“What did he want?” I asked.
“He said he had come to help. I asked him how and he spoke about a black powder we could produce that would allow us to kill a hundred men with one catapult. I thought the idea ridiculous but he insisted I grab a torch and follow him to a cave miles from our camp. There the walls were heavy with deposits of guano.”
“Guano?”
“Bat feces. It had built up over centuries and crystallized. Today a chemist would recognize the material as a perfect source of potassium nitrate. Back then we called it saltpeter or stone salt. The Alchemist had me collect several large bags. By then the sun had risen and he led me to a deposit of sulfur. To me it was just a yellow powder that stank. When we finally returned to camp, he ordered me to bring him a bag of coal, which he ground into a fine powder with a hammer.”
“Wait a second! You’re talking about gunpowder!”
“Excellent. You know your chemistry. Seventy-five percent potassium nitrate, fifteen percent charcoal, ten percent sulfur. Carefully mixed and compressed in leather bags, it gave Caesar’s army an interesting weapon to place in our catapults.”
“You began to bomb the enemy?” I asked.
“Yes. During our initial barrage, I think we killed more from sheer shock than actual explosive power. Our own men were afraid to handle it. They spoke of the black powder as coming from the underworld, Pluto’s infernal realm. Caesar did nothing to dispel the talk. He guarded the formula carefully and allowed only a select group of men to manufacture it. They were all sworn to secrecy.” Kendor added, “Caesar was especially careful that none of our men wrote about it in their diaries.”
“Is that how it appeared and disappeared from history?”
“It was too great a secret to totally disappear. Your history books will tell you gunpowder was discovered by the Chinese in the ninth century but I can tell you it reappeared in several major conflicts outside the gates of Rome. It was one reason Attila the Hun failed to sack the city.” Kendor paused. “But I digress. You want to hear about the Alchemist. When the Gallic relief force finally arrived, we had stockpiled several tons of gunpowder. Once you knew the secret, it wasn’t hard to make. We immediately began to bombard Vercassivellaunus’s sixty thousand men. Few survived and the following week Vercingetorix surrendered to Caesar.”
“So Caesar wasn’t the military genius everyone thinks he was.”
“The Alchemist brought the key to victory. But none of us would have been alive to use it if Caesar had not been leading our army. When the battle was finished, the Alchemist came again in the middle of the night. He had a stack of cards with him. I had never seen such a thing. All the paper we had in Rome came in bulky rolls.”
“Don’t tell me the deck was identical to a modern pack.”
“It was the same as the decks you will find in the casinos. Fifty-two cards in a deck. Queens, diamonds, hearts, and jacks—the same four suits. I know what you’re going to say. Your history says that cards were invented by the Chinese in the ninth century. But don’t you find it interesting that’s the same place and time your historians say gunpowder was invented?”
“Are you saying the Alchemist arranged for our history books to be rewritten?”
“I’m not sure. But I do find the coincidence curious.”
“To say the least. Did the Alchemist happen to teach you any card games?”
“Twenty-two. Red queen. He taught me the rules and then we played the game for real stakes. He played the role of the dealer and he beat me badly. I lost more than two pounds of gold coins, which was a lot of money in those days. It’s a lot of money now. He insisted I pay. Then he said he was always to be paid when a person lost at red queen.”
“How?”
“I assume you mean how was he supposed to collect the money? He didn’t say, and I didn’t bother to ask because I found the instruction very strange. But I must admit I enjoyed the game. The Alchemist left me with a hundred decks of cards and I taught red queen to dozens of my fellow soldiers. Many grew addicted to it. More than a few lost their pay and fights broke out. But the men who played the role of the dealer, when they did win, they were never able to hold on to their winnings.”
“What do you mean?”
“They would misplace the coins somehow. Or the coins would just disappear. Superstition grew around the game, causing strife, and Caesar stepped in and outlawed it. He collected all the decks of cards and had them sent back to Rome. Those crates were only reopened when Claudius became emperor in 41 AD.”
“Did you teach Claudius how to play red queen?”
“Someone did. A soldier in Caesar’s army had made a record of the rules and passed it on to his children. Claudius responded favorably to it. He loved games of all kinds, not just gladiator contests. For a time red queen underwent a revival, but only those close to the emperor, the nobles and senators, played. They were the only ones who were given decks of cards.”
“Did the dealers’ winnings continue to vanish?”
Kendor hesitated. “Yes.”
“How?”
A note of impatience entered his voice. “I don’t know. The game only lasted thirteen years, as long as Claudius did. By then the decks of cards were worn out anyway. There was hardly a complete deck left. When Nero took the throne, he outlawed it.”
“Why?”
Kendor shrugged. “That’s what Nero did. He outlawed anything he didn’t like.”
“How did it come to be revived later on?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps someone found an old copy of the rules on a dusty parchment. It’s not important.”
I could see I was losing Kendor’s attention. Talking about the game appeared to irritate him, although he had brought it up. I asked him to tell me more about the Alchemist.
“He came to me a third time, in the middle of the night, after we had taken full control of Alesia. By this time we had a hundred thousand captive warriors. It was the custom in those days to sell them into slavery. As a symbol of mercy, Caesar planned to send ten thousand of them home without their weapons. He was far from cruel and he deplored senseless killing.
“But the Alchemist wanted the prisoners burned alive. Every one of them, in payment for the secret of gunpowder he had given to Caesar. I was shocked. I told him to go back to the hell he had come from.”
“Did Caesar personally know the Alchemist?”
“Not very well. He had met him the day I first brought Caesar a sample of the gunpowder. But the Alchemist refused to speak to him, which angered Caesar. Still, at the time, he had to be grateful to him for helping us win the battle. But when he heard of the man’s demand, he told me to kill him. I was happy to do so. The Alchemist was resting at my tent and I went after him with my sword.” Kendor paused. “But I couldn’t stop him.”
“He defeated you in a sword fight?”
“Yes and no. He kept appearing and disappearing. I had never seen this ability before, in any witch. He taunted me as I swung uselessly at him, cutting me with a knife when it amused him. I was forced to retreat. But I wasn’t ready to quit. My tent was separate from the rest of the army. At my command, I had a huge ball of gunpowder loaded onto our sturdiest catapult and blew the tent to shreds.” Kendor paused. “That was the end of that accursed wizard.”
“If he could turn invisible, how could you be sure you killed him?” I asked.
“I found his burned and shredded robe in the ruins. It was covered in blood. I even found pieces of his beard. That was all the proof I needed.” He added, “This happened in witch world.”
“Wait a second. This whole time I thought you were talking about the real world.”
“In those days, there was little difference between the two.”
“So you lived each day twice over?”
“Pretty much. It was the philosophy of the Tar—Cleo’s philosophy—not to go out of our way to alter the course of the second day.”
“The second day?”
“Day t
wo happens in the real world. Day one is always in witch world. I assumed you knew that.”
“I do, I do. It just gets confusing at times.”
“I understand.”
“So the Alchemist is gone?” I asked.
Kendor hesitated. “He must be.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
I waited for Kendor to respond but he just turned away and stared at the petroglyphs. By this time I was sure the sun had set, although I couldn’t see the horizon while down in the bowl. I was still anxious to know what the Paleo language had to say, and I reminded Kendor that he had promised to tell me. He stood at my prodding and, walking around the waterfall, stepped to the wall of letters and symbols. I followed him.
“The script is very beautiful,” he said, touching the etching with his hand. “It’s hard to imagine it was invented by such a sinister mind.”
“Can you be sure the Alchemist did invent it?”
He nodded. “A good question. He could have learned it from someone else. Anyway, you say you want to know what it says. Brace yourself. I’m only going to translate these few lines but they will be enough.”
I swallowed. “Tell me.”
Kendor gestured with his hand. “It says, ‘Beware the child of the ten shining jewels, the infinite one. She whose eyes match the color of this lake. For she is impossible to defeat, and she holds the destiny of the world in her palm.’”
I felt a chill. “What’s the big deal?” I asked.
“Don’t play the fool, Jessie.”
“What? Are you saying they’re talking about Lara?”
“Of course they’re talking about Lara. Who else has the ten witch genes?”
“This petroglyph was created centuries ago, before the scanner existed and anyone knew how to count witch genes. You can’t just assume ‘the ten shining jewels’ refers to her ten genes.”
“Lara was born with aquamarine eyes.”
“Lots of babies are born with blue eyes. The color fades as they grow older.”
“I didn’t say she was born with blue eyes. The moment I saw her I was reminded of this lake.”
“It’s still not proof.”
“Then let me translate the last line. It says, ‘Her name will be Protector.’”
“So?”
“Lara is Latin for ‘Protector.’” He added, “Latin is a very old language.”
“You made that up!”
“You can check for yourself.”
“No. I don’t believe you.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
“Because I don’t want a daughter who’s special! A child the whole world is anxious to possess. If I have to have a baby, I want a normal one. And I want her to be left alone.”
Kendor stared at me a long time. “I’m sorry, Jessie. It’s too late for that.”
His words stung. I didn’t know how to respond and he had nothing else to offer me. In silence we gathered our clothes and dressed and walked back to the SUV. By this time it was dark and it seemed to take forever to get back to Las Vegas.
But when we reached my father’s condo and the time had come to say good-bye, Kendor suddenly hugged me and held me close. He whispered in my ear.
“When you meet the Council tonight in witch world, pretend that you don’t know me,” he said.
“Why? You were there when Lara was born.”
“That was in witch world. The Council doesn’t know we’ve met in this world.” He added, “The most important part of my tale is yet to come. Even Cleo only knows a portion of it, but I want you to hear it all.”
“Can you tell me what it’s about?”
He hesitated. “Syn. The love of my life.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, NEAR NINE, WE WERE IN WITCH world, in a beautiful house I couldn’t have found with a map. My father and Russell had covered my eyes before I got in their car. They said it was for my protection that I know as little as possible about where the Council preferred to meet.
But I felt like they didn’t trust me.
The house was large but no mansion. It was tastefully furnished yet passable as an ordinary home. They didn’t remove my blindfold until I was inside and sitting on a wool couch. There was at least a floor above the living room where we sat, maybe two. I liked the brick fireplaces, the wooden floors, and the throw rugs that appeared to be from every part of the globe. Except for us, the house seemed empty.
Russell confirmed that fact. He was dressed in a navy-blue suit with a red tie. My father was more casual, but had on a gray sports coat and black slacks. He wasn’t going with me to meet the Lapras. Russell was to be my only guide.
Russell didn’t act as confident as before. I wasn’t sure what scared him more, meeting the Council or accompanying me to the enemy’s stronghold. Apparently, he’d seen far more of the Lapras than the Tar. While still a young man of eighty, he had penetrated the Lapras’ ranks during the Civil War. He had shown me a grainy black-and-white photo of him in a Union uniform, standing beside Ulysses S. Grant himself. Russell had been a colonel during that period. He was in the history books, although under another name—Colonel Clyde Chester, or “3C,” as his buddies used to call him.
The Council had favored Lincoln and the Union, while the Lapras had wanted the South to win. The Lapras had sent Russell to kill the brilliant general, but he had purposely failed in the attempt and had been ordered hanged by Grant’s aides. Later, while being buried by a couple of drunk Union soldiers, my father had managed to come to his rescue and help revive him.
The two went back a ways.
It freaked me out to know how far.
Especially since I knew Russell had feelings for me.
I needed to talk to him about that. Soon.
Russell and my father had emphasized that the Lapras had not been powerful during the Civil War. They could hardly call themselves an organization. That was how Russell had been able to penetrate their ranks, and why they trusted him.
They spoke of Russell’s long relationship with the Lapras to put me at ease. It had the opposite effect. Maybe it was my newly developed intuition whispering inside, or else it was just common sense, but it seemed to me the longer anyone kept a secret, the more chance there was of it being found out.
There was a knock at the front door. We all stood.
The Council, four men and three women, entered.
Of course, given their age and power, I anticipated their dress to be exotic. At the very least I expected them to have on ancient amulets and jeweled necklaces and rings.
They did not look like an ordinary troupe. If nothing else, they radiated too much power to go unnoticed, even by a fool. Yet except for Kendor they were not dressed to attract attention, although two of the men had longish hair. One was Kendor, of course; once again he was dressed entirely in black leather. We exchanged a nod and it was understood that I would keep his secret.
Mona and Pal were both midnight black, tall and thin, and they looked so alike they might have been sisters. They didn’t shake my hand but bowed low in my direction. Their smiles were warm and loving and they both smelled faintly of camphor and a form of incense I couldn’t identify. They also had the same long curly black hair.
There were three other males: Hatsu, Baba, and Mirk. Hatsu was a short but robust Chinese man. He was the only one in the group I would have called ugly. He had a blunt nose and a large belly. If he possessed the ability to heal, he hadn’t used it on himself. He was badly scarred.
However, his unpleasant features were neutralized by his laughter and charm. When we met, he patted me on the back as if we were old friends, and it was no act. I could feel his kindness. I would even go so far as to say I knew he’d die to protect me.
Perhaps a latent memory was returning, I don’t know. My father had said the Council had been all around me after Lara was born but I had barely been aware of their presence.
Baba was from India. He was the other man with long hair
, yet it was light brown, as was his skin, and his eyes were dark blue, like many of the people from Kashmir. He nodded in my direction, his expression serene. He seemed absorbed deep inside and didn’t speak.
Mirk was a blond Scandinavian, a giant of a man. When he saw me, he said something in a language I didn’t recognize and Hatsu laughed loudly while my father reddened. I sensed Mirk and Hatsu were close friends and added levity to the Council. Mirk’s way of saying hello was to lift me off the floor and kiss both my cheeks.
Baba wore a dark suit like Russell, minus the tie. Hatsu and Mirk had on casual slacks and short-sleeved shirts. Mona and Pal wore cool summer dresses that barely reached their knees; they made a sexy pair.
Only Cleo had on a red pantsuit that looked exotic. It was mostly silk but stitched with black leather. Her reddish hair was short, untamed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she shook it into place after showering. There was something primal about her movements, fluid and powerful. She could have been a panther stalking the wild.
She was surprisingly petite. Her dark eyes were not merely large and warm, they appeared bottomless. Still, she looked at most thirty, and my father had said she was at least seven thousand years old.
Cleo sat near me on the couch, on my left, letting her black shoes fall to the carpet and smoothly tucking a leg beneath her bottom. She was small but radiated immense energy. I didn’t have to be a witch to sense it. Whenever she looked my way, I felt as if a magnet passed over my forehead. Her skin was bronze, her full lips a rich red. She looked like a doll and yet felt like an atomic reactor.
But I liked her, I liked them all, and I trusted them, which was probably more important. Yet they scared me, especially when I contemplated their age. I was an infant in their company.
I was glad Russell and my father were present. Out of respect, they remained standing the whole time the Council was present. Russell stayed near the front door, my father stood behind me.
Kendor sat in the chair on my right. It was curious but they let him do most of the talking. Of course, I knew from his tale that he was a man who was used to commanding others.
“We know you have been through a lot in the last two days, Jessica,” he began. “And we know you have an appointment with the Lapras after you leave here. For that reason we need not talk long. Yet we wanted to meet with you so you understand who it is that stands behind you. I speak for all the Council when I say no one is more important to us than you and your daughter. We will get Lara back. I swear not to rest until she’s in your arms again.”