Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Chapter 13
An hour has already passed since Wilbur was ushered into a secluded spot by Allysum. Not a word was spoken; just the way he looked at Wilbur sent the message that he wasn't supposed to move until he was called on. He found himself standing in the middle of a garden. Though enclosed on all sides by high walls, the roof was open to the sky.
The full moon is already at its zenith, bathing the garden in cool ambient light. And there seems to be such a variety of flowers blooming around him. Firefly lights blink in and out of existence like falling snow.
"My boy, I hope my Majordomo didn' put you off." The emperor smiles as he joins him. It is all disarming, seemingly lopsided when Wilbur thinks about the station of the person before him. He was broad-shouldered trimmed beard. The sheer size of him, up close, put Wilbur on edge. He had to be a giant.
"Not at all, your Imperial Highness." He could feel his heart catching in his throat. He was in front of an emperor for crying out loud! When else would he ever get the chance to speak to royalty?
"Don't blow this Wil!" his inner voice cheers him on.
"No need for the formalities. Wilson, wasn't it? You can call me, Soren." He puts his hand out to shake.
"Yes…Your Highness." The emperor sighs as Wilbur bows instead.
"So what do you think so far?"
"Of what?"
"My land, of course! I heard from Valerian that you are…" Soren rubs his bearded chin. "Not from around here."
"Yes…is Cereus gonna get in trouble? I swear it wasn't his fault!"
"It's alright!" He laughs. "Cereus is a special case. I trust his judgment in such things."
"Um…if you don't mind me asking, Your Highness," he says the last part in a rush, "why is it that you're the only one around here that actually talks normal?"
"Hahaha! Oh my boy! I'm actually talking in the ancient way. Around here, it'll be you who's talking strangely."
Wilbur waits for the emperor's laughter to die down. Then awkward silence as the giant of a man looks up into the sky.
"If you have to know, this is Cereus's favorite spot," Soren says to break the silence.
"Yes…"
Soren looks at him intently then smiles again. It must have been that smile that got him into office. If, by chance, emperor's are elected in this era.
The door suddenly opens, and Cereus marches in. He looks weary.
"Chewed out?" Soren asks.
"Verily, Your Highness. Valerian loves to create long lists of my folly." He rubs his forehead. "Any more and my head would shatter from the immensity of it all."
"I've asked you time and time again not to call me that, Cereus."
"Well," Cereus smiles, "it wouldn't suit your status if a lowly agent like myself were to go around calling you Soren now." The emperor laughs, though Wilbur truly doesn't get the joke.
Cereus's attention focuses to something past Wilbur. He walks to the far corner and admires some scraggly cacti. "It's blossoming quite well," he notes of the gossamer white petals and the long filaments which end in an array of gold.
"It matches his eyes," Wilbur thinks.
"Your name sake, isn't it?" Soren plays with the petals in his hands. "The name suits you quite well. Just like a cactus."
"You could say that again," Wilbur whispers, to which Soren laughs aloud once more.
"Come, young Wilson! You must be exhausted from your long trip. You will be boarding with Cereus for a time."
"Oh, do I have to?"
"Come now! Cereus is not all that bad." Soren looks at Cereus. "Well, maybe just a little surly..."
"Don't give him any ideas, Your Highness." He turns to Wilbur. "Let's go. It's getting late... and there's someone I want you to meet."
"Brother!" The resemblance is striking to say the least. The same silver hair shining softly in the dim light of Cereus's palace apartment; the same golden eyes.
"Gentian." Cereus embraces the small boy as he leapt into his arms. "How have you been?"
The effect was instantaneous. To Wilbur's surprise, Cereus's perpetual scowl softens. Had he died and gone to hell where this was his eternal punishment?
"I've missed you, brother!" Then he sees Wilbur. "Who's this?"
And that wasn't without some malice. The boy seems to hug Cereus a little tighter, rubbing their cheeks together slightly.
"This is our guest. His name is Wilson. Say 'hi' to the nice man." He sets him down and the child just barely came up to his chest.
"Hi there. How old are you, little guy?" Wilbur asks in a baby voice.
Gentian looks up at him with doggy eyes, and then places his hands on his hips. "God, I hate when these people use the baby voice. What am I? Seven?"
Wilbur was speechless. Valerian, on the other hand, was chuckling softly.
"And Valerian. How old are you? Playing tricks like this," Gentian says.
"Couldn't help it, Gent."
Gentian sighs. "I' sorry about all that. My brother here made me an offer I couldn' resist."
Money exchanges hands though the two try their hardest not to notice what they are doing. It's all done quickly though, with what Wilbur suspects is practiced efficiency.
"So, Wilson. Where'd you come along?" Gentian asks.
What? "Um…not from around here…I think."
"Somewhere from the twenty-first century then. Polyester blend clothing gave you 'way. Pro'ly pre-2050 when thems starte' using galliun fibe'."
Wilbur looks to Cereus, whose face was a mask. But the slight twitch in his cheek tells something else. Panic maybe. Smart little runt, isn't he?
"So little brother. What've you been up to since I was last here?"
"D'ya wanna see?" Though it isn't really a question.
His short legs are faster than they look. Was he a midget? Nothing seems out of proportion. Gentian leads them to a set of wooden doors that open into a large open space. Well, not quite open. Actually, it is filled with machines of all types.
"Woah!"
Wilbur's surprise is justified in that this could even rival Cornelius's lab. Blinking lights. Steel pipes. Electricity that dances inside glass tubes. Weird, otherworldly sounds. As his father had said, no lab was truly a lab without the sounds…no matter how pointless they were.
"A new energy source! A hint. It definitely copies what we garden variety folk use to power ourselves."
"So sunlight. But how's the efficiency on this…" Cereus rambles on a few questions.
Wilbur couldn't grasp the rest. His father may have been able to. He would have been at home here. Correction. Cornelius would have been in heaven. He and Gentian would probably get along very nicely.
And the thoughts of his father made his eyes itch. Itch, mind you. Wilbur Robinson does not cry. As a boy creature, he has no tear glands.
"Cereus. We're wasting too much time. We have to find my father."
Gentian stops in mid-sentence. "Brother. What's he talking about?"
"Nothing you have to get into, Gent."
"Brother. I want in." His eyes blaze. Hungry.
"The answer is no."
"Why! Is it because I' small? Haven' I showed I can do it?"
"Gentian, I know you're a good agent. But we need you in operations. Not in the field."
"But brother!"
Cereus knelt to one knee, placing himself at eye level. "Gentian. I say 'no.'"
Wilbur could almost feel the crushing disappointment. How close he is to tears. How he looks away from his brother to hide his sadness.
Cereus sighs. "To tell you the truth…" He softly turns his chin so the boy looks directly at him. "I had planned to let you go point on the next mission."
"Really? Then what changed your mind? My strategies are flawless. I follow orders to the letter. I have recommendations up to me neck. Please tell me what I can do. What I can change! I'll do anything you want me to do."
"This mission is special. Classified information that I just can't get into with you. But once this is over…" Cereus smiles.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Gentian wipes at his eyes. "But, you'll let me help, won't you? Planning, I mean."
"Of course! What would I do without my strategos by my side?" He ruffles his hair.
Wilbur interrupts. "I know this is supposed to be a sweet moment right now but, my dad…"
Cereus nods. There is the hardness in his eyes again which spread downward to the rest of his body. His hands seem to be strangling an invisible foe. The air around him darkens.
"Yeah. We have work to do."
It was dark. Not surprising since the building is technically below the ground. No windows on the walls. No accoutrements hanging to make it somewhat homey. This was depressing, Snake decided. Too clinical. Too white and clean.
"If I had the time," she thinks to herself," I'd put some family pics up. Maybe a deer head. Some curtains. I'll even paint a window with a nice view of the Southern Riviera."
"Do you really think we can trust him?" asks the man who was walking by her side.
"Can we truly trust anyone, Bends?" Snake asks in return.
"How philosophical."
They turn a corner into a closed door.
"If you wan' an answer, all I can say is that he has his own agendas. As long as our agendas are parallel, all's roses."
"I don' like it." His eyes glow a pale crimson in the dark.
The man is too volatile. Can't keep his emotions in check, she thinks.
"I didn' ask if it meshed with your sensibilities."
"Don' come cryin' to me when he stabs you in the back," Bends throws up his hands in disgust.
"I'll try to keep that in mind."
"And how about the Mask fellow? How far can we trust him?"
Snake places her palm on the lock, which turns red to green as the door opens with a rush of cold air. Without hesitation, she says, "Him, I don't trust."
Cornelius Robinson and Mask are the only two in the room. They sit in silence, separated by the table between them. Mask is studying Cornelius intently…or that's what Snake thought. It's really hard to know what someone is thinking when you can't see their face.
"Comfortable?"
Both don't answer.
"Like one big happy family," she says sarcastically.
To her, Cornelius looks deathly ill in the light. Maybe he's having second thoughts. "I don't need your pleasantries. Let's get this done as soon as possible. I want to go home."
"Betrayal leaving a bitter taste in your mouth?"
He looks away, the pain on his face tangible. She hadn't wanted to hurt him but he had to know: "You're doing this of your own free will."
"I wish I wasn't."
Mask keeps his silence.
"No other complaints? Then we have work to do."
Author's Note:
Happy Holidays! Right now, busy downloading a ton of books into my Nook. New Year's resolution: getting the cojones to actually write and publish a book. Wish me luck. And I wish you luck on your resolutions.
