The Festival of Bones: Mythworld Book One (23 page)

“Against all tradition, and in defiance of the immense forces of Time itself, R resolved to prevent the inversion, or at the very least, corrupt it. He abandoned Meru, and the acolyte, who took the name ‘I’, assumed his place as teacher. For several years, I taught the anchorites, all the while learning of his true place in the workings of history. Then one day, R returned, bringing with him several dozen monks from a Semitic monastery near the Dead Sea. His plan was to usurp the library and create a corrupted timeline. If he could prevent I’s rule as an Erl-King, and then ensure through inaccuracy of future inversion volumes the maintenance of the status quo, then his culture could be preserved indefinitely.”

“I’m assuming he failed.”

“Indubitably. R had passed on to the monks the techniques of the Meruvians, and they had created a number of false volumes which they brought to the mountain for placement in the library. The anchorites appeared to acquiesce, and opened the doors—but when the monks entered, they fell into empty space, presumably to their deaths.”

“The anchorites interpretation was stronger.”

“Correct. The library was a reality, and R was not replacing it, but merely trying to force an interpretation. And as to the monks—desire and understanding of a technique does not always equal enlightenment—all too literally, in their case.”

“Isn’t that what you were trying to do with me and Galen?’

“Not quite,” said Jude. “With this inversion, it was simply a matter of having as much information as possible, having more than anyone else, and making certain that I controlled fully the information I did have. R was actually trying to force new information to become a reality, and it just doesn’t work that way.”

“What happened to I?”

“He left, and returned to his destiny, as did R. What R couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand was that having been a Meru initiate, I had a better grasp of his destiny than previous Erl-Kings, and nothing R could do would alter the inversion which was to come. Efforts were made, but R expected I to be much more … aggressive in his movements, and by the time he was located, too many elements of the inversion were set in place to be dislodged. Afterwards, R continued to attempt forcing his interpretation on history, but in the end all he managed to do was corrupt a few calendars and seduce a few hapless monks into weak imitations of Meru. His culture collapsed, and Time moved forward.”

“If this is true,” Michael said weakly, “then why don’t we have more traces, better remnants of the inversions in traditional historical libraries? If the world was ruled by one of these so-called ‘Erl-Kings’ during each inversion, then why haven’t they been easier to identify?”

A quiet, dangerous look settled into Jude’s eyes, and he pursed his lips in concentration before answering. “All there is in the world, is contact, and interpretation. Nothing—
nothing
—is ever hidden; thus, if you seek knowledge of something with which you have had no contact, you need merely to look around you, and choose the correct interpretation.”

“You’re saying the Erl Kings have been there all along? Somewhere in history?”

“Yes.”

“Who, Genghis Khan? Attila the Hun? Who could have wielded such influence and not brought down the world around his ears?”

Jude shook his head, chuckling. “Interesting how you automatically assume that such a power would only be used to despoil. I will say this—the books in the library of Meru were not arbitrary additions, or simple assemblages of myth and history. I told you before—every volume, every book on those endless shelves, was an accounting of an inversion period. But, not every inversion has a corresponding book. There are more histories of the world that have been lost than have ever been written, and of those, not all are in Meru.”

Suddenly, a grim realization chilled what little remained of Michael’s blood. “The translations—you never needed me at all, did you? Not if you had even a glimmer of the ability you claim.”

Jude looked at him and crossed his arms. “Not true. I needed you, Michael. I needed you very badly.”

“For the murder.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say—for the murder.”

Michael snorted. “You’ll understand if I don’t take your word on that.”

“I’m quite serious,” Jude demurred. “I’m not one for random or unnecessary motion, and if I wanted the inversion to succeed, then the timely death of an Erl-King was paramount.”

“Why?” Michael said, a sob escaping his throat. “We knew an inversion period was imminent; we knew the time period and culture which would be underlaid; we even knew the precise moment of the conjunction—why do I have to die for you and Galen to observe the inversion?”

“Because,” said Jude, “with your death, the inversion does not become merely interpretation, but true
contact
—and creates the opportunity to make the convergence permanent.”

There it was, thought Michael with a wave of weakness and nausea. There is the arc he’d missed, the huge lynchpin of the world’s puzzle which explained so much. Jude closed his eyes—a sign of respect, perhaps? He knew the import of what he just said to the dying historian, and he knew that Michael knew it, too.

Jude continued, his voice more subdued, as if a pressure had lifted. “The Maya and the Anasazi knew it; the Egyptians—at least the early dynasties—and the Hittites knew it. The Sumerians knew it, forgot it, then discovered it all over again. Westerners never really caught on—especially after someone invented the concept of chivalry—but the Barbarians developed it themselves as a natural result of their culture’s evolution. They formed societies that were similar to that of a monarchy, with the exception that the right of kingship was something to be earned and proven, not just inherited. If a king or warlord became unfit to rule, it was the duty of the thanes—which were similar to knights—of the king to kill him so that fertility and prosperity would return to the land. This became known as the ritual ‘sacrifice of the Sacred King’ enacted by most druidic-based faiths, and sometimes, it was more effective than others, although they hadn’t the faintest idea why.”

“Because those sacrifices were done during inversions.”

“Yes—and when it was done intentionally, with full knowledge of what such an event would opportune …”

“Then whoever initiated it could control the outcome as well,” Michael finished.

“Yes. The histories of the world can flow together like water and oil, touching but never mixing, yet visible to anyone who knows the time and place to look. But, if there is also a blood sacrifice, then the two become one …”

“The world can be changed.”

Jude nodded. “When was the only real question, and whatever else its uses, The Anabasis Machine could tell us that much. And whomever knew enough to take advantage of the situation—which, apparently, was only myself—could do as was done by ancient peoples wiser than we: choose our Gods.”

“Wh-who? You? You wanted to be a God?”

“No,” Jude replied with such a look of openness that Michael had to believe he was telling the truth, “I just want to be the one who plans his day.”

“Sick—sick bastard,” spat Michael. “
Insane 
…”

“It could have been either of you, honestly,” said Jude. “It really didn’t matter to me.”

“Th-then why Galen?”

“Because the manifest destiny of an Erl-King is to rule, and that requires a certain degree of ambition and ruthlessness—and no offense, but in that category you just didn’t pass muster. That’s why I went to the trouble of learning how to write in Wagner-era German.”

Michael coughed roughly, spitting blood. “So none of it was true? None of the Book of Alberich was real?”

“Oh, that was real. I might have faked the Wagner material, but I never considered the possibility that the manuscript could also be a palimpsest. For a few seconds I had to seriously weigh my options: if Alberich’s book, as you discovered it, turned out to be a fake, then I risked losing you, and without you, the efforts to translate the
Edda
would be fruitless. On the other hand, if it differed too greatly from the Eddaic accounts, making both useless as templates for a new
Ring Cycle
, I would risk losing Galen’s participation altogether.

“But you decided to go forward, anyway.”

“Of course—but only after I’d examined the book and realized that it was not a threat, but exactly the kind of surrogate
Nibelungenlied
I needed to maintain a grip on Galen. And once I’d validated it, your interest was never in question.”

“Examine it?” Michael said, confused. “But when … Ah. Ah, I see. The
Gage
—their attack was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Jude nodded. “When I realized what you’d found, I signaled to Bertram out the window to stand ready—I didn’t realize that all of the others would be so in tune—and on cue, they came for the book. It wasn’t difficult to locate—you left it in the Augustine reading room at the National Library—and when I’d examined the new material, I arranged for it to be ‘returned’.

“That was well-staged.”

“Thank you. It just goes to show you that you can’t plan for everything—sometimes, you just have to go with the flow.”

“You know,” said Michael, “you really are effective at this Zen stuff—except for the murdering and forgery and whatnot.”

The slight man smiled. “Thank you again. It’s funny, though—all of my planning was almost derailed by the insistent scribblings of a bitter, power-hungry dwarf. What’s even more unusual is that some of the material in the Wagner archives echoed a great deal of the text in the Book of Alberich—and that was without any corresponding historical baseline. It was all intuitive—sort of like Melvin, without the holes. If his life had gone in a different direction, who’s to say Wagner wouldn’t have ended up in Meru himself?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “So Wagner had to have some grasp of Kairos time, to have written something which was true but unseen.”

“The ultimate expression of Meruvian Zen—the ability to foresee an inversion without an Anabasis Machine, or even the resources of the library. As a matter of fact, one element of the cycle Wagner had discarded was real enough that it nearly overshadowed the importance of everything else I discovered—but it wasn’t in the palimpsest.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered, then sharpened and narrowed again. “The Uppsala Dance … The fourth set of lines, about the treasure … the Nibelung treasure …”

“Well done,” said Jude appreciatively. “Once again, I’d underestimated you.”

“B-but if it’s
real 
…” Multiple lines of thought flickered through Michael’s mind as Jude waited. Suddenly, the scholar looked up, a faint rippling of alarm crossing his pallid features. “The treasure … That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the key …” He whispered plaintively.

“Hmm,” said Jude, “I really did underestimate you. If you’ve pieced together that much all by yourself, we might have made some remarkable progress together—on the other hand, that sort of insight is precisely why you had to be removed from the University once the translation was done. Nevertheless,” he concluded, “Galen is the one who is necessary in the long run, and in this case it’s better to have the Devil who doesn’t know.”

There was a flurry of motion and noise at the front of the building, and the shadows that could be glimpsed moving about beyond the doors moved with less aimlessness now, as more purposeful shadows exchanged places with those within.

“Ah,” said Jude. “Here comes the cavalry.”

He waved at the arriving Emergency Medical Team as they streamed through the doors at the top of the hall, and for a moment Michael’s heart leapt in his chest. Then, Jude called out to them—“Please, please hurry. He’s fading fast—I can barely feel a pulse, and he’s not breathing …”—and Michael knew that it was truly over.

“One last question, if you don’t mind.”

Jude looked at the approaching medics. “Quickly, then.”

“The renegade teacher—the one who tried to subvert the inversion. I’d know his name if you identified him, wouldn’t I? Who was he?”

Jude smiled. “Ever the historian, aren’t you? Yes, you would know him. It was
Romulus
—the founder of Rome.”

The blood drained from Michael’s face. “Then … then the acolyte, the one who was the Erl-King, whose inversion would destroy the Holy Roman Empire …”

Jude winked at him. “Yes. You didn’t think he spent all his time wandering around Galilee talking in parables, do you? Try to see the silver lining, here—you’re in exceptional company.”

“Thanks a lot,” Michael said, his strength fading. Just seconds more …

“You held on longer than I’d thought,” Jude said coolly, kneeling beside him. “Good for you. Bad for you.” Leaning closer, he pressed a firm knuckle to the base of Michael’s throat and rapidly increased the pressure.

Through a darkening haze, Michael could see the EMT’s just reaching the steps at the far side of the stage. Jude saw the glance and shook his head, a soft, almost gentle smile on his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “But they didn’t quite make it.” He leaned in, putting all his weight into the pressure on the scholar’s throat, his back to the concerned faces of the medical team. “The summer is over, and the sun has set. Say goodnight, Siegfried.”

* * *

For a moment, Jude thought he might actually respond—crushed larynx, blood loss and all—but after the medics had been working on Michael for three-quarters of an hour, and parts of the scholar had been intermingled with life-saving implements in roughly equal measure, he decided that no response was forthcoming, and made a subtle exit from the shadows where he watched them work on the lifeless Erl-King.

* * *

It took several hours to tear himself from the amusement of observing a mass of festival officials, medics, policemen, and reporters engage several hundred formerly frantic opera-goers, all of whom claimed to be the valiant Samaritan who had stayed at the side of the dying victim. The honor eventually went to a large Swede whom Jude had actually observed trampling a small girl in his haste to exit the building. Before he left the park, Jude tracked both of them down: he gave the tearful girl (who had not been badly hurt) a chocolate bar, and he ran a wire from the battery of the Swede’s car back into the gas tank. Call it a last hurrah for the world of the Ghost in the Machine.