by R. G. Bullet
“It’s Sentinel Blythe!” the chief usher shouted, reading from a clipboard. “Pain free areas—right shoulder, left elbow. That’s all. Be careful with the rest of him and mind his hernia.”
Archy watched spellbound as the chief usher orchestrated the others to escort the elderly sentinels off the elevator. Half of the sentinels managed to dismount without incident. The rest toppled off balance and careened onto the mattresses, robes flying into the air and bony white limbs twisting in all directions. One of the sentinels even lost his teeth and they clattered across the flagstone floor. Another came down with his limbs all wound up. Luckily Sparrows clung on to the sentinel bravely, better than any rugby player Archy had ever seen, and they rolled off to the side.
“Damnable contraption! Damnable!” bellowed the sentinel as he slowly got to his feet.
When they were ready and some semblance of order was established, the chief usher opened the doors to the Inner Hall and the procession of sentinels wobbled in, Archy and Sparrows following right behind.
Chapter 19
The Inner Hall
The hall was a stark contrast to the crypt they’d left behind. It was a windowless room with a mix of architectural styles, from a smaller version of the Lord’s chamber to a twelfth-century church. There were red cushions on the benches, and a full fire roaring in a hearth. Hanging on a wall was a faded tapestry of men constructing a boat. Archy suspected that it was all kept in its pristine condition by the chief usher.
Seated on a podium just in front of the tapestry was an elderly woman dressed in SOTS robes. Archy only noticed her when she moved—it startled him. He certainly hadn’t seen her come in.
Sentinel Remnant guided Archy over to her and made the introduction. “Speaker Idosa, this, at last, is Mr. Archibald Bass,” the sentinel said.
The woman got up and leaned over a golden banister to shake hands with Archy. She didn’t wear a wig like the rest of them and Archy could see that her hair was frizzy and gray. Her skin was dark and she wore a warm smile.
“My pleasure, Mr. Bass. Welcome to the Inner Hall. Please take a seat,” she said firmly.
An usher placed a chair at the very front of the podium facing the sentinels, and invited Archy to sit. He did so, first tucking his hands under his legs, then folding them on his lap, and then finally placing them securely at his sides. He watched the sentinels take their places on the benches. And when they had all settled it felt like he was facing two juries, one on either side of the hall. Even though most had warmed to him over dinner he noticed there were still some stern-looking faces.
Speaker Idosa hammered the gavel behind him.
“My sentinels. Let’s not dawdle further. It’s been long enough. Sentinel Kingston, please start.”
An usher handed a microphone to a sentinel on the end of the bench. Archy watched it being passed slowly up the line.
“My name is Sentinel Kingston, Mr. Bass,” the sentinel croaked. His wig was still slightly askew from his fall, and his hooded eyes peered over half-moon glasses. “Allow me to speed things up a bit.”
He rose with the aid of one of the ushers, leaned on a walker and began inching his way up the aisle toward Archy. “We invited you here tonight as a preamble to securing a 58th Keeper. In the past, Keepers have always been chosen by Keepers and our duty as sentinels is to work in a support role for them. SOTS conducts itself in utmost secrecy, taking pride in having upheld the original oath for numerous millennia.”
Sentinel Kingston came to a halt when one of the legs of his walker stuck a few feet from where he started, and he began rocking it from side to side. “Blast it!”
Speaker Idosa cracked the podium sharply with her gavel. “Language, Sentinel Kingston. Need I remind you where you are?”
“No, of course not, Speaker,” the sentinel rasped. “Please, accept my apologies.”
Archy was about to get up to help when an usher appeared out of nowhere, scuttled over, unstuck the rubber footing, then melted back into the shadows.
Sentinel Kingston began to nudge forward again, now concentrating on every step and every word. “Alturus Burk’s saving grace appears to be you, Mr. Bass.”
“Alturus said he was in trouble. I wanted to help,” Archy cut in, hoping the sentinel would acknowledge his good intentions, but he simply carried on.
“Quite so. Burk has said you have chosen to return the gladius under your own volition. Cunning fellow, that Burk. A bit slippery, even.” Sentinel Kingston quickened his pace. “He is coercing you to do this Restitution for him. Are you fully aware of the details of a Restitution?”
Archy shook his head, but Sentinel Kingston didn’t notice and trundled right past him to the podium. “TimeQuests are privileges granted to the Keepers by the sentinels, but it’s a serious breach of the rules to bring anything back to the present,” he continued.
Sentinel Remnant rose from his chair. “Gentleman, while Mr. Bass is here, maybe he has a few questions for us.”
Archy had a reservoir of questions. Alturus had told him almost nothing, and he was wary about what he should ask. He feared if he messed up with his answers they would they just take the rug back. He plucked up the courage nonetheless and asked the first question. “Why does everyone call the rug a shroud?”
All eyes turned to Sentinel Remnant.
“…or why they keep calling the Shroud a rug. Archy, you’re in possession of something quite amazing. The rug, as so many Keepers have called it, is more specifically the original fabric of a robe Noah was given to aid in his task to find dry land. It was rewoven into a rug a long, long time ago. On his deathbed the robe was placed over him—hence the reference to a shroud. Although calling it a rug is a bit crude, it has proven an effective diversion on several occasions. Better to call it a rug than a shroud in case of slip-ups, we think. Thankfully the Kurul are still searching for a gossamer material resembling the original robe.”
“Noah…” Archy repeated in disbelief. He turned around to look at the tapestry on the wall behind Speaker Idosa. A man with a long beard and heavy robes labored in front of a boat’s framework. “As in Noah’s Ark?”
“Yes, Archy,” she said. “Noah was the first Keeper and he chose us to help protect it against the Kurul and other harmful forces.”
Like completing a corner of a jigsaw puzzle he began to glimpse a much bigger picture.
“Then why didn’t you just lock it up down here if you were so worried?”
As the sentinels murmured, Sentinel Fleury stood up. He snorted like a bull. “You see, Speaker, the child—Mr. Bass doesn’t even know the basics. How can we expect this to work?”
Chapter 20
The Testament
Speaker Idosa waved her hand at Sentinel Fleury in an attempt to calm him. “Isn’t it apparent Alturus Burk didn’t help Mr. Bass in any way?” She appealed to the hall. “One of you, please explain the origins.”
Sentinel Remnant took the floor again. Archy could see his cheeks glow with color. He seemed to have a renewed energy about him.
“The Shroud is Noah’s legacy. After hiding it for many years exactly as you suggested, Mr. Bass,” Sentinel Remnant shot Sentinel Fleury a look, “he finally released it. The robe was to be passed on to someone good of heart. Our immediate task was to find that person. You see, it acts as a barometer of man’s goodness in each generation. Noah requested that it be passed from one Keeper to the next.”
Sentinel Remnant clutched the side of the bench and looked reflectively over the Inner Hall. “The old and corrupt ways that the floods washed away carried a sad weight for Noah. He wanted a forewarning this time. He knew that should the Shroud fall into the wrong hands it would be the first real sign that this world is collapsing too.”
“So how does someone qualify as a Keeper?” Archy asked. For the first time he fully realized the weight of a Keeper’s responsibility.
“A very good question, Mr. Bass. Usually they are chosen after countless tests and disciplines. But
ultimately it’s the current Keeper who chooses the next. A Keeper is representative of his or her generation. And we help where we can, of course, but no one really knows for sure what lies in the heart of a person. It’s a risky thing, particularly at the start. The temptations are considerable, as we know from the actions of Alturus Burk.”
Before he could stop himself the words fell out of Archy’s mouth, “Do you think I’m the right person?”
“We don’t,” Sentinel Fleury blurted from his seat. “Something as powerful as the Shroud could twist any normal man pretty quickly, let alone a boy. That’s why I am urging everyone to consider a more apt Keeper and for you to pass it on, Mr. Bass.”
Another sentinel who was huddled in the midst waved a sheet of paper to attract attention.
“Yes, Sentinel Wargrave,” said the Speaker.
“We’ve spent considerable time on this, Speaker, and have a very good candidate in mind. He’s strong, mature, quick, and experienced.”
“007?” Archy blurted.
Sentinel Gibbons started laughing but Archy hadn’t meant it to be funny at all.
“Aren’t I any of those things?” said Archy.
“Are you asking me?” said Sentinel Fleury, baiting him. His face had turned the same hue of red as his robe.
Archy didn’t dare tangle with Sentinel Fleury any further and tried to sidestep him, but he tripped again. “So, why does a Keeper need SOTS?”
Sentinel Yeoman spoke this time, seeing the balance tipping away from Archy’s favor. “We have the Absolutes, Archy. SOTS were forced to come up with a better defense system for the Keepers and the Shroud. The TimeQuest is one of them, but there are more. The Absolutes already exist in the world, rather like electricity, except everyday man hasn’t discovered how to harness them yet. If a Keeper decides he or she doesn’t need us—so be it, but it will become extremely difficult to protect the Shroud, as it was for Alturus in the end.”
“Alturus had us extremely worried. Our support will not come easily,” said Sentinel Kingston. “It has to be earned. A Keeper will have to go through rigorous tests before full acknowledgment and support by SOTS,” he puffed.
The room mumbled in agreement and Speaker Idosa called them to order. She pointed to a quiet sentinel who sat at the end of the bench. “Sentinel Le Croix, do you have a remark?”
The sentinel rose. “It’s a matter of choice, Mr. Bass, to do the right thing. Alturus was the first person in the history of the Shroud to have us in a state of panic. Sentinel Fleury and others think you should pass it on. You are rather young. Maybe you should consider giving the Shroud better protection.”
The sentinel in the wheelchair removed his oxygen mask.
“Sentinel Puffin, please chime in,” said the speaker.
“Or perhaps Mr. Bass should go on the TimeQuest,” he spoke with a high-pitched voice, “and make the Restitution. That’ll prove him a worthy Keeper in my book.” He replaced his mask immediately.
A few sentinels voiced their agreement and it appeared to Archy that he‘d gathered more votes.
“So I could be the Keeper,” said Archy tentatively.
Sentinel Fleury’s voice came through edgy and aggressive. “Speaker, we should stress our doubts at this stage, not lead the boy on.”
“Understood, Sentinel Fleury. You’re right in that respect, but the boy has a name—use it, please,” Speaker Idosa fired.
“Sorry, Speaker—I did mean Archibald Bass, of course.” Sentinel Fleury composed himself and spoke in a controlled voice. “Noah’s testament, Mr. Bass, mentions that we, as sentinels, can offer support to those individuals we approve of. You see, that’s the very root of our quandary—”
“Speak plainly, Sentinel Fleury,” said Speaker Idosa.
“Yes, Speaker. Mr. Bass, it’s because we feel you’re inadequate. Leave the Shroud here with us; we already have the right candidate.”
Archy sank back into his seat. He felt like he was in a boxing match. Every time he got up, he was knocked back down. Some of the sentinels were trying to stand by him, but Sentinel Fleury and the others kept on the offensive, weakening his chances.
Maybe Sentinel Fleury was right, Archy thought. Perhaps he should leave the Shroud in the care of someone who really knew what to do, who had the wits to protect it against an uncertain force, who could outsmart the Kurul—
However, it wasn’t easy to let go. With great mental effort Archy pushed himself. He got up out of the chair. He needed to say something. He couldn’t simply hand back the Shroud without trying.
“Alturus said the Swap had something to do with his rights as Keeper. Couldn’t he do a Swap with anyone?”
“Doing a Swap is a precise action,” responded Sentinel Fleury, “meant as a backup, but only in extreme situations. If the Keeper becomes terminally ill, for example, the Shroud would have to be passed quickly and a Swap would be acceptable. Alturus Burk put enormous strain on all of us with his behavior in Bodrum.”
“It was an extreme situation in Bodrum. Alturus saved the Shroud by doing the Swap,” Sentinel Yeoman interjected. “He threw the Kurul off his trail and put his life in extreme danger.”
Sentinel Puffin edged his wheelchair out into the aisle, took off his oxygen mask once again, and squeaked. “Start him off with the Restitution on the TimeQuest. Any way you cut it, Fleury, Mr. Bass was chosen. He is the Keeper.”
“I want to help Alturus—I can do it.” Archy pleaded.
Sentinel Fleury rolled his eyes in despair. “Mr. Bass, stop playing hero. You are under no obligation to help Alturus Burk. Go back to school, Mr. Bass. Finish your studies, get on with your life and forget the Shroud.”
Sentinel Wargrave stood up from the left side of the room. “And the Kurul,” he said whirling his cane over his head, then pointing it at Archy. “How do any of you expect Mr. Bass to keep them at bay?”
A couple of the sentinels joined Sentinel Wargrave on the bench at either side of him. Archy looked on in dismay. A clear divide had formed—those who were for him sat to the right and those who were against him sat to the left.
“The Kurul!” Archy blurted. “They’re mentioned all over the Keeper’s log. Who are they? They’ve nearly caught me twice.”
These last words had the effect of smashing an extra-large glass window and Archy heard yet another communal gasp. In seconds just about every sentinel was standing, waving frantically, and demanding answers. Hearing aids were buzzing and whistling. All of a sudden the sentinels blurred into one; all Archy saw were red faces and white wigs. All he heard were croaking voices. He had barely been able to tell them apart before, but now it was impossible.
“Order, order!” Speaker Idosa shouted, hammering the gavel till it split and flew off, nearly hitting Sentinel Puffin. “ORDER!”
Sentinel Remnant took hold of the microphone. “My sentinels, we don’t want to frighten anyone. Please settle down.”
Archy stayed put on his chair and waited while the sentinels retook their seats on the benches.
“The Kurul—they’re best not explained at this stage, Archy,” said Sentinel Yeoman.
“It may never require an explanation.” Sentinel Fleury interjected.
“For as long as we have helped protect the Shroud, the Kurul have hunted it,” said Sentinel Blythe, waving dismissively at Sentinel Fleury. “They deal in underground organizations that are very difficult to infiltrate. That’s what makes the task of Keeper so Herculean. The Keepers take the brunt of the perpetual hunt by the Kurul. One thing we know for sure—if they ever get hold of it, it is most certainly over. Trust us, Archy the Kurul are capable of a lot of damage.”
Archy felt weakened by the minute listening to their doubts. The thought of losing the Shroud was unbearable enough. He interpreted his own actions as accidental—muddled at best. It was true though: he had managed to get the Shroud soaked, encountered the Kurul twice, had run into the police, crashed into a hut, used it to spy and scare people, and treated a sacred
object like a grimy rag by stuffing it into a unsafe tuck box.
At that moment Archy felt like giving in but something other than his own needs pushed him on. He thought of the Shroud hovering in the stairwell of the public parking garage.
Speaker Idosa interrupted his thoughts. “Do you have any other questions, Mr. Bass?”
Archy’s gaze landed on Sentinel Yeoman. “How do the Keepers stay away from the Kurul?”
The little sentinel hopped off the bench and walked toward the fireplace. His tiny frame against the flames cast a growing shadow across the hall, and rather creepily, it lengthened with every step. He turned dramatically.
“Archy, that’s why we train a Keeper around the Absolutes. A Keeper’s job is one of vigilance, and to keep a low profile. Otherwise Archy Bass will be the most searched name on Guggle.”
“Google,” the speaker interjected.
“Yes, Google. Anyway a Keeper must always keep the Shroud away from water, which attracts the Kurul quicker than anything else. We still haven’t figured out why,” he added, “even after all these years.”
Archy swallowed audibly. Once again he began to sense the heavy responsibility and the risks involved in being a Keeper. He didn’t know if he could do it. He looked at the fireplace past the little sentinel and the flames enveloped his thoughts.
Sentinel Wargrave spoke up. “Why didn’t you bring the Shroud with you to SOTS, Mr. Bass?”
“Sorry, but I didn’t know any of you. I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me.”
Sentinel Fleury stood abruptly. “This is intolerable—we invited you here tonight. I’d think it only appropriate you brought the Shroud.”
“I don’t know who to trust,” Archy continued. “Last night the Shroud got wet and the Kurul came. I thought they were going to kill me. But I got away and the Shroud is safe.”
Archy could see that Sentinel Fleury was still clearly agitated. He sat drumming his fingers on Sentinel Puffin’s oxygen tank.
