It was time to see if Mr. Lee could help.
Back through Africa, Europe, and the Americas, then down the escalator. A uniformed guard directed Kevin to the information desk. The woman at the desk made a phone call, then said that Professor Lee would be out in a few minutes.
"Thanks," Kevin said. He wandered over to a bench along the wall and sat down. When grownups said "a few minutes," it usually meant a lot more than three or four minutes, which was what "a few" was supposed to mean.
But Kevin knew that he used the same trick himself. He sometimes said "just a few more minutes" to his mom while he was playing a video game when he knew perfectly well it would take at least twenty minutes to beat the boss or reach a save point.
His father almost never said "a few." His father spoke in exact amounts. Seven minutes to shave. Thirteen point five gallons to fill the car's gas tank. Even when Kevin was little, when they talked about the price of something, his dad always worked out what it would cost with the tax included.
Thinking about numbers reminded Kevin of the problem he hadn't been able to figure out earlier, about what element he was. Archie seemed to think the zodiac stuff was important. And besides, there was hardly anything else to go on.
Okay. Don't go too fast. One thing at a time. Start with the number of years between Archie's birth and mine.
The website had given 55 B.C. as the year Chu-mong/Archie was born.
55 B.C.—a Fire-tiger year.
A.D. 1987—the Tiger year I was born in.
Kevin used his finger as if it were a pencil and "wrote" the arithmetic on the palm of his hand. It was a habit he'd picked up from his dad; he did it whenever the numbers were too hard to compute easily in his head. It felt almost like working it out on paper.
55 plus 1,987 equals 2,042.
Kevin double-checked to make sure he'd gotten it right—another habit drilled into him by his dad.
2,042. Okay, now what?
If he divided by 12—12 years in each cycle—he'd get the number of cycles, right? Was that what he needed?
Well, it couldn't hurt.
2,042 divided by 12 equals ...
170, with a remainder of 2.
170 2/12. Which equals 170 1/6.
One-sixth? What the heck did the one-sixth mean?
170 ... 170 cycles...
Kevin sat very still and stared at the floor without seeing it. He knew this feeling: He had reached the point where either he'd "get it" or things would slip away from him like they were made of smoke.
Focus. Concentrate.
One-sixth ... one-sixth of a cycle!
170 complete cycles, and the next cycle only one-sixth finished!
He raised his head in triumph.
"You must be Kevin," said the man standing in front of him.
Professor Lee was smiling. "I think we've met before, but it was a long time ago." He was tall and thin, with less hair than Kevin remembered. Older than his parents but younger than his grandparents.
Kevin blinked. "Hi," he said. He stood up and stuck out his hand.
The professor drew closer to shake Kevin's hand. He frowned a little. "Your eye—are you okay?"
"What? Oh, that," Kevin said, and reached up to touch the sore spot just below his eye. "No, it's fine, really. I—I bumped it earlier, that's all."
Mr. Lee was still frowning. "Did you put some ice on it? We could get some in the cafeteria."
"No, it's okay," Kevin said. "I can hardly feel it. Really."
The man nodded. "All right, then. Let me know if you change your mind. How are your folks?" Without giving Kevin a chance to answer, he went on, "Why don't we go into my office. I think we'll be more comfortable there."
He led Kevin through a set of double doors into a corridor lined with more doors. As they walked, Kevin allowed himself one last review of the numbers to make sure he wouldn't forget them.
2,042 years between my birth and Archie's. That's 170 cycles plus a sixth of the next one. Got it. Now, let's see if this guy knows anything useful.
A thick gray carpet padded their footsteps. Paintings hung on the walls, each with its own tiny light fixture above the frame.
It was awfully fancy, especially compared to the offices Kevin was used to: his dad's tiny cubicle, barely big enough for a desk and chair and computer; his mom's corner in a room shared with five other teachers, papers and files and books strewn everywhere.
Kevin rubbed his sweaty hands against his pants. Here in this hushed corridor, the time he'd spent with Archie seemed a million years ago, and more unreal than ever. He couldn't possibly tell Mr. Lee the truth. He'd just have to wing it.
The professor opened the last door on the right and politely waited for Kevin to enter first. The room was not very big, but it was just as fancy as the corridor. Dark wood furniture, scrolls and paintings on the walls, a row of shelves that held books and lots of little statues and pottery and things.
The window behind the desk looked out onto the parking lot. Kevin stared for a moment, realizing that the window must be on the same wall where Archie was waiting. In fact, with Mr. Lee's office being at the end of this wing, Archie must be standing just to the left of the window. Kevin was tempted to peek out, but that would have meant going behind the desk, and Mr. Lee was already settling into his chair.
"Now, how can I help you?" Mr. Lee asked. He gestured toward a leather chair in front of the desk.
Kevin sat down and pushed his toes into the carpet to keep from sliding around on the shiny leather. "Um, well. I'm doing this project on Korean history, but I can't find the information I need, and my grandpa thought maybe you could help."
"Yes, he called me," the professor said. "Did you know that our families knew each other in Korea? He is a few years older than I am, and he went to school with my oldest brother. How is he?" Again without waiting for an answer, he continued, "You must give him my regards. Tell him to come to the museum sometime, and to bring your grandmother, and I'll give them a private tour."
"Thanks, I'll tell him," Kevin said politely.
"Oh, and of course the invitation is open to you and your parents, too." Mr. Lee smiled and nodded.
"Thanks," Kevin said again. What was it with grownups and chitchat—why couldn't he just find out what he needed to know and get out of there?
"Your project," Mr. Lee said. "Something for school?"
Kevin didn't want to lie. "No, not exactly. Just something I'm—I'm interested in."
"About Korean history. Well, well." The professor leaned back in his chair. "I must say, I'm very pleased to see a young person such as yourself taking an interest in your heritage."
My heritage? Oh, brother. I couldn't care less about my heritage—I'm just trying to help Archie.
"Um, yeah. And I've been on the Internet, and to the library catalogs, but I guess the—the area I'm researching is pretty obscure. There doesn't seem to be much information about it."
"Which area is that?"
Kevin took a breath. "I want to know about a guy—I mean, a king. I mean, um—" Gosh, I'm messing this up. "He was this historical figure. Named Chu-mong."
Mr. Lee sat up and beamed. "Chu-mong!" he exclaimed. "What an extraordinary coincidence! Kevin, Korean royalty is a special interest of mine. Tan-gun, Chu-mong, Ki-ja—all the legendary kings of Korea. I have studied them for years! Lucky boy, you've come to the right place. Now, what is it you want to know?"
"Er, well—" Kevin stopped. Heck, I don't know what I want to know! Everything? Anything?
Fortunately, the professor had that helpful habit of not waiting for answers to questions. "Chu-mong was much beloved by his people. Do you know how he gathered support for his kingship? He walked throughout the kingdom, and wherever he went he talked to people. Ordinary people. When the time came for him to create a ruling council, he chose not only government officials but also a farmer and a fisherman to guide him."
Maybe there's a clue in there somewhere. You know—like I have to fi
nd a farmer and a fisherman to help out.
Kevin squirmed a little in the chair. That was like hoping for a magic word again, as if this were some kind of video game. It's not like that. Not one bit. I don't have any idea how Archie ended up in my bedroom, so how could I possibly have any idea how to send him back?
"There are also many legends about him," the professor went on. "In the Korean imagination, he is rather like King Arthur. A man who really existed but who was so revered that he became the subject of many tales of magic and mystery."
"Magic?" Kevin said, sitting up straighter.
"Yes. During Chu-mong's time people held a great belief in magic. It helped explain many things they did not understand." Mr. Lee smiled. "There are times when I regret that there is so little belief in magic in our day and age. I think a bit of mystery enriches our lives. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Um, yeah," Kevin said. But too much mystery can sure confuse a person.
"I'm sure you've already learned what a remarkable archer he was," the professor said. "In his time, Korea became known as a land of great archers. Oh, and here's something you might not know: He's supposed to be the one who introduced the use of chopsticks to Korea."
"Really? How did people eat before that?"
"Probably with their hands. Chopsticks are a Chinese invention, and Chu-mong's family came to Korea from China, so it is thought that he is the one who made it a Korean custom as well."
Well, that was pretty cool. Probably made it less messy for people not to have to eat with their hands all the time. Still, it didn't seem to be the kind of information that would help get Archie back to Korea. In desperation, Kevin began to look around the room. The scrolls, the pottery ... was there anything here that might be a clue?
Mr. Lee must have noticed him looking around. "I'm afraid none of the artifacts I have will be of any help to you. Everything the museum owns dates from long after the time of Chu-mong. Even in Korea itself, there is precious little from his era—some pottery shards, bronze belt buckles, a few daggers."
He pointed to a picture on one of the shelves; it was of a much younger Mr. Lee standing in front of what looked like a construction site. "Many years ago, I was able to visit several archaeological digs there. I used to dream of finding an arrowhead from the time of Chu-mong, but I never did." The professor shook his head, looking a little sad.
Kevin twitched. I could tell him where there are a bunch of those arrowheads—right outside his window. Should he tell Mr. Lee about Archie? Would that help get Archie back to Korea—and back to his own time?
Kevin opened his mouth—and then closed it again. Don't be ridiculous! He'd think it was some nut in a costume! He'd never believe me, or Archie! I don't even know why I believe Archie!
He glared at the window. He knew Archie couldn't see him, but he was just so—so frustrated.
Mr. Lee looked at him curiously, then swiveled his chair a little toward the window.
No! Kevin wasn't sure why, but at that moment it seemed terribly important to keep Archie's presence a secret. He leapt to his feet.
"Uh, Mr. Lee? Thank you so much. This was so interesting. I can't wait to get home and work on my project. I didn't know any of that stuff you told me." Kevin leaned forward and stuck out his hand, practically begging the man to turn back toward him.
Which he did. He shook Kevin's hand, looking a little puzzled. "Well. I'm glad I could be of assistance. Please come back again anytime. And give my regards to your family."
"Sure. Yeah. Thanks. Thanks again."
"I'll walk you back out."
"No, no, that's okay, I can find my way—it was easy. Thanks, Mr. Lee."
And Kevin was out of the room and down the corridor before the professor could get to his feet.
6. Balance and Order
Kevin pulled open one of the glass doors at the front of the museum and walked quickly around to the side of the building. As he turned the corner, he saw with relief that Archie was still standing in exactly the same position. It looked like he hadn't even blinked. Or breathed, for that matter. Kevin had been in the museum for at least twenty minutes—how did Archie do it?
Kevin gave a stiff little wave and prayed silently that Archie would walk straight over, without meandering in front of the professor's window. No worries: Archie came toward him right away. "You are all right, Young Friend?" he called anxiously.
"I'm fine, Archer." Even though it seemed silly to think of the museum as a dangerous place, it made Kevin feel good to know that Archie had been worried about him. And "Young Friend"—that was definitely progress.
But what were they going to do next? The museum had been a real dead end, and Kevin didn't have any other ideas....
Well, walking was better than standing still. He looked around cautiously. The parking lot was behind the building, with an exit to a side street. That would be quieter than the main road, there'd be less traffic. He led the way through the parking lot.
"What of your mission?" Archie asked. "Did you discover the whereabouts of a sorceress? Or someone else who might be able to help me return to my people?"
Kevin sighed. "No, Archer. I'm sorry. I did talk to someone who knew some things about you, but he didn't know any—any sorceresses."
Archie looked so downcast that Kevin tried to think of something to cheer him up. "Archer, I think it's very cool how you can stay in one position for so long," he said. "I wish I could do that."
"It took a great deal of training," Archie answered. "Every day for many years. Not training the body so much as training the mind."
"The mind," Kevin echoed. He'd noticed that listening and repeating what he'd heard from Archie was almost the same as asking a question. Better, really. Because Archie knew he'd been listening and couldn't get all insulted.
"It is not easy to put into words," Archie said slowly. "But I shall try. I gather the movement from my limbs, my head and shoulders, from all the parts of my body. I form it into a ball, and I draw the ball down deep into my center. I keep it there, in my belly. When I feel I want to move, I do it there. Within the ball. But the movement, the energy, is there, should I have sudden need of it. I need only release it from the ball back into my body, in a single blink."
Kevin nodded slowly. "I think I get it," he said, "but I still think it must be hard to do."
"As I have already stated, it took much time and work to achieve. But it may be that I also have a gift for this ability." Archie looked at him solemnly. "So many times have I been blessed by the spirits. To have received such great gifts means that I must give in return, to do my part in maintaining the balance of harmony in the universe."
Balance of harmony—what the heck was he talking about now?
"Therefore," Archie continued, "every moment that I am away from my people prevents me from doing what I am destined to do. I must find a way to return home!"
Kevin groaned, shook his head, and rolled his eyes all at the same time. It's hopeless! I don't know what to do!
Archie was looking at him intently. "Young Friend, you are troubled, and calming your body can go a great distance toward calming your mind. I think it would be a good time for you to attempt a moment of stillness such as we have been speaking about."
"Attempt a what?" Kevin was too discouraged to try to make the question a nonquestion.
"Stand so." Archie stopped right where he was there on the sidewalk and faced him. Kevin sighed and did the same.
"Make your breaths long and slow. As you take each breath, feel the movements in your body—your arms and legs, especially—being gathered up into a ball in your belly. Until there is no movement left to agitate you. Only stillness. Only calm."
Archie's voice was low and soothing. It was weird, but after only a few breaths Kevin really did feel a little calmer.
They stood in silence. At first Kevin thought he would simply have to fidget, but he kept trying to put the movements into a ball the way Archie had told him to, and he was surprised to find
that it gradually became easier not to move.
After a few minutes, Archie nodded. "Well done for your first effort. I perceived only the slightest movement in your lower body."
It was true: Kevin had shuffled his feet a little at the beginning.
Kevin bowed his head. "Thanks." He couldn't imagine bowing to anyone else, but somehow it felt right to bow to Archie.
"Now, then," Archie said, "with your mind calmer, perhaps you will now be able to think about what is troubling you in a more orderly manner."
More orderly—that was a funny way to put it. For some reason Kevin thought of the few times his dad had talked about his job as a programmer. "Solving problems by putting things in order"—wasn't that what he'd said? Something about sorting out the essential stuff and getting rid of whatever wasn't necessary. And then creating commands and making sure the commands ran in a logical sequence.
His dad had explained this a couple years ago, when Kevin started playing a lot of computer games. Kevin had thought he might like to write his own game and had asked his dad about programming. But it turned out that basic programming—what he had to learn first before he got to the cool stuff—was really boring. He'd sat through one or two dull sessions with his dad and then given up. His dad had seemed a little disappointed that Kevin wasn't more interested but hadn't pushed him to continue.
Archie looked at him encouragingly. "Come now. It is clear to me that you have an unusual ability to communicate with the spirits. They have doubtless already told you what you need to know. There remains only for you to hear what they have told you in the right way."
"Archer, you have to understand something. I don't have any—um—any special kind of ability. Anybody could do what I did with the—the spirit box."
Archie frowned, then shook his head. "No, Young Friend. You have communicated with the spirits. You have taken considerable time and even left your home on behalf of a stranger. These are things that not everyone would have done. I feel quite certain that you are the one fated to assist me in my quest." He nodded firmly.