by Davis, Bryan
He felt for the music sheet in his back pocket. “Foundation's Key” was a simple tune, but it had more than four basic notes. If that was the right piece to play, they would never manage it with only the two of them. Finally, he let out a sigh. “We'll need help.”
“I know. I think if we come here for real with Kelly, Daryl, and my father, we could play almost anything.”
Nathan gave her a slow nod. Kelly knew music, so she could help, and so could Dr. Malenkov, but what about Daryl Red? At least she wouldn't freeze when she saw the pit, like Daryl Blue would, and she could pluck a string when told to do it. “Okay, so if we use a flash from the camera to come here, how do we avoid being seen?”
“That's the tricky part. That's why I showed it to you first so you could see all the obstacles.”
Nathan ran through the path in his mind, from the glassy walkway to the domes to the panel in the floor. Being invisible had made everything much easier, but they still had almost been caught.
He shook his head. “It's impossible. Once we're visible, we're dead meat.”
“We have to try, don't we?” Francesca looked toward the void. “If we don't heal the wound, we'll all die anyway.”
“I know that …” He paused. He had almost added “Mom” in response to the feminine voice that had nailed him with a good argument so many times before. Looking at the stairway above, he stooped low. From this angle, he could see more of the upper chamber through the gap near the wall. “Maybe I should go back upstairs and see if Scarlet can help somehow.”
“The girl in the dome? The one in the red dress?”
“Uh-huh. She seems to know a lot about everything.”
Francesca rose from the string, careful to keep it from sounding a note. “Well, it's time for your solo anyway. When I stop playing, I'll be pulled back into my bedroom. I'll tell everyone what's going on.”
He rose to his full height. “So I guess I have to climb back up the rope to get to Scarlet.”
“If you want to go that way. Like I said, if you fall, you'll just wake up in the bedroom. Then you could start over and come in through the foggy path.”
“I'll climb. I want to test something.”
She pointed her bow toward the stairwell. “Do you remember the notes to open the floor panel?”
“I think so.”
“The door by the pulley stays open for a long time, but you'll have to play the key again if you want to go through the upper door.” She angled her head as if listening to something in the air. “Okay. It's time for your solo. Play well, my son.” Still clutching her violin, she blew him a kiss and faded away.
Nathan rubbed his eyes. Would he ever get used to all this appearing and disappearing?
He jogged back to where the basket had fallen, grabbed the rope, and reeled it up to his level. Apparently the knot had slipped through the pulley, and now he had to jerk it back over the wheel to pull the basket any higher. With a firm tug, he popped the knot through. Now the basket hung over a point near the center, swaying back over the violin strings and then toward him again in a rhythmic motion.
As if ringing a huge church bell in a tower, he pulled on the rope and released it, timing his pulls to increase the sway. He imagined the basket as a huge violin bow, stroking the strings with each pass, and composed music in his mind's ear to match the strokes.
He watched the surreal scene, the basket's hypnotic sway as it brushed over the strings again and again. Could that be the best way to play the gargantuan instrument? But with what? A bow the size of a vaulting pole?
When the basket finally swung close enough, he grabbed up the shepherd's crook and snagged the side, giving the rope slack as he fished in his prize. The knot now moved freely through the pulley. It would no longer work as a way to prevent a plunge.
After setting his violin inside and climbing aboard, he swung himself back over the center. As he passed by, he again imagined a bow stroking those beautiful golden strings and playing “Foundation's Key.” With another slight pull, he adjusted the gap between the basket and the strings and pictured himself leaning over with a bow to reach them. Firming his chin, he nodded. It just might work.
He hoisted himself up, pulling hand over hand. His raw skin burned, and his muscles ached, but he didn't want to test Francesca's claim that falling into a bottomless pit was nothing more than waking up from a nightmare. Even without Daryl Blue's phobia, that seemed like a scary way to snap out of this vision.
Soon, perspiration drenched his back and sleeves, but after a few minutes, he reached the doorway and leaped inside.
He retrieved his violin and released the basket, then hurried up the stairs. Again, his muscles ached. Even though he wasn't really here, the effort was grueling. No wonder his mother was exhausted after she explored this place in her own vision.
When he reached the glass panel, he peeked out. No one was around. He lifted his violin and bow, picturing Francesca doing the same when she unlocked this door from above. The notes flowed into his mind, and he played them through in a rapid echo. The lights in the panel, barely visible from below, flashed red. He played the notes again, and then a third time. The lights blinked yellow once and turned off.
He climbed the remaining stairs, pushing his body through the liquid glass, and emerged in the midst of the domes. Glancing all around for any sign of a stalker, he crept toward Scarlet's dome and peered through the transparent barrier. She still appeared to be asleep, sitting cross-legged with her head bowed low. But, with a sudden gasp, she jerked her head up and stared straight at Nathan. For a moment, she seemed ready to smile, but the sadness in her eyes spread to her lips, weighing the corners down.
As she spread her red dress over her legs as far as she could, her voice sounded through the glass loud and clear. “I am lonely, my beloved. Come in and talk with me for a while.”
When Nathan set his hand on the dome, his fingers passed right through, followed by his hand and arm. As he leaned forward, his head and torso entered the dome as well.
This time, Scarlet allowed her smile to break through. “Fear not, Nathan. Wandering in the land of visions will bring you no harm, unless, of course, you awaken the stalkers.”
Nathan pushed the rest of the way in and sat opposite her. Crossing his own legs to match hers, he laid the violin in his lap. “If I'm seeing a vision, how can you talk to me?”
“I am a supplicant,” she said, touching her chest. “Entering visions is what I do. I entered your dream while you were unconscious, and now I have drawn you to myself in this new vision.”
“But why? What is a supplicant?”
She smiled, though her brow furrowed. “I see that you have forgotten what I told you earlier.”
“I remember some of it, but it's kind of foggy.”
She spread out her hands, gesturing toward the walls lining her enclosure. “Through these mirrors, I see the outside worlds. Yet, I can see only whatever world you happen to be in, for I am assigned to protect you. You are the gifted one from Earth Red who carries the window to my world. When you have been in danger, you have asked for my help, and I have sung songs for you. You see, a supplicant is one who makes petitions on your behalf.”
Nathan gazed into her reddish brown eyes. Something about her seemed very familiar. “So are you Quattro?”
She laughed gently. “Your father's name for me. It is pleasant, but I prefer Scarlet, for I am the supplicant for Earth Red.”
He touched the floor, dirtier than the surface on the outside. Did they ever let her out to bathe? There was no noticeable odor. Her skin seemed clean and free of blemishes, and her auburn hair, though slightly tangled, showed no hint of oily residue.
“But why are you here?” he asked. “I mean, why are you trapped in this prison?”
“The prison is Mictar's work, but I will tell you no more about that.” She reached across and took his hand, enfolding it in both of hers. “Although we are together only in a vision, you are the first assignment I
have been able to meet. I am lonely and I have longed for your presence ever since I learned you were a gifted one. Let us talk of more pleasant things than my sufferings.”
“Sure.” Her touch sparked a surge of warmth, scrambling his thoughts. Not a single idea came to his mind. “Uh … what do you want to talk about?”
Her voice perked up. “Your friend, Kelly. Tell me about her.”
“Well …” Nathan gazed again at her lovely face. Not a hint of jealousy spoiled the sincerity in her probing eyes. “She's really kind of amazing. I've never met anyone who is so …” He searched for the right word, but it didn't seem to come. “So cool, I guess. I mean, she's brave, loyal, strong—”
“And lovely,” Scarlet added, compressing his hand. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed.”
Nathan lowered his head, trying to hide his uneasy smile. “Yeah … She is.”
Scarlet laid a hand on the side of his face. “Why, Nathan! Don't be embarrassed! God gave her beauty, just as he gave her strength, courage, and loyalty.” As she stroked his cheek, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “And she has given you her most precious gift. Her heart.”
He raised his head. Scarlet had scooted so close, their noses nearly touched, and her hands again wrapped around both of his. With breath like roses, she whispered, “I have also given you my heart, my beloved, but in a very different way. When you return in physical form, will you come for me? You have the power. Will you set me free before it's too late?”
He stared at her wide orbs. Everything felt so real — the warmth of her skin, the beat of her rapid pulse, the tingle from her thumb as it caressed his knuckles. How could this be a vision? Her eyes pleaded for an answer. Pure entreaty, intermingled with fear and love, poured forth.
He cleared his throat, trying to keep from squeaking. “I'll figure out a way to rescue you. I won't let you down.”
Her head slowly drooped until it nearly rested on her chest. “I am thankful for your promise, though it is one you cannot keep without my help. When you return, I will—” She lifted her head suddenly, her eyes widening. “Go!” She slid away on her knees. “You must leave now!”
Nathan looked up at the dome's ceiling, but only his reflection stared back at him. Suddenly, a loud wail pierced the silence, like a panther squealing a high-pitched growl. He grabbed his violin, jumped up, and pressed his hand against the glass, but his fingers wouldn't pass through.
Scarlet leaped to her bare feet. “His song is binding the glass. Even a vision stalker cannot penetrate it.”
Nathan searched for any sign of an exit. “Is there another way out? Can't I just stop playing my violin back where I really am?”
She shook her head. “The song cuts off your subconscious mind, so you can't communicate with your awake mind to tell it that you have to stop playing.”
The song's pitch shot up in frequency. Excruciating pain tore across Nathan's skull, like an earthquake rolling inside his head. Still clutching his violin, he covered one ear and paced around the dome. “It's about to make my brain explode!”
Scarlet spread out her arms, her palms pointing upward. Raising her voice above the screeching din, she sang her words in a beautiful, fast-paced melody.
O guiding hand of songs within the stars,
You hear my cries from Red's accursed dome.
O let the one who listens from afar
Awake the gifted child and bring him home.
An invisible force snaked around Nathan's abdomen and squeezed his breath away. He could barely choke out his words. “What … are they … doing now?”
Scarlet smiled. “It is not a stalker who embraces you.” Rising on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Hurry back, my beloved. I will be waiting.”
Nathan fell heavily onto his back. Something dropped on top of him, a body, but there was no red dress, only blue jeans and a sweatshirt. Whoever it was wrapped feminine arms tightly around his waist. He wriggled to loosen the strong grip, but his muscles were spent. Finally, his attacker sat up on his thighs and pushed her hair back.
He blinked. “Kelly?”
She rubbed her palms across the cardinal logo on her sweatshirt. “You're drenched.”
He raised his perspiration-soaked sleeve and stared at the violin in his hand. As the misty funnel faded behind Kelly, Francesca and Daryl shuffled out of it and looked on.
“What happened?” he asked.
Sliding on her knees, Kelly moved to his side, keeping her eyes fixed on him. “I heard what was going on — you and Francesca with the big violin, you and Scarlet talking, that screeching noise, Scarlet's song, everything. I yelled at you to stop playing, but you wouldn't, so I just tackled you.”
He stared at her. Some of his conversation with Scarlet replayed in his mind. “You heard … everything?”
A hint of a smile bent her lips, but it quickly vanished. “Sure. What's the big deal?”
Nathan pushed against the carpet with his weary arms, too tired to string his words together. “We have to go there in physical form … play the violin … rescue Scarlet … and the others.”
Bracing his back as he rose, Kelly nodded. “And save the world. I got all that.”
“We have to make sure we're ready,” Francesca said. “If we keep breaking through dimensional walls, the celestial wound will swallow the very instrument that's supposed to heal it.”
Still wobbly as he straightened, Nathan held out his hands as if playing his violin. “We need a bow … a big one, maybe ten feet long. But it has to be real light, light enough to carry.”
“Balsa wood?” Kelly asked. “And hollow it out?”
“Maybe. But even if it would be light enough, who could make it?” He turned to Gunther. “Could you?”
Gunther shrugged. “I don't know much about woodworking, much less about making a violin bow. Maybe Nikolai could help me.”
Dr. Malenkov shook his head. “To make it so big while maintaining a light weight and proper balance would take an extraordinary craftsman. Perhaps we could employ a local instrument maker I know.”
“If you mean Mr. Hancock,” Gunther said. “No way. He'd be too scared to do anything besides what he sees in his dreams.”
“My father could do it.” Kelly touched Francesca's bow. “Just give him a normal-sized one and the proportions you want, and he'd make it work.”
Nathan pressed his hands against the sides of his head. “Okay. Information overload. My brain's about to explode again.” Closing his eyes, he ran through the confusing tangle of options. From Earth Yellow, they couldn't contact Kelly's father — no network connection to Earth Red. Back on Earth Blue, they still had four hundred mirrors to look through, any one of which might lead to his mother and father. Daryl Blue and both Claras have had time to study the photographs at the observatories. Should he go back and see if they'd learned anything? How could they minimize their interdimensional travels and still accomplish their tasks? And, finally, what could they do about the stranglehold Mictar held on the people of Earth Yellow?
Lowering his hands, he looked at Kelly. “How old would your father be on Earth Yellow now?”
Kelly looked up at the ceiling. “Let's see … maybe sixteen or seventeen?”
“How young did he start woodworking?”
“Well, he used to brag about making a crossbow from a tree that lightning knocked down. He swore that the electric jolt made it the most accurate crossbow in the world.” She raised a finger to her chin. “I think he was twelve, but I'm not sure, because every time he told the story, he seemed to get younger.”
With his head pounding, Nathan cast his gaze on the wall mural, a musical staff with notes climbing up the lines. “So it's pretty likely that he's good at it now.”
“I guess so, but how are you going to contact him? He won't have any idea who you are.”
He touched one of the notes and traced its outline. “When did he move into this house?”
“Not sure. I could find out when we get back to Ear
th Red.”
He thumped the wall with the heel of his hand. “We can't wait that long! Once we get back there, time will zoom by here.”
Dr. Malenkov withdrew an envelope from his jacket and pulled out a letter. “I keep this note of permission with me if by happenstance someone should ask me why I spend so much time here.” His eyes darted back and forth as he read. “Ah! Here it is. ‘My family and I will be moving into our new home by the end of the summer.’” He folded the letter and put it away. “That would be next week.”
Looking again at Kelly, Nathan pointed at the floor. “Was this your dad's bedroom?”
“Until Grandpa moved into a nursing home. Why?”
“I'm betting a young Tony Clark won't be able to resist solving a mystery.” He reached for the letter. “May I see it, Dr. Malenkov?”
“Certainly.” He unfolded it and gave it to Nathan. “It is handwritten and difficult to read.”
Nathan peered at the messy script. “I can make it out.” After reading it for a few seconds, he smiled. “A handwritten letter is just what we need.”
Gunther looked over Nathan's shoulder. “I can hear the wheels spinning from here. What are you plotting?”
“A treasure hunt of some kind. We have to show him something that will entice him to make the bow.”
“Daddy loves a mystery,” Kelly said. “He'll move heaven and earth to solve one.”
Nathan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a twenty-dollar bill. Showing it to everyone, he said, “How about strange-looking money from the future?”
She took the bill and looked it over. “That just might work. Put mystery and money together, and he'll do anything.”
“Very interesting,” Dr. Malenkov said, “but how will you incorporate constructing the bow?”
“I'll need pen and paper.” He glanced at Kelly and smiled. “And duct tape.”
9
THE CHROMATIC CIRCLE
With a dramatic swirl of his pen, Nathan signed the bottom of a wrinkled sheet of paper in red ink. He lifted the page and read it out loud. “Tony Clark, I implore you to heed my words. I am from a future time, and I must go back before the window to my world closes. I have heard of your woodworking prowess, and I need a trustworthy young man like you to perform an unusual task. Yet, knowing also of your intelligence, I realize that it will take much persuasion to get you to believe my tale.
