Journey Into the Flame (24 page)

“Yes,” Logan acknowledged, trying to figure out why Mr. Rampart was calling.

“It seems you made quite an impression on Mr. Quinn,” Mr. Rampart continued. “He told me that he did not want anyone but you to work on his painting and that I was to resecure your services immediately, as he was pushing back the deadline indefinitely. He urged me to communicate that fact to you straightaway. It appears that I was a bit hasty in my dismissal. I hope you will finish your work upon your return, whenever that might be.”

“Yes, of course,” Logan said, happily surprised. He walked away from the noisy group. “Thank you, Mr. Rampart. I look forward to getting it all done when I return to New Chicago. And please give my thanks to Mr. Quinn.” Logan hung up and put his PCD away.
Well, that was a twist of fate,
he thought. He looked back over at the painting of Saint Sebastian, the patron saint of suffering, and shook his head. Why had Mr. Quinn taken such an interest in him? Certainly, there were many other artists who could finish the restoration.

The teacher now raised a green flag, and the children followed her out of the hall. Logan could hear the echo of their voices as they made their way out. He walked back over to the Michelangelo.
Was the little girl correct?
Logan thought.
Are the angels really telling God what to do? Maybe. Maybe they represent the conflicting voices in our own minds. Could that be the secret Sebastian referred to?

“Adam looks like he’s living a pretty good life,” a familiar gruff voice said. The same tall, blond man who had snuck up on Logan near the Saint Sebastian painting was standing next to him again.

“He looks a little lazy, if you ask me,” Logan said. He was in a friendlier mood after receiving the good news from Mr. Rampart. “All
those faces represent the voices in our brains, you know. Some voices urging us to move forward, others telling us to go back. It’s a wonderful allegory for our lives.”

“You got all that from this painting?” the man asked. “You sound like one of those Satraya supporters. The world could use fewer of them.”

“And you sound like one of those Sentinel Coterie members,” Logan fired back, wondering if Fenquist was having one of his men follow him. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this stranger. He looked around for a security guard, but the hall was empty. The nearest exit was behind him, on the other side of the large exhibit hall, and the last of the children in the school group were leaving. Logan looked back at the man and noticed that one of his hands was concealed inside a pocket of his black leather jacket, which seemed out of place on a hot summer day.

“You’re Logan Ford,” the stranger said.

Logan didn’t answer. He had to figure out how to get out of there. Maybe it was time to start running. “Bit hot for a jacket, isn’t it?” Logan said, stalling for time.

The man looked back at the painting and started to pull something out of his jacket pocket. Logan grew tenser. “I’m cold-blooded,” he said, as he pulled out a small pill box. He took some kind of green tablet from it and put it into his mouth. “Would you like one?” He showed Logan the box filled with little green tablets. “I’m told these things can save your life.”

“There you are!” a voice suddenly called out. Logan turned and saw, with great relief, that Valerie was entering the hall with two agents behind her. “You can’t just leave like that and not tell us where you’re going!”

Logan quickly walked over to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s been an interesting day,” Logan answered. “How did you find me?”

“We tracked your PCD and your badge,” she said. “Don’t leave like that again. You had me worried.”

He looked down at his shirt and noticed he was still wearing the WCF badge he had received earlier. “Look behind me,” he said, lowering his voice. “I think that man is following me.”

Valerie looked over Logan’s shoulder. “What man?” she asked.

Logan turned around. The stranger had disappeared.

26

Everything you wish to know lies in nature. Ask the tree its purpose, and you will realize your own.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

NEW CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, 2:30 P.M. LOCAL TIME,

3 DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM DAY

Standing in front of the bookshelf, Mr. Perrot counted the origami figures; there were ten, one short of the number of notes Camden had written. Mr. Perrot picked up the first figure, folded in the shape of a dog, and, with great care, began to unfold it.

“Forgive me, my friend,” he whispered. “I most certainly will not be able to put these back as I found them.”

He took a letter opener from the desk and used it delicately to pry open the many intricate folds. Soon he began to see words and sentences written on the paper. He tempered his excitement and didn’t rush; the paper was fragile and could easily rip. After several minutes of careful work, the origami dog was gone, and a message was revealed on the creased sheet of paper in its place.

Both of your questions can be answered simultaneously by my simply saying: I am a man just like you. Perhaps another question you might like to ask is, What do you know that I do not yet know? If that is your next query, then my answer would be: I know that a greater mind lives in ALL the peoples of the world. I was taught this philosophy at a very early age and have spent every day of my life dedicated to revealing this truth. It is what you are just beginning to understand. This is your childhood, so to speak. This understanding is what
The Chronicles of Satraya
wish for the world and all who live upon it. —YM

Mr. Perrot’s heart raced. He had evidently found Baté’s response to one of the notes Camden had left in the old study. He carefully gathered the remaining nine origami figures and took them back to the coffee table where Camden’s notes to Baté lay. There he meticulously unfolded each animal figure: a horse, a rabbit, a mouse, a lion, a panda, an owl, a rhinoceros, an elephant, and finally a giraffe. Camden had recorded all of Baté’s responses.

The horse note:

Things will get worse, my friend, before the new sun rises. But do not lose hope. As it is now known, the original Council will break. But the new Council that emerges will benefit from copies of the
Chronicles
having already been spread far and wide. Fendral’s desire cannot take hold at the moment. But stay aware. He is a diligent man, and he is not alone in wanting to enact his plan. —SAPS

The rabbit note:

No, I am not the author. There is no single author. The books represent the combined experiences and wisdom of many like me who through the ages attained a deeper understanding of life and are waiting for all to awaken. Throughout history, other great books have been given so that people’s thoughts might evolve.
The Chronicles of Satraya
were not the first, nor will they be the last. But they are to this point the greatest culmination of all prior efforts. Their moment is now, and they will occupy an important segment of human history. —DARGEN

The mouse note:

As it has always been, men and women must find their own way. Their free will must never be impeded. To do otherwise would only prolong their journey. This, in many ways, is the greatest teaching of all. I am permitted, however, to answer your questions. I am permitted to give you knowledge that will help you to direct your own power and your gift of choice. Remember the old adage: When a pupil is ready, a teacher will appear. —I

The lion note:

Remember, any flame can be used by anyone to train the mind to travel to many places. But in order to come to my study, you must use this particular Manas Mantr candle. It has a special link to me and the study. One day, you will be able to arrive without using it. Your mind will be trained sufficiently that this place will be readily accessible to you. However, if the Manas Mantr candle were to burn down before you complete your training, then I dare say you will not be able to visit here until another blessed candle is given to you. But I am certain you will use the tool diligently and successfully as I did long ago. There are other Manas Mantr candles in the world, and none of them was forged or gifted lightly. —OPND

The panda note:

Your wisdom is evident. Symbols are very much like the flame. They are also tools. They hold keys that will help the mind evolve. The secret symbols are gate-ways, slipstreams, to deeper levels of consciousness. When you have mastered all of them, you, too, will join those who have already traveled to that indescribable destination. —LOUDSH

The owl note:

The ancients have hidden many things. Some are hidden in plain sight; others are rooted in deeper mysteries. There is a great saying: For those who have the eyes to see, let them see. Maybe the key is not to look harder but to look softer. —LILW

The rhinoceros note:

I never met a man or a woman with the wisdom to administer the lessons of life to everyone. Man’s greatest evolution is to be guided by the precepts of his own soul. The governments of your world will be restored soon enough, but let the great Satraya Council always remind people of the lessons of the
Chronicles.
For if the knowledge contained in the
Chronicles
is applied, it will keep the leaders from tainting the music of humanity. But be careful, my friend. For man’s desire for power is certainly a messy business. —AWY

The elephant note:

So be it. —TONIP

The giraffe note:

You can never “do” anything wrong. “Doing” always leads to wisdom. Riddles run deep. —HET

As Mr. Perrot read each response, he attempted to pair it with one of Camden’s original questions. Soon he was able to put all twenty-one notes in the order he guessed they had been written. He sat back and looked at them spread out on the table in front of him. Eleven notes from Camden but only ten answers from Baté. The note from Camden that fell out of
The Chronicles
at the auction didn’t have a corresponding answer from Baté. Mr. Perrot picked it up. It was different from the other notes in that it had a valedictory tone and a date, November 19, 2037, the day before he, Camden, and Cassandra left Washington for good.

More questions had arisen in Mr. Perrot’s mind. Where was the missing response? Who was Baté, and was he still alive? What were Deya’s gift and her instructions?

He sighed. “One thing is clear to me, my friend,” he whispered.
“Simon and Andrea are gathering the four original copies of the
Chronicles
because they have uncovered the existence of the secret symbols. They want the symbol of immortality.”

As he sat forward on the couch, he examined Baté’s responses again. Each one ended in a strange, seemingly nonsensical word.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Jogi asked, entering the study and taking a seat across from Mr. Perrot. He had brought a few snacks from the kitchen.

“Yes,” Mr. Perrot replied, “and the circumstances are much more urgent than I suspected.”

“Is this one of the letters you were searching for?” Jogi picked up a sheet of paper and perused it.

“Yes, and they all end with a different strange word.”

“That is interesting.” Jogi picked up one of the other notes, replaced it, and then picked up another. “The words you’re talking about seem to have all been written with the same pen. I would guess that would mean they were probably all written at the same time.” He pointed, encouraging Mr. Perrot to take a closer look. “See how the main portions of the notes are written in different shades of blue ink and how the pen strokes vary from note to note, some thicker and others thinner? But look at the shades and the strokes of these final words; they’re all the same. In addition to being written with the same pen, they might have also been written at the same time.”

“Jogi, you’re a genius!” Mr. Perrot exclaimed, as he rose and grabbed a pencil and paper from Camden’s desk. He copied down each word in order: “YM SAPS DARGEN I OPND LOUDSH LILW AWY TONIP HET.”

“What language is that?” Jogi asked.

“Riddles do indeed run deep,” Mr. Perrot replied, referring to one of Baté’s notes. “What are you telling us, Camden?”

The clock in the corner chimed.

“How about taking a break?” Jogi suggested. He handed Mr. Perrot a box of crackers, and they both munched as they continued to ponder
the strange words they had uncovered. Jogi picked up one of the childhood paintings that Mr. Perrot had taken from a box. “Looks like someone was still learning to spell,” he said with a grin.

Mr. Perrot took the painting of a sailboat from Jogi. “Yes, Logan must have been very young at the time,” He read the message painted in red and blue above the boat: “I loev yuo mum and dad.”

Suddenly, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it, he dropped the box of crackers. “You have simply jumbled the letters, haven’t you, Camden?” he blurted out. “Let the children point the way,” he added, as he rearranged the letters in their proper order. He sat back after some minutes and looked at what he’d come up with: “MY PASS GARDEN I POND SHOULD WILL WAY POINT THE.”

“That part is solved,” he observed, showing his work to Jogi. “But the words now need to be placed in the proper order.”

Jogi grabbed another piece of paper from Camden’s desk and assisted Mr. Perrot in rearranging the words. They tried a multitude of sentences, all of them nonsensical. Then they found the one that read: “MY GARDEN POND WILL POINT THE WAY SHOULD I PASS.”

“Point the way to what?” Jogi asked.

Mr. Perrot smiled. “To an original set of the
Chronicles
. Deya often spoke of her garden pond back home in India. I believe these are the instructions she gave Camden.” He turned to Jogi. “You know how to deal with my daughter in tense situations, don’t you? Because she might be a bit annoyed when she hears that you and I are going to India.”