by Morgan Rice
Then she retreated inside and closed the door.
Esther, Ralph, and Oliver went up to the horse-drawn carriage, where the driver was holding open the door for them. He took Esther’s hand, helping her inside, then stepped back to allow Ralph and Oliver to get in by themselves.
“Ugh, chivalry,” Esther muttered.
Once the three were seated the driver secured the door and climbed back up the front. He took the horses’ reins and pulled on them. With a whinny, the horses trotted forward. Oliver felt the carriage judder. The wheels creaked. They were on the move.
“Isaac Newton,” he muttered under his breath, with disbelief.
He was so excited to meet one of his all-time heroes. He’d learned about him in class and from reading his inventors book. His early life was inspiring. As a baby he wasn’t expected to live, and as a child he had to fend off bullies, just like Oliver had himself. He’d found comfort in inventing things—something else they’d shared in common—building models like sundials and windmills. He studied at the best university in England, Cambridge, rebuilt the telescope, and wrote his three-volume text on the laws of physics, including his ground-breaking discovery of gravity. And now Oliver was going to meet him!
He thought about the timeline. In 1690, Newton had finished his main body of work. In fact, he was heading toward a nervous breakdown. But once he recovered from that, he’d go on to receive his knighthood, the first scientist to ever do so, and become Sir Isaac Newton.
Oliver had so many questions swirling in his head. He just couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY
In the gently rocking carriage, Oliver looked over at Esther. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately, the rocking motion lulling her into unconsciousness. Oliver couldn’t help but worry. When they’d fallen through the portal she’d been out cold for a good minute. What if the fall had injured her in some unseen way? He’d heard of that happening, when people knocked their head and seemed fine only to drop down dead later. It wasn’t like they could take her to a hospital, either. Those wouldn’t exist for at least a hundred more years!
“What’s wrong, Oliver?” Ralph asked.
Oliver snapped back to the moment. He turned to face his friend. “I’m worried about Esther.”
Ralph nodded. “I must admit, it was a shock when she ran off.”
That hadn’t been what Oliver was talking about but now that Ralph had mentioned it, Oliver suddenly wondered if he might know more about why Esther had left the school. Maybe he could fill in the blanks.
“Do you know why she left?” Oliver asked.
Ralph shook his head. “She didn’t say. She was fine at first. After you left, I mean. She was a little down but then again we all were.”
“What changed?” Oliver asked.
Ralph tapped his chin, pondering. “I’m not entirely sure. She had a few meetings with Professor Amethyst. After that she became very quiet. Then one day, she was just gone, and the teachers announced she’d quit the school.”
Oliver considered Ralph’s words. Esther hadn’t mentioned any meetings with the headmaster to him. Clearly something they’d discussed had troubled her. He wondered what it could have been. So much for filling in the blanks, Ralph’s words had only served to make Esther leaving the school even more of a mystery. Unless the answer really was love. The thought made his cheeks grow warm.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Ralph,” Oliver said then. “Even if it is under such terrible circumstances.”
“I’m glad to see you too.” Ralph smiled. “School just isn’t the same without you.”
At the mention of the School for Seers, Oliver checked his locket instinctively. It was still cold. If they didn’t find the Orb of Kandra soon, perhaps he’d never see his beloved school ever again.
He noticed then that Ralph was fiddling with something. It was the Obsidian knife, the illegal weapon of the rogue seers.
“Why do you think Professor Amethyst has that?” Oliver asked. “If it’s dangerous and illegal, like you say it is, what would he be doing with it?”
Ralph’s lips twisted. “I assume he’s keeping it locked away so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. I must admit, having it feels like a huge responsibility.”
“Like my compass,” Oliver said, taking it out. He showed it to Ralph for the first time.
“What is that?” Ralph asked, looking at it with awe.
“Armando gave it to me. Then we met a seer at Harvard University who told us it’s seer technology. Supposedly it tells the future. We were following its clues. I thought it was leading me to my parents.”
His heart suddenly sank as it dawned on him his quest to find his parents had fallen by the wayside. He’d have to sacrifice his own personal goal for the sake of his school.
In a small voice, he added, “But I suppose that doesn’t matter anymore.”
He slid the compass back into the pocket of his overalls. If he survived this mission, rescued the Orb of Kandra, and saved the school, then he would bring it back out again and resume his search. But for now, he would put it—and his parents—out of his mind. There were bigger things at stake.
Oliver peered out through the window of the stagecoach, watching as the English countryside gave way to the city. It became more crowded, with people milling in the extremely narrow streets and horses crisscrossing about. The carriage slowed down considerably because of all the bustle, and that afforded them even more time to survey the city.
Oliver had read all about London during this era. In the history books, it sounded like a scary place filled with poverty and disease, and seeing it in the flesh made it even worse. The streets were filled with beggars. People walked the dirty sidewalks with bare feet and ragged clothes, carrying large heavy wicker baskets filled with wares to sell—everything from matchsticks to roses to oysters. Oliver saw a group of children who could not have been older than six, their faces covered in soot, carrying long chimney-sweeping sticks being shooed up a rickety wooden ladder by a mean-looking man with a stick.
Ralph shuddered. “This place is awful.”
“It smells too,” Oliver said, wrinkling his nose, just as a woman opened a window and chucked the contents of her chamber pot into the street.
From his perch up above them, the driver called down. “These are the slums of St. Giles. Keep your windows up. This is where the plague started.”
Oliver gulped.
They reached a bridge and began to cross the River Thames. It was absolutely crammed with boats, from small fishing vessels to larger wooden trade boats. And the stench was awful. Oliver remembered reading about how the river was very polluted and was often used for dumping waste, rotten food, and even dead bodies. And yet down on the banks there were plenty of people washing themselves and their clothes. Nausea swilled in his stomach. He tried not to breathe in too deeply.
Once they reached the other side, they passed a group of men with pickaxes digging up the ground.
“They’re laying pipes,” the driver called down. “That will pump water from the reservoirs straight into people’s houses. Can you imagine such a thing?”
They continued onward and a very different type of London appeared before them. This part was clearly for the wealthy. The streets were filled with rich-looking gentlemen. They passed beautiful parks with rose bushes and topiaries. The buildings looked far sturdier, though many of them were in the same Tudor style as the ones in the poorer parts. Oliver could hardly believe the stark difference between how the rich and poor in the city lived. Life had been truly unpleasant for their ancestors.
Just then, the coach drew to a halt. Oliver peered out the window at the large manor house standing before them. Esther woke suddenly.
“We’re here,” Oliver told her gently.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes then peered through the window. “Wow. London is beautiful.”
Ralph and Oliver exchanged a knowing glance.
The driver hopped down from th
e carriage and opened the door for them. Once more, he held his arm out to help Esther down but allowed the “men” to lower themselves from the carriage on their own.
They crowded together on the sidewalk and stared up at the building before them. It was a wide stone house with a thatched roof and bulging windows made of small cube-shaped glass panes linked with iron rods. A couple of steps led up to a dark wooden door, which was also latticed by black iron. It was barely taller than five feet and there was a gold door knocker polished so it shined. This was clearly a wealthy person’s house. A far cry from the flimsy wooden buildings they’d seen in the slums.
“Here goes nothing,” Oliver said.
Together, the three friends headed up to the door. Oliver took the heavy knocker in his hands and slammed it down three times.
A moment later, the door was opened by a butler. Unlike the maid at Newton’s country manor house, he was dressed in fine clothes and looked very self-important. He looked down his nose at them and frowned.
“Yes?”
Oliver gulped. “We’re here to see Master Newton.”
The butler smirked. “Oh really? And what would Master Newton want with three children like you?”
“We’ve been sent by Professor Amethyst.”
The second Oliver said it, the butler’s expression changed. He became very serious, and the sarcastic tone disappeared at once. “Then come in. Come in.”
He ushered them inside and closed the door behind them.
Oliver glanced around at the main entrance of Newton’s London home. It was a wood-paneled room, quite grand with an elaborate amount of European artwork adorning the walls. The smell of cooked meat and spices lingered in the air.
“This way to the parlor,” the butler said.
The three hurried after him along a dark corridor, lit only by a couple of candelabras. At the end, they stopped beside a closed door. From the other side came the sounds of raucous merriment.
Oliver frowned with curiosity.
“Master Newton is entertaining,” the butler explained. Then he added somewhat drily, “Again.”
He opened the door. The smell of cigar smoke and burning logs wafted out from the parlor. Oliver craned his neck to see into the room but his view was blocked by the butler’s back.
“Master Newton,” he heard the butler announce, “you have guests. They’ve been sent by Professor Amethyst.”
There came a muffled voice, the words of which Oliver could not make out, but the tone was clearly excited. Then the butler turned and beckoned them.
“Master Newton will see you now.”
Oliver swallowed. This was it. He was about to come face to face with the infamous Sir Isaac Newton.
He forced his nerves down to his toes and walked into the parlor.
And he gasped at the sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Chris followed the boy through the unfamiliar alleyways.
“Where are we going again?” he asked.
“Somewhere secret,” Malcolm replied. “Somewhere veiled from humans.”
Chris frowned with confusion but nodded nevertheless. “And what was it you said your name was?”
But Malcolm didn’t answer.
Chris shuddered. If this boy hadn’t lured him with the promise of ending Oliver, he’d have run by now. He was creepy and his weird mannerisms made Chris even more uncomfortable. The things he talked about—powers and time travel and magical orbs—made Chris’s head spin. Not to mention the fact that he was leading him through the back streets of New Jersey to neighborhoods even Chris was too intimidated to venture into.
They drew up at the back of what looked like a Chinese restaurant. Malcolm rapped his knuckles on the door. As he waited to be let in, he smiled back at Chris. Chris felt his skin crawl. He could swear the boy’s eyes flashed in the moonlight.
The door creaked open and a man in a dirty apron peered out. When he saw Malcolm, he beckoned him inside. Chris scurried after, feeling like he was potentially making a huge mistake.
Inside, it smelled of oil and rice. It was definitely a restaurant. Chris wondered why Malcolm had brought him here. But instead of leading him in to a kitchen or dining area, Malcolm began to ascend a dark, winding staircase. Chris gulped and followed.
“Do you want the chance to get revenge on Oliver for all time?” Malcolm asked as they went around and around and around, further and further up.
“Yes,” Chris said.
He was starting to feel a bit sick from all the spinning.
“And are you brave enough to do it? When the time comes?”
Chris pulled his hands into fists. Of that, he was in no doubt. “Yes. I’ll kill that pipsqueak given half the chance.”
Malcolm reached the top of the staircase and pushed open a large steel door. Cold air stung Chris’s cheeks. He saw Malcolm disappear through the door.
Shivering, he followed.
They were now standing on a rooftop, overlooking the entirety of the rundown New Jersey neighborhood.
Chris watched Malcolm walk right up to the edge of the roof and take a step up onto the wall.
“What are you doing?” Chris yelled, running toward him.
The wind was fierce up here. All it would take was a strong gust for Malcolm to be swept away.
The odd-looking boy spun on the ball of his foot elegantly, like he was a ballerina. Chris grimaced. This sure was one freaky kid.
“If you want my help to destroy Oliver,” Malcolm said, “you’ll need to take a leap of faith.”
“I already told you I would,” Chris said. “Just get down off the ledge.”
But rather than hop down, Malcolm presented his open palm to Chris. “Think of this as a trust exercise.”
Chris shook his head. “No way. I’m not getting up there.”
Malcolm pouted. “Are you a wimp?”
“No,” Chris immediately refuted. “I’m just smart.”
Malcolm smiled devilishly. “You won’t fall. I promise. Trust me.”
Chris didn’t like being called a wimp. Especially not by this skinny freaky kid who twirled like a ballerina and spoke like a Victorian gentleman.
He put one foot on the ledge. The view of the street below appeared, making his stomach turn. He ignored his body’s natural impulses to move away from danger and stepped up onto the ledge beside Malcolm.
“There,” Malcolm said. “I told you that you wouldn’t fall. That all you needed was a leap of faith.”
Then, in one sudden movement, he tugged Chris by the hand, pulling them both over the side of the building.
As Chris plunged into oblivion, he began to scream.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Isaac Newton’s parlor was spacious, with a grand fireplace, elaborate furnishings, and all manner of artwork. It was also full of people. Oliver and his friends had seemingly interrupted him in the middle of some kind of soiree.
The man himself looked just like he did in the history books. Long wavy white hair. Sharp pointed nose. A little dent in his chin. He was wearing a long silky brown jacket and white socks that came up to his knees. Oliver was in utter awe at the sight of him.
“Come in, come in,” Newton said. He gestured to a table where different types of teapots were laid out. “Teas from China. Please, let me pour you something.”
Oliver shook his head. “Oh no, we’re not here for tea, we—”
Newton interrupted. “Have you ever tried banana?” He offered them a silver platter upon which lay some small, bruised bananas, elegantly presented as if they were the most incredible things in the world. “They’ve started shipping them in from Asia. It has a rather sweet taste. Quite the treat.”
Oliver shook his head again. There wasn’t time for tea and bananas, not when the school was in danger!
But Newton seemed in no hurry at all. He was in an exuberant mood by the looks of things, dashing about the place, disappearing amongst the groups of men and clouds of smoke.
O
liver remembered how he’d read about Isaac Newton’s return to London after years back home writing his textbook. It was an exciting time for him, one where he was growing more and more distinguished, moving in greater circles, revered among some of the greatest minds in the world. This was his heyday, right before his breakdown. No wonder he seemed so skittish.
“Where’d he go?” Esther asked, drawing closer to Oliver.
“There, by the hearth,” Ralph said, pointing.
Newton waved, beckoning them over. “These are two of my closest friends.”
The men stood from the plush couch and shook hands with Oliver, Ralph, and Esther as Newton introduced them.
“John Locke, a fabulous philosopher. And this is Nicolas Fatio de Duillier. He’s come all the way from Switzerland. He’s a…”
“…mathematician,” Oliver finished in a stunned whisper.
He’d heard of the man from his inventors book and it was shocking to be standing in front of him. He was awestruck.
“You invented the mechanical watch,” Oliver said to Nicolas Fatio de Duillier. “Or at least, you will soon.”
Nicolas Fatio de Duillier seemed very surprised.
Newton frowned. “How would a young boy know that?” Then he clicked his fingers as if it had dawned on him. “Of course. You’re seers. Time travelers. You must know everything about us already.”
It was strange to hear Newton mention seers and time travel as if it were common knowledge. But he knew it was Professor Amethyst’s doing, that the headmaster only ever selected the most brilliant human minds to learn about seers; Armando, Oliver’s own guide, and clearly Newton. Most other humans’ minds would explode with such knowledge but not great inventors like them.
It was still strange to discover that Newton, a man he’d learned about at school, actually possessed knowledge about seers. Oliver exchanged a glance with his friends. This was just too surreal.
“Tell me…” Newton said. “Do I discover anything else groundbreaking in my lifetime?” Then he shook his head hurriedly. “No, no. Don’t spoil it! I ought not know.”
