by Jake Kerr
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A WALL CONFUSES ME
I was ushered through the entryway into a large sitting room. Felice told me to make myself comfortable as she exited through an arch to the right, which led to an open room with a marble floor.
The room we were in was cavernous, with a ceiling that was probably twenty feet above my head. It was dark and lit by candles, as there were no windows. There were bookshelves against the wall to my left, while there were large wingback chairs in each corner with a reading lamp and side table next to each. One table had a book on it and a pipe resting in an ashtray, smoke curling up from its bowl. All of the walls were paneled in a deep reddish wood, with the far wall covered with portraits and various landscapes. The wall to the right was paneled and broken up by the arched doorway, which must have been at least twenty feet wide and appeared to be some kind of antechamber.
Dominating the room was a huge painting on the far wall. It was of a fierce man with black flowing hair holding a staff above his head. He stood at the front of an army dressed in bright colors on a huge grassy plain. In front of him was another army, this one dressed in drab grey. The staff shot lightning bolts and fire out toward the opposing army, spreading disorder and injury. I looked more closely at the painting, and the detail on the faces of the soldiers’ was magnificent. The looks of terror were realistic enough to make me shiver. I immediately recognized the face of the man holding the staff. It was my grandfather, and perhaps even more disturbing than the faces of the army he was defeating was the look of joy on his face. That joy, juxtaposed with the terror of the soldiers, made my grandfather look almost evil.
“Does anything in the painting look familiar?” I looked over to see Felice standing near the door she left through.
“That’s my grandfather,” I stated.
“Yes. But I was talking about that.” She pointed at the staff. I took a step closer to the painting and examined the staff. It was my grandfather’s cane. I looked at the cane in my hand and then back at the painting. The cane in the painting was missing the brass tip at the bottom, but it was undoubtedly the same one. I held up the staff toward Felice, and she smiled.
I looked back up at the painting. “That’s a battle from the Great War. You can see the trenches in the background. I’ve never seen depictions of the battles with anything other than guns and cannons.”
“Guns and cannons, ha!” I turned to face a man stooped with age. Unlike everyone else in the Citadel, he actually looked like a magician. He had a small beard that came to a point just beyond his chin. His white hair was slicked back on his head, and he wore a black robe that contained some odd designs in the depths of the shadows that drew your eye but were frustratingly difficult to make out. He was extremely thin, and his bones were a mass of sharp angles beneath his skin. His eyes were so dark as to be black. He walked through the archway, and although his spine forced him to lean forward, he didn’t use a cane. Felice walked over and remained a respectful distance behind.
“What use were guns and cannons against the Pehlivan?” The old man chuckled. “They melted at his glance and exploded against their own at his command. No, young man, the Hindenburg Line fell as fast as the Pehlivan could walk along it.”
I had not seen my grandfather melt anything with the staff, and the painting showed nothing of guns and cannons, so I couldn’t help but doubt the entirety of the old man’s story, but he clearly had great admiration for my grandfather, so I overlooked it.
Felice stepped forward. “This is the new Archmage.” She looked embarrassed, and it struck me that she couldn’t remember my name.
“You can call me Tommy,” I volunteered.
“This is Lord Ainsley,” Felice interjected. “He is the master of the Citadel. He oversees the buildings, grounds, and rooms and has for many years.” She bowed and stepped into the background.
“Tommy, eh?” Lord Ainsley walked up to me and stared right into my eyes. “Declan is your grandfather?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Expected as much. I thought he’d go to the grave with the staff in his hands. At least he didn’t wait to pass it along to his great grandson.” He laughed a loud wheezy laugh. “You came here alone?”
“No sir. I came with Mister Ali and a student named Naomi.”
“Ali is here?” The mention of Mister Ali brightened Lord Ainsley’s face. “You must tell him to stop by. He is an old friend of mine. Ha! He couldn’t perform magic to fool a sideshow, but he has the eye.” He tapped his forehead with a finger. “Could see through even Cain’s illusions. Is young Baraz here, as well? There were many a day I took care of that boy while his dad and the Pehlivan were off together.”
I was struck with a sudden sadness, as I thought back to my grandfather and Mister Ali’s son, whom I had known for a long time as the maitre d of the Persian Garden. In a soft voice I added, “I’m afraid he is missing. He and my grandfather were left behind in the attack on his restaurant in New York. They are feared dead.” I felt sick saying the words “left behind” as much as I did saying the words “feared dead.”
Lord Ainsley paused and then looked at me. “The Pehlivan dead? Well, I find that hard to believe. And young Baraz was almost as good with the sight as his father. He’d be a slippery one to catch. The two of them together? I find it more likely that your grandfather hatched some foolishly dangerous plan and that he’ll succeed in it after we have all given up hope.” He must have seen the sadness in my face because he gave me a tentative smile and patted me on the shoulder. “Have more faith.”
And with a clap of his hands, he broke the somber mood. “Now, let me give you the partial tour as I take you to your room. This is the reading room. There are popular books on the shelf back there, but the actual library is through that door in the back. If you would like access to books, please let me know, and I’ll make arrangements with Felice and the librarian.”
He then led us through the wide archway into what looked like an antechamber. The marble floors were polished to such a sheen that they were almost mirrors. To the left through the archway was a majestic stone staircase at the back that led up to the second floor. Opposite the archway was a set of double wooden doors that were closed. To the right was a stone wall that matched the décor of the room but that seemed out of place. In fact, I was thinking that the layout of the building was wrong. This room should have been the entryway, and the sitting room should have opened only to internal rooms, not the outside.
Lord Ainsley was looking at me strangely. “Is there something wrong?”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I was honest. “That wall shouldn’t be there. That should be a door. And these two rooms are in the wrong spots.” I pointed back to the library.
“Very good. Did the staff tell you that?”
“No sir, it just seemed like it made sense.”
He nodded. “Tell me then, which room is easier to defend upon attack?”
“This one. The stone walls seem more durable, and there is not easy way in from the outside. Plus, you can defend the stairs from a height.”
“Very good, but wrong. The other room is much easier to defend for reasons I shall not go into right now. Suffice to say that the oddness of this room and what you have observed are by design. Many things in this Citadel will look odd or feel wrong. They are odd, and they are wrong, but always remember that they are that way for a reason.
“But enough lessons for today!” Lord Ainsley pointed up the staircase. “Your lodgings are upstairs, the first door to your left to be precise.”
“Thank you, Lord Ainsley.”
He waved his hand in response. “Felice, bring our young Archmage some food and drink. From the looks of him he could use some fresh clothes, as well. See the quartermaster. He’ll complain, but tell him I requested it. He’ll complain some more, but he’ll give them to you.” Lord Ainsley laughed.
“Thank you!” I was growing very fond of the old man who seemed to know my grandfather an
d was looking out for me.
The old man waved his hand in a dismissive fashion and turned away, which I was learning was his general response to anything that he didn’t want to bother with. “Ring the bell if you need anything,” he said as he walked back toward the archway and into the sitting room. “Oh, and don’t leave the building.”
“Follow me,” Felice stated. She led me up the marble steps, which were smooth and free of wear and dust. They looked like they hadn’t been used since they were laid. At the top, there was a wide landing that overlooked the antechamber, and there was a hallway that extended back from the stairs. We were on the second floor, and the staircase continued up on the left, the third floor lost to my view. The hallway was dark wood with a long rug that ran down its center. The rug was a deep red with swirls and designs of bright colors. It looked very regal to me. I assumed my eyes were playing tricks on me, for the hallway extended as far as I could see, reaching a point somewhere in the distance. It must have been hundreds of yards long.
I looked back at Felice, who was smiling. “It is impressive, yes? Cain created this illusion himself. The hall extends down about ten rooms on each side, when you reach the end it slowly curves around then turns you around and you continue back in this direction, where the illusion continues. It does not take long before you wonder where the staircase came from or how far you’ve been walking. She opened the door to my room at that moment. “I recommend you keep your bearings.”
I entered the room behind Felice. She pointed at a hand bell on the nightstand next to the bed. “Ring that if you need anything. It need not be loud.” She then turned and walked out of the room. Before I could respond she had closed the door. The room was small but comfortable. Like the hallway, the floor was hardwood but mostly covered by a large rug. It was of the Persian variety and very thick. The bed was an old four poster, with a reddish stained wood. It appeared very solid and was thick with white linens and blankets. There were several brightly colored pillows on it. Across from the bed was a tall standing mirror.
I looked in the mirror and could barely recognize myself. I was encrusted with dirt, and the fine clothes I wore to the theater with my grandfather were torn and stained with blood, dirt, and sweat. My hair was a tangle. But what struck me the most was the cane I held in my right hand. I had never seen it in my hand before, and the effect was shocking. I had spent so many years watching my grandfather hold, twist, swing, and walk with the cane, that seeing it in my hand for the first time created an odd connection to him in me.
I stared at my face and then my fist gripping the cane tightly. I looked weary, and I looked mighty. For the first time since I was on the boat on the great underground river I realized that there was more to the cane and more to me than anyone had expected. More than anything I felt humbled.
I noticed the bed in the mirror and turned. I had not slept in a bed in, what, three days, four days? I had lost count. Thoughts of anything but sleep displaced everything else. A great weariness descended upon me, and as I sat on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes I let myself fall backward just to feel the cushion of the soft blankets. I doubt I felt my head hit the mattress before I was asleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE QUARTERMASTER GIVES ME SPECTACLES
I awoke curled near the pillows. I had somehow burrowed under a blanket, but other than that I was exactly as I was when I climbed onto the bed. Light shone through a large window in the wall to my left, and, to my horror, my shoes were still on and the light illuminated every bit of dried mud and dirt that I had ground into the linens and blankets as I slept.
I leapt off the bed and furiously slapped at the linens, using my hands to push the bits of dirt onto the floor. I realized that I was just getting the floor dirty in the process, so I started to try and sweep the dirt into my left hand with my right. I looked around for a wastebasket, but there was none. I shoved the bits of dirt into my pockets and then continued to clean the bed. I did my best, but it was a lost cause. The bottom of the bed looked like someone had danced on it with dirty shoes.
It was not how I wanted to present myself to Duncan or Lord Gort or Lord Ainsley. I felt rather intimidated by their importance and sophistication. I had never been outside of New York, and their accents made me think I was talking with royalty.
I stood up and looked around the room. There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, each with an electric lamp of ornate design. They sat upon white lace that covered the entire surface. Other than the hand bell on the table nearest the door, there was nothing else on them. They both had drawers, which proved to be empty. Across from the doorway stood the window, and next to the window was a reading chair. It was navy blue with golden accents. A floor lamp stood between the chair and a small reading table. Upon the table was a book, Elementary Illusion.
It was very worn and as I looked through it every page appeared to have handwritten notes. Some were crossed out with newer notes written underneath. They all referred to the subject matter, which was creating basic illusions, such as making a single item look like two items or (later in the book) making a room look bigger than it was. Each chapter was full of finger and body manipulations that were illustrated down to minute distances. There were images meant to be visualized and recitations, as well, but these seemed secondary to the physical element of each spell. The first illusion was one where you were to use a page of writing on the textbook and make its mirror image appear on the previous open page, which was blank. I attempted the first few finger movements but immediately gave up. My thumb couldn’t move in the way illustrated in the book.
I put the book down and looked out the window. I blinked and looked again. There was a huge wall in the distance across the courtyard. When we entered the Citadel, there appeared to be a small decorative wall, but this wall was at least forty feet high, and I could see armaments atop it at regular intervals. To my right I could see the building extend out for what must have been 50 yards or more. I got my bearings and realized that must have been the where the hall extended out. The courtyard was drab and covered in brown grass that looked like it was dying. There was a path that led to large wooden doors in the far wall. Closer to the building, the path turned and extended to the training wing, where it ended in a circle. In the center of the circle was a working fountain, with a statue of some figure sending water from his scepter into the pool.
My stomach grumbled, and I had to use the bathroom. I went to ring the bell. Before I did, however, I rearranged the linens and blankets so that they hid the dirt left by my shoes. The wait staff may know that I was uncouth, but no one else had to know. I rang the bell, which had the tinny sound of a bell designed to call attention, not make music. I waited.
After a few minutes I rang the bell again. I waited a few more minutes, and as I considered leaving the room to look for someone or ringing the bell a third time, there was a knock at my door. I opened it, and Felice was standing there, holding a tray of food. “You know, a little patience doesn’t hurt. You only needed to ring the bell once.”
I stammered out an apology as Felice walked in and placed the tray on a trunk that I hadn’t noticed at the end of the bed. Was it covered in linens? I was wondering how I missed it when Felice said, “I have your clothes outside. Give me a moment.”
I looked at the food—it was cold meats, cheeses, and some bread, along with a pitcher of water—and marveled again at the trunk. It stood there clear as day. Felice re-entered with a pile of clothes, which she placed on the reading chair. “You’ll need to see the quartermaster for shoes.”
I thanked her as she began to walk toward the door and then blurted out, “Is there a washroom or perhaps an outhouse nearby?” I was embarrassed to ask, but my need was great.
She laughed, “Right there,” and she pointed to the wall next to the mirror. All I saw was a wall.
“I’m sorry. I don’t see anything but a wall.” She turned and walked toward it.
“Why, it’s clear as d
ay. You can’t see this door?” She rapped on the wall, but it sounded like wood, and then I started to see the blurry outline of a door. “Wait a moment, there is a slight illusion on this.” She squinted at the door, then turned and squinted at me. “You honestly can’t see the door?”
I shook my head. “It’s becoming clearer now,” I added sheepishly.
She chuckled. “You have no sight at all. This illusion wouldn’t fool a mouse. Heck, I can barely even tell there’s an illusion that’s been cast on the door.” She turned the knob and opened the door. “Better?”
“Yes!”
“Well, whoever lived in this room before you must have been practicing illusions. From the looks of this they weren’t very good at all, and normally I’d say not to worry, but for you,” she paused, “I would…” She paused. “Well, I’m not sure what I’d do. Maybe we can switch rooms.” She shook her head and walked toward the door.
“After you are washed, full, and dressed, ring the bell. Quite a few people want to meet you.”
“I will. Thank you, Felice.”
She turned and smiled. “Anything for the Archmage!” She closed the door behind her, and I sprinted toward the previously hidden door. I couldn’t believe I had missed it. I opened the door and found a modern bathroom. After using it and washing my hands, I went back and devoured the food on the trunk. The trunk. I hadn’t told Felice, but apparently the trunk was covered in some illusion, as well. I opened it, but it only held more linens and blankets. It didn’t fade from view, so I was thankful that I was able to at least see through this illusion.
I took another look at the illusions book, but it had no advice on seeing through illusions, only casting them. I placed the book back on the table and decided to wash and change. Remembering the bed, I went into the bathroom to remove my clothes and shoes, not wanting to soil the carpet.
