By: Bryant R. Haake, Honors College, Presidential Honors Student, English Major
Before they went on to the tower, Quirin led the cart along the edge of the wall to a small temple, behind which sprawled a pristine graveyard. Each stone was meticulously cared for to the point where Jacob could still make out headstones from more than a century ago.
Quirin parked the cart just outside the temple. This temple, unlike most of the others they’d passed so far, was partially indoors. There was an outside pavilion with an altar flanked by two sandstone carvings of lionesses, the sacred animal to the Great River and death goddess, Tefnut. A small stream flowed from the altar, gathering in a pool below before feeding into another pool, then another, and so on until it formed a large pond in the middle of the graveyard.
They all dismounted and walked over to the altar. Quirin reached inside his cloak and pulled out a somehow perfectly-preserved bundle of flowers. He dipped the top into the small pool and then walked over to the graveyard. Crimson followed only a few steps before backtracking and heading inside. Georgiana saw her do so and nudged Jacob.
“Quirin, would you like us to wait inside?” she asked.
“Do what you will, Miss Georgiana,” Quirin replied. “I will only be a minute. You are welcome to join me, but I will not force you either way.”
Georgiana grabbed Jacob’s hand and pulled him along after Crimson. The door to the inner temple was made of a simple sanded wood that Jacob was too inexperienced in carpentry to recognize. The inside of the temple was dimly lit and had but a single denizen, other than Crimson. There was a smaller altar at the back where a man knelt, stirring something in a bowl.
“Ay, are you the priest here,” Crimson asked when she was close enough to not need to shout.
The man startled at her voice, and once more when he turned and saw her size, but shook his head.
“No ma’am, no priest at this temple. It’s just for the people to pay their respects for the dead and such. I just clean everything, do the upkeep and all. If there’s anything you need though, I am happy to try and help.”
Crimson stuck out a meaty hand. “Captain Lydia Deighton. And you, groundskeeper?”
The man stood, dusted himself off, and stuck a smaller hand into her palm, shaking it. “Benzo, ma’am.”
“Her name isn’t actually Crimson?” Georgiana whispered. They were still at the front of the temple, a good ways away from the conversation, but it was echoey and so they kept their voices down.
“Aye, Captain Vexx usually calls her by her actual name. Crimson is just a nickname, though honestly I’m not entirely sure if it’s due to her hair or her anger.”
“Ah, I remember now,” Georgiana tapped a finger on her chin. “Captain Vexx did call her that during dinner last time we met, right?”
Jacob nodded, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He’d heard Captain Vexx call her that many times, so it wasn’t exactly out of the normal for him.
“–themselves,” Crimson was explaining as Jacob refocused on that conversation. “I know it’s more likely one of Nereus’ temples will have something, but this is the only stop we’ve made so far.”
“I understand completely, ma’am,” Benzo confirmed. “Sadly you’re correct in your assumption. The only books we’ve got here are holy books and instructions on how to make graves an’ all. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”
Crimson leaned forward in a slight bow. “No need to be sorry, chum. ‘Was only checking.”
Crimson did an about-face and walked back over to them. Jacob gave her a confused look as she sidled up next to them.
“What? You think I don’t respect religious figures or something?”
“No, I… I guess not, no.”
Crimson huffed. “Boy, there’s a lot about me you don’t know, so watch the words, looks, glances, and underhanded comments. Not only am I smarter than you think, but I’m more clever and well-cultured, too. Need I remind you both I worked for a rich noble before becoming a pirate?”
Jacob threw up his hands. “Whatever, Crimson. I didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe you should watch your assumptions of me.”
“Okay you two, quit it,” Georgiana said as she leaned back and pushed the heavy temple door open. “This isn’t a fish-measuring contest, and neither of you are fishermen. You’re privateers. Act like it.”
Jacob and Crimson shot each other one last dirty look before following Georgiana back out. Quirin was waiting for them beside the altar, the flowers gone from his hands.
“Thank you all for indulging me,” Quirin said. “I am ready to go now if you three have no business here.”
“Lead the way,” Georgiana said.
Quirin nodded and they all loaded back into the cart. The tower looked to be only a few minutes away by horse and cart, but as a bell tolled from a smaller tower in the distance, it quickly became much more difficult to traverse. Students filled the streets in droves, all dressed in one of four different colors of robes: dull red, dirty orange, dark yellow, and finally black with a golden trim. Some of the black-robed students wore masks of a similar make to Quirin and Ballena, though most had their faces covered by a simple covering tied to their hood. None of the other students with different robes had a covering at all.
With the students filling the streets, their progress slowed exponentially. Quirin sat quietly upon his steed, unfeeling mask staring straight at the top of the tower. Jacob looked up with him, trying to see if there was something specific he’d missed about the tower, but if there was then he still didn’t see it.
“Are you anxious to see him, Quirin?” Georgiana asked.
“Hmm.” Quirin didn’t say anything for a few seconds, still staring into the sky. His head dropped and he looked back over his shoulder. He’d stop trying to hide the back of his neck and head with his hood and now only wore the mask, leaving his raven-like hair open to the elements.
“Miss Georgiana, while I do not care what you call me, I will inform you all that if you wish to continue to call me Seraph, then I am not opposed to it. Just because you know my real name does not make my persona any less real itself. As for your question…”
Quirin turned back around. They were less than half a mile from the tower’s front door now. It was not painted to match the tower; instead, it was a bright, vibrant cherry red which stuck out like a sore thumb against the blue first floor. Each brick was painted by itself, leaving the mortar joints exposed. From far away it was impossible to tell the difference, but up close it was impossible to not notice. It gave the building a checkered look which disappeared the further up you looked as the grey lines shot out of view. Quirin raised a hand and stuck his thumb out to the side, like he was trying to measure the building. He lowered his hand and sighed.
“I suppose there is a bit of anxiety; I cannot imagine why I wouldn’t be anxious to see that man. He’s given nothing to my family. Even worse, he’s outright refused to help, and whenever anything bad happens to us, he takes advantage of it.”
Quirin pulled up to the door and stopped as two guards with their own masks raised weapons.
“Halt your cart, stranger. Not even the students and faculty are allowed inside without an invitation from Dr. Cleary.”
“Oh, for River’s sake–” Quirin muttered, unstrapping his mask and letting it fall to his hands. “Let me and my friends inside this instant so I may have words with my grandfather.”
The guards’ weapons dipped but didn’t drop fully.
“We know your face, but we cannot trust it. Do you have something to prove you are him?”
Quirin scowled.
“I have my book of sigils. Will that suffice?”
“A sorcerer never lets his book of sigils from his sight,” the other guard noted. “Yes, that should suffice. Is it the same one from your studies here?”
“Of course, of course,” Quirin said as he pulled the book from his robes. He held it up and began to flip through several pages going back to front, ending on the first page where his name was spelled out in beautiful handwriting. “See? Now, let me enter.”
The guards looked at each other one last time before each took a step back.
“Fine, but we also need you to state your business.”
“No you don’t,” Quirin said as he climbed off his horse and strutted inside. “Come along, friends. Let’s not keep the good doctor waiting.”
The guards made no motion to stop him, nor did they move when the three cart-dwellers crawled out and followed the sigilurgist inside. Jacob tried walking side by side with Georgiana, but when they moved into the staircase—the only way to actually go in this building was up—he had to move behind her.
“You’d think with all this money and support from the city your grandpappy could afford a better stairway, eh angeldust?” Crimson asked sarcastically.
“He doesn’t get many visitors,” Quirin said grimly.
The stairway was long, so long that Jacob thought his legs may just fall off before they reached the top. Yet, reach the top they did, and it wasn’t very impressive given what they’d been through to get there. What they were greeted with was essentially a glorified waiting room with six chairs and a young, petite woman reading at a comfy desk. A painting of an older man with what looked to be around eight sigils around him on a black background was posted behind her.
As they walked in, the woman glanced up from her book, back down, and then startled as she looked back up, clearly not expecting visitors of any kind.
“Ah, Quirin. The boss wasn’t, uh… he wasn’t expecting you this soon.”
Quirin raised a brow, his mask still tucked into the folds of his cloak.
“Aldus Cleary does not expect anyone, Circe. He sits in his tower and waits, doing Rivers know what, and refuses to talk with anyone. Now, let me in before I have to break in myself.”
Circe’s face went dark. She set the book down and rose from her chair, drawing another book from the desk. This one was simple leather and had a ribbon tucked into one of the pages.
“Do you wish to ask that again, Quirin? Or shall I escort you and your friends out myself?”
A door on Circe’s left side swung open suddenly, unprompted by any visible figure or force.
A slow, old voice from the door said, “Circe, darling, I would be most grateful if you would show my great grandson and his new friends into my abode, please. And, no fighting between sorcerers in my tower of course, lest you wish for myself to join the quarrel.”
Both Circe and Quirin tried keeping brave faces, but even Jacob could see them both shiver at the voice’s intrusion. They both locked gazes for a few more seconds, seeing which would break first, before Circe nodded and lowered her book.
“Yes, right away, Doctor. Come, Quirin,” she spat, “follow me.”
Circe, still holding her book, smoothed over her dress and walked towards the now-open door. Quirin followed closely, one hand on his own book of sigils, the other tucked into his robes. Jacob and Georgiana followed closely behind, with Crimson keeping a bit more distance.
The room they walked into was large—too large, Jacob thought, for the tower to hold. The ceiling was a vaulted dome, made from stained glass and beams of bronze, studded with copper and gold. There was a raised platform travelling all around the room, a sort of second floor that seemed to act as a library. A little table covered in snacks and a comfy-looking chair sat near the top of the stairs, and a book lay closed upon the table.
The main room was brightly lit, and had a huge aquarium in the middle which was shaped like the top half of a sphere. Inside were colorful fish and other sea creatures, including an octopus and some very small squids and seahorses. There was even a baby hippocampus, the most literal form of “sea horse” one could imagine. The top half was the visage of a horse split in half, displaying two legs. The bottom half was a fish, similar in fashion to a mermaid, though much less colorful from what Jacob had heard in the stories.
The most bizarre things were the multiple skeletons hanging from wires all across the room. Some were larger than a small ship, but most were around the size of a great white shark or smaller. The smallest seemed to be some sort of water-based mammal, like a seal, dog, and human had all gotten together to create some new abomination.
There was a mural of many fish painted over the door, a stark contrast to the other side of the room. Behind the aquarium was a tack board filled with papers. Next to it was a chalkboard which had been almost entirely covered with equations, sketches, and small notes like Take a shower or Groom the dog fur.
A man stood in front of this board, chalk in hand and writing away at the top of the board. His back was to Jacob, but he could swear there was something off about the man. His arms seemed a little too long, or maybe his ears were too big? No, it had to be his skin was a color unlike any human’s, too grey and rough. Or maybe…
Ah yes, that, Ren said. Jacobson, I suggest you brace yourself for–
“Ah, friends,” Dr. Cleary said, finally turning to face them. Jacob could hear Georgiana retch, or maybe it was him. “I’m glad that little kerfuffle is done and over with. Circe, will you leave us to talk, please?”
Circe nodded and walked away, but Jacob barely registered it. He was too busy staring at Dr. Cleary. He hadn’t been wrong about any of his previous thoughts. His arms were too long… because they weren’t his arms. They were hairy and black. His ears were too big, because they were floppy and covered in fur. His skin was the wrong color, grey and rough like…
“Ah, admiring my changes, are we?” Dr. Cleary asked with a smooth grin. Even his teeth looked different somehow, though Jacob was much less sure about the specifics of that change. “Elephant skin, gorilla arms, beagle ears, and so much more. I guess I should have warned you all, but then again I do love seeing the surprised faces of newcomers, and it has been too long.”
Jacob wanted to hurl. He could see stitches all along the man’s body where he’d replaced his own body parts with those of animals. He had a full scar running all across his forehead. Surely he hadn’t done something so crass as replacing his brain, right?
“Alright, I do think that is enough staring now, Jacobson,” Dr. Cleary said, still smiling but with an edge to his voice. “It’s not like I’m the only one here with animalistic properties, no?”
Crimson growled under her breath, but Dr. Cleary either didn’t care or didn’t notice. Instead he set down his chalk and walked over to a table on one side of the aquarium, the opposite side from where he’d halfway drawn a curtain around a bed and nightstand.
I told him he needed to leave this tower more often, Ren chided. Not stay in here until he dies… whenever that may be.
The doctor pulled out a chair for himself and sat down, gesturing to four other chairs which had obviously been brought in specifically for them. That, or he’d had them stashed somewhere in anticipation of any possible guests. It was mildly infuriating that Jacob couldn’t decide which was more probable.
Quirin sat down first. “Grandfather, we need to–”
“Ah ah ah, Quirin,” Dr. Cleary said. “It is rude for a host to get straight to talking without first offering refreshments. Would any of you like to partake in drinks? I have water, tea, wine, whiskey, and even some sparkling cider for special occasions. For food, well, I don’t have much to offer, but the fish squares are edible, and I have some cheese and crackers if you would rather that.”
Crimson plopped down in the furthest chair she could get from Quirin, which was technically only two chairs down since he’d taken a chair directly across from his grandfather. That left two separate chairs for Jacob and Georgiana, which gave Jacob a small pang of sadness before he realized they’d been attached at the hip for a few days now, so it wasn’t too big a deal.
Jacob took his own seat on the opposite side of Quirin, leaving Georgiana between the other two. It was a circular table, though big enough for a good amount of space to exist between Dr. Cleary and the group. When no one asked for any food or drinks, Dr. Cleary nodded and picked up his own glass from the table, filled with a shimmering clear liquid that seemed a little too clear to be water.
“So,” Dr. Cleary said after taking a quick sip from his drink, “now that we’re all settled, let us get down to business, shall we? I know much of what you are all here for, but I will ask anyway. Quirin first since I believe that will take the least amount of explanation.”
Quirin shot up and banged his hands on the table. “Don’t try and act all-knowing with me, grandfather. I am not as predictable as you would think.”
“Oh really,” the old man replied with a roll of his eyes. “Then tell me, are you not here to ask why I did nothing to help your mother as she ailed in her later years?”
Quirin’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he said nothing.
“Good, then I was correct. That is precisely why you are here.” Dr. Cleary took another sip. “The answer to that is quite simple actually. Despite the rumors, grandson, I am not a miracle worker. I can replace organs and limbs, grant imaginary space to locations of my choosing, and much more as you see before you. However, I am no alchemist. Rivers, I’m not even an apothecary. I had no cure, and so I trusted that either someone else would figure it out, or she would pass into whichever River her soul belongs to. Is that all?”
Quirin still looked mad, but he sat back down, fists clenched. “No. I want to know why you didn’t even try to help. We’re your family, and you’ve never said a word to any of us about anything. Explain that,” he spat.
Dr. Cleary sighed. “Quirin, I am old. Very old. Very, very old. As many times as you can add the word great to my status as your great grandfather, you can also add a very to my age. In saying that, do you not think I don’t have more family than just you? Sure, you may intrigue me, but I’ve hundreds of other relatives still alive, and you were just a boy at the time of your mother’s passing. I may have money, but I am not as rich as you would think. If I tried to solve the problems of every member of my extensive family, I would be out of money by the end of the fortnight. Now, is that all? Or can I finally move on to your friends here?”
Quirin stared back at his grandfather for a few tense seconds before giving a single, curt nod. Jacob wasn’t even sure he wanted to still talk to Dr. Cleary now, but he knew he needed to.
Dr. Cleary gave a much nicer nod back to Quirin and turned his attention to the other three. Jacob tried not to stare at the man, but it was difficult. He didn’t look as old as he claimed to be, nor did he act it, but it was hard to imagine him acting any differently. His looks could be explained away by the obvious amount of surgeries he’d undertaken. His eyes looked brand new, and his skin was only wrinkled as much as an elephant’s normally would be. Jacob wasn’t sure there was a single bit of the doctor left that was original to him.
Too late, he realized Dr. Cleary had been speaking.
“–to know more about this prophecy you’ve heard about, hmm?”
“Sorry, come again?” Jacob said, blinking confusedly.
Dr. Cleary chuckled. “Hmm, maybe that topic should be held off on for the moment. Afterall, I’ve some pleasantries to undergo first. Now, tell me Jacobson, how is my old friend Kraken doing in that skull of yours?”