The Basingstoke Chronicles (15 page)

They had grown close very quickly, and it was not difficult to see why. The native girl,
an only child raised by a hardy widower, was headstrong, even brazen, until you knew her well.
Her often thorny nature and sharp outspokenness concealed kindness and sweet nature that, in
Rodrigo's case, was like pollen to a bee. The two were soon inseparable, as the Cuban himself
was not without his prickly charms.

For my part, though I inevitably saw less of Rodrigo, their relationship provoked an
ambivalence that was nothing to do with our own friendship and everything to do with our roles
as time-travelers. The main thing, I told myself, was that he was happy. The nagging truth was
that when the time came to leave Apterona, he would be reluctant. As I would later determine,
there are no mere sips of paradise.

"Well, well, here he is, right as acid rain," said Rodrigo, playfully sweeping K'achita off
her feet and setting her down at the foot of my bed. I fancied I heard his spine creak; she was
heavier than the poor Cuban let on. "How do you feel, Baz?"

"Groggy," I replied. "Tell me, where am I and how long was I out?"

K'achita answered, "Three days, Baz. The poison worked faster than we imagined. If
Puma had not brought you here right away, you would now be on your last voyage."

Missing time was quickly becoming my nasty habit. I recalled the entire nighttime
expedition and its many revelations. Was K'achita's allusion to a voyage coincidental, just a
figure of speech, or did she know where I had been that night? Did she have a part in the planned
exodus. If so, had she told Rodrigo?

Too many assumptions all at once. I lay down again to ride out the dizziness, and just
listened.

"She's right," said Rodrigo, now speaking in English. "As near as I can gather from their
description, you were punctured by the tail of some huge insect, very much like a scorpion. Puma
knew to bring you straight here, and here's where you've been looked after by no less than five of
us. Yes, you're more popular now than you ever were back home in England, which isn't hard,
but seriously, you've been in good hands."

"Second to none," agreed K'achita, making me smile with her grasp of our future
dialect.

I quickly totted up the numbers in my head. "Rodrigo and K'achita makes two; likely
Pacal and Puma--four. Who else have I to thank?"

"Well, that's the best part," Rodrigo replied. "You won't believe it, but you've been
attended night and day by none other than the Queen herself!"

"Chasca Quilla?"

"Yes. You're outside the palace right now. Puma brought you here because the venom
from that sting is extremely rare and powerful. By all accounts the scorpions haven't been seen
this far west in a long, long time. The cure for their poison just isn't needed any more. Hence you
were brought to the Queen, who seems to be a dab hand in the kitchen, despite the fact that she's
blind."

"Watch your mouth!" scolded K'achita. "The Queen is above you and commands your
respect. Remember what I said. Insults can never be delivered to those higher in station than
you."

Better stay away from the British Parliament then.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," replied Rodrigo, knowing how much she loved to hear him call
her that. "Now be a good girl and fetch Puma, will you. Baz and I want to talk for a minute."

She looked at us curiously. Ruffling Rodrigo's hair, a gesture she knew he hated, she
laughed when he failed to grab her shawl as she darted out of the tent. The evening darkened
further as we spoke alone.

"All right, where were you that night?" he started.

I laid the entire expedition before him, including my far-reaching theories concerning the
fleet and its possible role in history. Rodrigo retrieved a familiar item from behind his back--my
silver whisky flask. There was no liquor in it, but Pacal's fruit cocktail tasted divine.

"Things are getting serious on Apterona then," he said.

"That's for sure."

"How long do you think we've got?"

"There's no telling. The Yaku villagers seem harmless enough, but I wonder how many
of them would put a spear to our throats if the good Kamachej ordered it. Not to mention the two
other villages to the north. If Puma thinks he's got enough manpower to sail a fleet that size, there
could be a full-scale civil war when the news finally breaks."

"I agree," said the Cuban. "In essence, we're talking loyalty versus treason, religious
doctrine versus free will, a son defying his father. I don't want to be around when that breaks,
especially since Puma and his exodus might very well be crushed. Just one thing. All those
theories you mention about the birth of future civilizations. You do know what mythologists refer
to when they speak of an ancient fount of knowledge, don't you?"

"Not without the fantasy," I replied.

His eyes widened. "Fantasy or not, we're here, over nine thousand years ago. The
thought did cross my mind, but it's only just become likely."

I knew exactly to what he was referring, but I had thought of it before and still remained
extremely skeptical.

"Atlantis?" I whispered.

"Atlantis."

One side of my rib-cage ticked; the other, where I had been wounded, throbbed. The
entrance to my tent darkened as I looked up. Five figures now stood inside: K'achita, Puma
Pawq'ar, Pacal Votan and two whom I did not immediately recognize. Puma introduced them as
the Kamachej and his Queen! All had died millennia before I was born, all now watched on as I
took a swig from my flask.

Right! Where do we go from here?

"Thank you all for your kindness," I said.

The Queen was dainty, perfectly curved. Her grey cloak covered her left side. She was
only about five feet tall yet stood proudly. Chasca Quilla may have been blind but as I spoke, she
turned her strangely all-seeing eyes toward me. My insides turned to jelly.

"Leave us," ordered the Kamachej. His entourage bowed and left. He nodded to Rodrigo
as well, which left
me
alone with the royal couple. My side still throbbed, but I did not
feel uncomfortable in their presence.

Vichama Supay was about fifty-five, wiry as though his bones would bend, and cursed
with clownish features. His round face needed only to be daubed white and green and he would
have made a fortune entertaining kids at fairs and parties. I was less than intimidated. He was
utterly oblivious to the irony, of course. I suppose a blind wife and a high throne can make
Dionysus of even the ugliest of rulers.

"You are fully recovered, my friend?" he said.

"More or less. I am told the queen saved my life, first with her medicine, and then with
her care. How may I repay this kindness?"

She tilted her head toward her husband, as if to remind him of something they had shared
earlier.

"I am glad that you ask," he said. "She wishes you to accompany her when you are able.
Think of it as a request with a caveat. She is a woman, after all, and women command us in ways
we men are not meant to understand."

Chasca Quilla smiled, something I never expected to see on her glacial complexion. She
was not the prettiest woman I had ever encountered, yet what of it? Often the most intoxicating
beauty is subtle, offbeat. I was drawn to her.

"Accompany you where, your Majesty?"

"Oh, I think you will approve when you see," she answered. Her voice was hoarse.

Great! The entire island speaks in riddles.

"It will likely be a day or two," said Vichama Supay. "She is not well. The change of
season always affects her voice. Three years ago, she could not speak at all for a time. Not
everyone thought that unfortunate, let me tell you. She wishes your journey to be a surprise, and
indeed it will be. Know only that your encounter with the great bear has intrigued us all, and that
my wife, being a student of history, has longed to speak with you.

"And now I must apologize for the ordeal you suffered in our palace, and for denying
you the shelter of its walls these past few days. Only those with royal affiliation are permitted to
live inside the palace, my family and the royal guard. Alas, there are precedents that forbid any
exception to this rule, and to disobey them would arouse a great deal of resentment among the
already troubled people of our Land."

The man's frank, congenial nature took me aback. His booming words across the great
chamber had unnerved me all those months before. Nothing in his voice now suggested he was
remotely that same person. Expecting Torquemada, had I instead found a truly benevolent
Kamachej.

"I accept her Majesty's invitation and look forward to surprising her as well."

The Kamachej laughed, and his wife's eyebrow twitched with curiosity. I felt satisfied I
had made a decent impression.

"Goodbye, then," he said, turning to leave, "and rest well, for you will need it."

"Farewell," whispered Chasca Quilla.

I bade them both a pleasant evening and then sighed, either side of a sip of fruit juice,
before greeting the next audience.

Two days passed before the queen and I regained full health. It is always surprising to
me how often one's recovery from a malady precipitates a hyper-activity of that impaired
function. Take me for instance, cooped up in little more than a wigwam for the better part of five
days, almost exclusively horizontal. I had not moved but a few paces during that time. On the
morning of our hike, however, my legs were energetic as piston shanks. I felt fully equipped to
conquer Apterona.

We set off mid-morning. Chasca Quilla was led by a short, fierce-looking guard. Her
hand rested on his shoulder, as he would be her eyes and caution for the journey. Ahead of them
walked her son, Puma Pawq'ar, alongside that ubiquitous companion of ours, Pacal Votan.
Rodrigo and K'achita brought up the rear. They rarely kept in file, ever waltzing off on a whim,
as lovers are wont to do.

Thus it remained for me to keep Her Majesty company, something I'm quite sure she
planned beforehand, judging by her eagerness to talk. I've mentioned that one's recovery from an
ailment can hail surprising results. Chasca Quilla re-defined the notion. Any trace of her sore
throat had vanished. How she talked! Not since our first meeting with Pacal had I witnessed such
an eager conversationalist, the difference being that I was now qualified to reply.

Her manner was light and eloquent. Beneath the friendliness, however, I sensed tact and
sly inquisitiveness. Little verbal tricks, like her interrupting my answers the moment I reached the
salient point, or her cleverly answering each of my queries with another question for me, made
me reticent after a while.

"Your Majesty, do you know Pacal Votan well? Word is that his father--"

"No, not much farther now. The air feels clear today, Lord Henry Basingstoke. You may
be able to see the western peaks."

"What does lie to the west, behind the mist?" I asked.

"How inquisitive you are, my friend. The west? That is a long journey from here. Didn't
you say you were from the east--from across the sea?"

The conversation eventually turned to Darkly, after whom I had more than once enquired
without success. Yes, Chasca Quilla was playing the rapport at her very own tempo.

"You say the great bear saved your life. Why do you think he did that?" she said.

"Perhaps I should be asking you," I replied. "The others seem only to know of the bears
through myths and legends. Apparently, the ancients befriended them before the time of the first
Kamachej, before all beasts were decreed servile. From what I can gather, kinship between man
and bear was seen as blasphemy from then on. Have I understood correctly?"

"That depends on what you mean by blasphemy."

I fumbled for a way to translate 'to speak impiously, in profane contravention of a
religious doctrine,' but soon gave up. "To show disrespect to the gods?"

"In that case, yes and no. You are aware that not everyone in this land respects our
religion. Such was also the case when the laws were first introduced. Of course, the records
reveal only the smooth aspects of this change. I believe those myths and legends you refer to
contain as much truth as our written histories, for the former are tainted only by exaggeration,
and not subversion. My husband is an honorable man, Lord Henry Basingstoke, but he descends
from a lineage that no one can rightly fathom. We know nothing of those Kamachej of old that
they did not want us to know. Therefore, how are we to say what the gods themselves would
object to?"

This brave speech surprised me. Not in what she revealed, as I had surmised as much
beforehand, but that she had revealed it at all. I suspected if her husband ever found out, the
consequences might not be so honorable. After all, the constant ripening of power and corruption
over a hundred generations is unlikely to simply vanish from one's family tree, when there is no
challenge to that power. The Queen had risked a great deal in sharing her opinion with me.

My ambivalence toward her grew. Was all this a crafty ploy to test my loyalty? Or was
she perpetuating a suspicion that I had held for some time in Yaku, that here, in this idyllic land,
the only one completely loyal to the King was the King himself.

Chasca Quilla tilted her head toward me, awaiting my response. I decided to make her
wait for a moment as I counted the number of palace guards accompanying us. Eleven.

"Agreed," I said finally. "If only we could visit history, what truths we could
uncover."

Her face tightened into that brittle expression I had perceived when I first saw her in the
garden of red leaves and blue flowers. Gripping the pendant in my pocket, I looked first to the
rising peaks ahead and then to Pacal, a man strolling through borrowed time.

Was the debt he owed one he was bound to pay, or was his escape in the time machine a
loophole of some kind, through which I might help him to negate death, his great creditor? By
this rationale, was Pacal Votan the guarantor of Atlantis, the missing piece of its extinction,
which fate had intrigued me to find?