The 58th Keeper

by R. G. Bullet

  Archy leaned over the desk, shook the agent’s hand, and waited for the bomb to drop.

  Sentinel Remnant flicked a page back and forth on his desk.

  “Look, I’m not going to preach here, Archibald, but it seems you made a mistake, several in fact, and unfortunately you broke the rules.”

  Now he’s calling me Archibald, Archy thought. In a few minutes it’ll be, so nice to have met you Mr. Bass, and then… good luck with everything and have a nice life. Archy found it hard to look them both in the eye.

  “You obviously knew from the rules the only people you can take on the Shroud and TimeQuests are actual agents, right?” Sentinel Remnant continued.

  “No, I didn’t know that, Sentinel Remnant. I lost the rules. I—thought this was about the coins?”

  The voice of Sentinel Fleury came from behind him. “What coins would those be, Archibald?” Archy’s stomach lurched. Checkmate.

  Archy didn’t want to hide anything. What was the point? So he explained how the TimeQuest unfolded and how he must have accidentally let the Kurul enter the eternal gateway. He wound up telling how Vincent had managed to excavate the coins from the Coliseum’s walls. Sentinel Fleury took copious notes.

  When he finished, Archy lifted the backpack with the Shroud neatly folded in it, and placed it on the edge of the desk. The bitter voice of Mr. Elms echoed in the back of his mind. You don’t have the courage, Bass, or the brains…

  Sentinel Remnant looked up at the backpack and at Archy’s dejected expression, and shifted uneasily in his chair. “I think you know what you have to do, Archy. And it’s the right thing. Perhaps we could arrange a dinner this Saturday. A little celebration of sorts, for the Restitution you made.”

  Archy was convinced he saw the sentinel smirk at agent Turano. There is nothing funny in losing the Keepership. How could they taunt him like that? He just wanted to leave.

  Agent Turano finally spoke. Archy noticed that his English was perfect and carried only a trace of an Italian accent. “Mr. Bass, you mentioned the Kurul?”

  Archy drew a deep breath. “Yeah, I couldn’t mistake them,” he said flatly.

  “Was one of them large, with sideburns, and the other thinner one, with a little mustache?” He traced a finger over his top lip.

  “Half a mustache, but yes, seems about right,” Archy replied. “I must have let them in.”

  “They are the Kurul, sentinel—we know them from the description outside of Alturus’s flat and the airport surveillance footage. They followed Mr. Bass from the onset of the TimeQuest.”

  “But it’s not possible!” spluttered Sentinel Remnant. “They would have needed keys and precise locations. Only SOTS and chosen agents know of these…”

  “Well… they were there,” said Archy. “One of my friends fought with them. He saved us.” He shook his head dejectedly. “Forget it. What’s the point?”

  Sentinel Remnant crunched down on the pencil, splintering it into pieces. “The point is—we have a mole!” Agent Turano handed the sentinel another pencil. “Agent Turano, you’d better get going and so have we, Fleury! There’s work to do. These Kurul have to be brought back by any means possible!” Sentinel Remnant stood up and showed Archy to the door. “This next Saturday evening then, Archibald. Seven o’clock!”

  ***

  Waiting at Paddington Station for the 7:15 p.m. train back to Rushburys, Archy’s world collapsed. The people hurrying, clutching their briefcases and polystyrene cups of coffee couldn’t have cared less. They shouldered past him, knocking him in their rush, reminding Archy just how ordinary things really were. There was no magic now, no Shroud anymore. He could only see the grinding dreariness of Rushburys in his future—and the torture of a missed chance at the Keepership. He’d lost the very best thing in the world and it was his mistake.

  The familiar words came rushing back: You’re a failure, Bass.

  Chapter 42

  The Blank Line

  The gray dampness of the next days seemed to fuse into one. Saturday afternoon arrived and the thought of going to SOTS filled Archy with dread. He couldn’t find Vincent, hadn’t seen him in ages, and although he left numerous messages at St. Catherine for Georgia there was no response from her either.

  He boarded the train numbly and made his way to Parliament, arriving at the entrance half an hour late.

  When Archy finally entered the Inner Hall he wanted to turn and leave. The sentinels were assembled, dressed in full regalia and seemed oddly somber. To Archy they looked like judges more than ever, ready to deliver his sentence.

  The torches flickered along the full length of the walls, but it didn’t make the room feel at all festive. Archy could see Agent Turano and a dozen more agents standing nearby.

  Archy was led to the front and seated between Sentinels Blythe and Yeoman, who nodded briefly. He sat through a short, dry speech made by Sentinel Remnant and remembered only snippets of it, “…brave effort” and “…if things had been different.” At the end, the Sentinel Remnant brought out a black leather backpack from behind the podium and presented it to him as “a token of our gratitude.”

  Archy got up and an usher adjusted the microphone to his height. He coughed a few too many times, stalling to find the right words before he began. There was a smattering of applause and then the Inner Hall fell silent as they waited for his response.

  “Um—thank you for the chance. I loved being temporary Keeper and—I really liked coming here…” He swallowed loudly, stared at the backpack still held by Sentinel Remnant. “I—well—thank you for the present. It’s seriously nice.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. The light applause that followed petered out embarrassingly quickly and then it was over. He wanted to run.

  Then from the back of the hall Archy heard Georgia’s voice. “Well, aren’t you going to open it?” He looked up to see Georgia and Vincent walking toward him. They were wearing black suits, which had a pristine crispness that only comes with new clothes. As they approached, he saw sparkling gold pins on their lapels.

  “Go on, look inside!” said Vincent, slapping him on the shoulder. Sentinel Remnant handed over the backpack Archy unzipped it. There was a satin cloth covering something. He pulled it away to see the Shroud, clean and neatly folded. Archy felt himself begin to choke.

  “Oh, and the backpack, by the way, is waterproof, Archy,” said Sentinel Yeoman.

  Sentinel Puffin started tapping sharply on one of his oxygen tanks, and the sentinels began to rise—at least, most of them got to their feet.

  Sentinel Remnant pulled out a glass of champagne from under the bench and lifted it high. “My sentinels, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honor and joyous privilege to present Mr. Archibald Bass as our newest, youngest, and most official—Keeper!”

  Archy’s mood swung from the depths of misery to unparalleled joy. If it hadn’t been for Vincent punching him on the shoulder, he would have sworn he was dreaming.

  The dinner that followed in the SOTS dining room was remarkable. In an international theme, Sparrows whipped up delicacies from all over the world: paella from Spain, cheese from France, salmon from Iceland, Russian caviar (which made Vincent nearly throw up on one of the sentinels), American apple pie, Belgian chocolates. The choices were endless.

  Sentinel Puffin said it was quite the best dinner he’d ever had, whereupon Sentinel Gibbons snidely remarked that he’d probably had quite a few, which made everyone laugh. Sentinel Puffin’s reply was extremely quiet though, and only Archy and Vincent heard it.

  “I’ve got gas…” he said, patting his tank. “But they…” he pointed to the row of sentinels sitting across the table, who were now fumbling with their hearing aids, “they’ve got gas!” he said mischievously.

  Mr. Hall squeaked about energetically, working with Sparrows to make sure the glasses and plates remained filled. Georgia sat to Archy’s left, proudly admiring her new agent’s pin. It had twelve feathers with a portcullis in the background. “I think this is
gold,” she said, holding it up to the light.

  Vincent took his off and studied it. “I like gold, Agent Maynard-Bull,” he said.

  Archy got up and made his way to the other side of the table to talk to Sentinel Remnant during the dinner.

  “I thought I’d lost it all—you made me believe I had.”

  “Archy, the rules state that you can only take sworn SOTS agents. However, the quality of Vincent and Georgia’s work during the TimeQuest was so remarkable that they got our vote. Talent like that is hard to find. Both of them will make truly remarkable agents.” Archy looked back at Vincent and Georgia as they chatted with Sentinel Puffin. “You’re very lucky to have such good and sharp friends,” Sentinel Remnant told him. “Their volunteering to be agents saved the day—and by the way, it saved your Keepership.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without them, but what about the gold coins?”

  “Ah, Vincent is an extremely shrewd young man. This is the first time anyone has brought something back legitimately from a TimeQuest. Sentinel Fleury is stumped! Quite funny, really. Vincent has to surrender the coins to Agent Turano, though, who will return them to the proper authorities.”

  Archy had doubted Vincent about the coins but at the moment he had to admit how proud he was.

  “And the water—why didn’t you warn me about the water in the Eternal Gate? I got soaked—the Shroud got soaked.”

  “We didn’t think it would be a problem. The Kurul have never been able to go back. We never suspected the Kurul would be anywhere near you during the TimeQuest. Plus, we needed to test you, so that you’d do the TimeQuest without relying on the powers of the Shroud—which you did, I can say.”

  Archy still had so many questions but there would be time. He didn’t want to keep the sentinels up all night, so he asked just one more thing. “I felt like I’d lost the Keepership,” he said, scratching his head. “Why’d you let me think that if you’d already decided you were giving it to me?”

  “I feel I owe you an apology, Archy. It’s protocol, standard procedure we have to go through every single time with new Keepers. Sentinel Fleury devised it. He calls it his ELF. I don’t particularly like it, but it’s subjected to a vote and so stays in the system.”

  “An ELF?”

  Sentinel Remnant called over the table. “Fleury, you’re Commander-in-Charge-of-Security. You explain your devilish ELF.”

  “Glad to,” said Sentinel Fleury, rounding the table. “The ELF is an acronym for the ‘early loss factor.’ I developed it a number of years back. Simple really, and highly effective. We take the Shroud away in the initial stages of euphoria. It makes the Keeper feel as though they’ve lost the privilege. They feel the loss. It makes them reassess things. And, after a while, when we determine they’ve gotten the point, we give it back, pronto! Lesson learned. It’s worked remarkably well on recent Keepers, except for Alturus. Call it an initiation.”

  “It’s horrible, Sentinel Fleury,” said Archy. “I didn’t like your ELF.”

  “Thank you!” he said, twirling his mustache. “I’ve groomed the little fella over the years.”

  Sentinel Remnant cut into a chocolate gateau Sparrows had placed on the table. “Our decision didn’t all hinge on Fleury’s ELF, Archy, because we never actually had the right to take the Shroud away from you.” He put a large wedge of the cake onto a plate. “You did something so rare that even Sentinel Fleury was stunned.”

  Archy was baffled. “I actually did something right. What was that?”

  “You obliterated all the reservations about you and the Shroud in one fell swoop.”

  “When?”

  “The moment you handed it back, Archy.” Sentinel Remnant licked the cream off his thumb and looked at him with a smile. “Piece of cake?”

  After a half-hour show of the most spectacular fireworks any of them had ever seen, Georgia presented her photos from the TimeQuest to everyone, which disturbed Sentinel Fleury considerably, but everybody else loved them. Finally, Georgia and Vincent said goodnight and were shown to their guest rooms.

  Archy was led to another area of the SOTS quarters by Sentinel Remnant. The sentinel seemed as excited as any of them, and whistled lightly as he hobbled along the lengthy corridor.

  “Here we are—Keeper’s Corner,” he said, stopping by a doorway. He keyed an electronic panel, which beeped in acceptance, and the doors opened automatically.

  The room looked like the presidential suite of a luxury hotel. The entrance hall had a polished wooden floor, with framed photographs lining its walls. The main room was furnished in leather and wood and in a far corner all kinds of electronic equipment blinked back at them.

  “For security purposes,” said Sentinel Remnant, stepping over and flicking several switches, revealing a bedroom behind folding doors and a study with a heavy wooden desk. “I hope you like it. Plenty of time to explain things tomorrow, but right now, I have something rather more important to do. It’s a great tradition here at SOTS and this time it’s my privilege, and according to the former Keepers, one of the most memorable moments in their term.” Sentinel Remnant moved away from the desk. He held up a finger. “Bear with me—I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Archy walked across the room to the windows. He placed the backpack with the Shroud on the floor and stood, looking out over the Thames. It was dark and drizzling. The lights twinkled in the water and the cars and buses darted to and fro.

  He tracked the pedestrians walking across the bridge. They don’t know about any of this, he thought. Who could possibly guess? If they’d just look up, they could see me here.

  Archy wondered if it was simply luck that had led him to be standing there or could it have been something else. He pulled the Shroud out of the new waterproof backpack and placed it on a slatted wooden platform.

  Sentinel Remnant returned.

  “This is the official Keepers Codex,” he wheezed, holding what looked like a book. “It chronicles all the major events surrounding every Keeper’s term. Except for the Shroud itself, it’s the most treasured item here at SOTS—and like everything else it’s very, very old and kept very, very safe.”

  Sentinel Remnant positioned it on the desk, then withdrew a stubby fountain pen, placing it by its side.

  It took Sentinel Remnant a while to find just the right words. “You do know that there is still a choice,” he said finally. “If you have doubts and would prefer someone else to protect the Shroud, so be it. If not…” he gave Archy a warm smile, “…I think you know what to do. I’ll leave you alone now.”

  The words resonated. Archy stared at the codex, feeling a powerful surge of emotion. Sentinel Remnant walked off, pulling the door shut quietly behind him.

  Big Ben began to chime the midnight hour. Archy cautiously turned a few pages of the codex. This seemed a much larger version of the Keeper’s log than what Alturus had sent, with amendments and comments from the sentinels signed in the margins. He looked at the first pages revealing all the Keeper’s names. The light from the desk lamp reflected off the gold leaf borders. At the end of the list, and directly below the name A. Burk he saw the roman numerals LVIII, followed by a single blank line.

  Archy picked up the pen and on the stroke of twelve signed his name.

  Acknowledgments

  At times, writing this adventure has been like riding a roller-coaster placed inside a pitch-black aircraft hangar. It had many ups and downs, but was always a thrill. Sometimes it felt like it had stalled altogether only to start up again. Had it not been for PKT sitting beside, making sure I was buckled in, I would have fallen out.

  Along the way there has always been a bright light flashing—enough for me to see my surroundings and get the bigger picture. This light is my editor and guide, Judy Gitenstein.

  I would also like to acknowledge my brother, Bruce, for his support and to all my family and friends who inspired me. Yes, some of you may be featured in the story but I probably changed your name... or didn't—you wor
k it out.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2011 R. G. Bullet

  Published by

  SilverHouse Books, Inc.

  555 N. E. 15th Street

  suite: 2-i

  Miami, FL 33132

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, organizations, places, events, and businesses are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person living or dead, or actual incidents or events, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

  Print ISBN 978-0-9829312-1-9

  ePub ISBN 978-0-9829312-2-6

  Kindle ISBN 978-0-9829312-4-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  2011

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