Deschanel gave a deep sigh. She knew she was trapped. “Yes, alchemy exists. The previous ruler of France, Maximilien Robespierre, knew how to use it. But as for the existence of men from another world…” She shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”
Robespierre knew how to use alchemy! Jeanne de Fleur—the real one—had never mentioned anything about that. Maybe she hadn’t known. Could she have come up against the tyrant’s alchemical abilities when she faced him in the Tuileries tower?
Farahilde suddenly remembered what had brought them to America in the first place. “But what about the stones? What are they?”
There were murmurs of agreement among those in the room. They, too, wanted to know about the mysterious stones. “The stones, I have been told, are the remains of the doorway the Gnostagar used to enter our world. If they are brought together again, the door will allegedly reappear and access to their world will be granted.”
“So you want to go there,” Leopold concluded.
“Think of all we can learn from them,” Washington said. “We have come so far in the past century because of their influence. I believe there is still much they can teach us.”
The President was certainly not lacking in ambition, Farahilde thought. Whether or not anything would come from his desire to help his fellow man—real or pretend—was another matter. “So how many pieces of this supposed doorway do you have?” she asked him.
“All but one. The final piece should be arriving by boat any day now. When it does, you shall all be privileged to witness the opening of the door to the world of Gnostagar.”
“If it works,” Mary Rose said softly.
“You mean you don’t even know if it will work?” Farahilde expressed her surprise.
Washington cleared his throat. “As no one has ever assembled all the stones, the story has yet to be separated from legend. I believe in the words of my late friend, however.”
“And how did he find all this out?” Deschanel asked.
“He never told me. He spoke of it as Plato spoke of the lost continent of Atlantis. At first I took the whole thing to be merely fantastical prose he had composed. Nevertheless, shortly after he died our workers unearthed one of the fabled stones while constructing the building you now stand in. It was then I knew Benjamin Franklin had been telling the truth.”
“Sir, perhaps it would be best to show our guests to their rooms. We have given them a lot to process, and I’m sure they could use some rest after travelling so far,” Mary suggested.
“Indeed, Mary. Sage wisdom as always.” Washington then addressed the assembled visitors. “Miss Rose will show you to your rooms.”
***
The Austrians—along with Frederick—were quartered in separate rooms on the second floor of the President’s Palace. The French knights opted to remain aboard the Minuit Solaire II, which was docked behind the building (they had obviously repaired the balloon at some point), per Deschanel’s insistence. She said she didn’t want to remain in close proximity to any Austrians.
Farahilde didn’t stay in her room long. She soon left, ostensibly to have a look around the President’s Palace. Her real goal, however, was very different. She had something she needed to confirm, and she refused to rest until that was accomplished.
Within a half hour she found in a supply room the object of her search: Mary Rose, the President’s secretary. “I finally found you,” Farahilde announced in a glorious tone she had used once before.
The secretary was evidently checking inventory. She turned to Farahilde. “Oh, Miss Johanna. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“You can cut the crap, for one,” Farahilde said in French while grinning.
Mary frowned and said in English, “Excuse me?”
The young Austrian pointed an accusing finger at her. “You may look and talk different, but I know who you really are.” She then added, for the purpose of removing all doubt, “Fräulein.”
Mary’s eyes widened, and she rushed past Farahilde to the door of the supply room and closed it, making sure to lock it as well. She turned back to face her accuser. “Be quiet, you fool. Do you want to give me away? How did you know it was me, anyway?”
Farahilde’s grin grew even larger. She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and held it up in front of “Mary.” It was the message she had received upon arriving in Washington. “This was my first clue. At first I was sure it had been sent by Deschanel.”
“Who?”
“That imposter claiming to be you.”
“Oh. Is that her real name?”
Farahilde nodded. “Yes—according to your former engineer.”
“Celeste? You’ve spoken to her?”
“That’s right. She should be in this city right now.”
The other woman’s face lit up. “I wish I could see her. That may be difficult, though…”
Farahilde interrupted. “Can we get back to the business at hand? Like I said, at first I was so sure this message had been sent by that imposter bitch. But she obviously knew very little of the history between me and you. She wouldn’t have known that I used to call you ‘fräulein’.”
“Why did you call me that?”
“Never mind that,” she said, waving away the question. She was too embarrassed to get into it. “That probably wouldn’t have been enough to let me figure you out. But you just had to go and reveal your knowledge of a classified French military operation that no one else would know about.”
Mary Rose (of course now Farahilde knew that wasn’t her real name) took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She grabbed at her blonde hair, pulling it away to reveal a wig. Underneath the fake locks was reddish-brown hair cut close to her head. This new tomboy was a far cry from the elegant braid that Farahilde remembered. Mary Rose also removed her glasses. “I felt it was necessary to share with the President what I—or rather, the American Mary Rose—knew about the Count of Saint-Germaine and alchemy. George Washington is a great man, one with the potential to bring a new age of prosperity to mankind.”
“So you want to help him open the door to the world of these space men?” Farahilde scoffed.
“The President has exhibited remarkable judgment in the shaping of this country,” Mary explained. “Look at what he has accomplished so far. Yes, the Count of Saint-Germaine was a bloodthirsty monster, but who’s to say that the rest of the Gnostagar are the same? They could in fact be very benign.”
Farahilde replied dryly, “I hope you know what you’re doing, fräulein. Personally, I think your President may be pushing his luck too far. He should be satisfied with what he’s got.”
“Well, then…let’s agree to disagree.”
“Hmph. Fine.”
Mary pulled out a pocket watch and examined it. “It’s time for me to retire for the night. I’ll see you later.”
She put her disguise back on and turned to leave. However, there was one more thing Farahilde wanted to ask her. “Just a second.”
“Yes?”
“Your engineer,” she started. “She said you considered me a friend. Is that true?”
The faux American contemplated this for a few moments. “You and I were brought together by war. We became acquainted through battle. We shared an understanding bought by blood. If that doesn’t make us friends, I don’t know what does.”
“Thanks, fräulein,” she laughed. “I never figured you for such a soft-hearted woman.”
Mary smiled. “My pleasure.”
Farahilde may have laughed off Mary’s confession, but she was secretly happy to have heard it. She had had many underlings in her life, but very few friends. There weren’t many people who could withstand her headstrong personality. But Mary Rose—or rather, Jeanne de Fleur—had faced the young Austrian in mortal combat and still was willing to associate with her. That spoke volumes for either Jeanne’s character or her mental instability. Farahilde didn’t really care which.
***
George Washington walked throug
h the hallways of the President’s Palace on the way to his bedroom. It had been another long day, and he was anxious to get to sleep.
As he rounded the corner—beyond which lay his room—a figure emerged. It was John Adams, the vice-president. The fifty-seven-year-old former lawyer was still wearing his business attire, despite the late hour.
“Ah, hello, John. Are you working late?”
“Just about to turn in,” Adams said curtly. Despite his portly physique, the vice-president was a hard worker. Unfortunately, he had been in a dour mood lately because of Washington’s search for the Gnostagar stones. Adams was firmly against the whole venture.
“Have you met our guests yet?” Washington asked.
Adams furrowed his brow in annoyance. “A motley crew, I understand. I don’t believe they have any business here in the first place.”
“John, if we are successful—”
The vice-president interrupted. “It is a fool’s errand, George. We should be focusing on our infant country, not blatant fantasies. The work to be done is right in front of us.”
Patting the vice-president on the back, Washington said, “You think too small, my friend. The entire world can benefit from contact with the Gnostagar. Besides, you knew Benjamin Franklin as well as I. He was not prone to fantasies. We can trust his word.”
“His intellect knew no equal. I will not deny that. But brilliant men are also keen on being…peculiar. It could be that his Gnostagar were simply little more than a play he was writing, and we were his unwitting audience.”
Washington shook his head. “If not for the existence of the stones, I would believe that. However, they are quite real and thus I must act accordingly.”
An exasperated Adams said, “Let us say for the sake of argument that you are correct and these otherworldly men are real. From what we’ve been told about the supposed exploits of the Count of Saint-Germaine, what makes you think they would be kind to us?”
Washington countered: “Surely he was but a Gnostagar deviant. A people as advanced as they would certainly treat us with respect.”
“I hope that is the case, George.”
Washington smiled. It just had to be.
***
Farahilde returned to her room where she found Leopold waiting for her, a stern look on his face. “To what do I owe this pleasure, dear brother?” she asked callously.
Leopold stood in front of her bed. “We need to talk about your outburst earlier. You openly accused the American President of insanity. I didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone and potentially show discord to both our enemies and potential allies, but now I’m telling you that the kind of behavior you displayed earlier was unacceptable.”
Farahilde let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m so sick of this.”
“You’re sick of this?” he countered. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of having to clean up your messes. I’m sick of you never listening to a word I say. I’ve tried to mold you into proper Austrian royalty, but it seems you’re dead-set on a path of self-destruction.”
“Shut up! All you ever do is complain! Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to be ‘proper Austrian royalty’?”
“That much you have made abundantly clear, sister. It’s obvious, now, that you’ll never be anything more than a rebellious whelp.”
She couldn’t take anymore. She punched him full-force across his face. He fell backwards onto the bed. “I hope you die, you bastard,” she said, her voice like ice water.
He got back to his feet. “After we return home, I’m going to have you put in a dark cell for a very long time.”
She turned away. She couldn’t even stand to look at him. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve let you threaten me long enough. I’d rather die than obey one more of your commands.”
Wiping the blood from his mouth, he said, “So be it.” He stormed out of the room.
Chapter VIII: Sights and Machinations
The President’s Palace, United States, December 12, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 11:00 a.m.
The next day, George Washington and Mary Rose took the Austrian delegation (including Frederick; he was now feeling better, and Farahilde had filled him in on what they had learned the previous night), along with the trio of French knights, into a subterranean chamber underneath the President’s Palace. It was basically a room hollowed out of bedrock, fifteen feet in height with a horizontal dimension of thirty feet by twenty-five feet. Torches lined the walls, and as a result the place reminded Farahilde of her old underground torture chamber in the Austrian Netherlands. She had abandoned it a while back, but now she was feeling a little nostalgic for the days when she had punished French worms down there.
On the floor in the center of the subterranean chamber was a series of stones arranged in a rectangle shape. No, not a rectangle, Farahilde realized.
A door.
“As you can see, we have put the stones back together to recreate the door. And with this…” He bent down and placed the two stones brought by the Austrian and French delegations into place on the lower left side of the “door”. The structure was now nearly complete, save for a small gap above the two pieces he had just placed. “Now only one remains. And when it arrives—any day now—we shall complete the door.”
“And then what will happen?” Frederick asked. Like Farahilde, he didn’t understand how this was supposed to work.
“Benjamin Franklin told me there is power within these stones.”
“What kind of power?” Deschanel said.
“I do not know. However, Ben said that when the stones are again brought together, the power within them will recreate the door to the Gnostagar world.”
“A world we still know nothing about,” Leopold reminded him.
“And yet, soon we will,” Washington insisted.
Leopold did not share the American President’s enthusiasm for this venture. “I’m afraid we must abstain from joining you in this endeavor. I do not see that it holds any promise for Austria.” Farahilde almost felt like joining the President in his wild plan just to anger her brother.
Washington looked at him sadly for a moment, and then returned his gaze to the stone formation on the floor. “I was afraid that might be the case. Have no fear, however; I shall remain true to my word. We can work out a formal treaty this evening.”
“Your understanding is appreciated,” Leopold said. Farahilde wordlessly repeated his words in a mocking tone.
Washington turned to address Deschanel. “And what of you, Madame de Fleur? Will you stay for the opening of the door?”
“Our orders were to deliver our stone to you and negotiate an alliance treaty with you, and then return home,” she said curtly. “But I suppose there is no hurry. I myself am anxious to see this fascinating world you speak of.” She actually smiled at that point, an act Farahilde found suspicious. What was this woman up to? Farahilde wondered if the real Jeanne thought so as well.
“Excellent. You will not be disappointed,” Washington said.
Deschanel, still smiling, said, “I’m sure I won’t.”
***
Afterwards, Deschanel and her two subordinates returned to the Minuit Solaire II. The Commander had them convene for a meeting in her private cabin down the hall from the bridge.
As soon as they entered, Emil said, “Commander, are we really staying for their lunatic leader’s experiment?”
A malevolent smile warped her lips. “We most certainly are. This is an opportunity we can’t pass up.”
“But this Washington guy’s a madman,” Jean-Louis said. “He honestly believes he’s goin’ to step into another world and receive riches. The Bible’s quite clear that it don’t work that way.” Like a lot of people in France, Jean-Louis had had very little formal education, a fact which was betrayed by his speech.
She agreed. “He’s gullible. And we’re going to use that to our advantage. Listen up.”
She told them her plan.
***
Elsewhere, another individual had his own plan. Only one more piece was needed to recreate the doorway. He had been all too willing to help George Washington collect them, but once the door was open, the President would no longer be needed. In fact, none of America’s leaders would be needed.
It was too bad, really. As far as humans went, George Washington was a cut above the rest. But ultimately the new world order would have no use for him. He would die as soon as the door opened.
However, there were still humans in Washington strong enough to prevent this plan from being carried out; people like Jeanne de Fleur and Farahilde Johanna. He would have to get them out of the way before opening the door.
***
Later that day, Jeanne—under the guise of Mary Rose—took Farahilde and Frederick on a tour of Washington. Leopold stayed at the President’s Palace, saying he was still tired from the sea voyage, that he was not as young as he used to be. Farahilde decided that was probably a lie he made up so he wouldn’t have to spend time with her.
Washington was an impressive city, with wide streets, tall buildings (every one of which was fully supplied with energy), parks and numerous dome-shaped structures used for collecting electricity.
“It’s not actually electricity,” Jeanne explained as they rode through the city in a steam carriage. She sat across from Farahilde and Frederick. “There is a unique type of crystal in abundance underneath this land. The Americans call it coralite.”
“Coralite?” Farahilde asked.
Jeanne nodded and produced a small green rock from her pocket which she gave Farahilde. “As far as anyone knows, it only exists on this continent. Benjamin Franklin supposedly designed the machines which collect and process it.”
Farahilde examined the sample of coralite. “I’ve been hearing a lot about this Franklin person. When do I get to meet him?”
“I’m afraid he died before we arrived in this country. He’s buried in an American city called Philadelphia.”
Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) Page 7
