“Are you all right?” Mr. Perrot asked, as he stood and approached Logan. “You look a bit shaken.”
Valerie reached over and turned on a lamp.
“I think so,” Logan answered. He took the glass of water that Mr. Perrot handed him. “That was incredible—like a dream but much more real. How long was I gone?”
“You must have sat there for an hour or so,” Mr. Perrot answered. “It was rather impressive to witness. You remained perfectly still and didn’t move a muscle.”
“Mr. Perrot, it was real. Everything we read about was real!” Logan blurted out, forgetting that Valerie was sitting there. “We have to put out the candle. We can’t waste the flame.” He quickly moved forward and blew out the wick. The candle had burnt down about three centimeters.
Logan awkwardly rose to his feet. His body seemed very heavy. He took a seat in a chair, feeling Valerie’s eyes on him.
“Sorry about moving your furniture around,” he said to her.
She had changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a pale pink T-shirt. Her silky brown hair touched her shoulders. She remained silent.
“I’ve told Valerie the full saga behind our little treasure-seeking episode today,” Mr. Perrot said. “I believe she is a bit skeptical about our theories.” He gave her a fatherly smile.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Valerie said. “Both of you are very fortunate that we have footage of Logan at the auction last night and airport footage of both of you leaving New Chicago for Washington this afternoon. It’s the only reason the two of you are not behind bars at the moment.”
“As I’ve explained, dear, it would seem that some past Council of Satraya members have unexpectedly resurfaced.”
“Yes, I’m not sure how to take your theories about Andrea and Simon,” Valerie said. “The whole Satraya thing has always eluded me; none of it seems based in reality.”
“It’s real to me,” Logan said passionately. “My parents were killed because of this ‘Satraya thing.’ ”
“I’m sorry about your parents, but there’s no physical proof that Simon or Andrea or anyone else connected to them had anything to do with it. Or with the murders of the Council members or the theft in Cairo,” Valerie said. “All we know is that Andrea succeeded in buying a set of old books at an auction.”
“We know more than that,” Logan said, determined to make his point. “You’re just not willing to connect the dots. How do you explain that in twenty-four hours, two of the four original sets of the Chronicles changed hands, members of the Council of Satraya were murdered, and a woman who hasn’t been publicly seen in more than twenty years has resurfaced? Further, if we hadn’t pointed out the tunnel, you’d still be searching for your first clue regarding the murders.”
Mr. Perrot could see that Logan’s emotions were rising and that Valerie was about to match Logan’s fervor. He put his hand on his daughter’s knee. “Of course, dear, it is understandable that you feel that way. Logan was also taken aback by the fact that the woman who bought his family’s most prized possession might have had a hand in his parents’ killing. All I ask is that you remain open-minded.”
Both Logan and Valerie sat quietly and allowed their emotions to settle a bit. Mr. Perrot gave them a few moments of silence. These two haven’t changed, he thought.
Mr. Perrot gently coaxed the conversation along, as he’d done when they would argue as children. “Logan, why don’t you tell us about your candle journey? I think you may have an interesting story to tell.”
“I certainly do,” Logan said. He paused for a moment and looked at the blue candle, wondering how to start. “The ringing in my ears was getting louder, and I tried my best to remain focused on the candle. I didn’t think anything was happening, but then this strange feeling came over me, like electricity running up and down my spine. I couldn’t feel my legs any longer, and I felt very light, almost as if I was about to levitate off the ground. Suddenly, the ringing sound stopped, and the flame began to dim. It was as if the candle was moving away from me down some long, dark tunnel. I felt as if I was getting really small and as if I wasn’t in my body. It seemed I was just occupying a little point in my head.” He pointed to the middle of his forehead. “I could feel a great pressure building there. And then everything went dark.”
“The third eye,” Mr. Perrot interrupted. “The Chronicles and other texts refer to that as the third eye. It is a place where we can purportedly see all things.”
“We in the crime-fighting business refer to it as a drug trip,” Valerie said sarcastically.
“Please, dear, you must keep an open mind,” Mr. Perrot said. “I have always told you that the Satraya Flame brings forward interesting experiences. I remember a little girl once telling me about some exotic magical adventures she had in a kingdom made of clouds.”
“You never told me about those when we were little,” Logan said.
“That’s because that place wasn’t real,” Valerie said defensively. “I didn’t understand what any of that was about. I still don’t.”
“Please go on,” Mr. Perrot urged Logan.
Logan gave Valerie an understanding look. Until an hour ago, he’d had his own doubts. “I get how you feel. All I can tell you is what I experienced.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Valerie said. “Keep going.”
Logan began to recount his story, describing the painted clouds and how he suddenly appeared before the Creation of Adam painting. “It was like being in a dream; something was moving me from place to place,” he said. Then he described how the painting had morphed.
“Blood, thorns, collars?” Valerie interrupted. “What is all that about?”
“I’m not really sure,” Logan said. “As I said, it was like a dream where the pieces didn’t add up.”
“As Camden wrote, every experience in the flame has a purpose,” Mr. Perrot said. “Let’s hear the full story and see what we learn.”
“The next place I went was an old Victorian-style room,” Logan continued. He described it as best he could, certain he had forgotten many details. “When I tugged on the bars on the windows, I suddenly found myself outside on a dirt path.”
Valerie sank back on the couch as Logan described his experiences with the monks. Her patience was clearly growing thin.
“I have seen many mandalas, but this one was different. It was very simple in design, and the monks only used black sand,” Logan explained. “There were three circles, one within the other, and a great cross ran through them.”
Valerie suddenly sat up on the edge of the couch. “What? What did you just say about the mandala?”
“The design was really simple,” Logan said. “Three circles and a cross.”
Valerie took out her PCD and projected the image she’d found earlier. Three circles and a cross. “We discovered this shape burned into the surface of a desk in the basement near the tunnel.”
Logan nodded. “That’s exactly the shape the monks were creating.”
They all sat in silence, looking at one another, pondering the same question: How did Logan see the same image in his candle journey that Valerie had seen burned into the surface of the desk in the Council offices?
Just as Valerie was about to speak, her PCD rang. “OK. No one move. Talk about something else until I get back.” She left the room to take the call.
Logan and Mr. Perrot watched her enter the kitchen, and then they looked back at each other.
“Well, Logan, I dare say you have my daughter’s attention now,” Mr. Perrot said.
“She’s not very different from how I remember her,” Logan said with a fond smile. “Still a whirlwind of energy and still ordering people around.”
“Yes, those aspects of her character have never changed,” Mr. Perrot acknowledged. “She certainly is passionate.”
“Sir,” Logan whispered. “There’s more.” Mr. Perrot moved closer to listen. “I somehow made it to the study.” He described the room and the notes
he had seen on the desk.
“Did you leave our note?” Mr. Perrot asked.
Logan nodded. “I think this candle is some kind of spiritual gateway, some kind of link, to that room . . .”
He went quiet as Valerie returned. She took a seat next to her father again. “So, dear, do you believe a bit more now?” Mr. Perrot asked.
“I certainly can’t deny that Logan described the same image I saw on the top of the desk,” Valerie conceded. “Maybe you saw it when the two of you were in the basement and your subconscious registered it. I’m not an expert in all this esoteric stuff. But yes, you certainly have my attention now.”
“While you were gone, Logan relayed to me the last part of his adventure,” Mr. Perrot said. “It had to do with the notes I told you about earlier. About the letters Camden Ford wrote to a man he called Baté Sisán.”
Valerie was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Let’s say that there’s some validity to your story and that Andrea and Simon are somehow involved. There is still no evidence that links them to the murders. I’ll consider bringing them in for questioning, but these are powerful people, and it’s a safe bet that they are not going to cooperate. We also have to consider the possibility that the Sentinel Coterie may somehow be involved. We saw Randolph Fenquist speaking with Cynthia’s assistant Monique Sato at the banquet. He slipped her something, but we couldn’t make out what it was.”
“The Sentinel Coterie! They are nothing more than a group of thugs.” Mr. Perrot seemed uncustomarily upset. “Randolph is a man with an anarchist agenda and no one to listen to him. These events are far beyond his vision or execution. It is Simon and Andrea, I am certain of it! The murder of Logan’s parents and the murder of the Council members are somehow linked to Simon and Andrea’s desire to possess all four of the original copies of the Chronicles. Why, I cannot say. I only know that we need to draw them out.”
“Draw them out with what?” Valerie said. “We don’t have anything to use as bait.”
There was a long silence. Mr. Perrot could only shake his head.
“Actually, I think I might have some bait,” Logan said. Valerie and Mr. Perrot both looked at him curiously. “There’s one last part of my candle journey that I haven’t told you about. I found myself at a wedding.” He stopped and looked directly at Mr. Perrot. “It was the wedding of the Magician and the Scholar.”
“The magician and the what?” Valerie said. “What are you talking about?”
Logan continued to look at Mr. Perrot. “I think there’s something your father needs to tell us,” he said to Valerie.
21
Who are you when you believe that no one is watching you? Who are you when the eyes of the world look elsewhere? It is at that moment, your true inner character is on display.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
WASHINGTON, D.C., 1:00 P.M. LOCAL TIME,
4 DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM DAY
Adisa Kayin closed the door to the most revered room in the Council of Satraya building. The curtains at the large windows in the second-floor meeting room were half-drawn in an attempt to diffuse the sunlight that was streaming in. As the eldest member of the Council, he now assumed its leadership. Modest in stature and attired in the colorful garments of his homeland in Africa, Mr. Kayin took a seat at the famous Egalitarian Round Table, where the eight remaining Council members were already seated. As indicated by the name, the grand table’s construction was inspired by the Arthurian legends of the past. Its circular shape conveyed that all who sat around it would be heard, and twelve of its thirteen pillar-shaped legs represented the twelve members of the Council. The thirteenth leg represented the benevolent beings that have assisted humanity throughout the ages.
Logan, Mr. Perrot, and Valerie occupied the chairs of the three slain Council members.
“At this table, all are equal,” Mr. Kayin stated, making the solemn promise with which each Council meeting began. “We are here at the request of Ms. Perrot, the lead agent in charge of the investigation into the murders of our late colleagues. Late last night, she contacted me and relayed that there was urgent news that might give us a spark of hope. We do not know what you will say, Ms. Perrot, but we hope that your words will shift the direction of the ill wind that has blown upon us.” He looked at each of his fellow members. “I thank you for attending on such short notice. So please—”
Mr. Kayin was abruptly interrupted by the sound of something hitting one of the windows. Valerie rose from her chair, placing her right hand on her holstered weapon, and cautiously walked over to the window to assess the situation. A few of the Council members sank to the ground. Recent events had put them on guard.
“Looks like the Coterie is causing trouble again,” Valerie said as she placed a call on her PCD. “Please remain seated until we get the situation outside under control.”
Logan could feel the lugubrious atmosphere in the room. He saw the fear and uncertainty in the eyes of the five women and four men who now made up the Council, and he watched as Mr. Kayin attempted to comfort them. It was hard to accept that this sad and frightened group of people was what was left of the once brilliant and robust Council that had helped the world rebuild after the Great Disruption. Logan walked over to Valerie, who was still talking on her PCD. Through the window, he could see the radical Sentinel Coterie members in front of the building, waving banners and placards and shouting obscenities. “If Randolph Fenquist is with them, arrest him,” Logan heard Valerie say. He lingered at the window, trying to figure out what had been thrown at it. He saw no hints, however, and he eventually returned to his seat next to Mr. Perrot, who had remained calm during the fracas. Valerie finished her call, drew the curtains shut, and motioned to Mr. Kayin that it was fine to resume.
“As you can see, this is a very trying time for us,” Mr. Kayin said. “Let us continue. Please relay to us your important news.”
Mr. Perrot was the first to speak. “ ‘Many have traveled before you, yet none has walked the exact same path as you. But there is a common aspiration that brings us together. We all have questions about the life we are living, about the choices we have made. We all have questions about why the world is the way it is. We all have questions about what we are supposed to do.’ ”
The Council members seemed to perk up. Mr. Perrot was reciting verbatim from the opening pages of The Chronicles of Satraya.
He continued: “ ‘All things happen for a reason and a grand purpose. We have come to you during a time of great confusion and struggle in your world. We have done so in the past, and we are here again to help you through your troubled times. We are not here to make you believe in something different. We are not here to convince you that you are wrong. We are here to remind you of a great truth you have forgotten. We are here to provide you with a path. We are here strictly for you. We are here to set you free.’ ”
The room was silent. The Council members weren’t the only ones captivated by the words; Logan and Valerie were, too. Their parents had read passages from the Chronicles to them when they were growing up, but this was different. Perhaps it was the passage’s relevance to the precarious situation they faced, or perhaps it was Mr. Perrot himself, his expressive voice and the noble spirit with which he spoke. Whatever the reason, Mr. Perrot now had complete command of the Egalitarian Round Table.
“These words are as true today as they were when my dear friends Camden and Cassandra Ford first read them to me from the books Camden found in the forest,” he announced.
A murmur of voices rippled through the room. Until that moment, the Council members had only heard Cynthia Brown claim to have been a friend of Camden and Cassandra.
“You were friends with Camden and Cassandra?” a member asked incredulously.
“Where are they now?” another asked. “What happened to them? Are they still alive?”
Tension filled the room as they waited for an answer to the question people all over the world had been asking for the last thirty years
.
Mr. Perrot shook his head. “Sadly, my dearest friends are no longer with us. Their fate is part of the story I am about to tell.”
“Is this the news you wanted to bring us?” a member asked, clearly let down. “The spark of hope is that you can confirm that Camden and Cassandra are dead?” An air of disappointment filled the room, compounding the hopelessness reflected on the faces of the Council members.
“How can we be certain you were close to them?” another member asked. “According to Cynthia, Camden had very few trusted friends. Cynthia never mentioned anyone by your name.”
“That is because Cynthia did not know the complete truth of that time,” Mr. Perrot said.
“Are you calling her a liar?” someone else asked. The rest of the members started defending Cynthia; a few had started shouting.
“Silence, please,” Mr. Kayin said in a loud voice. “Silence,” he repeated as the members came back to order. “Let us allow Mr. Perrot to continue. Let us see if he is able to answer our questions satisfactorily.”
Logan saw that Mr. Perrot, calm as ever, did not seem perturbed by the Council members’ doubts.
“This table at which you all sit, the Egalitarian Round Table, possesses a secret,” Mr. Perrot said. “A secret known only to those who helped construct it.” He paused briefly, allowing anyone who wanted to refute him to speak up. No one did. “As we all can see, this table is supported by thirteen legs. But one of those legs has a flaw. It was made from a piece of uncured wood, and as it dried, it shrank ever so slightly, a single millimeter. A sheet of paper can be slipped beneath this particular leg.”
Mr. Kayin wasted no time and tore a sheet of paper from his notebook. As the other Council members watched, he walked counterclockwise around the table and attempted to slide the sheet of paper under each leg. “That’s the one,” Mr. Perrot said when Mr. Kayin reached the eighth leg.
Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy Page 15
