The Watchtower (30 page)

The needle kept spinning. I sat down on the rock, my legs suddenly wobbly, and looked around. The spot looked as I recalled it: pine forest, rocks, patches of purple gorse, grass, large rock across the field ... but it wasn't
quite
the same. The pine forest was denser, the shadows darker, the purple gorse lusher and more vibrant, the grass taller and greener ...

... and still snickering.

He doesn't love you. You don't love him.

Octavia had said that the Valley of No Return was set with snares for the faithless lover. Once proved unfaithful, you could wander forever directionless in a place where no compass could show you the way. I had come to that place. I had doubted Will's love for me, and now my love for him, and had lost my
direction
. Literally. I looked down at the spinning compass gripped so tightly that my hand throbbed.

No, that wasn't why my hand throbbed. I dropped the compass and stared at my hand. A dark red spot like a blood blister pulsed in the center of my palm. The compass stone. It was vibrating as if it were trying to jump out of my skin. And it hurt like hell.

I unwound the cotton Liberty-print scarf from my neck and tied it around my hand, binding it tight to ease the pain. It helped a little, but I still felt that insistent tug pointing me toward the rock across the reeds.

I wasn't going back in those reeds. No way. No how.

I drank a little water and ate half a chocolate bar. I'd wait here. Octavia would be back for me. I slid down onto the ground, leaning my back against the rock, which felt wonderfully cool. At least the sun wasn't so hot anymore. It must be getting late.

I reached for my watch pendant, and looked at it. The hands were spinning around, the little suns and planets racing through their midnight-blue sky, the tiny tree in the window shedding and growing leaves as in a speeded-up nature film. It made me dizzy to look at it, so I tucked the watch under my shirt. Then I looked up into a sky so hazy that I couldn't tell which direction the sun was coming from. It felt somehow as if the light were coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A lambent, diffuse light that was rather ... pleasant. This spot was actually quite nice. The wind had abated and now blew only gently through the reeds, more a lullaby than a recrimination. The reeds no longer chanted that Will didn't love me and I didn't love him. Instead they gently whispered,
What does it matter? What does it matter?
If not for the annoying ache in my hand, I would have been perfectly comfortable.

I dug in my pack for the first-aid kit and found a small tin of acetaminophen. I swallowed two and then, for good measure, two more. The pain soon faded to a pang, like a half-forgotten heartbreak dulled by the passage of time. As I closed my eyes, I had a momentary glimpse of Will doing just what I was doing, learning against a rock, waiting.
Let him wait,
I thought, and then I fell aslp.

23

The Most Scientific Medicine

Will caught the next coach for Paimpont as it was leaving, and as the sky started to purple, and as the wind began to rise as if a storm were in the distance. The other passenger in the cabin greeted Will in a peculiar French, one that had traces of both German and English accents to it. "Valentine Russwurin the Second, Doctor of Physic
and
Surgery," he introduced himself.

"Will Hughes, poet and stock trader."

Perhaps Russwurin found Will's French unusual as well, for he then asked him where he was from.

"England. Lately of London," Will replied, as the carriage began to roll.

"How serendipitous. That's my hometown as well. Adopted hometown. I am originally born in Schmalkalden, Germany."

"And I am born in Somerset, England."

They shook hands on their geographical frankness. Then they rode on in silence for a while, Will eyeing Russwurin furtively. Even though the man was seated, Will could discern that he was exceptionally tall and broad, clad in a thick, black overcoat despite the August heat. His triangular, reddish orange goatee reminded Will a bit of Dee's, but his eyes weren't anything like Dee's: they were a friendly brown that had first engaged, then twinkled. The large black leather satchel on his seat next to him was likely his doctor's bag. Will sensed Russwurin observing him as well, but no matter how suddenly he would glance back at him, he could never catch his eyes directly upon him.

They rode on through countryside that gradually changed from farms to woods. Will felt a chill from the forest's obscurity, barely illumined by a sliver of just risen moon, despite the reassurance that he was on the final leg of his journey to immortality. He was carrying the golden branch in a slender canvas bag he'd purchased in the Fontainebleau market before boarding the coach, one he'd initially placed on the seat next to him. He put it on his lap now though, caressing the top of the bough within the bag. As if it were a talisman that could ward off unseen dangers.

Russwurin followed Will's hand with his eyes and smiled. "A favorite walking stick? Planning to do some hiking when you arrive?"

"Traveling," Will replied euphemistically, referring to crossing to the Summer Country.

"But I didn't observe you to be carrying any luggage."

"I'm hoping to meet a friend in Paimpont, who will provision me. And you?"

Russwurin's expression suddenly and startlingly grew angry. "I'm a fugitive. Of sorts."

"Really?"

"The nitpickers of London's medical kingdom have chased me from their municipality despite that I am a brilliant doctor, despite the lives I have saved and the suffering I have eased." Russwurin patted his satchel to emphasize his profession. "Nonsense about licenses and diplomas. The truth is that they are mired in the Galenic rut of antiquity, oblivious to the alchemical brilliance of Paracelsus and others, which will be the future of medicine for as far as the eye can see." Russwurin winked at Will. "One example of perhaps particular interest to your generation is the use of mercury to treat the Italian disease."

"The Italian disease?"

"You may be more familiar with it under its most recent name, of growing popularity in London: syphilis. Galen could not cure what he had never heard of. In any event I am off to Audierne in the far west of Brittany, where the great John Dee has offered me the protection of his scientific reputation, to serve the populace to their benefit and not that of clerks who collect fees the way beetles collect dung."

Will kept his unease at the mention of Dee's name to himself. A mere coincidence no doubt, facilitated by the man's far-flung fame, yet ... curiosity got the best of him. "Do you know Sir Dee?"

"We have corresponded through intermediaries. John Dee supports the cause of the most scientific medicine and alchemy possible, whatever the local prejudices or greed opposing them. He is a general in the war for health and truth. I am but a private, if a particularly distinguished one. Happy to serve."

Russwurin was looking directly at Will now, with a glitter in his eyes that Will found unnerving. He glanced away and could suddenly feel the coach slowing down, could hear the driver calling to the horses to halt. They were pulling over on the right side of the road, where the woods were even deeper and thicker than on the other side. A rosy moon was now full over the horizon, showering tinted light as if a fine rain of blood were falling. All coincidence, no doubt, but Will found it downright creepy that they were pulling over unexpectedly and his lone fellow passenger had had recent dealings with, was on a mission certified by, John Dee. The driver, who had silently dismounted, surprised Will and Russwurin at the window facing the woods. He shouted that he was taking a break to relieve himself and moved into the trees with a great crackling of twigs and shunting aside of branches.

Twenty minutes later, the driver had not returned, and Will and Russwurin were both pacing anxiously up and down the road near the carriage. It seemed pointless, Will thought, to suggest going in the woods to look for the driver: he could have gone off in multiple directions, and if someone or something
had
caused him misfortune on his humble errand, there was no reason to think that entity couldn't cause Will and Russwurin misfortune, too. But Will did wonder which of them might be the first to bring up another delicate question: were either of them willing to drive the coach onward now so they could both go forth with their business? Certainly the carriage and its horses could be restored to the owner at some further time and destination, and certainly the driver's troubles might better be a problem for the local authorities by now.

The wind remained brisk, the sky was clouding over, and Will thought he could hear thunder at a considerable distance. He hoped it wasn't the roar of some far-off and unfathomable east!

Just then he heard a rustling from the underbrush as if the driver might be returning. Unsure whether he was going to embrace him or reprimand him for his excursion, Will drifted over into the narrow space between carriage and woods, followed by Russwurin. Will was curious at a minimum to see the expression on this insolent man's face. But then he was shocked by the sight of tiny bolts of light zigzagging about twenty feet away from him down a slight slope. It was like a miniature exhibition of slash. And then it all pinwheeled up the slope toward him, and Will was aghast to see Lightning Hands spill up to the crest of the road, wearing a white cape, white trousers, and white shoes, all emblazoned with gold bolts. Lightning Hands came toward Will to greet him as though he were an old friend, right hand extended, but then Will noted an ivory palm pistol in the hand pointed at him. Then he felt something sharp pierce his left shoulder. As he pitched forward after this numbing blow, he could see, just within the field of his left eye, Russwurin holding a giant needle. At the same moment Lightning Hands, grinning, was approaching him and reaching for his golden branch with his left hand. That was all could remember.

* * *

Will came groggily awake in the underbrush at the edge of the road around dawn the next morning. He felt a dull ache in his left shoulder, but otherwise he seemed none the worse for wear as he rolled over, tried out his limbs in order, and got to his feet. The golden branch was gone but, he reassured himself by patting his secret pants pocket, his wad of francs was still with him. The fiends had only been interested in the branch, which after all could be of massive value simply for being solid gold, let alone for being a portal to immortality.

Will breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't found his bounty in francs, with which he was going to travel to Paimpont. The branch might be gone, he told himself with fierce determination, but Sylvianne had still let the secret out! If he could get to the Paimpont pond at sunset and summon rays with a mirror, or a jewel, or a sword, that might get Morgane's attention just as well. Or even just being in proximity to the pond, day or night, might do the trick. After all, Sylvianne had as much as guaranteed Morgane's solicitousness in the matter. Why, he might as well be in the Summer Country already!

In minutes, Will, waving just a couple of his francs in the air like a banner, flagged down a horse rider, who took him on board for just five francs to the town of Piermont, where he caught the next coach to the walled town of Paimpont. There, he located the pool quickly after his arrival--right after renting a second-floor room in one of the inns that lined the dusty main street--seeing it on his first exploratory walk beyond Paimpont's east wall, and sitting down on a grassy bank to observe it.

The pool was an irregular oval with the stillness of a stone on this windless morning, shimmering green in the sun as if some spirit of the earth lurked within it. Will felt fascinated by it as he gazed and gazed. To his left was the town, across from him the abbey, and to the right deep woods that seemed to grow denser and blacker the more he looked at them. Will swiveled his gaze back to the abbey and fantasized for a moment that he saw Lightning Hands and Dr. Russwurin emerging from the chapel into the sunshine. Their heads were down with shame--they were chastened, reformed--they were bringing him the golden branch in apologetic penitence, testing the water with their feet to see if they could walk across it to him. The Summer Country was near! They took a few steps, ankle deep, knee deep, waist deep, and then the vision of them burned off as if the sun itself had gotten tired of it. He went back to staring at the empty pool, and the empty footpath that circled it. Then he heard the faintest of rustling noises, behind him and to his left, up the bank. He turned around with an irrepressible hope, though the sound was likely from a bird that had fluttered to the ground.

Marguerite stood in a silver dress, offering him a tentative smile. The smile lit Will up as if a lightning bolt in liquid form had been poured into his veins. In two strides he was next to her and embracing her, then pulling himself back to more fully take in her beauty: the deep blue pools of her eyes, and the expressive tenderness with which she gazed at him.

Will kissed Marguerite softly on the lips and whispered, "I thought I would never lay eyes on you again. I have been in such despair as no one might believe. Where have you been?"

Marguerite stepped back from him and glanced away into the pool, and though the water was only a few yards below them, the look in her eyes was further away than any Will had seen there before. Not of this world. Exalted as he felt, it made him tremble.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Marguerite took Will's hand and together they sat down on the bank. "I had to go away," she said, still looking at the water. "But I did it for us, not just for me. I left you signs because in the world I was in I couldn't communicate with you any other way. I hoped you would follow, and I'm thrilled you have. But I cannot say more of where I've gone, or exactly why. Perhaps someday, but not now. Let's just say that I've been in touch with a part of my past I'd lost connection with, that there I realized how incredibly much I love you, and now I may turn my full attention to you." She turned her gaze from the pool to Will, though not before casting one lingering glance upon the water. She kissed him and put her arms around him.