with Connor, I thought about who could and couldn't see the Lady Marie or the image of the Kingdom in our staffs. I wondered if Connor would be able to see them. I wondered if I would have been able to see them when I brought the two of you out here.

Back then I was mentally in a different place, and I think I would have been blind to them. I changed the night Connor went into the Chamber. I can't explain how and it's really not important, but I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if I'd never been in the Chamber with him; if I'd never been given the chance to change.

Then I started thinking about all the people who might never see the Lady Marie or the City hovering right in front of them. And that's when I realized those people were just like me. Are you still following?" he asked.

"If you deserved a chance, everyone does," Andrew replied.

"Exactly."

"Even Connor?" Kaya asked hesitantly.

"Everyone," Jacob confirmed. "Unless we make it our job to decide what people can and can't do, the choice isn't ours to make. I don't know about you, but I can't decide if someone can change. And I don't want that job, do you?"

Kaya and Andrew shook their heads.

"So why does our entire plan revolve around finding only those people who can see the Lady Marie or the City floating around in our staffs? Do either of you know why?"

"Well," Andrew started, "I don't think we want to have to convince anyone to come here. Shouldn't they want to?"

"You didn't answer the question," Jacob pointed out.

"I know," Andrew said.

"Isn't that just the way it works?" Kaya asked. "I mean, isn't that why we have them? Aren't we supposed to find the right people? You know, the ones who won't bounce back or get popped with Lightning?"

"That's exactly what I said to myself," Jacob said pointing at them, "but I couldn't find a single scrap of evidence to support my belief. Father never told us what they had to be used for. What He told us and showed us is anything is possible.

Look at the objects behind you," he said, pointing to the collection of magical items. "If you can look at those things and tell me anything isn't possible with the gifts we have been given, you're lying to yourself."

"Are you saying," Andrew asked, "anything, literally anything is possible?"

"What I'm trying to tell you is the only limits to our powers are the ones we have created. Nobody's ever told us what can't be done, all we've ever seen is what can be done."

"I don't agree," Andrew objected. "You're taking it too far."

"The Lady Marie can fly by the command of her captain and we can all fly outside of the City. You know Kaya did it, I did it too. The last experiment I performed to prove myself wrong was with my staff. Do you remember what Father said about your staff?"

Kaya helped out this time, "He said it was with you at all times."

Jacob nodded in agreement and asked Andrew, "Is it with you now?"

"No, it's not. I left it on the Fountain."

"Hold out your hand and call it to yourself," Jacob instructed.

Andrew and Kaya held out their hands, willing their staffs to appear. As both of their staffs popped into their hands, Jacob said, "Father's words were meant to be taken literally. He was never that explicit, but when you think back, it should have been clear enough.

The part that bothers me is we told Him we accepted the truth of His words, but we didn't or we couldn't. Maybe we weren't ready, I don't know, but I can tell you this, nobody in our position has ever taken His words literally."

"How do you know that?" Kaya asked.

"Because you can't win this game we're playing if you don't play by a different set of rules."

"If anything is possible," Andrew said, twisting the problem around in his mind, "then everything is possible."

"Now imagine a test so clever, even if you come up with the right answer, you instantly reject it because it's obviously wrong. And since you can't accept the answer, you trap yourself in your own little box of limitations. Once you're stuck, once you've rejected the truth, you can never pass the test, no matter how hard you try."

"So we have to change the rules of the game?" Andrew asked Kaya.

"Throw away the rules," Kaya said, looking at Jacob.

"Prove me wrong," Jacob challenged them.

"I would rather prove you right," Andrew said, sounding hesitant, but excited.

"This is why I asked you to come back. If I'm right, and I know I'm right, then our strategy is all wrong. Our plan was flawed from the beginning, our thinking was limited by whatever we thought we couldn't do, and we need to rethink everything."

"Remember when you stuck your arm into your staff when Father first gave them to us on the island?" Andrew asked Jacob.

"Sure, we were all on the Lady Marie."

"Do you remember what He told you when you asked Him how it worked?"

Jacob remembered Father offering to show him the overwhelming complexity of how it worked. "I remember telling Father I didn't need to know how it worked, and I was fine calling it magic."

"That's right, and it's always stuck in my mind how He referred to what we were seeing. He called it now."

Jacob smiled mischievously, and said, "Let the experimentation begin."

Andrew held out his staff, and imagining the loop of the shepherd hook to be much larger, he said, "Grow," and the hook instantly expanded.

"Show me, Ross Elbe," he said, and Ross appeared in the hoop of the staff. It wasn't an image of Ross, it was Ross walking in the apple orchard with Ravi. Without pausing, Andrew put the loop of the staff over his head and dropped it over himself.

To Kaya and Jacob, Andrew disappeared. A heartbeat later Andrew's staff disappeared and in a few more seconds Ross and Andrew appeared together on top of the half-spire.

Ross looked very confused as Jacob and Kaya looked on in amazement.

"It's all right Ross," Kaya said, coming up and taking his hand. "You're on top of the half-spire. You're safe. We're just experimenting."

"Oh," Ross said, sounding relieved, but confused.

"Take a look around while we talk, but don't touch the things on the pedestals, all right?"

Ross just nodded and walked toward the edge to look around.

"Anywhere in the world, instantly," Andrew said with a grin.

"Or anything moved to anyplace," Jacob added.

"If we can fly anywhere, we can heal anywhere," Kaya said.

"Remember how Celeste traveled around the City?" Andrew asked.

Jacob focused on the other side of the half-spire, but since he didn't attempt to fly he disappeared and reappeared with a "pop".

Kaya walked over to Ross and gently took his hand. She thought about Ravi walking in the orchard, imagined herself standing next to him and she and Ross disappeared with a "pop".

Seconds later she reappeared next to Andrew, "pop".

Jacob knelt down and put his hand on the stone of the half-spire. He imagined it to be made of transparent crystal, and it changed to a beautiful clear blue all the way down to its base.

"Anything," he said, standing up and putting a hand on each of their shoulders, "Anything is possible."

Just as the words left his mouth, Kaya popped into existence next to herself. An instant later she popped in again, making three Kayas all standing side by side.

Jacob jumped back, Andrew stared, and Kaya said, "That's interesting."

The second Kaya looked at the first Kaya, and said, "I'm about fifteen seconds from now," and the third Kaya said, "I'm about twenty seconds from now, and I'm the only one who should be sticking around."

With her staff in hand, the original Kaya made the loop grow larger, and said, "Fifteen seconds ago," and disappeared as she dropped the loop over her body. The second Kaya stepped over, picked up her staff, and said, "Twenty seconds ago," and she dropped the staff over herself and disappeared. The only remaining Kaya smiled at Jacob and Andrew, picked up her staff and shrunk the loop back down to normal size.

"Well," Jacob said, "that's the strangest thing I've ever seen."

"If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't believe it," Andrew agreed. "Do you feel any different?"

"I feel fine, but I never really left. You just saw it happen backward."

"I'm going to have to start working on my imagination," Andrew said to Jacob.

Jacob shook his head, and said, "I'm starving, let's go back to your place for some breakfast. We need a new plan."

"Five hundred years," Kaya scoffed, lifting into the air. "Not by my rules."

# Chapter 19

### Follow the Leader

Over the next few days, experimentation and creativity taught Kaya, Jacob, and Andrew that anything and everything weren't actually possible. Try as they might, things like traveling into the future or more than about ten hours into the past couldn't be done. They also couldn't send anyone other than themselves back in time. They couldn't travel by disappearing and reappearing outside of the City, but they could use their staff's to travel anywhere they wished.

The loop of the staff also had limitations as Jacob discovered trying to fit it around the Lady Marie. Ultimately, none of them could make it much bigger than three people could fit into. But without Father, none of their discoveries would have happened, except by accident.

It was also during this time of random experimentation they discovered another lost treasure. It happened when Andrew was thinking about past lessons and experiences. Kaya was sitting across from him, and he said, "I would talk less and listen more."

She followed the breadcrumb back to its source and looked at Jacob.

Jacob stared back, not understanding the wisdom of the lesson.

"What if we didn't talk at all?" Kaya asked. She looked back at Andrew, and said, "It's perfect."

"What happens if we don't talk?" Jacob asked, looking a bit confused.

"All of these people are brilliant beyond description," Andrew told them. "The Fountain's taken care of that."

"Agreed," Jacob said, "but how does that help?"

"The problem with our strategies is we're the ones creating them," Andrew observed.

It took a moment, then Jacob yelled, "Again?! Are you telling me we're doing it again?!"

"Once again," Kaya grumbled with irritation. "Once again, we're sitting around making plans based on what we think we're supposed to do."

Frustrated for once again missing the obviousness of it all, Jacob stood up. "We're back at the beginning," he said, pacing in frustration. "How does this keep happening?"

"If it didn't," Kaya told him, "we'd be busy failing and thinking we were doing it right."

"I know," Jacob agreed, still sounding irritated. "But all the ideas we've come up with, all the things we thought would be really great strategies wouldn't have worked at all."

"It's not that they wouldn't have worked," Andrew said. "They're probably just not the best ideas. They're limited in ways we can't even see or understand right now."

"We put ourselves in charge," Kaya said, thinking about the path they had chosen.

"You're absolutely right," Jacob agreed. "We're not only doing it wrong, we're acting like we're the smartest people in the City!"

"What a horrible yet wonderful discovery," Andrew mused. "I'm certainly glad we're at the beginning of our journey instead of the end."

"I think it's quite liberating," Kaya told them, sounding relieved. "If you really think about it, there are only four things we're supposed to do around this place."

"Navigate the Lady Marie," Jacob said, holding up a single finger.

"Welcome people to the City of Light and offer them water from the Fountain of Knowing," Andrew chimed in.

"Heal those in need," Kaya added.

"And?" Jacob asked, holding up three fingers.

Kaya looked at Andrew, and he said, "And listen."

"I think there's more to it than just listening," Jacob said.

"Why?" Kaya asked.

"Because they're going to have to direct us and tell us what they want us to do. They're going to have to come up with all the answers, all the strategies, and we're going to have to...listen," Jacob said with a smirk.

"I think I'm going to talk less and listen more," Andrew said, thinking back to the first night he and Kaya spent on the island.

"Much more," she added, standing up and offering her hand to Jacob.

"Is that really all there is to it?" Jacob asked.

"Flip it," Andrew told them as he stood up.

Jacob and Kaya flipped their perspective, and they knew immediately what had just happened.

"Do you feel that," Andrew asked, taking both of their hands.

"I can't believe it," Jacob said wistfully. "It all just changed again, didn't it?"

"We've had all the answers all along," Andrew said, squeezing their hands. "Now all we have to do is not mess it up, again."

During the next weekly meeting Andrew, Jacob, and Kaya announced all their recent discoveries. The citizens were staggered by the information offered and even more taken aback by Andrew's announcement that Jacob, Kaya, and he would no longer be leading the effort to recruit new citizens.

"You must lead the way, and we will follow," Andrew told the citizens, bringing the meeting to a close.

As the crowd socialized the overwhelming and unlikely content of the meeting, confusion radiated from them like heat from a forge. The multitude of questions forced Kaya to ask Andrew and Jacob to reconsider their decision.

"Give them time," Jacob encouraged her. "Give them a chance to be brilliant and give us an opportunity to listen."

Andrew nodded in agreement and the three of them exited the marketplace.

As the citizens began accepting their undefined roles they started devising ways to achieve their goal. To maximize everyone's participation, they developed a process of deliberation and voting. Kaya, Andrew, and Jacob participated as little as possible, doing their best to remove their opinions from the conversations swirling around them. When they did participate, it quickly became apparent they were just citizens, like everyone else.

Within weeks of their announcement, Andrew, Kaya and Jacob received detailed written instructions from the spokesperson of the Citizen Recruitment group. The plan to "Save Colesco", as it was entitled, was an elaborate strategy involving the entire population of the Kingdom and every resource at the citizen's disposal.

That evening, Andrew, Jacob, and Kaya marveled at the creative intricacies of the plan. It was far more elaborate than anything the three of them had considered, and it required virtually everyone in the City to pull it off. It even created a strategy within a strategy to account for the effects of time travel on the person who would be jumping through it.

"This is incredible," Jacob commented, reflecting on the ingenious planning woven into the strategy to save Colesco. "I think they've used everything we told them we could do, and they even improvised this part," he said pointing to the section involving time travel. "Do you think you can even do this?" he asked Kaya.

"That's going to be very strange, but I don't see why not. As long as they're prepared to see me like that, it can work." Kaya pointed at another critical part of the strategy, and said, "Jacob, look at how they have you removing the most influential citizens. It's really quite brilliant."

"Colesco must have four or five times the number of people in our City, but they've accounted for that too. They even have a plan to work with the ones who bounce back," Andrew said, admiring the completeness of it all.

Jacob was smiling, and he said, "I especially like how they're going to try to get everyone over here. Not just the ones who can see the Lady Marie."

Over the next three days, the City was re-invigorated with its coordinated effort and singular purpose. Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob were utilized in critical areas to transport supplies and equipment to staging areas between the Lady Marie in port and the City. Groups of citizens assembled tents and the best temporary housing facilities they could muster. Food tents and latrines were created where there had been nothing and by the time Jacob set sail in the pre-dawn hours, the area between the port and the City had been completely transformed.

Taking to the sky, Jacob sailed the Lady Marie high above the fleet of warships heading toward Colesco.

"It's just like we expected," he thought back to Andrew and Kaya. "The Empire's armada is only days from Colesco, which means their army must be just as close."

Andrew reported the news to the citizens, and it only strengthened their resolve.

Jacob quickly flew ahead of the fleet hugging the coast and steered the Lady Marie out to sea. His approach to Colesco had been scheduled to achieve maximum effect. And whether he had been asked or told, the point had been made clear on multiple occasions, he shouldn't be late.

When he finally directed his ship toward the city, the morning sun was directly behind her. As the golden splendor of the Lady Marie approached the fortified harbor of Colesco, the people below pointed, watching in awe as Jacob silently sailed overhead.

With the flying ship approaching the massive city wall, soldiers pointed, and sounded their alarm bells until the alert had spread across the entire city.

Flying just above the rooftops, Jacob passed the center of the city and thought to Andrew and Kaya, "I'm almost at the drop-off area, and I'm getting a lot of attention!"

"Perfect," Kaya thought back. "This time, you can come in for a landing. We're all ready."

"You have no idea how disturbing that is to hear," Jacob replied.

"You should try it from our point of view," forty Kaya's thought back.

"We're all set on this end too," Andrew replied. "Everyone's excited and ready to go."

Just south of the farmlands bordering the Spire Mountains, Jacob brought the Lady Marie in for a landing. Her keel ran through the land as smoothly as it did water, and he leveled her out bringing the deck of the ship just a few feet off the ground. He set out the gangplank and hundreds of miles away, Andrew gave the signal to board.

Within fifteen minutes two thousand citizens from the City of Light flooded into the upper-most section of Colesco. When the last one in line came jogging across the gangplank, he looked at Jacob, and said, "All right, that's it. We'll see you in the harbor," and he ran off on his mission.

Jacob pulled back the gangplank and slowly made his way back across the city, just above the rooftops. He waved to all those who could see him and invited them to meet him at the harbor. When he arrived in the harbor, he docked the Lady Marie in a large open slip, set out the gangplank, looked at his staff, and said, "Show me the chairman of the Senate."

A white-haired gentleman dressed in bedclothes appeared in the hoop of his staff and Jacob dropped it over his head.

Andrew slowly circled above Colesco, and it wasn't long before he was called down to help move a house full of elderly people. With the aid of his staff, he quickly relocated everyone in the house to the south entrance of the City where citizens, already in position, anxiously awaited their first delivery.

Jacob appeared in the house of the Colesco Senate chairman and introduced himself. He also met the man's wife. Within seconds, he had put them through the loop of his staff and sent them to the east entrance of the City.

The chairman and his wife were welcomed by a small group of eager citizens and within minutes, they were joined by every other person with political or military significance.

With Andrew and Jacob assisting from above, the citizens from the City of Light gathered and led as many people as possible toward the port, and the awaiting Lady Marie. In their wake, they left confusion, minor turmoil, and a general feeling of excitement as they promised to return. In their first pass, the citizens gathered almost twice their number, bringing about four thousand people from Colesco onto and through the gateway of the Lady Marie.

Within hours, the forty Kaya's had welcomed everyone who could enter the City, and the Lady Marie had been repositioned in its original drop-off location.

"Here they come again, plus all the new recruits," Andrew thought to Jacob as he signaled for everyone to board.

In just under an hour, five thousand five hundred citizens exploded from the Lady Marie into Colesco. Each driven by the single purpose of rescuing anyone and everyone willing to take a leap of faith.

Andrew and Jacob continued offering support throughout the day while the Kayas kept busy welcoming all the new citizens. When the sun started fading behind the mountains, Jacob and Andrew brought all the former political and military leaders back to Colesco.

"All right everyone," Jacob said to the group. "You're the clean-up crew. You know what to do. The Lady Marie is still docked in port, good luck."

The "clean-up crew" worked its way across the city giving their new powers of perspective a thorough workout as they searched for any remaining holdouts.

With night approaching, the "clean-up crew" stepped aboard the Lady Marie, leaving less than fifty people behind. Out of the ten thousand four hundred and seven people rescued, less than five hundred were either unable or unwilling to enter the City of Light. These humbled, restless souls occupied the makeshift living area between the City and the port. Their presence had been anticipated, and they were not alone.

Each of them was now supported by a patient, nonjudgmental Caretaker, born and raised in the village. As a team, they would face the night together and work to overcome the challenges ahead.

Within the City, a meeting was about to begin, and all the citizens gathered in the marketplace, coming together for the first time. Waiting for their cue, Andrew, Kaya and Jacob stood in their usual places, but not by choice.

"I hope they prove us wrong," Kaya thought, taking her copy of the agenda and her speech from the pocket of her robe. The title of page one was written in large bold letters, it read, "Save Colesco Agenda, Close of Day One" below that it read, "Moderator and Speaker: Kaya Elbe." The agenda itself was three pages long, and her speech was fifteen pages long. As she stared at the stack in her hand, Andrew thought to her, "It's their agenda, it's their speech, and it's their City. Everything about to happen is up to them."

"None of this is going to work," Jacob thought, "Just do it and get this over with."

"This is crazy," Kaya thought back. "We're going to be here all night. All these people are never going to agree to these agenda items."

"Let's just get this over with," Jacob repeated.

"Here we go," she said, flipping her perspective. Following the agenda, she greeted everyone and introduced herself, Andrew and Jacob.

Her forty-five-minute speech was an intricate weave of information. It detailed virtually all the information that would not and could not be provided by the water of the Fountain. In a word, it was overwhelming.

When she was finally done with her lecture, Kaya moved into the matters of today and tomorrow. With the agenda in hand, she told the remarkably patient assembly there would be a vote after she read each of the six proposed courses of action. The only question she would pose before the vote was, "Are there any opposed?"

"If anyone is opposed," she droned on, "they will raise their hand and shout "I am opposed." Please leave your hand raised while I use my perspective to better understand your position.

If possible," she continued explaining, "I will present to the assembly the reasoning behind the opposition, then there will be time for debate and a final vote. Any item voted on twice without unanimous approval will not be approved and may or may not be reconsidered at a later time.

If no one is opposed to the agenda item, I will consider it approved, and everyone's full support will be expected."

Glancing up from her agenda, she announced, "I will now begin reading the proposed items. I will read them one at a time, then call for an opposition vote."

Jacob sighed, questioning the wisdom of their decision for the thousandth time.

"Proposal one," she read stiffly, "Citizens wanting to collect any personal belongings from the city of Colesco may begin doing so at first light tomorrow via the Lady Marie. If your items are not something you wish to carry throughout the day, you are asked to return to the City and place them in the dwelling you have selected."

She paused at the word "Pause" written below proposal one. "Are there any opposed?"

The agenda said, "Hold for thirty seconds," and she did.

"A scavenger hunt?! Really?" Jacob scoffed to Kaya and Andrew.

At thirty-one seconds, having heard no objection, she announced, "The item is approved."

The citizens applauded their decision and quieted in anticipation.

"Proposal two. All ship owners with vessels capable of open-ocean travel will assemble a crew and return to Colesco to retrieve their ships. These ships will be made ready to leave by sundown. They will leave port tomorrow night and will be sailed back to the City of Light where they may be of future use. Jacob will provide logistics support throughout the day, and accompany you all on your journey home."

She paused. "Are there any opposed?"

"One of them has to know this is unnecessary," Andrew thought to Jacob. With time running out, Andrew complained, "Seriously? Not one of them thinks this is a bad idea?"

Jacob smirked, knowing at least one person would oppose the idea.

When the inevitable failed to arrive, Kaya announced, "The item is approved."

The applause started up again, and Andrew glanced at Jacob.

Jacob thought back, "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."

Kaya pinched the back of her hand, and whispered, "I wish I had an elephant."

When the elephant didn't arrive, she took a deep breath and moved down the list. "Proposal three," she announced, quieting the citizens. "All citizens will return to Colesco to collect items made of gold or silver, or any items containing gemstones. You will only collect what rightfully belongs to you. We are not interested in the personal property of others. Additionally, Andrew will return to the treasury of Colesco and remove ninety-five percent of all the city holdings. You will bring your items back to the City where they will be combined with the items transported from the treasury. In this way Pridarius will not increase his wealth and the people outside the Kingdom will not need to protect or defend such a vast hoard of useless metal and rocks.

To be clear, this collection of items will be a public resource available to all citizens without restriction, just as any other resource within our City. If proposal one has been approved these efforts will be combined."

She paused and asked for opposition.

After thirty-one seconds of silence, she declared the item approved, the citizens cheered, and she moved on to proposal number four.

"Any person outside the City who either "bounced back" or was too reluctant to attempt entry will be offered the opportunity to permanently return to Colesco by way of the Lady Marie. Passage will be provided tomorrow at sunset or immediately after everyone has finished their tasks within the city, whichever comes first. Those choosing to remain outside our City of Light will be encouraged to return to Colesco around noon where they may gather any needed belongings. All belongings must be the property of the person gathering them, items must be small enough to be carried without assistance, and they must fit into the gateway of the Lady Marie. We will advocate for the retrieval of items such as clothing and blankets, but the choice is theirs to make. The quantity of belongings and the number of trips to and from Colesco will be unrestricted for approximately three hours."

She paused, and Andrew thought to her and Jacob, "I'm opposed! I'm opposed!! This is a horrible idea! Someone has to agree with me!"

"Are there any opposed?" Kaya asked.

The long seconds ticked by and Jacob thought to them, "We're going to have a front yard full of old furniture and framed pictures! I want to object. Andrew, we have to obj..."

"If either of you so much as raise a finger I will slip my staff over your head and send you to the moon!" Kaya snapped.

Jacob glanced playfully at Andrew as their scolding continued.

"I've had a very long day of time traveling. I'm tired, this whole thing is insane, but we gave up whatever control we thought we had, and this is how it works now. If you don't like it, move to Colesco!"

Kaya missed Andrew smirking at Jacob, who was biting his lip, trying not to laugh. Her frustration mirrored their own, but her motherly scolding brought just enough comical absurdity into the moment, neither of them could control their reactions.

"The item is approved," Kaya said mechanically.

She was grinding her teeth as she thought about how unnecessary these proposals were. The unanimity of the City felt like a conspiracy against common sense. None of this was critical to their mission, none of this would have been done if they were doing things her way. How had she ever agreed to this?

"Proposal five," she read over the ongoing applause. "The outer gates of Colesco will be unlocked and left open. If approved, this task will be conducted by the former Captain of the Colesco Defense Brigade and a support team of his choosing. Additionally, this team will instruct any and all interested residents of Colesco how to close and secure the defensive barriers. With this effort, the choice and the ability to either open or close the city will be left to those who occupy it."

"Perfect," Andrew thought to Kaya and Jacob, "we're just giving it to Pridarius!"

"Are there any opposed?"

"I am opposed," came a small voice in the middle of the crowd. There was a hand raised, but it was too far away to tell who it was. Kaya shifted her perspective and attempted to discern the reason for this woman's opposition.

It didn't take long for Kaya to re-address to the crowd, "The opposition feels it would be more appropriate to have the people of Colesco actually unlock and relock the outer gates, not the captain and his men. In this way they will perform the task and have a better chance of repeating it, should they wish to."

"Debate amongst yourselves," Kaya instructed. "You have five minutes."

Andrew and Jacob continued their horseplay, irritating Kaya beyond words.

After five minutes she let her perspective surf through the crowd until she was ready to offer a re-proposal.

"Please allow me to restate proposal five by combining the needs of the opposed with the conclusion of the majority debating the issue." She waited for silence.

"It is proposed that the remaining residents of Colesco be shown how to lock and unlock the outer defensive gates of the city. Their instructor will be the former Captain of the Defense Brigade and a team of his choosing. The residents will then demonstrate their knowledge and ability by performing the task of locking and unlocking the gates. At the end of the lesson, the residents will unlock the gates. If they choose to lock them again, the choice is theirs to make. However, should the residents be unwilling to learn or unable to perform the tasks, the gates will be unlocked by the captain and his team and left open."

"This is the second and final vote. Are there any opposed?"

"Do not give him the city!" Andrew and Jacob silently objected.

Thirty-one seconds later and proposal five was approved.

"Almost done," she thought to herself, "Let's finish strong."

The City was quiet as Kaya announced, "Proposal six. Those choosing to remain in Colesco will be informed that the Lady Marie will return to their port under the light of the next full moon. When she arrives, she will be docked in port. After she is docked, Captain Andrew will fly about the city announcing her arrival. Anyone wishing to board may do so at will.

Any wishing to board, but without the ability to see her, will be assisted by Andrew only if his services are requested."

She paused methodically, and asked, "Are there any opposed?"

"You'll be just like a character out of a children's story. Won't that be exciting for you?" Kaya thought sarcastically to Andrew.

"Thirty-one," she counted in her head and announced the approval of the sixth and final agenda item.

The citizens began dancing and singing in celebration of their shared purpose and vision. In thirty minutes a banquet was set up inside the marketplace. Food and drink were abundant, musical performances were given in multiple areas, and the dancing and celebration continued well into the night.

Outside the City, an identical banquet was set up for all those who had not entered the City. These people, accompanied by their Caretakers, celebrated and danced to the music of their own band until they were exhausted and satisfied.

Long after the dancing was done, Kaya, Andrew, and Jacob sat together on the edge of the south Fountain.

"I wish I had more wisdom," Andrew said, dipping the tips of his fingers into the water.

"All I know, is I know nothing," Jacob said, looking up at the stars.

"Ignorant. That's how I feel right now. Like an ignorant child. After everything we've been through, I can't believe it's come to this," she grumbled.

"Come to what?" asked a man from the other side of the Fountain.

Thinking they were alone, the voice surprised them, and Andrew said, "Why don't you come and join us? Our conversations are rarely private."

Geoffrey walked around the Fountain until he stood in front of the three heroes of the City, and said, "Good evening Kaya, Andrew, Jacob," acknowledging each of them as he said their names.

"Good evening," they each returned in kind.

"Please call me Geoff and I'm sorry for intruding on your conversation," he said, suddenly looking surprised. "Did you know you're glowing?" he asked, walking around and inspecting them from every angle.

"It's my personality," Jacob teased. "What brings you out so late Geoff?"

"I couldn't sleep," he said, admiring the glow they each cast on the ground, "so I came out here. The Fountain is as beautiful a place as I could ever imagine and it seems to ease my mind." He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the serenity.

"You're from Colesco aren't you?" Andrew asked.

"I am," he said opening his eyes, "it's been quite a day."

"I'm sure it has," Kaya said, meeting his eyes. "We certainly don't want to burden you with our concerns Geoff. The part of our conversation you heard probably wasn't our best moment."

"I understand. Honestly, I didn't know the three of you were over here, or I would have introduced myself sooner. I was just surprised to hear anyone in the City of Light feeling ignorant or frustrated."

"I know we met earlier today," Jacob acknowledged, "But I can't remember what you use to do in Colesco?"

"I was the vice-chairman of the Senate," Geoff said, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of them.

"That sounds important," Andrew commented.

"And difficult," Jacob offered.

Geoff looked up at them with a smile, and said, "It use to feel that way." He ran his hands over his soft robes, and said, "Everything was different yesterday."

"That's just about where we were in our conversation when you came in," Kaya told him. "What was happening in your part of the world before yesterday? What does the vice-chairman of the Colesco Senate worry about?"

"War," he said, looking down. "Such a childish thing really, but before yesterday it was everything."

"I don't get it," Jacob said. "Your city walls are ten feet thick. How could Pridarius possibly pose a threat? Why would you unlock the city and give it to him?"

"I wondered why it upset you when Kaya called for opposition," he contemplated aloud.

"What do you mean?" Jacob asked. "I didn't object, I don't think I said anything the whole time we were up there."

"That's strange," Geoff said, lying back to look at the stars. "I didn't think you were in on it, but a lot of people did."

"In on what?" Andrew and Kaya asked simultaneously.

"Well that would explain the frustration," Geoff said to the stars. He paused, and eventually sat back up. "Every fourteenth word after City?" he asked, looking at each of them.

"Every what?" Kaya asked.

Looking back up at the stars, he asked, "So I'm the messenger?" He sighed and looking back at Kaya, Andrew, and Jacob, he said, "So I'm the messenger."

The heroes looked at each other, trying to figure out what Geoff was talking about when Geoff finally said, "Your speech, do you still have it?"

Kaya took her staff, and said, "My bed," then she reached into the hoop and grabbed the stack of papers off her bed."

"That's fun to watch," Geoff said with a grin. "Start after the word City and count out fourteen words. Do it for the whole thing," he said, laying back again.

"The sun," Kaya said to her staff making sunlight poured out of it.

Jacob and Andrew shuffled next to her, staring at the paper.

Kaya said the words one at a time as she riffled across the lines of her speech, counting as she went, "use...perspective...on...the...heroes...do...not...agree...if...they....agree...do...not...follow...them...citizens...must...lead...heroes...must...follow."

"A plan within a plan," Jacob said admiringly. "It's what we asked them to do, but much more clever."

"Oh, that's good," Andrew said, thinking about where everyone's perspective was during the reading of the speech and the agenda items.

"If you thought it was a bad idea," Geoff said, leaving the idea unfinished.

"Then it must be a good idea," Kaya observed.

"How else would it have been a unanimous vote?" Andrew asked rhetorically.

Kaya said something to her staff, and the light went out. She took Andrew's hand as she pictured herself in a wooden cart rolling down a steep hill. One of the wheels had just popped off, and the whole thing was listing badly to one side.

# Chapter 20

### The Illusion of Control

.

"Sometimes at the beginning, we can't imagine the end. And sometimes at the end, we can't remember the beginning."

Andrew Weaver

The foundational strategy used to save Colesco was quickly adapted and enhanced for each new challenge. By documenting their strategic solutions, the citizens created something akin to a playbook and began combining them.

By the end of their fifth campaign, they had successfully relocated almost twenty thousand people in a single day.

With nothing to limit them except their own creativity and determination, the City began growing exponentially. In the seven months since Colesco, and just before the birth of Marie Erynn Elbe, the City census reached one hundred and ten thousand.

Outside the City of Light, a second city, the City of Hope was founded for those who had the courage to live within it. It too was growing quickly, bringing challenges within its sprawling border that seemed all too easily overcome by the efforts of the citizens.

In this time of limitless possibilities, it was never considered an accomplishment to become a citizen. That gift was something you could give to yourself, even if it came with a great struggle. "The challenge," as it came to be known, was to exemplify the benefits of a virtuous world and the inward and outward perspective needed to cross into the City of Light.

Rising to "the challenge" was demonstrated through the honesty of mentorship. Anyone who knew they needed to change and wanted to change, could be mentored. The key to being mentored and hence the key to mentoring, as the citizens had deduced, was not in explaining how to change, but in demonstrating what it was to be changed.

Walking into the City of Light with someone for the first time was the real job of a citizen. It was rewarding in itself to watch each new person come home.

After stripping the populace from every king, queen and city state for the past five years, the citizens had begun their sixth year with a bold new strategy. With more than half a million citizens, their new goals were based on geographic areas, with the intent of sweeping huge regions.

Jacob, Andrew, and Kaya all took turns flying the Lady Marie to every corner of the globe, twenty-four hours a day. There was no scheduled downtime. If they were not on "ship duty" as they called it, they were on "logistics," transporting people and materials with their staffs twenty-one hours a day. Even when they were scheduled to "meet and greet" at the gates, they were asked to multi-task with their staffs. Even Marie was putting in ten hours a day by the time she was six.

With a support team that just kept growing and a strategy involving everyone, even their most ambitious goals were running ahead of schedule.

In what became an annual celebration of the City's rebirth, every citizen far and wide would come home for two weeks every year. Kaya, Andrew, Jacob and even Marie would use their gift of "perspective voice", as it had come to be known, to review the prior year's accomplishments and reset the ongoing agenda of the citizens.

With preparations underway for the seventh annual Homecoming, the City was a flurry of activity. Andrew was with Marie in the fields as the daily crops were emptied into both of their staffs; reappearing in distant lands for use by the citizens and their ever-growing flock. Marie liked watching the vegetables regrow after being picked. It was truly amazing, even if you'd seen it a hundred times.

Kaya was on "meet and greet" at all three gates and Jacob had just returned with the Lady Marie. Tonight was the opening ceremony and the excited crowds entering the City were starting to overwhelm Kaya.

"I could use some help on meet and greet," she called to Andrew, Jacob, and Marie.

"We'll be right there Mom," Marie thought back as the last of the apples rolled into her staff.

"Let's fly Daddy," she said to Andrew, taking his hand and lifting into the air.

"All right sweetheart, but we should hurry. Your mom doesn't usually ask for help. Jacob," Andrew thought, "Jacob, we'll take the east, you go west. All right?"

"Got it," he confirmed. "This place is packed!"

Andrew and Marie were en route to the east Fountain when the Beacon went out.

There was a gasp heard throughout the City and everyone everywhere stopped.

"What does it mean?" Marie asked, but before Andrew could answer an ominous sound started coming from the top of the half-spire.

Andrew focused his mind, and he and Marie disappeared and reappeared above the half-spire with a "pop". A second later, Kaya and Jacob appeared next to them.

They watched as individual crystal blocks appeared with a loud "pop" and made a sharp clicking sound as they were set into place. The half-spire was growing at an alarming rate and Marie asked again, "What does it mean?"

With all eyes on the growing spire, only those outside the City seemed to notice the outer walls slowly sinking into the ground. It wasn't until the shrinking archways threatened to crush people that they screamed, making those around them turn and take notice.

The stone archways disappeared, and the once towering outer and inner walls of the City of Light were gone.

Andrew, Kaya, Marie and Jacob all held hands, forming a tiny line hovered just above the growing spire.

Far below ground, in a small chamber at the very base of the spire, Father had shrunk Himself to miniature proportions. He stood in front of a single block of crystal, the doorway of the spire, the only place in existence He had never been and couldn't go.

High above, the window frame atop the spire was completed, the last block clicked into place and Father reached for the doorway. As it opened, He focused on a singular connection to the past.

Andrew, Kaya, and Jacob were floating above the very first Kingdom watching Marcia and her Travelers approach. In His timeless connection between past and future, He spoke to His heroes in a detached voice, knowing all too well what obstacles lay ahead.

" _Time is an odd thing for those who live within it, and while you may never truly understand my words you should each know you have already succeeded, the doorway is open."_

As Father moved into the doorway, time rippled. The effect was just enough to be noticed by those who had traveled through it before and a fraction of a second later, as Father's essence was removed from the universe, time stopped.

The barrier between the doorway and the universe of his creation felt cold. It pulled at his body and mind, leaving him slightly disoriented. "That's new," he thought, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit hallway. His feet were bare, as they always were, and he scrunched his toes into the plush red carpet running out in front of him. Glancing over his shoulder at the oversized, metal door, he realized he was someplace new for the first time.

The long, wide hallway was made of the same stone as the City, and he stood scrunching his toes into the carpet and admiring the space. Its tapered ceiling arched into a point high above, and the decorative wall sconces brought forth a soft, comforting light. On either wall, over-sized frames were hung at odd intervals. He couldn't see what had been framed from his place at the end of the hall, so he stepped closer.

The first frame he came to was almost as tall as he was and slightly wider than his shoulders. It was made of a lovely burled wood and was double matted with a subtle blue and green material. "That's just wonderful," he said aloud, admiring the way the frame and matting pulled out the colors of the slowly rotating view of Earth.

Even from a distance, the blue of the atmosphere and the even deeper blue of the salty oceans played against the inky black of space. The slowly drifting continents made him pause and think back to their creation.

"Still my favorite," he whispered, looking farther into the frame at all the original planets.

Off to the right, a gold plaque caught his eye. It read, "Best Planet."

His forehead wrinkled in thought as he turned toward the opposite wall. Walking to the next frame, he wondered who or what was actually behind his mysterious little door.

Invoking his powers was useless, and by his own account, he was now quite simply, human. While the soles of his feet enjoyed the soft carpeting, his piercing blue eyes traced the simple ring of a circle captured within the black metal frame. Intrigued, he put his nose right up to the glass and stared intently at the minuscule filaments used to create the seemingly solid black line. At the twelve o'clock position he found the beginning and smiled.

As if it were a lullaby, he started softly singing the endless strand of numbers, "3.14159265358." Pulling back from the picture he kept humming the sequence as he read the gold plaque. "Best Non-Repeating Algorithm."

"It's just a circle," he said playfully, thinking of all the work he'd put into it back in the very beginning. "Congratulations circle," he said, giving the picture a wink, "you're a winner."

Father turned and crossed the hallway again only to see his favorite creature staring back at him from within the frame. "Hello my friend," he said, bowing to himself in the mirror. "We've come a long way together you and me."

"You haven't seen anything yet," his reflection replied.

Father smiled at himself, and asked, "End of the hallway?"

"They're all waiting for you," the reflection answered.

"Who's there?"

"Knock, knock?" the reflection answered playfully.

"Very funny," said the man and his reflection in perfect synchronicity. "I'm sure there will be time for these pictures later," he told himself as the reflection winked back.

"Good, because I don't want to miss anything," he said, turning from the mirror and facing the end of the hall. "Thank you me."

"You're welcome, now get out there and enjoy your big show."

He glanced at the plaque on the wall. It read, "The God we've all been waiting for."

"Let's get this party started," Father said, putting one foot in front of the other.

To his right, a platypus played in a shallow stream behind the picture frame. To his left, a row of small frames lined the wall. He noticed lightning in the first frame, a golfer in the second, a snowstorm in the third, then the sound of applause started up.

A bright light shined across the end of the hallway from another room, the applause got louder, and as he stepped into the blinding blue-white Light, he was introduced by a man over the speakers.

"Now joining us on stage is the God you've all been waiting for," the voice announced as the applause reached a fevered pitch. Father stepped out onto the small stage and heard, "Appearing in his favorite form, a man who prefers to be called Father, the creator of his own universe, the omnipresent being who just finished his first City of Light, please welcome Father!!"

Father held up a welcoming hand and waved to a crowd he couldn't see.

Coming toward him was a man. A human being dressed in a blue suit, white collared shirt and a blue and red tie. His arms were spread wide, and they embraced.

"Welcome home," the man whispered in Father's ear. "I'm glad you made it."

"Come on over to the couch," the man said to the crowd and Father as he pulled him farther onto the stage.

"Where are we?" Father asked over the applause.

"Come on, you're going to love this," the man said reassuringly. "It's your first time here, everyone wants to meet you, and there's loads to talk about."

With spotlights following him from above, Father walked to a green fabric couch next to an oversized desk.

"Sit, sit, please, sit and relax," the man coaxed, walking around to the other side of the desk.

Father sat down followed by the man in the suit. The crowd behind the lights began to settle down, and the lighting started to change.

Father looked out over an audience of several hundred beings. Some of them were balls of light, some had beaks, others had tentacles, many of them didn't have anything resembling a face, and not a single one of them looked human.

"Where am I?" Father asked. "And who are you and what is all this?"

The man smiled reassuringly, and his blue-gray eyes twinkled under the stage lights. "All of this," he said, sweeping his hand across the stage and audience, "All of this is for you. You finished a City my boy, your very first one. Congratulations!"

Applause and strange celebratory noises erupted from the audience.

"All these Gods," he said, motioning toward the audience, "They've all done the same thing at least once. You're in a very exclusive group now, and we're all expecting great things."

The man leaned across his desk toward Father, and said, "Lean in. Let me show you."

The audience was waiting for this part, it was always a crowd favorite, and they watched intently as the barely visible Light flickered between the man's fingertip and Father's forehead.

Instantly, Father was transported to a warm tropical beach. His toes sank into the smooth grains of white sand as breaker waves played their musical songs all the way down the scalloped coastline.

The man in the suit was next to him, but he was wearing the robes of the Kingdom, the same ones Father wore.

"Getting you up onto the stage is really just fun for everyone, including me," he explained. "You're not a child, I'm not a talk show host and this time together is what this is really all about."

"Thank you," Father said, scooping up a handful of the warm sand. "It was all a bit patronizing," he observed, watching the sand trickle out between his fingers.

"Which one of these is mine?" Father asked, looking at the dusty white residue on his hand.

"It's here," the man said, holding out his hand and showing Father a single grain.

Father held out his hand, and the man tipped the single grain into it.

After a long silence, Father asked, "Why?"

"Because someone always needs to make sand."

"Your sand is different than mine," Father said, looking into the infinitely wise eyes of his creator.

"Your very best beach is called Earth. Your very best sand is humanity. We both make sand."

"Am I good sand?" Father asked.

"You're a promising grain on a large beach," the man offered, clapping Father on the back.

"Let's walk," the man offered warmly, "and please, call me God."

As they walked down the beach side by side, the waves occasionally rolled up over their ankles making them pause. Father scooped a tiny shell out of the water and tossed it back.

"Is it too much for you?" God asked.

"I don't know," Father replied, looking out across the water. "It's not what I expected. It's just another...," he trailed off as his thoughts wandered. "It's just an endless circle."

"The door didn't take you where you expected. The path doesn't end where you thought it would. The point of the journey is not to arrive," he said optimistically.

"I feel small," Father said, looking down at the sand. "Not an insignificant kind of small, just an ordinary kind of small."

"How you change is up to you," God said, completing the thought occupying Father's mind.

"What happens now?"

"I take my finger off your head, and we go back and finish the show."

"After the show, do I ever come back?"

"Absolutely!" God said enthusiastically. "Every time a City is completed you get to sit in the audience and watch the show, but you only get to come on stage when you complete a City. It's a big deal, a major accomplishment."

"What if it never happens again?"

God put his arm around Father's shoulders and hugged him as they walked. "Then your just ordinary sand and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Unless you're the sand," Father observed.

"We'll talk more after the show. Try to look at everything that's about to happen as a learning opportunity. If you can do that, you'll be well on your way to completing your next group of Cities."

Before Father could react, God was pulling his hand away and sitting back down behind his desk. Father stared blankly at the crowd.

"Hey, new guy," one of the beings called out from the front row. "You didn't step on my grain of sand did you?!"

The crowd laughed and made silly gestures toward the stage, but it was all in fun. After all, it wasn't every day an omnipotent being sat speechless on a stage next to his creator, struggling to come to terms with reality.

Father looked at the multi-tentacled, light blue creature in the front row and rolled his wrist and hand in a formal, little gesture of acknowledgment as he announced, "My humble apologies your eminence, but we visited the top of a high mountain where only one grain of sand was on display. Yours must be down on a beach somewhere with all the other ordinary sand. Not to worry, I'm sure it's still safe right where you left it." He grinned and gave the creature an over-emphasized wink.

The audience exploded with all manner of comical chortling noises, and God smiled broadly from behind his desk, applauding the exchange. Even the creature with tentacles playfully acknowledged the masterful execution of Father's comeback.

The audience lights dimmed, the stage lights came back up, and a huge mountain appeared, hovering atop the stage. The image zoomed in on the massive mountain until they were at its very peak. The zoom continued until individual rocks could be seen and finally, a tiny golden plate came into focus. Zooming into the dish a single grain of white sand became visible, and the zoom just kept on going until the grain was as large as a mountain. The audience was clearly enjoying the build-up, and Father had already accepted the moment for what it was, and what it wasn't.

When the zoom finally stopped, God asked the audience, "Would you like to go in and take a look around?"

After a unanimous explosion of enthusiasm, they zoomed deeper into the tiny grain of sand. Everything turned white, then everything went black, and they entered the infinitely large, completely unique, breathtakingly beautiful, impossibly strange and staggeringly detailed universe of Father's creation.

"Would you mind taking us on a tour?" God asked.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Just think it, the rest will happen for you."

"Easy enough," Father said, looking at the three-dimensional image hovering above the stage.

"Can we bring the lights down by eighty percent please?" Father asked, and the room darkened. "Yes, that's much better, thank you."

"Welcome to my universe everyone," he said to the audience. The scene on the stage rippled as Father navigated across time. "Let's go back to the beginning shall we?" he asked, bringing them closer to and finally into the center of an impossibly dense, incredibly bright pin-point of light.

"This is what I had to work with!" he joked. "This is the third time I've crammed it all back into a single place and started over. Give me just a fraction of a second and I'll unpack it for you," he said playfully, pulling their view out of the point of light as it exploded.

"I call this a Big Bang, and I'm sure I don't have to tell any of you, this is where the really fun stuff happens.

This time around I made gravity the dominant force," he explained as they watched everything expand. "It gave me a nice structure to work with, and it's really a lot of fun to add mass to things.

There's a lot going on here," he said, speeding up time, "but I won't exhaust you with the details. I think we all know what it takes to make the particles play with each other."

The audience laughed, knowing just how challenging and rewarding "Planck time" could be.

The scene rippled again as Father brought them to the edge of a spiral galaxy littered with stars. "I thought I'd finished this galaxy ages ago, then I noticed this empty pocket in one of the outer arms. It seemed like it was missing something. My gravity was complaining about a lack of mass in the area and so," he narrated, taking them into the area where Earth would be, "I decided to fill it.

It's really just a tiny space, but I wanted to give it something special. I wanted to make a home for my favorite little people, but it needed to be more than what I'd made before," he said, pausing for a moment of self-reflection.

"What I'd created before," he said, looking far off into the distance and stroking his white beard. "What I'd created before was perfect, but it never worked out. It never changed into something more, it never evolved into something better. All of my previous attempts at everything were flawed in a way I didn't understand. I could see and feel the problem, but I couldn't figure out how to fix it. How to control it. How to make it better."

The audience was enthralled, they knew they couldn't afford to miss a single word.

God was reclining in his black, padded chair. His eyes were closed, and he listened without preconception to every word of wisdom flowing from their remarkable guest.

"That's when I did something that never actually made sense until, until...well until right now," he said, sounding very far away. "I made a planet that would never be perfect. I designed it to never stop moving and changing. I created non-repeating algorithms to churn even the smallest of items. Every action and reaction would be unique, virtually unrepeatable." He was smiling now, thinking back to his inspiration. "It would either self-destruct or somehow reach a quasi-state of equilibrium. But even that would be unpredictable."

Hovering above the stage in Father's empty workspace, the playthings of a creator were quickly assembled.

While the pieces and parts of the new planet were blended together, Father displayed his endless series of infinitely long equations. These works of art were already driving complex quantum mechanics into a chaotic harmony. With chaos in play, a tumultuous ball of molten mayhem grew into its final mass and Father gave it a single push.

As the little glowing orb took to its path, Father sighed.

"That was the last time I touched it," he said, gazing at his newborn creation. "I gave it everything I had."

Everyone was on the edge of their seat. Every word was a gift. This was the best show most of them had ever seen! When Father paused there was an uncontrollable need to applaud, to thank, to recognize the achievement so very, very few ever happened upon. But God held up his hand, silently commanding everyone not to move, not to twitch, not to even think loud thoughts, because this was it. This was the lesson that could not be taught.

Father tugged at his beard as millions of years passed by in seconds. "I just watched," he said, as the little planet cooled and changed. With a dark, murky atmosphere beginning to surround the world, he said, "It did things I didn't really like. It did things I didn't really want. It changed in ways that made me not want to even look at it." And they watched as the single landmass on the planet broke into multiple pieces, each drifting a different way.

"Chaos," he announced in disgust. "Perfectly ordered chaos. What a mess," he added, zooming in on one of the many active volcanoes covering its surface. "I knew my people couldn't live here. I knew I had once again tried and failed, but I didn't know why."

He continued showing them all manner of cataclysmic events like tornadoes, fifty-foot tidal waves, hurricanes, and tidal pools filled with sulfuric acid. "That's when I gave up on Earth and put some non-sentient lizards down there. I filled it up with other crazy ideas, but not with my people. They wouldn't survive down there, and I knew it."

The image above the stage flickered and went out. Father turned away from the stage and looked at God. "How horrible is all this?" he asked. "Do you really want me to keep going?"

Looking into the audience, God asked, "More?"

The audience went crazy!

"All right," Father sighed, "I just don't want to give anybody the wrong idea about all this. Earth was a mistake," he said, making the planet flicker back onto the stage.

Playing to the role of host, God asked, "Why did you put your humans there? What made you do it?"

Father stood up and took off his robe. Turning around, he said, "My form, the one I'm in right now, is a male human being. It's a fragile body that will break or leak with little provocation. It wears out quickly, and it always needs food and water." Putting his robe back on and sitting down, he told them, "It's only got a little bit of hair, making it's easy to get too cold or too hot. In short, it's fragile, and it's temporary.

I've been making humans for millions of years. They appeal to me. I like them, and I've gotten really good at making them smart, creative and resourceful. Sort of the way I see myself." The screen showed all manner of humanity and human civilizations as he narrated. "What I never really tried with them was what I just showed you with the planet Earth.

I never let them live in chaos. I never made them survive without the basic ingredients. Things like intelligence, food, water, hope, and lots of other little things. I thought all those things were necessary and because of the way I made them," flickering above the stage were scenes of brutality, war, destruction, cruelty, and death. All inflicted by one human on another. "Because of the way I made them," he said, acknowledging the heinous acts, "something always went wrong."

The image flickered again, and they watched a meteor smash into the beautiful planet Earth. "With all sorts of chaos built into this whole solar system...well, there went the existing population." And they watched as the atmosphere clouded over.

"Even though my Earth was failing, I still loved it. And even though my humans always turned out horribly, I still loved them too."

The scene faded to black, and Father said, "That's when it happened. That's when I realized whatever I was trying so hard to create would never be more than what I created because it never had the chance to grow. It never struggled to survive. It never worked to become more because it didn't have to. The perfection I had created was surrounded by disappointment, all because of me."

God proactively called for silence and the audience struggled to comply.

"That's when I finally looked at the Earth from a different perspective. That's when I realized just how special it really was. It wasn't perfect, it would never be perfect, and that's why I loved it. That's what gave it the chance to be more than what I had created.

What happened next was just another silly experiment. I never expected anything to come of it, but I knew I had to try."

The stage flickered again, and the image of a male and female human appeared. They looked like Father, but younger. Their eye's had a natural spark of intelligence, and they stood tall on two feet.

Then Father slowly changed them. They got shorter, they stooped over, their heads got smaller, they got harrier, and when he was done, they didn't really look human at all. Even the spark in their eyes was almost gone.

"This is what I put on Earth. I sprinkled them around and changed the skin color a little, but this was their starting point," he paused, "I guess it was my starting point too."

After the guests in the audience had left, Father and God sat on the long, green couch talking.

"I've got to hand it to you," God said, putting his hands behind his head. "That was one of my favorite shows ever. You really surprised everyone, especially the part at the end."

"You mean when I told them it was 'game on'?"

"Game on," God laughed, "Yes, I loved that part."

"They seemed surprised you were giving me five Cities. Is that more than usual?" Father asked.

"Nobody's ever gotten more than four after their first City. But nobody's ever had five worlds with five evolving species worthy of a City. At least not right after their first time here."

"So each time one gets finished, do I get more?"

"Only if you have a place to put them."

"How long have you been making sand?" Father asked.

"Long enough to know good sand when I see it," God said, resting his hands on his lap. "And what kind of question is that anyway? Time is something you built into your universe, it's not even a real thing."

"I was just fishing," Father thought aloud, "It's something I learned from my humans. What happens to the City on Earth and to my heroes?"

"That's up to you," God said, pointing at Father. "It's yours to do with as you please."

"Interesting," Father mused to himself.

God smiled at Father, and said, "Some of your experiments and mistakes were really fun to watch."

"That's not nice," Father said, pretending to be offended. "I was experimenting."

The more God thought about the bloopers they had watched during the show, the bigger his smile got. Finally, because couldn't keep it in anymore, he started laughing out loud.

"A trillion copies of Earth?!" he proclaimed with pure joy. His whole body was shaking with laughter, and he blurted out, "And the last few you made," he said, barely able to say the words because he was laughing so hard. "That poor man was struck by lightning seven times," he gasped for air, and shouted, "Seven! And the identical snowflakes," he cried out with tears running down his cheeks. He fell sideways onto the couch holding his belly with both hands, and cried, "The repeating face thing, that was excellent!" The couch shook in rhythm with his convulsive laughter.

Father pushed him in fun, and said, "I didn't know anyone was watching! Maybe it was so random it happened a few times. You don't know."

"Yes," God managed to say between gasps, "Yes, I do know."

"Poor Roy," Father said, sounding sad. "Do you think I should send him a card?"

God was laughing so hard he rolled off the couch.

"Dear Roy Sullivan," Father dictated. "I'm sorry about the lightning thing, my bad. Your friend in high places, God."

"Stop it!" God yelled with delight.

"P.S.," Father continued, "Please apologize to the wife for me."

"I can't breathe," God whispered.

"Dear Jacqueline Gagne."

"Please!" he managed to cry out between sobs of pure delight. "I can't take it."

"Even though you made ten 'hole in one' shots in less than four months, you're not a very good golfer. I'll try harder next time on my non-repeating algorithms. Thanks for understanding, your friend God."

Little sobbing noises and occasional snorts came from the floor as God shook with spasms of comical ecstasy.

"All right, last one," Father chuckled. "Dear Nancy Knight."

God was pounding on the stage with his fist.

"Sorry about those two identical snowflakes. I think my quantum mechanics were a little off. Can we just keep this between us? The creator of all things, God."

"Stop," God called out. "My stomach hurts."

By this time the laughter had spread to Father and the two kept on laughing even after God had managed to crawl back onto the couch. Every time they made eye contact the giggles would start up, and they just fell apart all over again.

"A platypus," God whispered. His eyes were puffy, his cheeks were wet, and he patted Father on the shoulder. "Thank you. That was exquisite. I needed that."

"I'm glad I got your sense of humor," Father said warmly. "All of this would be overwhelming if I couldn't laugh at myself."

"If you take it all too seriously," God said, giggling and wiping off his cheeks for the fourth or fifth time, "if you can't have fun as the omnipotent god of your very own universe, you're doing it wrong."

The two men talked until there wasn't anything else to say, and as God opened the doorway back to Father's universe, he said, "I'll see you again before you know it, and don't try to make it back onto the stage. Just let it happen."

"Thank you," Father said, as they embraced one last time. "Thank you for the imperfection."

"Remember," God whispered secretly into Father's ear, "control is just an illusion. Keep experimenting, keep smiling, and keep coming back."

Just as he stepped into the doorway, Father looked back at God, and said, "Game on!"

~The End~

# My Team of Heroes

The following brave souls rolled up their sleeves and cleared more than a few nights and weekends to edit, proof read and generally mark up what use to be a difficult to read collection of ideas and visualizations. Through this process, each of them has brought something to me that I did not or could not see at the time.

The difficult, frustrating, humbling and ultimately very rewarding journey from dream to written story would not have been possible without their help.

Thank you all, I am forever grateful to each of you.

The following brave souls rolled up their sleeves and cleared more than a few nights and weekends to edit, proofread and contribute to this project. Each of them has brought something to me that I did not or could not see at the time.

The difficult, frustrating, humbling and ultimately very rewarding journey from dream to written story would not have been possible without their help.

Thank you all, I am forever grateful to each of you.

Elizabeth Meith

Gwynn Newton

Marcia Adams Ho

Finnigan the Great

Dennis Stephenson

Amy Cathers

Elana Memke

Molly Spurgeon

Michelle Meith

Suzie Bottjer

Lynn Bryant

Sonya Joynes

Jim Ramsey

The Book Club

Duncan "The Book Guy"

James Hoover

Kyle Schroer

Pam Mathews

# About the Author

### About the Author

Ian Newton lives with his amazing wife on the Kitsap peninsula in Washington. He is a pharmacist, photographer, stargazer, artist, inventor, avid outdoorsman and father to three sons. He is currently working on the second half of this story. The title of second book is "Beyond the Hero's Chamber" and it will be available in the summer of 2016.

He's also a dreamer, but he's not the only one.

If you want a hardcover copy of this book, just email me at

newtonrph@hotmail.com

# About the Illustrator

About the Illustrator

Tucked away in a nondescript Southern California home, Marcia Adams Ho illustrates a world full of color. She creates art with detail that both draws the eye in and gives the author's story a magical reality while keeping the reader's imagination alive.

Marcia graduated with a BFA from Art Center College of Design and began her career as a background artist in animation. She currently freelances as an illustrator and produces fine art paintings in her studio. More of Marcia's work can be viewed at marciaadamsho.com.

# Endnotes

i Lyrics from the song Chain Lightning by RUSH, from the 1989 album Presto, lyrics by Neil Peart.

ii Lyrics from the song Natural Science by RUSH, from the 1980 album Permanent Waves, lyrics by Neil Peart.

iii (Adapted from) Lyrics from the song Closer to the Heart by RUSH, from the 1977 album A Farewell to Kings, lyrics by Neil Peart and Peter Talbot.

