October 1895, Ireland
I want to go,” said twelve-year-old James.
Margaret looked at him, shocked.
“I know we shouldn’t. I know it’s dangerous, but I want to go.”
“Son, do you understand the very man who ordered your father’s capture is the officiant? This is a farce and most likely a trap,” Margaret said, immediately regretting her decision to share the reason Alvaro had called their meeting with her son.
“I killed my father, not Alvaro. Me.”
“James, you don’t know that. You mustn’t keep blaming yourself. You didn’t-”
“I want to go,” he interrupted with the same sternness Margaret recalled her husband used all those years ago to bring her to meet Tabitha.
“Very well,” she said, after a moment’s silence. James looked surprised at his mother’s reply not knowing that she secretly hoped the trip might bring the closure James needed to enable him to pick up where he’d left off before the accident. All progress had come to a halt since that night, and with each passing day, Margaret detected anger building inside James. If this was what it took, so be it. He was no use to anyone without his abilities.
The purple haze of the transporting powder cleared, revealing an enormous stone structure. It stood taller than any building James had ever seen. He studied it, his mouth agape. The silver and white flags lining the steps up to the entry blew in the breeze. Guards stood at attention. Two stone walkways extended from the temple into the forest, like arms, embracing a meadow of flowers between them. The grounds were green and lush despite the dry summer. James could see people heading toward the main entrance.
“Stay by my side. Say nothing. Look at no one,” Margaret commanded.
They began walking across the root-choked clearing toward a set of steps that led into the covered walkway. A man wearing deep-purple robes and flanked by half a dozen guards walked briskly toward them. As he drew nearer Margaret recognized him. Alvaro looked flushed, nervous even.
“I must say, I was surprised to hear of your agreement to attend. Surprised and delighted, of course,” Alvaro said, turning to face the boy. “James, finally we meet.” Alvaro extended his hand and smiled at James.
Margaret was certain James would not take Alvaro’s hand, but after a brief pause, he extended his hand and met Alvaro’s gaze.
“Finally,” James said with terseness that was surprising for his age. The look in James’s eyes frightened his mother. Alvaro’s attempted warm smile became an uncomfortable grin that was followed by a noticeable sense of relief when their hands separated.
“Well then. Right this way, please.”
Alvaro ushered the pair along the walkway. The silent guards fell in behind the trio as they made their way toward the temple.
“So, James. This must be your first time visiting the temple.”
“It is,” his mother replied.
“Well, well. Perhaps a tour can be arranged after the ceremony,” Alvaro replied.
“I don’t think-”
“I would like that,” James interrupted.
Margaret looked displeased. Alvaro expressed surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Excellent. I shall send my assistant to fetch you after the ceremony.”
They walked in silence until they reached the spot where the walkway opened onto the lower terrace of the temple. The terrace stretched as far as James could see in either direction, wrapping around the base of the temple itself.
“Here is where I must leave you. My guards will escort you to your seats. Madam Stuart. James.”
Alvaro quickly walked off, looking over his shoulder several times until he stepped through a doorway followed by two of his guards. The remaining four escorted James and his mother up a set of steps and down a wide corridor. Other, formally dressed sorcerers, moved up and down the hallway as well. They passed numerous doorways, each carefully labeled: “ZAHARREN UGAZABE ASMAGINTZA,” “ZAHARREN UGAZABE ASTERKETA,” “ZAHARREN UGAZABE BABESPEN.” People moved hurriedly in and out. At the end of the hall was a large archway. Etched in marble over the arch was the word “OREKA.”
Inside scores of people gathered, talking and milling about. The instant the guards stepped through the arch the room became silent. All eyes turned on James and his mother. Rather than looks of condolence or pity, Margaret thought the crowd looked indignant. The crowd cleared away as she and James were ushered to the center of the room. Chairs arranged in semicircles surrounded a low stage upon which sat what looked like a birdbath.
James looked around in awe. Light shone through the ceiling windows, brightening what would have otherwise been a dark and dreary room. James was certain the windows were enchantments because the temple extended far above ceiling of this room. The guards led them to their seats. Each of the four guards took position at the ends of the semicircles and waited. The room remained silent. The brilliant light that came through the windows dimmed as if the sun fell from high noon to twilight in a matter of seconds. Torches mounted to the walls by cast iron brackets ignited. A stringed instrument began to play a mournful song.
James looked around. The attendees had organized themselves in perfectly formed rows behind the half-moon chair arrangements in the center. They spread out in a fan of people. Their faces were blank as they stared at the center of the stage. A procession filed through doorways opposite where James and Margaret had entered. Each person was dressed in the same dark-purple robes Alvaro wore. Two by two they marched toward the stage. When they reached the chairs, they split, each following the arc around the stage. They moved in perfect time with the music, as if they’d rehearsed. Once everyone was positioned in front of their seats, the music stopped.
One final person walked through the doorway. She was dressed in black and silver robes that shimmered in the firelight. Her hair was dark red, her face lined with age and wisdom. She stepped up onto the stage, stood over the stone bowl, and raised her hands. James felt compelled to stand. His mother followed suit.
The woman spoke. “For the first time in the history of these great halls, we come to honor one not born among us. Many believe we as faithful are entitled to treatment that the unfaithful are not. It is the belief of this council that respect be earned, not given.”
James scanned the crowd noting every incredulous expression.
“The man we honor here today,” the woman continued, “earned our respect. He earned it by his actions. He earned it by his acceptance and he earned it by his faith.”
James finally located Alvaro among the other purple-robed attendees standing on the opposite side of the stage. When their eyes met, Alvaro quickly looked away. Behind him someone moved, drawing James’s attention. A slight sway in his shoulders among his statuesque counterparts shifted James’s focus. It was Akil. He was staring at another man on the opposite side of the hall. Initially, James thought it was simply another face in the crowd. Then he remembered that his father had let him view a memory orb of their first meeting not long before he died. The man he was looking at was David Ogilvy, who had been presumed dead many years ago. Ogilvy nodded slightly. James felt his mother’s body go instantly tense, and he knew she must have seen him as well. James looked back to where Akil had stood but he was gone.
Margaret couldn’t believe it. Tabitha had told her that David had been killed during the battle at their house all those years ago yet he was here. Had Tabitha been deceiving them all this time? Perhaps she truly believed him to be dead in which case David would be the deceiver. If that were the case, then why after all this time had he decided to show himself? Her mind raced with questions she was determined to have answered.
The lights darkened and a blue orb rose from the center of the basin. It expanded, filling the empty space overhead. James recognized the home he was born in. His father walked down the cobbled lane. He was smiling as he walked through the cast iron garden gate. A small boy darted from behind a large stone fountain and jumped into his arms. They both laughed with joy. James’s heart grew heavy with pain and guilt as the memory pushed all other thought away. It was his fault his father was no longer alive.
The picture faded and the lights brightened. The council members in purple stood and fell in procession behind the officiant. James and his mother trailed at the end of the procession. Both looked back repeatedly at David Ogilvy, who followed them with his eyes. Two guards stepped behind them and ushered them through the doorway.
A small man in black robes stood in the otherwise empty anteroom. His expression made James think he was in constant pain. The man nodded at the guards, and they quickly turned and passed through the doorway.
“Master Alvaro has instructed me to escort you to his offices. I am his assistant, Jonathan. This way please.”
Jonathan extended his arm and ushered them through the smallest of three doorways on the opposite wall.
“Not a word,” Margret whispered to her son.
“Mind your step, please. Mind your step,” he shouted from behind. “They tend to be a bit slippery. Don’t know why Master Alvaro chose offices on the lower level. All the enchantments in the world can’t get that damn musty smell out of here. The bloody floors always have a layer of grime on them. Bloody treacherous for us less stable folk.”
They continued down a twisting staircase. The walls were adorned with paintings of various sorcerers, each wearing the traditional council robes. A plaque bore their name and position. Basil Hallward: Undersecretary to high Master Elder. Edwin Lutyens: Research. Emmerson Tennent: Healing. The stairway opened into a wider, darker corridor. The traffic in this hall was sparse compared to the upper hall. Wooden doors stood inside the stone walls at random intervals. Office of criminal proceedings. Office of advanced healing. Office of transporting regulation.
“Next door on our left, son,” Jonathan shouted. James and his mother exchanged curious glances, both wondering why Jonathan felt the need to shout. They reached the door. James and his mother paused.
“Go on in. He’s expecting you,” Jonathan said, taking up position beside the doorway.
It was only when James reached for the knob that he realized that none of the doors he’d seen in this corridor had knobs. He looked back at Jonathan.
“What’s a matter, son? Never opened a door before?”
“ Ireki,” his mother commanded, and the door opened. James knew the command. Knew it well, actually, but he doubted his ability to use it successfully.
Despite the gloomy corridor, inside was quite pleasing. Heavily curtained windows muted what appeared to be natural light. Numerous plants hung on the walls and grew from stone pots on the floor. A large black cat stood from its resting place on a rug by the fireplace and sauntered toward the guests. James could hear two sets of voices speaking but they abruptly stopped as the cat passed a curtained doorway. A moment later Alvaro stepped through the curtains with an uncomfortable smile on his face.
“I see you’ve met Jonathan. Very good. And this is my pet, Murk. He’s just a kitten now, but when he grows full size, he’ll be nothing to trifle with, I assure you.”
James smiled awkwardly, reaching to pet the cat, who bared his sharp teeth before turning away.
“So, let us get on with the tour, shall we?”
Alvaro led the way back into the corridor.
“I’m sure Jonathan complained about my decision to keep the offices down here, but I quite enjoy being away from everyone running hither and yon on the main floor. I find I’m more productive down here.”
They continued down the hall. Alvaro pointed out offices as they passed. In short turn, the group reached a set of marble steps heading up. Beside them was a narrower, more dingy set of stone steps that led down to yet another basement. There were also two corridors that ran perpendicular to the hall behind them.
“Down there,” Alvaro said, pointing to the left corridor, “are the maintenance offices. This other wing on the right houses the recruitment offices. Let us go up to the first floor, shall we?”
Before Alvaro had gotten his foot on the first step James asked, “What’s down there?” pointing to other stairwell.
“That, I’m afraid, is a restricted area.”
James thought of dragons and super-weapons and dungeons.
“Let’s keep moving please,” Alvaro said, bringing James back to reality. “There’s much to see.”
The first floor was far brighter and free of the smell Jonathan had been kind enough to point out. People rushed in and out of two arched doorways directly across from the stairwell. The ones coming out looked dirtied and disheveled compared to the ones going in. A loud boom followed by several short snaps echoed out of the doorway.
“This is our incantation experimentation office. It is where new incantations are tested. As you can see, sometimes it can be a messy business. Lets continue,” Alvaro said, moving down the corridor.
A nervous-looking guard quickly stepped from an adjoining corridor and whispered into Alvaro’s ear. Alvaro’s face went pale.
“Please excuse me. I must cut our tour short. Urgent business to attend.”
He turned and practically ran down the stairs they had just ascended. James and his mother exchanged confused glances but said nothing. The guard who had delivered the urgent news stepped forward.
“Master Alvaro has asked me to escort you to the exit.”
Margaret nodded, and she and James followed silently.
After more twists and turns than either of them could count, James and his mother finally reached the steps that would lead them to the covered walkway that stretched into the forest. The guard nodded, and they moved toward the walkway. Neither James nor Margaret spoke as they made their way along the walkway. They descended the steps at the far end and walked toward the edge of the forest where they had arrived just a few hours previously.
Once they stepped into the forest, James stopped. “That man we saw. The one who was looking at us. I’ve seen him before.”
Margaret stared into his eyes. “That man is dead. Whoever we saw today is an imposter. Remember, James, magic is a deceiver’s best friend. We must be hesitant in our trust of anyone.”
“Especially the dead,” a voice from behind them said. They both turned toward the sound.
David Ogilvy stood alone, looking at them. He looked thinner. His face had hardened, his eyes unsure.
“Who are you?” Margaret asked.
“It is I, Margaret. David.”
Without hesitating, Margaret removed a pinch of transporting powder and let the granules encase them in a purple mist. David Ogilvy was left standing alone in the forest.