Origin of the Body (12 page)

‘Fair point,’ he said, backing off a bit.  ‘So when are you going to try?  How are you going to do it?’

‘No idea,’ said Anita testily.  ‘Alexander and I need to discuss it before we decide what to do.’  Her words were pointed, emphasis on the word ‘we’.  The discussion was closed for the others and sensing the tension, they swiftly moved on, Cleo sending Anita an apologetic look when she eventually realised this might not have been the optimum moment to reveal such a piece of information.

*****

After lunch they went their separate ways, Alexander and Anita making their way out of Temple Mews, Alexander steering Anita towards the North West of the city, a side she didn’t regularly visit.  The houses petered out giving way to rolling fields and Alexander led them towards the river, clearly taking her to a particular destination, although where that was she neither knew nor cared to ask.

‘I’m sorry you found out about the cylinder like that,’ said Anita, as they traced a meander in the river’s course.

Alexander squeezed her hand, ‘it’s hardly your fault, Cleo just got carried away.’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me if Anderson tells Helena though, given his reaction when we mentioned the Institution.’

‘I know.  I felt that too, but there’s not much we can do about it now and at least it gives us an idea as to where his allegiance lies.’  They walked for a while in contemplative silence before he asked, ‘so how did you find the new place in your mind?’

‘The same way you and I tried.  Cleo and I meditated to the boat and searched high and low for anything Mind related that might link to a new location.  We looked everywhere and found nothing.  We were about to give up when Cleo realised the anchor, which was hanging just out of sight, might be it.  So I reached over the side, touched it, and we were immediately transported.’

‘It seems so obvious now you say it.  Of course, the anchor.’  Alexander inwardly kicked himself.

Anita felt his reaction but didn’t call it out; if they wanted to succeed in what they were doing, they needed to take help from wherever it came.  Obviously they didn’t have all the answers just between the two of them.

They continued in silence for a few moments before Alexander pushed for more.  ‘So what was the place like?’

Anita described the throne room with its throws and tapestries, balcony above and two ornate seats.  She told him about the out of place table with the box on top, but finished by saying, ‘but you’ll see it for yourself soon anyway.’

‘And then what are we going to do?’ he replied, already knowing her answer.

‘Try to open it, of course.  If it is malicious, it’s doing a great job of not killing me so far.  Why would something that’s designed to kill me run away instead of trying to carry out the task it was made to do?’

‘I suppose that’s a good point,’ replied a tense Alexander, ‘and Helena’s story along with your mother’s diaries do give weight to the argument it contains something of use to our cause.’

‘So we have to open it and see what’s inside.  And at least if we die, we’ll die together,’ she said flippantly, giving Alexander a theatrical look.  He rolled his eyes and didn’t reply.  Instead he steered her away from the river and into the woods, heading up a steep bank on an almost hidden path.  They reached the top and burst out into an open field, a beautiful little cottage sitting just beyond the tree line.  Alexander pulled Anita around to look back the way they had come and Anita smiled broadly when she saw why.  They had a panoramic view over the whole of Empire, taking in everything in the town, The Island, The Observatory, and even Austin’s castle on the hill the other side of the valley.

‘Wow,’ she said, turning to Alexander and kissing him squarely on the lips.  ‘The view is amazing, but who are we here to see?  Who owns the house?’

‘We’re not here to see anyone,’ he replied happily, ‘the house is mine.’

Anita raised her eyebrows.  ‘Really?  This is the Spirit Descendant’s residence in Empire?’

‘Yep,’ he nodded, smiling, delighted at her reaction.

‘But it’s so small and unassuming,’ she said, stunned at herself for not wondering before where the Spirit family stayed when in Empire; clearly there wasn’t enough room for more than one or two in the rooms under the Spirit Temple.

‘You expected something grand and pompous like Austin’s castle?’ mocked Alexander.

‘To be honest, I hadn’t even considered that you had a home here, but this is perfect.  It’s beautiful.’

The cottage was immaculate on the outside, six green-grey coloured sash windows around a heavy old wooden front door, four windows on the left and two on the right.  There were beds of flowers all around the house and a path leading from the woods to the front door, with no other visible route by which people could come and go.  They entered through the front door into an impeccable little entrance hall, which led into a corridor with a wooden floor and staircase, complete with pristine stripped carpet runner leading to the top.  The window sills were slate, big and deep enough to sit on, some of them with cushions laid out for exactly this purpose.  The fire places had wood burning stoves sitting on stone hearths, the floors were flagstones covered with beautiful rugs that looked as though they were both decades old and maintained exceptionally to keep them good as new, and the furniture exuded a smart yet casual feel, like it was fine to put your feet up, but only so long as you didn’t leave your shoes lying around when you were done.

The kitchen had been extended with a conservatory on the back, the same grey-green colour used for the windows at the front continuing through to its wooden frame.  An Aga filled a recess where a fireplace had once stood, and a large Belfast sink, set into handsomely crafted cream wooden kitchen units, sat in front of a window out onto the garden beyond.

From what Anita could see, this was equally flawless; raised vegetable beds visible towards the back of the totally enclosed, walled space, a stately but solitary apply tree occupying a large plot in the corner, and bountiful flower beds filling the remaining space.

‘It’s breath-taking,’ said Anita, as Alexander put a kettle on one of the Aga’s rings.

‘I thought you’d like it,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her lightly on the lips.  ‘I’m very glad you do.’

‘How could anyone not like it?’ she said, running her hands across his lower back.

‘Well some people prefer the draughty experience one can only achieve with a castle around them,’ he joked, breaking away to pull a floral tin out of one of the cupboards.  He opened it to reveal the most delicious looking cakes, ‘apple and rhubarb slices,’ he said, as he placed the tin on top of the wooden kitchen table.

‘Did you make these?’ asked Anita, surprise clear in her voice as Alexander pulled out two mugs and a tea pot, taking the now boiling water off the stove.

Alexander smiled.  ‘No.  We used to have a full time cook here when I was younger and the lady who used to cook for us, Mrs Patrick, still lives in Empire, so when I’m here I sometimes ask her to stock the house with food.  She loves it, she’s always trying to probe me for gossip, and her cooking is spectacular.  One day I’ll ask her to make us one of her signature quiches.  Her pastry really is out of this world.’  Anita laughed.

They sat at the table, eating cake washed down with breakfast tea, idly chatting about Alexander’s trip to Kingdom, and only when Anita was onto her third slice did they turn their attention to anything serious.  ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you about something,’ started Alexander.

‘Uh oh, sounds ominous,’ said Anita, more light-heartedly than her suddenly heavy stomach let her feel.

‘When we were in Kingdom, I found a note hidden in my grandfather’s study, in a secret compartment under his desk.  It was addressed to me but I don’t even begin to understand it.  I still can’t believe how lucky I was to find it given how well buried it was.’

‘What did it say?’ Anita asked, her interest heightened at Alexander’s beating about the bush.

‘It was really odd,’ he replied.  ‘It said:

Remember the lessons from Philip & Fred.

Be a good scholar.

Jeffrey will help you unlock the light.

Destroy this note when you have memorised what I have said.

I have faith in you.’

‘Cryptic,’ said Anita, the weight lifting considerably.  ‘Do you understand any of it?’

‘Well I think “the lessons from Philip & Fred” refer to the famous fairy tales written by Oscar and Lewis.  For some reason my grandfather always called them Philip and Fred, no idea why.  His favourite story was about a princess who had been banished by her father, the King, because he went mad when a group of powerful sorcerers arrived at court.  The story was about the princess’ quest to retake her rightful position and rid the land of the evil sorcerers.’

Anita nodded.  ‘I know it well.  Cordelia used to read it to me when I was younger.  But what relevance does that have?’

‘I don’t know.  All I can think is that there are parallels to your life.’  Anita laughed.  ‘No, seriously.  Think about it.  Helena told us you were effectively banished by the Descendants – the powerful sorcerers, and you’re fighting to help send the relic back, which would end the Descendants’ rule.  It fits quite well, and it’s perfectly feasible that Philip could have found out the bloodline was still intact if the rest of the Descendants knew.’

‘But they all thought I was dead.’

‘Apart from Christiana.  Peter told her you were alive, remember.  Maybe Philip got wind Christiana was trying to find you.’

‘So let’s say for arguments sake that’s the right explanation for the first bit, what about the rest of it?’

‘Well, “be a good scholar” was something grandfather always used to say.  He was referring to the fact good scholars question everything, even the things that are taken for granted, that we think we know to be unequivocally true.’

‘But what does that mean in this context?’

‘Who knows?  It could relate to anything.   It could be another hint the bloodline is still intact, where that which should be questioned is the identity of the Descendants.  And of course after reading the diary, I think maybe the third part about Jeffrey helping to “unlock the light” is something to do with your almost father; I don’t know any other Jeffries.’

‘And unlocking the light refers to what exactly?’

‘I don’t know.  The only connection I can make is to the inscriptions around the relic.  The one we think is Spirit related; “look to the light”.’

‘But how could Jeffrey help to illuminate something Spirit related?  He was a body.’

‘I don’t know.  Maybe it has something to do with Clarissa, or Jeffrey’s Institution missions, or the cylinder in your head, or maybe it all relates to the secret we’ve already found out; that you’re the true Body Descendant.’

‘Maybe,’ said Anita, nodding, ‘but the only thing we know for sure we need to unlock at the moment is the cylinder in my head.  We’ve put it off long enough and it’s the only concrete lead we have.’

Alexander looked serious.  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked.  ‘You know what the ramifications might be.’

‘As do you if we don’t do it,’ Anita shot back, angry that Alexander was again asking her this pointless question.  ‘Look, Alexander, I know you’re trying to be nice, but you know as well as I do we have to open the cylinder.  If someone wanted to kill me there are far more efficient ways of doing it than planting a cylinder in my head that I may or may not ever open, and it’s counterintuitive for something that wants to kill me to be so difficult to find.’

Alexander relented, not wanting to fight at a moment like this.  ‘I know, you’re right,’ he said.  ‘So when are we going to meditate?’

‘No time like the present,’ said Anita, getting up and taking Alexander’s hand so he would follow her.  She pulled him into the sitting room, pushed the ottoman out of the way, and sat down cross legged on an opulent rug, noting with approval that she sank in a little as she landed.  Alexander followed her lead without uttering a word, sitting down and closing his eyes, waiting for her to direct their energy.

Anita pushed them to the boat in the first instance, Alexander impressed they no longer had to navigate to her centre first, and Anita quickly made for the anchor, transporting them to the throne room with only the lightest of touches against the unforgiving metal.

They arrived in the throne room and Alexander looked around, trying to notice and record everything in his new surroundings.  ‘Do you know where we are?’ asked Anita, who was already making for the small wooden box in between the thrones.

‘No,’ he replied slowly, forcing himself to look properly at every detail.  ‘It feels almost familiar, but I have no idea where we are.’

Anita lifted the box from the table then turned back to meet Alexander at the bottom of the steps.  She held her breath as she opened it, feeling deep relief as she displayed its contents and found the cylinder exactly as she had left it, still nestled on a bed of hay.

‘So how do we open it?’ asked Anita, impatiently.

Alexander eyed the cylinder suspiciously, trying with all his energy to detect anything about it that might indicate sinister intentions.  ‘Normally you just need to touch it and direct your energy towards it, willing it to open.  At that point, depending on what’s inside, an image will appear, or we may be transported somewhere else and shown a memory, or we’ll hear a voice telling us something, or it could contain a physical note.  There’s no set way for it to reveal its message, we’ll just have to wait and see.’