Chapter Five
Caliban's entire world was spinning. He was out of control, twisting and turning through a swirling void where a concept of time and place did not exist. This was Caliban's least favorite way to travel; however, it was the only method of travel to the very site he wanted to reach. For the second time in nearly a week, Caliban was returning to the human world.
By now, Caliban was an expert on traveling back and forth between the human world and the world of Shakespeare. He had done it on countless occasions and should have been used to the jolting and the head-over-heels falling through nothingness like the vacuum of space by now only if he didn't hate the jolting and the falling. It felt like he had been thrown from a bucking horse that was traveling at top speed.
There were other ways of transport to the human world and Caliban knew about a few of them since he was the leader of the Sycorax and a trusted ally of the King's Men; however, the way he was currently traveling was the only know route by the Dark Lady. Caliban had never mentioned the other ways to her. She already suspected him of being a spy for the Three Thrones, although she had never voiced such an opinion aloud, and he didn't want to remind her that he had ties to the Sycorax. So, he had remained quiet and thus, he had to travel to the human world feeling as though he was on the world's worst thrill ride that was ever invented. But if all of his plans worked out, the trip would definitely be worth it.
Caliban was returning to the human world for a very important mission. After convincing the Dark Lady to place faith in the Prophecy of the Sycorax, although he hadn't told her everything about the prophecy, she had allowed him to go to the human world to locate the girl who had read from the glowing manuscripts. Caliban had only seen her once before when he had come to claim Leah's ring, one of the Seven Relics from Antonio's shop called the Merchant's Library.
Caliban cursed himself for not grabbing the girl then when he had the perfect opportunity. She had been unconscious and he probably could have grabbed her and taken her back to Shakespeare with him without her waking up or even alerting Antonio to his arrival. It would have been quick and easy and he would have killed two birds with one stone. But now, he was traveling back to finish the job.
When he was there last time, Caliban hadn't been one hundred percent sure that the girl had even read from one of the manuscripts. It wasn't confirmed until he witnessed the spectacle outside of Lanier Castle, with the disappearance of the Seven Relics and the appearance of the gold-silver crown in the sky, which in turn, as he knew knowledgably, brought about the lighting of the Royal Beacons. Now, he was positive. The girl had read from the manuscript and the girl was now special. Caliban would find her and she will assist him in his own personal plans.
Without warning, the void faded away and Caliban dropped silently into a dark room, landing stealthily in the center of an aisle, with a row of bookshelves on either side of him. His journey was complete. Caliban had returned to the Merchant's Library.
Caliban looked around. His first matter to attend to would be to locate Antonio's position within the building. Caliban wasn't really worried about safety. He was completely safe because there was no way that Antonio could see him. Caliban was wearing a magical cloak, his most prized possession that had been recently returned to him after the fiasco with the Seven Relics. The cloak was from a rare collection from a famous tailor in the merchant based free lands of Padua. What was special about the cloak was that it could make its wearer invisible and could protect the wearer from most magical spells and charms; however, one drawback was that the wearer could not cast magical spells while wearing the cloak. That was why Caliban needed to know of Antonio's whereabouts. There was only part of his mission that he was actually worried about, a part where he had to remove the cloak in order to perform a complex charm. If he knew where Antonio was, then it would be easy for him to perform the charm in peace. There was another power that the cloak possessed and it would come in handy soon more so than keeping Caliban invisible.
Caliban walked down the aisle quietly. He treaded across the floor softly because although he was invisible, he could still make noise and alert Antonio to his presence. Caliban quickly reached a doorway and instead of walking through the door and down the hallway, he stepped straight into the wall to the right of the doorway. He held his breath for just a moment—he had never utilized this particular power of the cloak's before.
He walked straight through the wall as though it wasn't even there. And he had done so without much thought. He didn't know how the cloak did it but it helped him walk through a solid barrier, yet he was not sinking through the floor beneath his feet. It was amazing how powerful and . . . precise the cloak was.
Caliban was in a tiny room, a bathroom. He kept moving forward and through the next wall. He was now in the room that he had been in several days ago, although in the human world it had only been several hours. He was in Antonio's private room, the place where Antonio stored his precious artifacts. Some of the artifacts even possessed magical abilities much like the cloak that Caliban was garbed or like the ring that he had taken earlier.
But Caliban wasn't here for any of these artifacts. Even though some of them were magical, he had no interest in them. He only had eyes for the manuscripts or one manuscript in particular, the one that the girl had read from earlier. Finding the exact manuscript would help him in finding her.
Caliban strode across the room, weaving through junk and treasures. He climbed the ladder slowly so his boots would not clang too loudly against the metal steps. He was still on the lookout for Antonio. Where was he? He was probably in his apartment at such an hour of the night.
Caliban spied the closed door that was locked by magic. The door led to Antonio's apartment and the magical protections would be no use for Caliban and his enchanted cloak.
Caliban walked slowly towards the door, listening intently all the while. He wished there was a spell for him to hear what was going on behind the locked door, but he knew not of a charm. And even if a charm existed, it probably wouldn't have been able to penetrate Antonio's defenses at any rate.
Caliban reached the door and walked through it. He was in a very dark hallway. He could barely make out the stairs in front of him that twisted their way to the upper floor. The corridor was empty and Caliban ascended the stairs carefully, checking and double-checking that his body was completely covered by the cloak. He took the stairs one at a time, placing his feet down carefully against the stone. At the top, he came to another door and he stepped through it slowly.
Caliban looked around once his entire body was through the door. Antonio was nowhere in sight. He was in a parlor room now. Beyond this room was an opened doorway and inside Caliban could hear movement. Antonio was in his bedroom and he wasn't asleep. Satisfied that he knew of Antonio's whereabouts, Caliban turned around and headed back for the private room to get a glimpse of the manuscripts.
Suddenly—
There was a flash of light outside of the nearby window. Caliban froze and regarded the night sky beyond out of sheer curiosity. The flash of light had caught his attention and he walked over to the window for a closer inspection.
Caliban witnessed a spectacle. A shooting star fell across the sky, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. Then, the star seemed to get closer and closer and when Caliban thought that surely people outside would notice the strange event, he heard movement behind him. Antonio was entering the room.
Caliban stepped away from the window quickly and quietly and eased his way towards the exit. Antonio shuffled into the room, dressed in his bedclothes and peered through the window. Something was going on and Caliban felt a sudden sense of urgency. Just why was Antonio still wide-awake after the stroke of midnight?
He spun away from Antonio and stepped through the closed door. Caliban darted down the steps with silent stealth and was through the door at the bottom before he realized it. He had to hurry. He had to do what he was there to do and then leave as soon as possible.
Caliban walked across the second floor of the room of artifacts and when he had reached the section of bookshelves where the manuscripts were glowing, he paused and listened. Not hearing anything, he noticed something then.
The manuscripts were glowing and that was odd. They hadn't been glowing when he had entered the place earlier. Now, they were shining with effulgence that seemed to radiate from the books themselves.
Caliban reached out from underneath his cloak to touch one of them. They were inviting him to read from them. Caliban was aware of the strange effects that these manuscripts had on people. After all, they had been created years ago with extremely powerful magic, of the likes that not even Prospero would know about. Although he knew that he should resist the nearly irresistible charms of the manuscripts, Caliban was unsure if he really wanted to resist. There would be no harm done from reading the books, right?
Well, it depended on which one. Caliban was aware that each manuscript was unique and was bound to some type of spell and enchantment. Apparently the one that the girl had read from was connected to the disappearance of the Seven Relics. Caliban had heard Prospero mention it once but he had no idea about the complicated process involving just how deeply one of the manuscripts was connected with the Seven Relics. Caliban just hoped by locating the girl, he would know all about the connection.
Caliban looked down at the manuscript that he had in his hands. The cover was bare so he turned to the first page. The manuscript was called The Tempest. When Caliban read the title, he snapped the book shut instantly and returned it to the shelf, breathing hard. It was a good thing that he had done so because at that moment, he could hear Antonio coming down the stairs.
Caliban turned to face the second story door and waited. Antonio came through the door moments later and closed it behind him with a wave of his hand. He was oblivious to Caliban, who was standing just a few feet away from him, concealed beneath the tailor's cloak.
Antonio descended the ladder and Caliban waited patiently for him to disappear through the door downstairs. When he did, Caliban turned back to face the manuscripts and picked up another one at random.
It was entitled All's Well That Ends Well. Caliban listened intently for a few seconds. Silence was all that he could hear if he could hear silence that is. He waited. The bells of the front door to the shop chimed and the front door closed gently. Antonio had gone outside. Caliban didn't know how long that he would be gone. It was now or never.
Caliban threw off the cloak and appeared out of thin air. The cloak fell to the floor and wrapped itself around his booted feet, resembling silk that was . . . that was well . . . clear, for lack of a better description. Caliban disregarded the cloak for the time being, hoping that Antonio would give him warning when he returned.
Caliban held the heavy tome out at nearly arms length but he didn't open the book at all. Instead, he closed his eyes and performed a complex, but short spell, all the while praying that he had picked up the right book—the book that the girl had read. The spell would tell him everything that he needed to know and soon enough he would know if this was the manuscript that she had read earlier that day.
It wasn't the right book though, as Caliban found out all too quickly. He returned it to the shelf and moved down the line one at a time. The next manuscript that he checked was Othello and it yielded the same results. Caliban grinned though as he returned the book to its home—he would have love to read about Othello and find out what had been penned about him many years ago.
The manuscripts continued to glow gold. They were as welcoming as ever but Caliban resisted. He was on a mission and was not there to read the stories. He was there to learn the name of the girl and receive a mental picture of her. He needed to hurry before Antonio returned because he didn't know how long Antonio would be outside. Maybe Antonio was investigating the shooting star. Perhaps he would be a while. Still, Caliban needed to hurry.
The third book gave him nothing and neither did the fourth book. Caliban paused to listen again. It had been a while since he had stopped to listen and for all he knew, Antonio could have returned and caught him exposed with the magical cloak at his feet. But Antonio hadn't returned yet. Caliban had time to continue his search, but how long would it be before Antonio finally returned to the shop?
It was while Caliban was in the middle of performing the complicated charm on the sixth book that the front door swung open once more with a bell chime. Caliban kept up his concentration. This had to be the right Shakespearean manuscript or he would have to hide beneath the cloak and wait for Antonio to return upstairs to his apartment. Caliban held on tightly to Henry IV and held his breath.
Voices came from the sales floor then. Multiple voices. Antonio was not alone anymore and apparently he had visitors. Caliban couldn't hear exactly what was being said as most of his senses were attuned to the spell that he was casting but he could hear that they were drawing nearer. It was only a matter of time before Antonio and his visitors arrived. Caliban just knew that it was the police. Antonio had finally reported that his ring had been stolen and the human police had come to investigate. Caliban could not allow them to find him that easily . . . or even at all. Surely, he would have no problem at all escaping from a human jail but what would Antonio think about him being in the human world. Antonio would put two and two together and then the King's Men and the Sycorax would believe that Caliban was truly a servant of the Dark Lady. And Caliban would never subjugate himself to be so.
The spell was complete suddenly and the name "Anne Hathaway" floated into Caliban's mind. This was it. This was the very manuscript that she had read. The charm had revealed that information to him. A mental image later and Caliban was closing the book and stuffing it back onto the shelf. He snapped his fingers once and a picture of Anne Hathaway appeared in his hands as though it had been there all along and he was throwing the cloak back over himself just as someone was entering the room.
Perfectly hidden, Caliban watched Antonio cross over the threshold and into the stockroom, still oblivious to his presence. A short girl who seemed to shimmer unnaturally floated gracefully in behind Antonio. Caliban knew this girl of course. She was Prospero's servant, the spirit-girl Ariel. The King's Men had arrived at the Merchant's Library tonight. Caliban had been wrong. It hadn't been the police that had come and he was truly glad that he was concealed beneath the tailor's cloak.
Puck, the fairy, followed Ariel and Antonio into the room and as he looked around, his eyes were as large as baseballs. He ogled Antonio's belongings with great interest, making excited murmurings to himself.
Behind Puck was a very pretty girl with brown hair and vivid green eyes. Caliban recognized her as well. Her name was Rosalind and Caliban wondered why three young members of the King's Men had come to visit Antonio. Surely, they weren't there because Leah's ring was missing. Prospero would have sent higher-ranking members than those three.
But wait . . . .
There was a fourth person who had called at such an hour of the night. He strode into the room with a type of poise that came from years of military training and experience. Whenever he walked into a room, he made sure that people were aware of his presence. His height was average but the way he carried himself made him appear taller than he actually was. He had eyes that were sharp and focused and he had a beautiful sword hilted on the right side of his waist. Around his neck was an amulet with a purple crystal—amethyst?—as the charm. Both his sword and the crystal gleamed.
He was Prospero's and Oberon's right hand man, the only person who was so highly ranked in the King's Men that he was next in line to replace either Prospero or Oberon when the right time came. He was a person who was usually at odds with Caliban based on their completely different ways of thinking. Caliban admitted that he was his rival and the two of them tolerated each other but they were definitely not friends. Associates maybe. His name was Othello.
Caliban wasn't shocked at all to see Othello there. Usually when there were matters to attend to that neither Prospero nor Oberon wished to oversee personally, Othello was nearly always chosen for the job. But what Caliban couldn't figure out was why he was there with three young soldiers for the King's Men. What purpose did they serve? Was this a learning experience for them?
Intrigued, Caliban found himself drifting automatically towards the group as they walked across the room on the lower floor. His search for Anne Hathaway would be temporarily delayed until he learned the reason why Othello and three other King's Men had journeyed into the human world. Beneath the cloak, Caliban stuffed the photograph of Anne into his pants pocket silently.
It wasn't as if the party downstairs could hear him anyways. Puck was babbling on and on now, telling Ariel and Rosalind about his fascination with the objects in the human world.
"Did you see how the buildings were constructed outside?" Puck asked Rosalind and Ariel, or whoever would listen to him. "So simple, crude, yet splendid. It amazes me how humans can thrive so well without magic."
Rosalind smiled. "Everything amazes you, Puck," she said, looking just as amazed as Puck was. They had never been to the human world before and the first trip was always an eye-opening experience. Shakespeareans had always been aware that other worlds existed, yet experiencing another world first hand made that world all the more real.
"True," Puck agreed with Rosalind. "But here, my amazement is different, more profound. I just feel like . . . WOW!"
Without warning, Puck darted across the stockroom, after his shrill cry of excitement. He moved in a blur, flapping his wings hard and fast, and came to a quick halt in front of a tall dresser.
"What is this contraption?" Puck questioned Antonio. He was holding a small wooden box with a rounded top and several knobs.
Antonio looked over, as did the others. Rosalind and Ariel looked curious, while Othello looked passive. Like Caliban, he didn't give away any emotions through facial expressions.
"It's a radio," Antonio told Puck. "It's an old one from the 1950s. If you turn the right knob—"
But the rest of Antonio's words were drowned out as a blast of modern hip-hop music erupted from the speaker of the radio. Puck had obviously turned one of the knobs on the radio before Antonio could tell him how to operate the radio properly.
The music was loud and booming, the volume dial turned all the way up. Puck shrieked at the sudden noise of deep, bassy music and vulgar spoken lyrics, and dropped the radio in shock. Antonio saw the antique radio falling to the ground and he waved his hand.
The radio stopped in mid-fall and floated in the air past Puck and company, who were covering up their ears to protect themselves from the blaring sounds. Antonio caught the radio and quickly turned it off. He then glared at Puck.
Puck uncovered his ears and grinned sappily at Antonio. "Sorry," he apologized.
"For now on, no more touching things," Antonio scolded Puck like he was a small child. "I have already lost one of my precious valuables today and I do not wish to lose a second one."
Puck nodded and promised that he would be good. Rosalind rolled her eyes and scoffed. Puck shot her a dirty look and mouthed the words, "What are you laughing at?"
Ariel regarded Antonio with intrigue. Caliban noticed the ghostly hair bow that was attached to her long, shimmering hair. There was a blue sapphire-like gem that gleamed like the rest of Ariel's body. Somehow the gem resembled the one that Othello was wearing around his neck, only that it was a different color.
"What was that god awful ruckus?" she questioned Antonio about the radio. "It was almost like music but it was too rough."
"That's what a radio does," Antonio explained. "It plays music broadcasts from radio stations."
"But like Ariel said," Rosalind commented, "that wasn't music."
"It was music," Antonio said with a chuckle, finding this conversation very amusing. "It was what the human youngsters call rap music. It is comprised of computer-made music with semi-spoken lyrics in a certain rhythm."
"What's a computer?" Rosalind wondered.
"But it didn't have any flutes in the song," Puck complained simultaneously about the music that Antonio had called rap.
Antonio had forgotten that his visitors didn't know much about the human world and hadn't lived there for a while like he had. Caliban nearly chuckled himself but remembered that he was hiding and should not alert the King's Men to his presence.
Antonio was about to explain to Rosalind what a computer was but Othello stopped him.
"As curious as we all might be about computers and radios, we should continue up to your sitting room, Antonio," he spoke in a deep, booming tenor voice that meant business. "We have much to discuss and not much time to discuss it. Anne Hathaway must be located as soon as possible."
So, they were after Anne Hathaway as well. Of course, Caliban thought. Of course, he should have known all along that Antonio had told Prospero that the girl had read from one of the manuscripts, one that was apparently linked to the Seven Relics somehow. But why had Antonio allowed her to leave the Merchant's Library. That was interesting.
Everything about the situation was interesting and Caliban wanted to learn more. Othello had brought a young team to help him look for Anne Hathaway and the only reason for that Caliban could think of was that Othello was trying to get them some field experience to train them for something bigger.
The world of Shakespeare was on the brink of war. The skies knew that—so dark and sunless as they were most days now; the winds knew that as they were forever cold and biting, especially in the north; and the earth knew that—several barren lands had been created recently and many villages were experiencing famines. Caliban also knew that a war was imminent, so did Prospero, Oberon, and Othello.
Caliban had ties to both the Sycorax and the Dark Lady's entourage, so he probably knew a little bit more than the leaders of the King's Men; however, Caliban was no fool. Prospero was the greatest mystic—a practitioner of magic—that Caliban and the world of Shakespeare had ever known. And Oberon and Othello hadn't gotten to the position they were in by being fools either.
There was civil unrest already in one of the Three Thrones. Revolutionary forces were already gathering in England in an attempt to overthrow King Henry IV. If the revolutionary movement were successful, then it would be the first time in history that one of the Three Thrones had been usurped. The Three Thrones were always to be protected above the rest of Shakespeare and the King's Men, as well as the Sycorax and Fairy Wings, would have a huge hand in helping to protect England from the rebel.
But it would be a difficult job, Caliban knew, and he would have to relay the information that he had learned from being a part of the Dark Lady's faction to the King's Men and his own band of swordsmen. Ah, the joys of being a double agent.
Right now, King Henry IV and his close supporters believed that only Owen Glendower, the dictator of Wales, a small neighboring country of England, was egging on the revolutionary movement. Little did the king know that even some of his close supporters were in on the rebellion, such as Hotspur. It will be a rude awakening for King Henry once he found out such vital information.
Not only was a civil war taking place in England, but several other countries outside of the general borders of the Three Thrones were experiencing contention for leadership and the anger of the commoners. Norway was a military led free land, struggling to create a democratic state under the leadership of Lord Fortinbras. Wales, under the control of Glendower, of course, was suffering from anarchical citizens who wanted rid of Glendower. Those few, small rebellions were typically crushed quickly because eighty percent of the population of Wales revered Glendower as a national hero and compared him to the mythical King Arthur in many aspects. However, if the small anti-Glendower forces ever amassed a large movement or received help from an outside source, then who knew what would happen. Other than that, the remaining Free Lands of Shakespeare were enjoying peace and cooperation, although the peace between Greece and Troy have been threatened several times, especially now that the city of Athens had separated from Greece and formed its own city-state. Greece and Troy were vying for major influence in that region.
Then, there was the Dark Lady and her newly formed alliance with the Critics. Caliban didn't know much about the mysteriously strange beings yet, but he knew a lot about the concordance between the Dark Lady and the Critics. Caliban didn't trust anyone much in his line of work and he really didn't trust the Critics. For one, no one knew much about them, as they appeared suddenly in the world of Shakespeare as seemingly pacifist beings, and for some reason, Caliban always felt that they would not live up to their end of the bargain. The Critics didn't seem the type of people to take orders from someone like the Dark Lady.
Nonetheless, a bond between the two parties had been formed and both parties were planning to march to war against anyone of Shakespeare who resisted them. They had secured one of the Golden Thrones with Claudius becoming King of Denmark. And now, it was time to secure England before moving on to Scotland. Anne Hathaway was more important in all of this than even Caliban could imagine.
"Right you are, Othello," Antonio said, agreeing with the moor. "Very well then, shall we head upstairs."
Antonio climbed up the ladder with Rosalind right behind him. Ariel, Puck, and Othello took a different approach. Ariel floated up to the second floor, while Puck flew, and Othello simply leapt up to the landing.
"Showoff," Rosalind muttered to Puck the moment that she had joined the rest of the group. She stood a few feet away from Caliban, who surveyed the group from beneath the hood of the tailor's gown. Puck grinned.
The five of them headed swiftly for Antonio's apartment. Caliban trailed them slowly and softly, his footsteps careful and precise. He didn't want to get too close to Rosalind and Puck who took up the rear, yet he also didn't want any of them to hear him. All it took was for one of them to ram into him or one simple tug and he would be exposed. It would be very difficult then to explain to them that he had nothing to do with stealing the ring nor was he truly a bad guy. But then, again, he had stolen the ring, so he would be lying there.
When they walked through the first door, Caliban hesitated and allowed the door to magically seal shut behind them again. Then, he walked through the door with caution, ensuring that Rosalind and Puck had started ascending the stairs so that he wouldn't slam right into one of them. Next, he followed them up the steps and hesitated before entering the second door.
The chandelier in Antonio's sitting room was now lit. The place was no longer dark. Antonio offered his guests a seat at either his sofa or a couple of chairs that he had placed in the room for his company. Only Rosalind sat down. Ariel preferred to hover behind Rosalind and Othello stood in a corner of the room, half-hidden in shadow. Puck, who was forever excited, was standing in the center of the sitting room, taking in all of the wondrous sights.
"Don't touch anything," Antonio warned Puck, as he joined Rosalind on the couch. "Would anyone like some tea?" He offered afterwards.
Caliban noticed the pitcher and some cups on the table in front of Antonio and Rosalind. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, by the open window, just in case he had to make a quick escape. Rosalind and Puck accepted some tea but Othello and Ariel, of course, declined Antonio's offer.
Puck graciously accepted his cup of steaming hot tea and immediately dashed over to gaze into the glass of a floor modeled television set. He was staring at his distorted reflection and giggling hysterically.
Rosalind regarded him, sipped her tea, and rolled her eyes. "What's so funny, Puck?"
"My reflection," Puck giggled. He looked back at Antonio. "What is this strange mirror? My face is all distorted."
"It is not a mirror," Antonio explained. "It is a television."
"What is its purpose? Besides making me look silly."
Rosalind scoffed. "It doesn't take much to make you look silly, Puck," she commented.
Ariel chuckled at Rosalind's putdown while Puck licked his tongue out at her. They were so young, so immature. Caliban was still as shocked as ever that they were on an important mission with Othello.
"A television displays moving pictures," Antonio explained in lamens terms how a television operated. Puck stared at him with much interest, an interest that seemed eager. Caliban knew that he wanted to touch the television even though Antonio had told him not to. "Sound is also—"
But Antonio was suddenly drowned out by the sounds that were blaring from the television set. It was a late-night news broadcast and Antonio rushed across the room, nearly spilling his teacup and the contents everywhere. He was furious when he glared at Puck, who tried to look as innocent as possible—like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar.
Antonio turned the volume all the way down on the TV, but he left it on, more than likely to humor Puck. He continued to glare at the fairy. From the sofa, Rosalind was shaking her head at Puck's insolence.
"What did I tell you about—" Antonio began but was cut off a second time as Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel all stared at the television screen in amazement.
Puck pointed at the screen, inches away from touching the TV set again. "They're moving!" he cried, shocked. "Are there really people on the other side of the glass?"
Antonio shrugged. Caliban could tell that he was growing weary with explaining human stuff to the Shakespeareans. At first it had been fun but now it was becoming too much of a hassle for him.
"In a way, yes," Antonio attempted to explain. "What you see here on the screen is recorded images from earlier today as well as a live feed from a local news station."
Puck's mouth fell open. He was blatantly confused. Ariel and Rosalind just stared at Antonio.
Antonio sighed and thought of a better way of explaining the function of a television. He was about to speak when Othello cleared his throat from the corner.
"Right," Antonio said, remembering that there were more important matters to attend to than telling the youngsters what televisions did. Antonio returned to his seat and all was silent. He, along with the others, Caliban included, was waiting for Othello to speak. Puck was staring at the television screen with longing, an almost nostalgic look on his face.
Othello stepped out of the shadows and made a dramatic reappearance. "As you all know, Anne Hathaway, is our target for this mission," he began, his voice booming like usual. "I don't know how much Prospero has cued you in on, Antonio, but we must find her as soon as possible."
Antonio sipped his tea, swallowed, and made an inquiry. "Why is she so important, Othello?"
"Because of the Relics," Othello replied simply.
"But why is that?" Antonio wanted desperately to know. "Why is the manuscript that she read tied to the Seven Relics? I don't understand."
"Sadly, my friend, I do not understand completely myself," Othello confessed. "Prospero is as enigmatic as ever. Sometimes it troubles me that he likes to withhold information from his closest friends until the last possible minute; however, I know that if Prospero has a reason for not telling us much, then it is a good reason."
"Has anything happened with the Seven Relics? Have they all been discovered by the thief who snatched Leah's ring?" Antonio had more questions for Othello, trying to milk the commander for all he knew since Antonio believed that Othello knew a little bit more about what was going on than he did.
"Yes, they all were discovered," Othello told him.
Antonio gasped. "By whom? Then, that would mean—"
But Othello shook his head. "It doesn't mean anything yet," he emphasized. "The Relics were found by the Dark Lady and her followers. Spies for the King's Men confirmed this to Prospero as soon as they could but Prospero never worried about what the Dark Lady could do with ultimate power. He was as calm and reserved as ever. And then, when the Dark Lady had all of the Relics gathered into one location, something strange and unexplainable happened."
Caliban listened very closely. He didn't know that there were other spies for the King's Men that were a part of the Dark Lady's faction. So young, naïve, and stupid she was. As a double agent, he would have to inform her of this information, even though he didn't truly want to. The Dark Lady had a lot to learn if she wanted to rule all of Shakespeare.
"What happened?" Rosalind wondered. Apparently, like Antonio, as well as Puck and Ariel, she didn't know what had taken place at Lanier Castle about a week ago. Caliban knew of course because he had been there. He had witnessed the spectacle firsthand. It was all a part of the Prophecy of the Sycorax, a prophecy that not too many people placed their faith in.
"The Relics simply disappeared," Othello said. "That was at the same time that the Royal Beacons were lit and the Star Crown appeared in the night sky."
Antonio gasped a second time. "Could that mean that Anne Hathaway is the descendant of kings? Could that mean that she is the heir we have been looking for?"
Othello shook his head. "I don't think so and neither does Prospero and Oberon. What we do know, however, is that Anne Hathaway is bound to the Seven Relics by reading one of the manuscripts. I believe that if we are to recover them again, then she will be the key."
"What about Prospero?" Ariel questioned. She seldom spoke and it was always weird to hear her bizarre, ethereal voice. "Doesn't he know where the Seven Relics are hidden? We can just recover all of them before the Dark Lady is aware of what happened and before she tries to find them again."
"It's not that simple," Othello informed all of them. "Originally, Prospero hid the Seven Relics years ago. When they were found the Dark Lady, he lost the connection that he had to them. Now, that they have been hidden again, this time by themselves, he does not know where they are hiding. Only Anne might know. Maybe . . . Perhaps . . . That is to say if my speculations are correct. Somehow, when she read from the manuscript, the Relics vanished. Now, I believe that she is the only person who could find them. Prospero had protected the Relics with various complex spells and I think that this is a protective measure that he had instilled, although he won't tell me."
"So, the Dark Lady has no idea where the Relics are hidden now?" Puck asked, no longer obsessed with the television set. The conversation so far had really been holding his interest. This was what he had joined the King's Men for—hearing exciting news like this.
"Yes," Othello replied knowledgably. "She is just as clueless as we are. That is why Anne is so important. We need to find her and have her help our side before the Dark Lady catches on and sends a team of her followers here to find her as well. Nowadays, spies work both ways and I am positive that she has a few spies within the ranks of the King's Men and perhaps even the Sycorax."
Othello's eyes found Caliban's and for a half of a second, Caliban thought that Othello could see him somehow, standing there beneath the tailor's cloak, but of course, Caliban knew that Othello couldn't see him. How ironic though that Othello managed to look in Caliban's general direction the moment that he mentioned the Dark Lady having spies in the King's Men and in particular, the Sycorax.
"Spies?" Antonio echoed in outrage. "There aren't any spies in the King's Men! That's ludicrous!" For the second time in the same night, Antonio had to face the thought of his allies not being as loyal and patriotic as he was. He just would not accept the fact that even members of the King's Men and perhaps the Sycorax could become corrupted by evil.
"I wished that was the case, Antonio, but it is not," Othello told him the grim truth. "There are several spies in the King's Men and slowly we are trying to find out just who those spies are."
"There can't be any spies," Antonio refused to believe it. "The Dark Lady just knows."
"She is not that powerful," Othello burst his bubble. "Not even Prospero can know all."
Antonio sipped his tea and fell silent. He didn't wish to argue with Othello, who he knew was right of course, even if he himself did not want to accept this.
"So, now, we need to figure out what's our best course of action in finding Anne Hathaway," Othello commented, breaking the silence. He also started to pace the length of the room, coming so close to the hidden Caliban, that Caliban had to take a few shuffling footsteps closer to the open window. A breeze was blowing in the room and Othello froze at one point during his pacing and Caliban thought it was best for him to move out from directly in front of the window. Although he was invisible, he was still a solid presence that could block the breeze from entering the room completely. Othello had already frozen once, trying to figure out if there was something odd about the blustering wind. Othello was very observant like that.
Othello started pacing again after Caliban moved from in front of the window. He regarded Antonio while he walked. "Antonio? Do you have any suggestions on how we might find her? This human city is not terribly large, yet it is not small either. Our search may take some time and patience."
"I wished I had gotten her to fill out the form before she left!" Antonio cried in frustration, cursing himself silently for getting mad at Anne about the ring. He calmed then just a hair because everyone was staring at him because of his sudden outburst. "But what's done is done and there has to be an easy way to locate her."
"What about the one boy who lives here too?" Ariel asked. "The Will kid. Do you think that he would know Anne Hathaway?"
Antonio thought for a moment. "Perhaps, but I am not positive. I should have asked him. He visited me earlier tonight, wanting to talk to me and I turned him away."
"Even though we are not positive, it is well worth it to question Will about her," Othello said quietly. "He is a friend of yours Antonio, and I am sure that he will assist us in any way that he can."
Antonio nodded in agreement with Othello and Caliban glowered. He had a challenge now. Will had been the contact here that he had planned on using to hopefully locate Anne Hathaway and now the members of the King's Men were planning to make use of the same contact. Caliban grinned. He was always up for a good challenge. He would just have to beat them to Will.
"We should be able to reach Will because he works in the courier store nearby," Antonio said and a plan seemed to be set. Caliban was even making his way towards the exit slowly. He had heard enough and knew where would be a definite place to find Will Stratford. Caliban would go to Will's job and would wait for him to arrive for work, even if he had to wait all day. Will would have to arrive for work soon enough or perhaps Caliban could learn where he lived somehow.
But then, Antonio brightened and Caliban thought it would be wise to wait and listen some more.
"There may be another way," Antonio said, rising to his feet. All eyes were upon him. Othello had even stopped pacing.
"What is it?" Othello asked curiously.
"Anne is a high school student and tomorrow is a school day. There is only one local high school. We should be able to find her there."
"High school?" Othello echoed, with a raised eyebrow. That was a rare occasion of which he betrayed the slightest emotion.
"A place of learning for teenagers between the age of 14 and 18," Antonio was growing extremely weary with clarifications.
"We should be able to find Anne tomorrow at this place of learning, this . . . this high school?" Othello asked Antonio if he was positive with this new plan.
Antonio nodded. "Unless she misses the bus or is sick or something, she should be there."
"Bus?" Puck echoed.
Antonio rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later."
Othello thought long and hard about this new insight. Caliban stood by the exit, anxious to go but an invisible force kept him there. He had to remain to hear the finalized plan. That way he would be able to work around it and attempt to locate Anne first. It was a race although he and the King's Men had similar goals. But Caliban had other motives; motives that he did not wish to involve the King's Men if he could help it.
"Okay, then it is settled," Othello said, making the ultimate decision in the matter. Antonio was nearly old enough to be Othello's father, yet Othello had the last say-so in the plan of locating Anne Hathaway because of seniority within the rankings of the King's Men. "A few of us will go to the school and find Anne Hathaway and the rest of us will remain here just in case."
"Just in case of what?" Rosalind asked.
"In case Prospero needs to contact us," Othello was thinking outside of the framework of the plan. He was thinking about potential possibilities, trying to cover all bases. "Those who go to the school will follow Anne, not retrieve her. I want her address, as I prefer to meet with her at her home rather than out in public. She may react very strangely to what we will have to tell her and I don't want to attract too much attention at her high school. The rest of us will wait here for the scouting team to return and then we will all go together to coerce Anne into going with us back to Shakespeare. Maybe then Prospero will finally tell us why she is connected to the manuscript she had read, which in turn, is connected to the Seven Relics."
"I'll go," Puck volunteered his services graciously. "A simple reconnaissance mission. I am so on it."
Puck seemed a little too eager and Caliban, as well as the rest of the group, thought that Othello was going to tell him that he would be staying at the Merchant's Library the following day. But on the contrary, Othello surprised everyone, Caliban included, when he told Puck that he could visit Anne's school. But he was to have a partner for the mission. Caliban noticed that Rosalind pointedly looked away when Othello started trying to decide who would accompany Puck on the mission. And that was a mistake on her part.
"Rosalind," Othello called and she winced prior to facing him. "You will go to the school tomorrow with Puck. The rest of us will stay here and await your return with Anne's address."
"Yes, commander," Rosalind said softly and she had sounded as if she would rather stay at the Merchant's Library than go on an assignment with Puck.
And Caliban had heard enough. He quietly slipped through the exit and left the Merchant's Library. His first task would be performed tonight. He would find a good place to sleep for a few hours and then, his next task would be to wait for Will to come to work and hope that he could help him find Anne Hathaway. Tomorrow, Caliban would be in for a long day.
But first things first . . . .
--
The newly elected council was called to order for the second time in as many nights.
The term "elected" was to be used extremely loosely because there hadn't been really an election at all. Three members of the Dark Lady's party was chosen by the Dark Lady herself and three Critics were chosen by the Council of Nocturne to be a part of the council that led the recently created Dark Alliance. Both sides had chosen three people to represent them in reference to the Three Thrones and so they were to be called the Shadow Council.
They would be a council of six, twice in number as the Three Thrones' rulers and twice of powerful. Besides, it was definitely an advantage to having one of the Three Thrones' rulers serving on the council.
Along with King Claudius, the Dark Lady herself served, of course. She had also, although she constantly struggled with her decision, had chosen Caliban to serve on the council as well. He was too slippery, too cunning, but he was also a wonderful asset.
But Caliban was away now. He was off in the human world on a crusade to try and locate that girl whom he had tried to convince the Dark Lady that she had something to do with the disappearance of the Relics. He had told her the Prophecy of the Sycorax, although she had heard it before and didn't place too much faith in the ancient musings of the ranger swordsmen.
His replacement, however temporary, was the young and talented Hotspur. Hotspur was eager to be at this meeting in particular because the Shadow Council would be deciding the full-scaled invasion of England. Hotspur would be a part of that invasion. Along with Owen Glendower, who was actually in attendance tonight for this important occasion, Hotspur would be leading the rebels into what hopefully would be a great victory in the opening battle of the war. The battle in England will set the tone for the course of the war. If the Dark Alliance could win that battle, then the Dark Lady was confident that the King's Men nor the Sycorax or any other army in Shakespeare could stop them. She was eager to see the Critic soldiers in action but was unsure if they would be present in the invasion of England. That was one of the many things that the Shadow Council would decide tonight.
The three members of the Council who were Critics all had strange and unusual names to the Dark Lady. They were members of the Council of Nocturne, the governing body of the Critics. There were nine councilmen that comprised the Council of Nocturne and three of them were now a part of the Shadow Council as well. Their names were Miltiadi, Serafin, and Mordekaius.
By now, the Dark Lady knew the three of them fairly well. She had made acquaintances with the three Critics a while ago when she had first ventured into Critic territory to form the basis of an alliance that would conquer Shakespeare. The odd thing about Critics was that it was nearly impossible to tell one from the next because their bodies were completely armored. Each Critic's armor was similar to the next one except for a dent here or a smudge there. But the Dark Lady could tell Miltiadi, Serafin, and Mordekaius apart because they sat in the same seat each meeting. The Critic guards that stood nearby were a different story entirely.
"In about three weeks time, I feel that our troops should be ready to mobilize," the Dark Lady was saying, her voice slightly muffled like usual because she was wearing her infamous tragedy mask, a symbol she hoped would one day instill fear in the hearts of Shakespearean men and women alike whenever they saw it. It would be her legacy, her reign of terror, her Dark Mark, when she became the queen of Shakespeare. The Royal Beacons won't mean a thing when she is crowned. She is the rightful heir, not some descendant of kings, of the royal line that comes from the founder of the world of Shakespeare himself—Mr. William Shakespeare, the first king. Again, the Dark Lady cursed Caliban silently for reminding her of the stupid Prophecy of the Sycorax.
"Three weeks?" Hotspur echoed. "We should be ready in two."
The Dark Lady smiled, though no one in the room could see it. Hotspur's enthusiasm was inspiring. Even Owen Glendower was looking pretty smug and eager and that's saying a lot since he was nearly as bad as Caliban was when it came to betraying emotions.
"I like the way that you think, young Hotspur," Serafin, the oldest and the wisest—the Prospero—of the Critics spoke then. It took some getting used to the Critics using the native language of Shakespeare. The Dark Lady still didn't know what a Critic looked like since all of them were forever armored from head-to-toe at least in the presence of others—the Dark Lady had always pictured the Critics as horrible, disfigured humanoid creatures that looked like goblins or demons from the tales of old—but it was still bizarre to hear them speak Shakespearean since she knew that their language was more of a series of grunts and growls. "However, impetuosity may not be a good thing. Our armies are more than ready to attack but before we ambush the kingdom of England, we need to ensure that we are well-prepared from all angles."
"I agree with Councilman Serafin," King Claudius voiced his opinion. "We managed to seize one of the Three Thrones by cunning and stealth and it will take a lot more than that to claim England and then Scotland. Henry and Duncan are cleverer than we give them credit for."
"Your brother was a fool," Hotspur spat at Claudius at once. Claudius was unfazed by this. He knew all too well from experience of discussing politics for many years—he had served as a governor under King Hamlet's rule—that sometimes discussions were heated and it was always good to keep a level head through it all. Besides, Hotspur was not an actual council member. He was just a fill-in, a temporary member. When Caliban returned from his trip to the human world, Hotspur would go back to being a commander of traitorous English soldiers and nothing more. Sure, he might go on to becoming a decorated war hero with the impending invasion but Claudius knew that he didn't have to humor Hotspur by arguing with him or becoming angry at his insult, however true it was. "King Henry may not be as much of a fool as Hamlet was but I know things about the Golden King that we can use to our advantage to crush his kingdom in the palm of our hands!" Dramatically, Hotspur slammed a fist into the table.
"And what information would that be?" Mordekaius was anxious to know. He was a master at military strategy and any info that could help plan attacks was very note-worthy and interested him deeply.
"King Henry's no-good son, Hal, is currently estranged from the sun king," Hotspur voiced with great confidence, referring to King Henry's nickname. "As the king loves me and would rather have me as his son than his own, Hal further damages his reputation by spending much of his time with criminal scum. John Falstaff, his closest friend, is a spy for us as you all know, and he is enlisting men from the English underworld to join our cause. But if we can get Hal to stand against his father, an easy feat, I believe, then we will have an army of English criminals at our disposal. They will follow the prince anywhere, even to death while fighting on our frontlines." Hotspur concluded his speech with a grin, imagining the massacre of the criminals while he and the other councilmen reigned victorious in battle, unscathed by the rushing tide of the enemy.
"That is an option," the Dark Lady agreed. "But I don't know if Hal would stand completely against his father. From what I have heard from Falstaff, Hal is a very complex individual, always reflective, always in thought. He may be trying to get everyone around him to believe that he has denounced his claim for the throne after his father and he may surprise everyone one day by turning out to be a completely different person." She paused and looked overt at Hotspur, who sat two spots away from her at the circular table. He seemed to have lost most of his vigor and was staring down at his reflection in the polished tabletop. "I'm just speculating," the Dark Lady quickly added. She wanted more than anything for Hotspur's excitement to return. She couldn't bear to see him like this and she liked it when the fire blazed bright in his handsome eyes. "And I think it will be a good idea to try and bring Prince Harry over to our side, though. The more allies we have, the better. Hotspur? Do you think that Falstaff would be up for the task?" She asked this last question without confirmation from the rest of the council that this would be an actual course of action. Whether or not the council agreed with her was irrelevant. This was a personal decision on her part and she would carry it out with or without the council's consent. As chancellor of the Shadow Council, she could do stuff like that.
Hotspur huffed at the Dark Lady's suggestion and she wondered what she had said wrong until he spoke again. "Falstaff is a bumbling oaf!" he exclaimed. "A pawn to be used in our chess game, nothing more. I do not trust his loyalties and I would not trust him with this assignment. Leave it to me."
"But what about your rivalry?" King Claudius asked knowledgably. "You and Hal don't get along very well. Why would he listen to you?"
"Just leave it to me," Hotspur growled and repeated a little more forcibly. It was beginning to seem like he didn't like Claudius at all.
"Do you really think that this is a good idea, mistress?" Serafin spoke up. The Dark Lady was glad once again that the three Critics were sitting in assigned seats because it would have been very difficult to tell them apart because their armor was so similar. She was glad to know who was speaking whenever the Critics joined the discussion because it gave her perspective. Serafin was the oldest and wisest of the Critics who sat at the table along with the Dark Lady and the others and what he had said had made perfect sense. "Surely a son would not betray his father. It is outrageous!"
The Dark Lady grinned a hidden grin. "We have completely different cultures, Councilman," she said.
That was all Serafin needed to hear and he fell silent.
"But back to planning the invasion," the Dark Lady brought the council back on track for their meeting. "In three weeks, we will be ready to mobilize—"
"Don't you mean in two weeks?" Hotspur interrupted. "I can convince Hal to join with less time."
"My dear, Hotspur," the Dark Lady began. "I admire your eagerness, I truly do, but the extra week that we wait will be crucial to our goals."
"But why wait an extra week?" Hotspur demanded. "Why wait an extra week when we will be ready in two? Hell, we are ready now. The king would never suspect our attack. He's too busy trying to keep his son out of trouble."
"Because strength is in numbers," Miltiadi spoke up for the first time in a long time; he was the quiet one. "The Three Thrones, the King's Men, the Sycorax, small militias in the free lands. They all outnumber us on a ratio of at least five to one last time we checked, and that's just the people we know that are capable of combat. If we looked at the population as a whole, then that ratio is doubled. We are devastatingly outnumbered and even though we will be taking the kingdom by surprise we cannot win the war that we will be instigating right now. We must wait and even a precious seven days of supplementary time will be a blessing for us. Every day, more and more of my people arrive in Shakespeare. Every day, more and more troops serving under Master Glendower march to join us. Every day, nomads, outcasts, and even vagabonds from the various free lands are rallying to our cause. Patience is a virtue, my son, and you must learn it well and learn it quickly or it may be your downfall one day. Why go to war in two weeks, when we can wait another week and receive many more soldiers? It would be a great risk and a huge mistake. You speak of fools, but you would be one if you marched against England in fourteen days."
Hotspur didn't know what to say then. He just scowled; stunned by the true words that Miltiadi spoke. Hotspur wasn't used to insults and jabs at his ego. All of his life he had been glorified by his father, his family, King Henry IV, and the entire nation of England. He was used to compliments and not the cold, hard truth as Miltiadi had given him. And it made him very upset. In addition to being impulsive, Hotspur was very hot-tempered, hence his nickname.
With Hotspur sulking, the Shadow Council continued to discuss tactics for the invasion of England well into the night. Glendower joined the conversation shortly thereafter adding his opinions and strategies, while providing updates on the movement of his troops and how more and more Welsh citizens were enlisting in the military and were currently training at his elaborate complex in the capital city of Wales.
Back in the human world, Anne Hathaway was stirring from sleep, her vision of the Dark Lady and the Shadow Council fading . . . .