A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World (21 page)

But you've forgotten, Leonard said, standing in front of her and draping his arms over her shoulders.

Forgotten what?

Sally wouldn't look at Leonard: she was still staring at her slippers.

What Isaac said.

What did Isaac say?

That you'll be the one to convince Abulafia to wait …

For the birthday of the world …

Before visiting the pope!

That's going to be me, isn't it? Sally said, looking up. I had forgotten.

Which doesn't mean you can't figure out what fish have to do with Felix, he said, playing with her unbeaded hair.

What are we waiting for? she said. Let's get to the river!

Are you getting signs and wonders about which way to go? Sally asked when they reached the river. Around them dank, watery smells hung heavy in the thick summer air.

Abulafia said we should stay away from the church. Something about the Orsini, whatever that is.

The pope is an Orsini, that's his family name. What? she said, smiling. I asked the Brazen Head back in the future. Born Giovanni Gaetano Orsini, pope from 1277 to 1280, died in Soriano, Italy.

He dies?

Sally gave him a look.

It's 1280 right now! Leonard said. Remember? August 1280. Bobolo told us.

He dies this year, then, sometime in the next few months, Sally said.

And we're the only ones who know this, Leonard said.

You don't suppose that …

He couldn't, Leonard said. Abulafia? Kill the pope? It's not possible.

We don't know anything about him. Maybe he's a murderer! Maybe your Isaac, whoever he is, sent us to stop a murderer! Leonard, the man has Felix!

Felix has to be okay. Isaac said Abulafia was a good man.

And you trust this Isaac who's been dead forty-five years why?

Because my grandfather trusts him.

Your grandfather who's also dead.

Yes.

And I have to trust them because I trust you?

I guess so.

But you don't trust me enough to tell me about Isaac, or how you talk to people who aren't there.

I'll tell you everything soon.

Soon, really?

Soon. I promise, or if not soon, someday. Someday very soon.

Sally shook her head.

Promise, Leonard said.

They crossed the bridge, again making their way through pilgrims and touts, and began walking along the riverbank in the direction of the island.

What are those things? Sally asked, pointing at the strange floating structures they'd seen the night before.

They walked another twenty cubits toward the nearest, which was made of wood and affixed to a floating dock; on one side, in and above the water, an enormous wheel turned
with the current. A loud and unpleasant grinding sound issued from within.

Can't be a fishing station, Sally said, turning her head sideways to get a better view of the wheel. There are no fisherpeople. Or nets, or explosive devices. Do you suppose it's for the amusement of children?

There are too many of them. Must have something to do with Custom and Commerce, Leonard said, and wished Milione were there: assuredly he'd seen perplexities such as these on his travels. It would be nearly twenty years before Mill was back from his travels. Right now, he'd be in the court of Kubilai Khan, or some such place.

I'm going to make sure these aren't fishing stations, Sally said.

What?

I'm going to see!

Careful! Leonard shouted as Sally tripped down the stone path.

Hallooo! she cried, standing at the gangplank that led to the structure. Hallooo! Mr. Fisherperson! I'm looking for some fish! Is Felix here?

A ghostly man stepped out of the first miniature cottage, his face and arms powdered white.

Sally screamed, and ran.

Wait, Leonard said, grabbing her as she tore past and pulling her to him. It's okay.

Run! she screamed too close to his ear, struggling to get away.

Sally! It's okay. Look! He's not a ghost. He's a grain smasher.

Ridiculous, Sally said, peeking over Leonard's shoulder at the baffled grain smasher. There are no camels here to rotate the powdering stone.

It's the wheel, he whispered, holding her even tighter. The powdering stone is water powered.

Sally stopped her struggling, but she was shaking and her health meter vibrated. The white-covered man had not uttered a word, was just looking at Leonard and Sally.

I'm afraid of ghosts, she whispered into Leonard's ear. I maybe forgot to tell you.

Leonard had never seen Sally afraid before; she had never needed his comfort. As he stroked her shoulder blades, and smelled the good scent of her hair, and listened to her breath, he thought again of Milione. Everyone fears something, Milione had said. It may not be what you think. The brave person pursues that thing, or at least manages to stand in its midst.

Sally broke away and smoothed her hair.

The grain smasher was still staring.

We're looking for a boy named Felix! Leonard shouted, but the man remained dumb.

We're both tired, Leonard said, leading Sally some cubits away. Shall I check your health meter?

Sally put her hands protectively against her chest.

I'm fine, she said. Absolutely fine. There's nothing wrong with me.

Did you have a bad experience with a ghost once?

It's nothing. Let's go, she said, and started walking ahead. Keep looking for ghosts and wonders, she shouted back at him.

Signs and wonders.

That's what I said, Sally said.

Signs and wonders, yes, Leonard thought. Observe, pay attention, listen. You'll find Abulafia through unmistakable signs.

Wonders were all around, of course. Brick towers; a strange white column taller than any building, against which the sun, barely risen, shone with exotic brightness; the river itself.

Maybe there were too many wonders in this particular world, Leonard thought. Milione never tired of them, but they might flummox a sensitive sort like Sally.

A few cubits ahead, rowboats tied to the bank, some men in rough-cut tunics lingered. Fisherpeople! They had to be.

Sally ran toward them.

Kind sirs!

They saw her and muttered among themselves.

Kind sirs! she said again, drawing closer.

Avast, me hearty! Be ye a strumpet? one of them ventured.

I'm looking for fish, Sally said.

Fish? the man asked. They muttered again among themselves.

You are fisherpeople, right?

Fisherparsons, the leader said, offended.

Also a boy, Leonard added, caught up with Sally. We are looking for a boy.

Arrr! their leader said, thoughtfully. If it be boys yar after, we haven't none of those, not goin' in far that sort of thing. We arrr women-preferrrin' fisherparsons, all of us. But our landlubber matey Petruccio at The Very Olde Sailorparsons' Taverne can help ye, ain't that so?

The other men nodded.

Is it a vary young boy yar after?

His name is Felix, Sally said.

Red afro, Leonard explained. About this high.

Yar tastes are vary partickalar, the leader observed.

Sometimes his name is Asher, Sally said.

Asher! one of the fisherpeople shouted, and again the men conferred in low tones.

Asher! the leader said. You shoulda said so afore! Arrr! He be the lad that assists the Jew magician, over at the fisherparsons' marrrket.

The other men nodded.

I don't think he's far sale, the man added. The others agreed.

And the fisherpersons' market is where?

Whar the fisherparsons sell fish, the leader explained; the others nodded—and, in nodding, seemed to nod in the direction Sally and Leonard were headed. Heartened, they bid their new friends adieu.

Do you think they really were Long John Silvers? Sally asked when they were a safe distance away.

I think Isaac never met a man of the sea.

They giggled. Sally took Leonard's hand. Maybe she was going to be alright.

If the fisherpeople had seen Felix with Abulafia, then he had to be okay. Leonard and Sally would find him and convince him to come home, which shouldn't be hard; Felix would defrost the
world, and the three would live happily ever after, with Carol. Leonard almost did a little dance.

I don't think I can come home with you, Sally said.

What? Leonard said.

It's 1280. Roger Bacon is no longer under house arrest—he's studying in Oxford, at the Franciscan House. Don't you see?

You want to visit Roger Bacon?

I want to know what he wrote in the Voynich. I need to know.

Sally, that has to be very far away from here!

I know, I know, I'd have to pass through Cathar territory, it's a problem, but in 1280 they're between Inquisitions. If I can pass as a pilgrim in Rome, I can pass as one returning from Rome, right? I have the gear, I can talk the pilgrim talk. Test me, go on, test me!

Sally, you'd end up in this century forever! I don't know that we could get you home again.

Leonard, I don't have anything to go home to. I've lost my job, my friends, my Special Gift.

You haven't lost your Special Gift! You have a destiny, Isaac said so! You only have to choose it!

Maybe this is my destiny, to find Roger Bacon! He could teach me—I'd belong here, then.

Leonard didn't want to remind her that the pilgrim's journey was a treacherous one, and there was no guarantee she'd find her idol, much less convince him to teach her. Instead, he took her hands and said, It isn't your destiny, my treasure, it isn't. Isaac said nothing about your staying always in the past.

Who is this Isaac? Sally said. Does he care one whit about me? One day I'm reading the Voynich, the fate of the Latter-Day Baconians in my hands, the next day I'm humiliated, my powers gone, forced to run away. A fugitive, all because of this Isaac!
Now I'm in Rome, chasing a man who's probably a murderer, hungry, tired, alone, with no clean undergarments …

Not alone, Leonard said, wrapping her again in his arms, but he wasn't sure she heard.

Look, he said, retrieving the shimmering letter from his underarm pocket, wanting to show her a wonder, so she might be heartened. I got this from Abulafia.

The letter seemed to float in Leonard's hand. It was black in color, but contained all colors, just as its hum contained all music.

Sally didn't even look.

Let's get a move on, she said, and walked ahead.

Sally not come home? Leonard's health meter was buzzing. He closed his eyes, practiced a five-second Pythagorean meditation to calm his heart. Then he found himself drawing all his attention together and forming it into a sphere, and then into a perfect ray, and focusing it on the letter—instantly, the world around him blurred and drifted, and in the letter he saw so many things. So many it could have been all the things in the world: his mother on the day she died, fish stewing in Froga's blandreth, pilgrims swarming a shrine, Abulafia juggling letters, a police caravan, a jujuberry bush, Sally forty years from that moment wearing a general's round orange cap and dandling a baby on her knee, her grandson—Leonard's grandson? His granddaughter? He blinked and saw the world as it was just then out of the corner of his eye, and the images were gone.

The island just ahead was tightly encircled by grain smashers and fisher camps, and inhabited too by regular folk, which mystified Leonard and Sally, who knew that in a well-ordered society, islands belong to the Leader, lest food chains engage in battle for them. Most of the foot traffic, most of the carts, and, importantly, most of the fish were heading left, away from the island, into lanes surrounded by a mass of buildings. Leonard and Sally followed a fish cart pulled by a man who seemed to know where he was going, past some houses, a few gardens, some shops and towers.

Look! Sally said.

Women were walking in their direction toting small baskets of fish. The smell was unmistakable. And there, in an open square, fisherpeople! Selling all manner of fish on marble slabs balanced on the beheaded tops of ancient columns. Women crowded the fisherpeople, who shouted the unique attractions of their shad, while starveling cats braided themselves around the women's feet, braving pointed boots in hopes of a fish head or tail. But when the fisherpeople cut off a head it went into a basket behind them, which they promptly covered. The cats remained optimistic, however: What choice had they?

Which made Leonard think of Medusa, the neighborly cat: how she would rejoice if she were here! Medusa, who might never really know Sally …

Signs? Sally prompted. Wonders?

Leonard half nodded.

I'm not sure you're really trying, Sally said.

What do you expect? he half shouted. You'd rather stay in
this crazy place than come home with me. You don't care one jujuberry about me!

Wait! Sally said. What's that? Listen!

Everyone's always telling me to listen! Leonard shouted. I'm tired of listening! Why doesn't anyone ever listen to—

Leonard was no longer shouting because Sally had covered his mouth.

Listen, she said.

Leonard listened. What he heard was his very own voice.

This is what he heard:

I WANT TO SPEAK TO ROGER BACON THROUGH THE BRAZEN HEAD PLEASE.

Followed by a loud voice:
B
RAZEN
H
EAD
? S
OUNDS LIKE IDOLATRY
! I
SHOULD LIKE TO HARM THIS
R
OGER
B
ACON, FOR EXAMPLE WITH A
HEAD CRUSHER!

Sally smacked him hard in the arm.

That's you talking to the Brazen Head! Wait—you spoke with Roger Bacon?

Shh, he said.