The 58th Keeper

by R. G. Bullet

  “It’s all here. The TimeQuest starts tomorrow,” said the cyclist. “Rome, opens at noon, and you’d better get there fast.”

  The cyclist looked at them from under his hood, sucked the air through the gap in his teeth, and pedaled away.

  As soon as the young man left, Bundo hailed a taxi and they left for the airport. They managed to get two tickets but found their flight from London to Rome, at such short notice, was packed with students. Every one of them seemed to carry a backpack and the plane’s aisles were congested.

  Bundo pushed his way through to his seat, shoving students in all directions and dumping himself across seats 28A and 28B. He crammed one knee up against the seatback, causing a girl in front to be thrown forward, head-butting her tray table. Bundo thrust his right leg out into the aisle, and shut his eyes with exhaustion.

  The thin accomplice was late boarding the plane. Picking through an assortment of new silk underwear and paisley ties had absorbed all of his attention, and he would have missed the flight if the last call hadn’t been made.

  He slipped past the students on the plane (causing a few of them to hold their noses), and stood overlooking Bundo. “You have my seat!” he said, adjusting his new tie.

  Bundo opened an eyelid a millimeter. “Oh, such a nice tie! Listen, I have something important from the Kurul.” He reached into his breast pocket. “Let me show you.”

  The thin accomplice looked intrigued. Bundo rarely smiled. Bundo pulled himself up by the seat and they both made their way to the toilets in the back of the plane.

  “Quick! Go in! I can’t show you here in the open,” Bundo urged.

  The thin accomplice stepped into the cramped toilet, eager to see what the Kurul had sent.

  “What do we have?”

  “THIS!”

  Bundo’s hand grabbed the back of the thin accomplice’s neck, forcing his head into the toilet bowl. The new tie flopped in and Bundo flushed. The rush of wind streamed around the thin accomplice’s head, his ears began to flap wildly, and his mouth gaped like a fish as the air was sucked from his lungs.

  Chapter 28

  Table for Free

  Speeding over the countryside became mesmerizing, like watching a green patchwork blanket rolled out before them. The whoosh of wind was shattered only by Vincent’s occasional yells as he copiloted using the GPS. “No, it’s flashing right—right. Keep on. Okay, you’ve got it.”

  The first leg would take them southeast, to the coast of England, then through Paris and on to the south of France. From there the coordinates would guide them along the Italian coastline, then east to Rome.

  At Dover, Archy slowed to a stop and lingered above the customs point. Cars were being swallowed up by a ferry and he could smell the fumes of the diesel engines.

  “It’s twenty-two miles to Calais!” Archy said. “I want to see how fast we can do it. No buildings or power lines around. Get ready and hold on tight.”

  Archy pushed a button on his watch until it flashed on 00:00. Then they shot off. The water rapidly became a blur, the moving boats they passed over looked like they were standing still, and the shoreline of France emerged quicker than he anticipated. He pulled them to a stomach-lurching stop.

  Archy clicked his watch. “A few seconds under seven minutes. Vincent, what did you clock our speed at?”

  “Averaged two zero three,” said Vincent. “We can be in Rome tomorrow with plenty of time to spare. Next stop, Paris!”

  For the next hour they tore across the French countryside. Things couldn’t have been going better for them. The weather was mild and every so often they would pass through warm and then cold air currents. Occasionally Archy would shout out to see if Georgia and Vincent were all right.

  When he saw the city of Paris looming on the horizon he slowed a bit and that’s when he heard Vincent and Georgia squabbling.

  “Move your feet, Vincent! They’re sticking in my back,” Georgia snapped. “No! Don’t put them there either!”

  Archy slowed to a walking pace. “If anyone wants me to stop, now’s a good time before we get into the city.”

  He heard Georgia give Vincent’s leg a ringing slap and then a zipper opening on her backpack.

  “You have to keep still!” said Archy, slightly exasperated.

  “It’s all right—keep your hair straight.” Georgia giggled. “I’m just getting my camera ready.”

  Archy made a point of flying directly through the Arc de Triomphe while Georgia took pictures, then sped to the very top of the Eiffel Tower, where she clicked away happily before they continued on their journey. The landscape changed subtly as they flew high over fields, villages, and small cities.

  They came across a flock of geese. The mighty birds soared effortlessly through the sky, casting a V-shaped shadow on the surface of the lake below. They were spellbound until Vincent suddenly called out, “Uh-oh!”

  “What is it? What?” said Archy.

  “Uh—nothing.”

  Archy stopped in midair. “You’d better tell me now, Vincent, what is it?”

  Vincent cleared his throat. “I think one of my shoes just dropped over the side. I’m pretty sure it did, because I saw it hit the water and sink back there.”

  Archy landed among trees and they all got off. Sure enough, Vincent had on only one shoe.

  Archy unzipped his backpack and fished out the cord. He held one end and threw the rest out to his side.

  “I should have done this before we left,” he said, looping the rope through Vincent and Georgia’s belts, then around the backpacks. He fumbled trying to tie it together when Vincent stepped forward and fashioned a complex knot, then gave it a sharp tug.

  “Full Carrick-bend, won’t slip,” he said. “Don’t worry, Archy. I’ll behave from now on, honest!”

  By the time they arrived on the southern coast of France, it was already late evening and after Archy circled the area looking for a suitable place to land, he decided that the top of a large church would be best. The roof steeped along the center but the sides were flattened and roomy. When they touched down they could feel the roof still warm from the day’s sun.

  “This’ll do for tonight,” said Archy. “No one’s going to come up here.” His instincts had sharpened considerably over the last few days. He kept one eye on the weather. And now, on the roof, he already figured out two alternative ways to get down if the worst thing happened and the rug got wet.

  Georgia walked over to the parapet, placed her hand on top of a gargoyle’s head, and peered over. Archy and Vincent joined her. The first few stars flickered ahead of them and the buildings of the town were silhouetted black against the dark-blue sky. A warm breeze carried the scent of cooking from the square below. It smelled good to them all.

  “We could get burgers tonight,” said Vincent, “or pizza or pies and fries.” He patted his stomach.

  “Great idea,” said Archy keenly.

  But Georgia had other thoughts. “No way. I’m not eating that stuff,” she said. “It’s not good for you.”

  “Good for us!” Vincent shot back. “We live at Rushburys.”

  “Stop!” said Archy. “We’ll go down and find a restaurant that’s got everything. Okay you two?”

  “Yup,” said Georgia.

  “But I need shoes!” said Vincent, wiggling his toes in Georgia’s face.

  Archy took them on a very quick trip down over the rooftops toward the square and found the only store open—a small supermarket. They landed inside an empty delivery truck at the side of the building and the three of them jumped down and ran around to the entrance.

  After searching every shelf, Archy picked out two extra, extra-large gray T-shirts and the only shoes available, an oversized pair of women’s espadrilles. They had dainty white flowers painted on top of the canvas, and, unfortunately for Vincent, were a perfect fit.

  Vincent took them to the checkout counter, muttering that something was better than nothing. Archy tried to suppress his laughter
and Georgia snorted so hard she had to grip one of the display racks for balance.

  “Vincent they’re beautiful. They suit you, they really do,” she gasped. “And look! They sell earrings here too.” She dangled the cheap hot-pink plastic loops by her ears before crumbling to the floor.

  “Yeah, that’s very funny, you two. I can see you’re laughing, Bass. Don’t try to hide it. Seeing as I don’t have any money on me, you’re going to have to buy them, aren’t you?” Vincent retaliated.

  Archy didn’t have a problem with that. He pulled out a crisp fifty pound note but the cashier would only accept Euros, and it was Georgia who ended up paying, using her credit card.

  “I love it. You paid for my shoes,” said Vincent. He slipped them on and strutted out of the shop. “At least they’ll float,” he said, over his shoulder.

  They returned to the square and drifted on the rug by each restaurant while Georgia decided which one would be good enough.

  “No, too cheap—next—let’s keep that one in mind—can you get close to the menu, Archy?”

  “Choose something, George! I’m starving!” Vincent groaned from behind them.

  “Relax, Vincent. Restaurants are all about the art of choosing—it should be fun. Some look nice but have no one inside—that’s a clue.”

  Vincent growled and leaned over the side, pulling on a branch and then letting it spring back, enjoying the shocked expression of a couple as they dined.

  “Now we look for ones that aren’t too touristy,” Georgia continued. “There! That’s the one,” she said at a quaint-looking place ahead of them with tables outside.

  When they walked in, the waiter shook his head as soon as he saw them. Archy had the rug over his shoulder, Georgia had a full head of tangled hair and looked like she had been plugged into an electric socket, and Vincent shuffled along behind them in his ratty jacket and girl’s shoes.

  The waiter approached them. “Non! Nous sommes fermés. Peut-être dans la vie prochaine,” he said in rapid French. “We’re closed. Please come back in the next lifetime.”

  Georgia responded in French. Archy and Vincent didn’t have a clue what she said but the man merely guffawed, held out the palms of his hand like a traffic warden stopping cars and then pointed to the door. “Au revoir, mes enfants.”

  Georgia boiled at the waiter’s reaction. “Give me the money, Archy. I want to prove to him that we have some.”

  Archy handed her the SOTS envelope. The waiter took one look at the English pound notes and remained unimpressed. He said something that even Archy and Vincent understood.

  “NON. EUROS!”

  The manager sauntered over, dressed in a dark suit with long tails and a bow tie and listened to the waiter. At the end of his explanation the manager also said “non!”

  Georgia pulled out her credit card and put it under their noses.

  “Non! Non! NON!”

  Vincent grabbed at Archy’s arm and pulled Georgia close. “Archy, trust me this will work—Georgia translate this, okay? Ask the manager if we can show him an amazing magic trick, where three things of his choice disappear in front of his very eyes, would he give us a meal for free?”

  Archy loved the idea and Georgia got so excited she could hardly get the words out. The manager listened to her as she explained, threw his head back with laughter, said something to the waiter and nodded. Georgia came back to the boys with his reply.

  “He said that if we can do that, he will help cook it along with the chef who he boasts is the best in the town. Anything we want on or off the menu!”

  Vincent knew exactly what to say. “Tell him to meet us outside the restaurant in five minutes and we’ll do the trick there. I’ve got an idea.”

  They went off to the darkness of a side road and started organizing the details of their act. When they were ready, Archy and Georgia got on the rug and, hovering just above Vincent’s head, followed him back to the restaurant.

  When Vincent turned the corner he noticed a few more customers had gathered outside; they smiled at him as if they had been told what was going to happen. The waiter, nonetheless, stood with a bemused look on his face and merely nodded back at him.

  Vincent positioned himself at the edge of the sidewalk and cleared his voice. “Okay, are we ready?” he said.

  The waiter appeared to understand, shrugged his shoulders and handed Vincent a solitary lemon.

  “Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentleman. I will now make THIS lemon completely and utterly DISAPPEAR.” He held up the lemon for everyone to see and pointed to it with his other hand. “One, two, and THREE.” He threw it up above him and it vanished before everyone’s eyes.

  “Voilà!” said Vincent.

  The customers applauded and Vincent took a bow.

  “Mon Dieu!” The waiter dropped the menus and rushed back into the restaurant. He came back, dragging his manager behind him, followed by a half dozen of the kitchen staff and the chef.

  “Two more things,” said Vincent. “Make them small please.”

  The manager came forward this time, holding a white coffee cup. Vincent took it, held it high and prepared himself. “Ooooone, twwwwwo,” and then threw it high above him, where it slowed and plummeted to the ground, shattering on the pavement.

  Georgia whispered fiercely above him. “You didn’t say threeeee, you donkey.”

  Vincent grabbed another cup from one of the sidewalk tables and after a quick count to three, threw it up above him, squeezing his eyes shut. Seconds later, everyone started clapping.

  “And the final item please, before my mighty forces weaken,” he said with an affected voice, but no one seemed to understand him anyway.

  The manager looked around, adoring the reaction of the small crowd. He helped a woman in an evening dress stand up, who then walked over to Vincent and handed him a rose.

  “Merci, Thank you, Madame,” said Vincent. “Uuune, dux, TROIZE!”

  The rose launched into the air and seemed to float miraculously before it disappeared. People were now standing, applauding wildly and whistling. A man at the nearest table jumped up and shook Vincent’s hand vigorously.

  As Archy turned the rug to leave, Georgia dropped the rose back onto the woman’s table. They heard the group shriek with delight as it reappeared.

  Twenty minutes later all three of them were stuffing down crepes filled with ratatouille and chips de citrouille. Georgia ordered something extra: an expensive dish with truffles in it, all compliments of a fascinated manager who was begging for Vincent to return.

  They were more than content when they got back to the church roof. A half moon had risen and gave them enough light to get ready for sleep. Archy floated the rug inches above the surface, and they all lay on it like a mattress. After laughing over Vincent’s appalling French, bad acting, and Georgia dropping the cup, they fell asleep under a starry night.

  Chapter 29

  The Eternal Gate

  The next morning they woke with the first rays of sunshine. After a breakfast of croissants and juice, they continued their journey to the gateway.

  Floating above the trees, they saw the city of Rome spread out in the distance. The traffic was backed up on the roads. Although the sky had begun to darken with heavy clouds, the brewing storm had so far held off. Archy’s watch flashed half-past nine in the morning, time to spare until the gateway opened.

  On the approach, Archy made a swooping curve around a crumbling ruin of a house and came in low across the field. The GPS signaled several beeps.

  “That’s it!” said Vincent. Archy lowered the rug till they were just a few feet above the grass.

  Georgia jumped off before he touched down, snapping the cord tightly, yanking Vincent off balance and onto the ground. “Oops, sorry!” she said. Vincent had his oversized mohair sweater on, his leather jacket, and his straw espadrilles. “I’ve seen scarecrows look better,” she taunted.

  Vincent spat on his hands and slapped at his head, trying to smooth do
wn his hair. “I’ve had a hundred-and-fifty-mile-per-hour wind gusting around me.” He looked at Georgia. “And so have you... check yourself.”

  Georgia dug into her backpack, pulled out a brush and started taming her hair.

  “Why didn’t we stop closer to the center of town?” Georgia asked.

  Archy and Vincent exchanged knowing looks.

  “I saw that—what are you two up to?” she snapped.

  “Georgia,” said Archy, “I’ve wanted to talk to you, and well—I didn’t know how to say this, as I don’t really know... well...”His words drifted off. “There’s no easy way, so I’m just going to say it.”

  “Cough it up,” said Vincent. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Well, the thing is, I’m on this trip for a reason...” Archy began to explain everything to her and ended up showing her the toga and sandals.

  “Oooh! Look at this,” said Georgia, holding Archy’s toga up to the light.

  Vincent looked at Archy, shaking his head. “Georgia, we’re going back to another time and you’re more interested in Archy’s dress.”

  “It’s not a dress. It’s a toga,” said Archy, unsheathing the gladius. “This is what Alturus took, Georgia.”

  “Oh my!” said Georgia, quickly discarding the toga and touching the sparkling gems on the handle.

  She was taking it better than either of them expected.

  “So, you’re telling me we can really travel back?” She came close to Archy and touched the keys hanging around his neck, turning them over in her hand.

  “I’d like you to come but if you want to stay it’s fine. We’ll meet you back here—it’ll be like we never left. We’ll do the Restitution and after, all three of us can spend the rest of the weekend together.”

  “Are you mad! Miss the chance? No way!” Georgia gave Vincent a shove. “I’m going too!”