The Four Gifts of the King Page 21

  Reed opened his hands and lifted them in the air. “Dad had nothing to regret.”

  Alex shook his head. “Yes, but it’s too late to tell him that now.”

  “Well, not really,” Walter said. “You can’t tell him face-to-face, but you can reflect on your mom and dad and all they taught you in the decisions you make in your life from today on. If you want to right the regrets you have from your past, then live your life in a way that demonstrates what you’ve learned in this house. That’s the greatest gift you could give them now.”

  Anna and Merideth came in the room just in time to hear Walter’s last remarks.

  “That’s a good word, Walter. Thanks.” Anna’s appreciation seasoned her tone.

  Merideth walked over to the main wooden post that ran from the staircase railing to the high ceiling just outside Sam’s office. The oak column bore the notches of twenty years of the Roberts children’s growth.

  “Look here, Merideth, 8th birthday, 4 feet 4 inches.”

  The others joined her and began retelling stories memorialized by the dozens of notches and inscriptions. The Roberts family history could be read off that post.

  Walter sat back and drank it in. Oh, Sam and Lori, if only you could be here to see this.

  chapter

  Sixteen

  Anna returned to the place in front of the open book, as by midmorning the focus had returned to the story of Steward. The five had reassembled in the living room, and a new fire was blazing in the fireplace. Anna relished the renewed connection she had to her past and her three siblings. She managed a wink at Walter as the others settled in for the final chapters of the story of Steward from Aiden Glenn.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  The Archives of Seudomartus were kept in a formidable building across the plaza from the Halls of Wisdom. Steward stumbled over the pavement as he gazed at the great hall.

  Obed caught him. “Careful, these are only the first steps of a very long day.”

  Obed and Steward climbed the staircase leading up to the front doors of the Archives. It took both of them to pull open just one of its great entry doors.

  Steward wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale air circulating around all the old, musty books.

  Obed waved his hand by his nose. “Whew!”

  They walked into the foyer, where the dim lighting and massive tapestries clinging to the walls added to the heavy scent, giving the place an eerie, lifeless feel.

  “Good morning, Teacher.”

  Steward looked at the pale, stern-looking woman dressed in a high-necked blouse and tailored suit.

  “Your message arrived earlier, and Melodora is expecting you. Please follow me.”

  Obed pulled a lot of weight in Seudomartus.

  She led them through canyons of massive shelves that reached up to enormous heights on every side. Each shelf was packed tight with books and bound papers.

  How could anyone find anything in this place?

  Toward the middle of the great room, the famous Melodora, Keeper of the Archives, greeted them. She was a tall slender woman with straight brown hair and an expressionless face.

  Is this the right person to be asking about the location of the Transmitter that will lead me to the throne room of the king?

  Obed greeted her. “Melodora, how good of you to see us.” He placed an awkward kiss on her cheek.

  “Good Teacher, it is always a privilege to have you as a guest of the great Archives of Seudomartus. And this must be the young traveler you mentioned to me.”

  Obed pulled Steward in front of him. “Yes, allow me to introduce to you Steward from Aiden Glenn.”

  What now? Would he be expected to give her a similar kiss? To his relief, Melodora offered her hand, and Steward shook it. “It is my pleasure to meet you. I am so grateful for your time.”

  “Aiden Glenn.” She studied Steward through her dark-rimmed glasses. “That is at the far edge of the kingdom, just below the edge of the high country. Is it true that the sun never shines there?”

  “The sun does shine in Aiden Glenn, but not like it does here in the high country. And it is not as warm as here either.”

  Melodora nodded. “It is also a great distance through several lands. Why would a young man like you embark on such a perilous and exhausting journey?”

  Finally, Steward could tell his story. “Thank you for your inquiry. Since my birth, I have been promised to make this journey to see the king and learn from him the meaning of my name and my destiny.”

  Obed drew a heavy sigh, but Steward ignored him. “Upon my nineteenth birthday, I set out on this quest, and I am now very near its end. In fact, Seudomartus is my final destination before seeing the king and completing my journey.”

  Melodora raised her eyebrows and looked at Obed.

  The last land, the last assignment before standing in the throne room. No need to hold anything back.

  Steward pushed on. “All I need to do is locate the Transmitter in Seudomartus. Through it, the king will speak to me and lead me to him. That is my purpose for this visit to the great Archives.”

  Steward had spoken so fast he was almost out of breath. “Can you help me?”

  She was silent for several moments then turned to stare at the great skyscrapers of books before her. “Please, come this way.”

  She led them through a maze of shelves holding every kind of book, periodical, and loose-bound collection imaginable. The deeper they went into the bowels of the Archives, the stronger the musty smell became.

  Can there possibly be a Transmitter hidden in here?

  Melodora stopped near an ornate bookcase sealed with heavy, leaded-glass doors. They were held closed by a massive brass clasp. She worked the clasp free, and the great glass doors swung open. Behind the doors, Steward could see books that seemed to be bound in metal covers—some covered with gold and silver, and some even with jewels.

  “Magnificent.”

  Melodora nodded. “Indeed they are. Obed, Teacher, have you seen this collection before?”

  “I have not. This is a rare treat.”

  Melodora stood for several minutes staring up into the shelves, as if to conjure up some memory of the location of just the book she was looking for. Finally, she rolled a ladder over to the shelves and climbed up, more nimble than Steward would have thought possible. From two-thirds up the enormous shelf, she worked to free a large volume encased in a bright gold metal cover.

  Obed looked up at her. “May we help you?”

  “No, no.” She somehow maneuvered the book and herself down the ladder. Once down, she inspected the clasp on the selected volume.

  “Over here.” She led them to a reading table and placed the book under a soft light. She pulled two white gloves onto her hands.

  “For protection of the sacred pages.” Then she opened the latch that held the tome shut and began to read through the table of contents. Her finger stopped at a strange inscription that Steward did not recognize. She leafed through the pages, turning each one with care and never at the edge.

  “There it is. Is that what you are looking for?”

  Steward looked at the ornate drawing depicting in almost exact detail the Transmitter he had seen in the cleft of the rock-faced wall. “Yes, that is it. I am so thankful to you, Melodora.”

  “I thought it might be. This is from one of our most sacred and revered texts. It tells the story of the king’s first visit to this land, and it records how he promised to speak to his people for all eternity through the use of this transmitting device. According to the legend, everyone was given one, and they could speak straight to the king at any time they wished. They only had to position the small stone on the receiver arm in a direction toward the west and listen for the king’s voice.”

  Obed slapped Steward on the back. “Well, my young Steward, you have found your transmitting device! Now your journey is complete.”

  Steward stepped back and put a hand out. “No, Teacher. I am sorry, but this is only a pictu
re of the Transmitter. Now I just need to find one of the Transmitters themselves.” He turned to Melodora. “Do you have one here?”

  The Keeper’s eyes narrowed and her lips were pursed. “My dear friend, don’t be absurd. Obed, surely he is not serious.” She closed the book and took off her gloves then turned to look down at Steward. “This is a picture of an old legend. It does not represent reality. It is a fable, a fairy tale passed on by unlearned people to keep the king-myth alive. Dear boy, you must be able to separate fact from fable, and this”—she placed her hand on the closed book—“is definitely fable.”

  No, she can’t believe that. I’m so close. She has a picture. She must know a way.

  Steward’s countenance fell as he looked at Obed, pleading. Obed looked back at the Keeper. “Don’t you know anyone who has seen a Transmitter or heard the king’s voice through one? In all these books, is there not one story about it?”

  She shrugged. “Of course. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of stories of the old king-myth. We have kept them all.” She opened her hands and gestured to the endless shelves. “You can spend years in here reading those old stories. Young people still study the lives and teachings of these people. It is a rich part of our history and heritage. Many of our laws are based on some of the wisdom they spoke. Their words are even engraved on the walls of the Halls of Wisdom.”

  She looked to Obed, and Steward had the sense it was for support. Obed took the cue.

  “You see, Steward, it’s not that we don’t hold as sacred the testimonies and experiences of so many who claimed to hear the voice of the king. It’s just that we have no direct proof that it ever actually happened. And today, with our greater wisdom and knowledge, we believe it was not really the king they heard. But since these men and women had important things to say, we still take them seriously.”

  Melodora added, “Them, not the myth.”

  Melodora took the book and worked her way up the ladder to return it to its resting place, continuing the discussion as she went. “Although there are over a thousand books written about your Transmitter, no one for centuries, or more likely ever, has actually seen one.”

  “Nor has anyone heard the voice of the king,” Obed added.

  Steward fought his emotions. They were denying his experience and calling what he knew to be true a myth. This was wrong! He gathered up all the courage he could muster. “I have.”

  Melodora was back down the ladder now. “You have what?”

  “I have seen a Transmitter and I have heard the king’s voice. I myself. With my own eyes and my own ears. And I tell you the king is not a myth or legend, but a reality.”

  Obed stepped in. “I’m sorry, Keeper, I—”

  She put her hand out and stopped him. Looking at Steward, she punctuated every word. “Well, I see. Young Steward, if you want some advice, I would keep that assertion to yourself. That is not only foolishness here in Seudomartus, it is dangerous.”

  Dangerous to speak the truth? How could that be?

  She turned, and her tone changed from serious to nonchalant. “But please do not be disappointed. We all want to hear the voice of the king. Do keep hoping and searching and testing your experiences. Who knows, you may one day actually hear something that is real.” She turned and glared at him. “At least, real for you.”

  She brushed something from her sleeve, giving the impression she was no longer interested in the conversation. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have Archives business to attend to. Obed, it’s always good to have you as a guest of the Archives.”

  Steward watched the great Melodora walk away.

  Obed let out a sigh. “I warned you, Steward, that this was going to be difficult. And this was your easiest audience. Are you sure you want to continue?”

  He looked up at where the book with the Transmitter had been placed. “I have no choice. The king called me to this. He gave clear instructions, and he asked me to trust him. So I will.”

  He fixed his gaze back on Obed. “There is a Transmitter here in Seudomartus. And I must find it.”

  “Very well. We have an audience with Mattox the Great, but first to lunch.”

  As they emerged from the Archives and their eyes adjusted to the bright morning sun, Steward took another look at the Halls of Wisdom. “I’m sad to be leaving here, but it was a great privilege just to see this place. And the Halls of Wisdom, even if only across the plaza.”

  Obed laughed. “Oh, my young friend, you will be back. Your final two audiences are in the heart of the Halls of Wisdom themselves. But for now we must climb to the Sacred Mount.”

  After a short stop for lunch, Steward walked with the Teacher along an extraordinary promenade that ran a full mile from the plaza of the Halls of Wisdom to the base of the Sacred Mount. The broad walkway was made up of close-fitted paving stones of various colors that sparkled in the sun. Each side of the promenade was lined with tall, slender cedar trees, and between them were flowers of every imaginable color and size. Every hundred yards or so the promenade divided, allowing walkers to enjoy the fountains that gushed crystal blue water from the center of the walkway. Some fountains were sculpted in the form of sea creatures, and others were beasts that Steward had never seen.

  Along the path, Steward and his companion met impressive-looking men and women, all busy talking about things that sounded witty, sophisticated, and wise.

  If ever a place was close to the throne room of the king, it is this place.

  The promenade ended at the base of an enormous staircase running up the side of the Sacred Mount.

  Steward looked up the formidable climb. “How far is it?”

  “Not far, just one thousand steps.” Obed laughed as he started up.

  They made their way up the steps. At various places a road would lead off to one side of the staircase or the other, and Steward could see great churches and cathedrals at the end of each one. As he and Obed climbed higher and higher, the edifices became more palatial at every turn.

  The staircase ended near the top of the hill, widening out into a grand plaza much like the one in front of the Halls of Wisdom and the great Archives of Seudomartus.

  Steward stood to catch his breath and take it all in. “Is…is that the Temple of Temperance? And there, the Ivory Cathedral, right?”

  Obed nodded. “And beyond them over one hundred temples and cathedrals, more than you could visit in a month.”

  In the grandeur, Steward felt very small. Maybe I should call this whole thing off. I’m not ready for this.

  As he worked to steel his nerves, a voice rang out behind them.

  “Obed, my dear friend!”

  Steward looked up to see a man with gracious features and flowing white hair hurrying toward them. He met them with a big smile and outstretched arms. He and Obed embraced as old friends. “It has been a long time since we have seen you on the Sacred Mount. What has brought you up here to us?”

  Obed turned to Steward. “Steward, this is Brauchus, my teacher. I owe to him everything I know and the skills with which I teach it.”

  Steward liked him right off. He had a gentle but serious face, and his smile warmed Steward’s spirit.

  “It is a great honor to meet you, sir.”

  “And I return the honor to you, young friend. If Obed has become your teacher, you are a most fortunate fellow. He is the wisest teacher in the land!”

  Obed protested, arms high in the air. “Far from that, I’m afraid. But not on your account, my dear teacher. You taught me well, and it looks as though you are thriving in the thin and clean air of the Sacred Mount.”

  Brauchus took a deep breath of air and exhaled. “Indeed I am, Obed, indeed I am. This is near-paradise for me. The teaching is profound, the libraries are extraordinary, the conversations are robust, and the view…well, see for yourself.”

  Brauchus turned the two of them around.

  Steward looked back down along the promenade that lay far below and led his eye into the heart of the gr
eat city. He could see the plaza of the Halls of Wisdom, and all across the city were parks and fountains. The mountains to the north were capped in snow, and the valley to the east was carpeted in a rich green as the spring planting was making its presence known through the black soil.

  It was a glorious sight.

  As Steward stood gawking at the scene, Brauchus continued. “So I ask you again, what brings you up here to the Sacred Mount?”

  Obed turned back to his friend and mentor. “My friend Steward is on a journey all the way from the edge of the upper kingdom. He seeks…” Obed lowered his voice as several men passed by. He put his arm around Brauchus’s shoulders and leaned close to him. “He seeks to locate a Transmitter, believing that the king will speak to him and lead him to the throne room. That is the purpose of his quest.”

  Brauchus looked up at his protégé. “Obed, why have you become involved in this matter?” He looked at Steward. “No offense to you, lad, but your request has placed my dearest student in grave danger.” He looked back at Obed. “This request will lead you to nothing but ridicule and rebuke…and perhaps even worse. Please, go back down and rethink this entire matter. I cannot stand the thought of my greatest student becoming ensnared in such a ruse.”

  There it was again: warnings, alarm. And now from Brauchus, this learned and caring man.

  Maybe I haven’t taken the risk and danger seriously. Help me, king. Courage, confidence!

  Obed kept close as he replied. “Dear teacher, you taught me to be open-minded, to seek the truth wherever it may be found. You taught me that the king may be found in many ways through myriad avenues and voices. You described to me a rich tapestry of truth and challenged me to follow every thread so that I might one day see the larger fabric. Why do you now warn me to shrink back from this particular thread?”

  The old teacher wrinkled up his brow then walked away from them and stood looking out over the plaza, his hand to his mouth. Obed shot Steward a confident glance that settled Steward’s nerves.

  Brauchus spun around as if he had received a revelation and joined the two in the hushed conversation. “You have spoken wisely, Obed. You must indeed seek the truth wherever you think it may be found. Only hear this from me, and then we will speak of this subject no more. There is a growing sense of unease toward those in this land who claim to possess a Transmitter and have direct access to the voice of the king.”