The Strange Round Bird: Or the Poet, the King, and the Mysterious Men in Black

by Eden Unger Bowditch

  Mr. Bell smiled. “Once it has been fed, it seems to calm. It can then be pulled apart for another generation of rest. That is how generations have guarded it.”

  “Against Komar Romak,” said Lucy.

  “Against Komar Romak,” said Faye. “Komar Romak, who can be tall, short, fat, thin, dark, fair, fast, crippled, bespectacled. Or not. And in more than one place at the same time. Invisible and everywhere. And nowhere.”

  “Faye is right. It’s true,” cried Lucy. “Komar Romak disappeared over and over from us and came back with all manner of horrid differences.”

  Wallace looked up from contemplation. “How can the world ever be safe from something that can create gold and generate such exponentially growing power that it can destroy the world, all while Komar Romak lurks everywhere and for all time?”

  “Your questions are well-founded, Master Banneker,” said Mr. Bell.

  “And this all started with Suleiman?” asked Wallace. “Is that when Komar Romak first appeared?”

  “No,” said Noah. “The drawings of Hilda Petrie—I saw them. The drawings she made from the tombs, from the art of ancient Egypt. It was Komar Romak! All of the figures in the Egyptian art were done in profile. The only face shown in full was that of the enemy. This face, the one I saw, belonged to an enemy of the king of Egypt, and bore a half-moustache.”

  Mr. Bell looked deeply at Noah. “The face of the ancient enemy. Yes, Master Canto-Sagas. You have recognized that face. And it can be a burden, once you recognize it. Sometimes that burden can be unbearable,” he said. He was looking directly at Noah. “The weight of such a burden can twist more than a back.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Bell?” asked Lucy.

  Mr. Bell did not look away from Noah. “I am speaking to Master Canto-Sagas, Miss Modest.”

  Noah stood up, suddenly pale. The words echoed in his head. He ran from the room.

  “What’s wrong with Noah?” asked Lucy.

  “Perhaps something has disagreed with his stomach,” suggested Mr. Bell.

  “I should go to him,” said Ariana.

  “Perhaps he needs to be alone with his discomfort, Ariana,” said Mr. Bell.

  Ariana turned, “Alone with his—”

  “Maybe he needs a bit of time. We all need a bit of space around us when this feeling hits.”

  Ariana looked at Mr. Bell for a long moment. Was there something more? Something Mr. Bell was not telling? Perhaps Noah needed a moment to collect himself and that was all. Mr. Bell gestured and she sat back down gingerly.

  There was a heavy silence as Mr. Bell sat looking down at his desk.

  “So…this can never end,” said Wallace, nervously, unsure if the conversation was to continue. “Suleiman must have known this would be a thing without end.”

  “Very astute, Master Banneker,” said Mr. Bell. “Suleiman knew that the gold Il Magna creates would be used to protect it and support it indefinitely, without taking wealth from the empire. The gold is used for continuing research and finding safety for the creation and its creators.”

  “All this for generations? To build an army, to protect Il Magna, and support the family of scientists that care for it?” asked Jasper.

  “Yes, Master Modest,” said Mr. Bell. “Il Magna is truly a paradox. It is an opposite in itself. It cannot be built, yet cannot be destroyed. It must be protected from all the world, yet all the world must be protected from it. The strange truth of Il Magna is that it is something that must be forgotten, yet can never be truly learned. By private royal decree, Suleiman placed the guardianship into the hands of the knights in black and the family lines of Vigyanveta, Sagas, Canto, Bannak O-sze Mbatu Salaam, Becquerel, Fial—”

  “But what about Nikola Tesla?” asked Faye.

  “He’s a cousin,” said Dr. Canto-Sagas.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Bell. “He, like Clarence, is a descendent of Dr. Canto.”

  “And what about us?” asked Jasper. “I didn’t hear a Modest.”

  “But you did, Master Modest,” said Mr. Bell. “After Hugh Fial’s son was kidnapped, he changed his name to the English word from the Gaelic.”

  “Fial means ‘modest’?” asked Lucy, excited to learn something new.

  “As does ‘Naraigh,’ his grandmother’s name on the maternal side,” said Dr. Tobias Modest. “She was Irish, with a name meaning the same thing. Brilliant woman, by all accounts.”

  “What about us?” asked Wallace.

  “Son,” his father said, patting Wallace so hard on the shoulder that the boy almost fell over. “We are descendents of Bannak O-sze Mbatu Salaam, who was the astronomer and prince in Nubia. Bannak O-sze Mbatu was his name, and he added Salaam in honor of his teacher, who came from Egypt.”

  “So we’re all a part of this group?” asked Faye. “That sounds a bit, well, awful. Everyone has to be in the family? And being in the family makes you a part of this?”

  “Not necessarily, Miss Vigyanveta. The guardianship descends with the line. This is true. You are direct descendants, yes, but families grow and change,” said Mr. Bell. “And, as you know, family does not ensure trust. There are families who are betrayed and members who betray. And just being in a family will not guarantee that you become a part of this legacy.

  “And so it is tradition that the children in our families are observed. Those inclined towards the arts of science are asked to join us and help in this heritage. Some, as we know, reject this. We accept that decision. Suleiman never forced the brothers in black to join him. Similarly, we cannot, and will not, force the children of the original scientists to join.”

  “So you can leave if you want,” Jasper said quietly to Faye.

  “I…I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” she whispered, though this was only partially true. She did not want to leave him. “I just do not like being told what I have to do.”

  “So we are all family?” Wallace said, once again adjusting his glasses. “Those of us who are part-guardians of the machine?”

  “We know that inheritance is not the best way to rule, but it is where we start. Every marriage is checked thoroughly—families and new members alike.”

  “But, marriage aside, how did Suleiman expect to keep things safe and secret and pass the word down but not tell anybody?” said Wallace, who was less interested in marriage than in safety.

  “Very good question, Master Banneker,” said Mr. Bell.

  “That’s right,” said Jasper. “Suleiman had to tell but not tell? That’s a paradox in itself.”

  “Exactly, Master Modest,” said Mr. Bell. “Suleiman could not write down the words that might lead to Il Magna. But he was, after all, Muhabi, the poet king. He wrote a poem. This poem told of the strange round bird. This was the set of clues to the secret order of Il Magna. The children who learned the poem became the adults who would know the strange round bird for a lifetime. The order would then be natural and the secret preserved in a song. They would then teach the poem to their children. If their children joined in the guardianship, they, too, would learn the secret of the strange round bird.”

  “But …” Lucy was scratching her head. “But…how does it do the thing and turn the things into something else? How does it make gold?”

  “You shall see,” said Mr. Bell.

  “We shall see?” Lucy’s ears perked up.

  “In time you shall,” said Mr. Bell.

  “But, sir, how did things continue after Suleiman?” asked Wallace, still concerned. The loss of the great leader might have spelled destruction. “How can we be sure that things won’t go wrong?” Wallace’s glasses had almost slid off the tip of his nose. He took them off and wiped them.

  “I understand your concern, Master Banneker,” said Mr. Bell. “Rest assured, Suleiman the Magnificent did, too. His last will and testament was followed faithfully through the centuries, leaving the work in the most loyal of hands. The Order of the Knights in Black, forever bound by their loyalty, remain the keepers of the most valuable, dea
dly, and mysterious invention the world will never know—‘until the time is right.’”

  “‘Until the time is right’?” Faye and Jasper spoke at once.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Bell. “Until the time is right. There must be a way to preserve the invention’s promise until the world is safe and ready for it.”

  “As Jasper said, that time has never come,” said Wallace, “and never will.”

  “As of yet,” said Mr. Bell, “it has not.”

  “And the future?” asked Faye. “You think it will change?”

  “Considering the story to date,” said Mr. Bell, “it seems foolhardy to anticipate anything. We simply do not know, but we cannot imagine a way for it to be other than it is. As centuries passed, much of what had begun with the best of intentions became symbols of faith, loyalty, and commitment, as well as danger, power, and destruction. A formidable enemy makes it impossible to take pleasure in this awesome invention. For those involved—the guardians and the scientists—the name Komar Romak will forever be linked to their invention.”

  “How terrible that so many generations have had to protect against such betrayal,” said Jasper. He looked at Noah for agreement, but Noah was looking away.

  The ringing of a small gong brought Noah’s thoughts back to the room. Mr. Bell shifted his gaze to the young acolyte who had entered the room.

  “Supper,” Mr. Bell said. “A good time for us to break from this sad tale. We can return to it with fresh cups of tea and full bellies.”

  “But there is so much more,” demanded Faye. “I know there is.”

  “You will certainly learn more, Miss Vigyanveta,” said Mr. Bell. “And, as I have said, there are pages you may peruse. But for now, we shall digest what we have learned as we feed our bellies.”

  Faye and Jasper walked out and Lucy hurried to catch up with them. The parents slowly walked among murmurs of conversation. Ariana was on one side of her son and Miss Brett stood on the other. Ariana took Noah’s hand and Miss Brett found his other hand to slip into hers. They moved towards the door.

  “Master Canto-Sagas, will you please remain with me for a moment?” Mr. Bell said from his desk.

  Both Ariana and Miss Brett stopped, ready to protest.

  “Ariana, Astraea, please continue with the others to a well-deserved supper. I must speak privately with Master Canto-Sagas.” Mr. Bell’s voice was firm but not unkind.

  The two women looked back at Noah as they departed. Noah, however, looked down. Since his return from Komar Romak, he had become accustomed to avoiding eye contact.

  As they walked, Ariana Canto-Sagas looked back, as if to offer assistance. But the door closed with her son on the other side. She and Miss Brett continued to the dining hall in silence.

  “I do not want to be here,” Noah nearly hissed at Mr. Bell.

  “There are things you have yet to understand, Master Canto-Sagas,” said Mr. Bell. “You must understand these before you make your choices.”

  Noah glared. This little man knows my choice has been made, but how? Noah wondered.

  “Very well,” Noah agreed, reluctantly. “I will stay for awhile.”

  Noah felt Mr. Bell’s dark eyes penetrate the mask he was carefully trying to wear. Finally, after what felt like centuries, Mr. Bell turned from Noah.

  “Shall we eat?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HOW TO FIGHT A DRAGON

  OR

  NOAH TURNS A KEY

  Noah’s room was a flurry of conversation. He had said his piece, but that did not seem to be enough.

  “What does that mean, Noah?” Faye demanded. Worry had plagued her since Noah’s return from the ordeal.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Noah, who had not even slowed his packing.

  “It matters to me,” said Faye, her face hot with anger. “We have spoken to Mr. Bell. Your mother is safe. Your father is well. What do you mean, ‘Your errand is yours alone’?”

  Faye stood up. Everything had finally been set. Everything had been planned and made sense. Now Noah was turning his back on them? Faye tried to maintain her composure.

  “I asked, and will ask again, ‘What does that mean’?” Now Faye stepped next to Noah and tried to stop him from adding an electric torch to his canvas bag.

  Noah first turned to her, then looked away. “I said it doesn’t matter and, in any event, it is my own business.”

  “Is it?” Faye was now angry as well as worried. “Since when is this your business? None of this is your business. Or mine. Or anyone’s alone. We are in the middle of something very large and very old and very dangerous. Do not tell me it is your business and no one else’s.”

  “I have nothing else to say, Faye.” Noah pulled his arm away from her and shoved the torch in his bag.

  “What do you mean ‘nothing else to say,’ Noah?” Faye was still next to him. “We have worked hard, all of us together! And now you decide this…this secret plan of yours…to sneak away like…Noah, your mother is safe—”

  “Is she? Are any of us safe?” The words of Komar Romak still echoed in his ears.

  “Look, I know what you mean,” Faye said gently. “I understand—”

  “No, Faye, you do not understand.” Noah’s voice cracked. “There is more to this than the reasons the brothers wear bonnets or even the history of Suleiman. I have something I must do. When my mother was taken, I told you all that I didn’t care about anything but her safety. Well, this is how it finishes. It’s my choice.”

  “How dare you!” she growled. This caught Noah’s attention. “How dare you turn away from us. We are a guild, a family. We all know enough to move forward together. If you think we don’t understand and cannot support you in this, then I count that as a betrayal.”

  “Very well,” said Noah, “then it shall count as a betrayal. That’s what it is, after all.”

  Faye felt as if he had slapped her.

  “If you knew …” but Noah couldn’t finish.

  “Noah, we all understand about saving your mother, but that is not betrayal…I under—”

  “Don’t say you understand, Faye,” said Noah.

  Faye grabbed his arm again. “Noah, stop this. We have a plan. Things are going to work out as we—”

  “You already said that, Faye.” Noah pulled his arm from her hold, again. “But you see, this is my battle because it was made into my battle. You’ve always hated me. You should be thrilled to see the back of me.”

  “How can you say that?” Faye’s face reddened now from shame. “ I…I love you and the others. You are the only friends I’ve ever had. I’d do anything for you. The fact that you drive me crazy does not mean I don’t care.” Faye sat down heavily on Noah’s bed. “Noah, please, please do not turn away from us. You are going to put yourself in danger. Do not jump into harm’s way because you want to punish yourself for some imagined slight or failure.”

  Noah knew that a single moment, a single thought, could constitute failure.

  Faye took his silence for consideration. “We shall be a formidable force.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Noah. “It’s not that kind of thing.”

  “And, once again, what does that mean?” Faye stood up again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Noah.

  Running as fast as she could, Faye nearly slipped in the hall, but it didn’t stop her. Noah could not be setting off to face this on his own. She raced to the office door and pushed.

  “You cannot let him go!” she cried.

  “It is not a matter of letting him, Miss Vigyanveta,” said Mr. Bell. “Has anyone let you do a thing? Have you obeyed when told?”

  Faye considered the distaste she felt at being ordered to do something or to behave in a way she found repellent. “But we can’t let him just go. You were there. We talked things through. We’ve worked it out. Everything is in place, but now…I fear …” She did not want to voice what she feared. She did not want to utter the words that fought to escape her li
ps. She did not want to say what she was thinking and what, in her heart, she feared Noah was about to do.

  “My dear young lady,” said Mr. Bell, “you have two choices. You can fear the worst and let distrust lead you to action. Or you can trust in your friend, whom you have known like a brother, and consider who he is and why he acts.”

  “I do trust him,” said Faye, speaking softly as if she feared even the tiniest wave of sound might escape the thick wooden doors. “I just fear the fear that seems to have made him change.”

  Faye turned to find Noah standing behind her. She searched his face for some answer.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, but his face gave nothing away.

  “Noah will not be joining us for supper,” said Mr. Bell. “He needs time for his own contemplation.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Lucy. “Noah would never miss his tea.”

  Immediately, her hand flew to her bracelet. Jasper reached to pull it from her mouth, but Lucy nearly spat it out.

  “Yucky,” she cried, spitting and blowing raspberries. “My bracelet is yucky. Jasper, what have you done to it?”

  “What do you mean?” Jasper sniffed his own bracelet. It too smelled funny. He licked it.

  Lucy grabbed his hand and, in a moment of triumph, she pushed the bracelet from his lips. “Don’t put that in your mouth, Jasper. That’s what you always tell me.”

  “I wasn’t”—but, of course, he was—”I was just seeing if there was something odd about it. And it does taste funny, not that I regularly lick it.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. Jasper blushed and focused on his bracelet.

  “So? Why, Jasper? Why? Why is there wax on our bracelets?” Lucy put her hands on her hips and awaited an answer.

  “Wax?” Dr. Isobel Modest looked at her son’s bracelet, then at Lucy’s, and scraped one of the charms on that bracelet. There was wax. “What have you been getting into, mes enfants?”

  Jasper knew it would be foolish to try to think of something clever. Candle wax was a good explanation.