February 14, 1583
Jesca scraped the inked quill across her paper with a delicate manipulation of her fingers. The hollow bone deposited the dark liquid in generous amounts due to the slow and deliberate dance along the surface. It was not to say that the slowness of her writing was some sign of sloppiness or lethargy of thought. No, indeed, each particular line was arched like a geometric treatise.
The focus of her work was not disturbed by the casual entrance of Lexington White. Although he was an imposing figure in the scriptorium, even he was not sufficient to pull the writing from the page. “Good evening, Lex,” Jesca greeted without taking her eyes off of her craft.
“I’ve gotten our first payment from the Spaniards,” Lex quickly announced while pulling his gloves out by the fingertips. “What are you doing up so late?”
The candlelight illuminating that portion of the writing study burned steady in the windless atmosphere. The window had been shut and the door was now closed behind Lex. Most of the residents of Infinite Castle were either asleep or conniving for a greater piece of that vast feudal underworld.
“I thought I’d write a letter,” Jesca said more so to the page, it seemed, than to her curious subordinate.
“A letter?”
Jesca merely curled a smile as she continued to slice carefully along the paper. “I wanted to remind myself I could still do it,” she offered, “to be able to write the things I used to be able to do.”
Lex stepped towards the desk casually as he threw his gloves to a nearby seat. As the intricate calligraphy of Jesca dawned from behind the slightly tilted desk, he was amazed at the skill of her legibility. “Impressive,” he commented with a smile, “but why do you need to remind yourself how to write like that?”
The lady dotted her period and returned the pen back to its proper place before looking up at her watchful officer. “I wanted to prove to myself that even with a war going on; I can still do what needs to be done.”
Her guest could not help but wrinkle his eyebrows in contemplation at the strange saying. Jesca sensed his confusion and added, “Someone once told me that the measure of being an adult was also about how well you can cope with hardship. Writing this reminds me that I can still focus even when there are people dying around me.”
Although Lex’s forehead relaxed from the explanation, his half ready lips betrayed his concern for his master. “Even then,” Lex attempted to vocalize as he felt some imperative to assuage his master’s feelings, “it’s not as bleak as you might put it; people help each other through tough times.”
“Like husbands and wives support each other?” Jesca asked with a curious grin.
“Something like that,” Lex admitted although he felt his face warm up for some strange reason. “Friends too,” he added quickly to acquit himself from the sudden cornering.
“Friendship…” Jesca huffed through her smile while breaking her eyes and finding something to look at among the shadows of the far well. She placed her arms on the desk to lean her body against. “It seems like we feel less of that in our profession.”
“It’s a sacrifice, just like everything else,” Lex imparted. He found his hands reaching for the edge of the desk as he looked down upon Jesca’s thoughtful frame flickering in the candlelight. “But agents are a means to an end, and if we truly believe in the goodness of the end, then our sacrifices are just the same as a soldier’s or a priest’s.”
The wisdom intermingled with the warmth from the candles as it embraced Jesca’s thinking head in mid-trance. “Is that why you’ve been here at Infinite Castle?” she asked quietly.
The question flowed to Lex through the path established by his previous words like a vine climbing a tree of wisdom to reach the sun. Erected by these two ideas, Lex took a moment to submit his answer: “Not in the beginning,” he said, “In the beginning it was just a drive for survival… for anyone who’s been living around here in Infinite Castle they knows the hardship. The poverty and lack of compassion towards each other—not even charity… we don’t need charity—but I want to create a better place for us Europeans stranded here. I just hope that this deal the Guild has made will help all of us.”
The listening woman smiled in return at the answer. Although their work required the ruthlessness of espionage, she too understood the careful balance between barbarism, greed, compassion, and mission that permeated the halls of her abode. Infinite Castle was indeed a moral dilemma whose casualties were its poor and destitute; especially the children.
In the midst of her thoughts, Jesca found herself facing a small box at the edge of the table cradled on either side of the pillars of Lex’s arms. “What’s this?” was her immediate question.
“A present,” Lex said coyly nudging the object down the gentle slope of the desk until it terminated on the cushion of Jesca’s fingertips. “It is Saint Valentine’s day today, isn’t it?”
A small chuckle illuminated Jesca’s face and forced a wider smile out of the gift giver. With eager yet delicate precision, she opened the casing. Shining with a muted white sheen, a silvery band crowned the soft cushion within the box. The meaning of the gift gave Jesca some pause.
“A little reminder,” Lex said softly.
Slipping the band onto her finger, Jesca felt like a piece of her that was missing in the chaos of their surroundings and responsibilities was replaced again. “Thank you,” she said with as much composure as a woman of her stature required. But she was not so proud as to not rise to her feet and land a kiss on Lex’s cheek.
---
March 1, 1583
“It was quite simple, really,” Renault explained in his slightly accented Spanish. Already, spending so much time in California, he was attaining the regional dialect. His Castilian was almost thoroughly submerged. “All you needed to do was put the tiles together like a puzzle picture and the random lines on the back actually give away map coordinates when put together with the front puzzle solved.”
Antonio watched carefully in the depths of the rescue galleon with some interest at Renault’s debriefing. That older man began to replace the tiles in a certain fashion on the table until a Chinese character began to form.
“Afterwards, so long as you have a board underneath the pieces…” Renault continued to explain as he lifted up a broad plank that he had placed the pieces on. “You just flip the whole thing over like this and voila: a map and coordinates.”
“Fascinating, and how did you figure out what the front character was supposed to be?” Antonio asked as he approached the table where the Frenchman had laid out the solved puzzle.
Renault straightened himself up from the desk while Antonio leaned downward to investigate the strange tiles. “Your lady friend helped me,” Renault said with some slight teasing in his voice. “It was impossible to discern what the map looked like in puzzle form since it’s created in non-consecutive lineage, but I found it strange that there were large strokes of black ink on the back. At first, I thought they were leftover or mistake prints but I figured that they had to be pieces of a larger image or character and from there Mademoiselle Obidos guided me to the only character it was possible of being; ‘Gift.’”
Antonio grazed his hand slowly against the wooden blocks and felt the grooves roughen against his fingertips. “And we passed by this location a few hours ago?”
Renault nodded while turning around to a pouch behind him. Placing the container on the table and opening it up, he revealed scrolls etched with thick text. “We found a small fortified position in a seemingly deserted cove near the east side of Hainan. We sent a raiding party and retrieved these from the chests. From what I can tell and from the translators’ notes, these are operative names for the entire southern division of the Jinyi Wei and their known aliases.”
Antonio’s eyes shot upward with a start. “You’re kidding,” he could barely say.
“Not at all,” Renault replied while pulling the papers back into the pouch. “We’ll be copying the entire list before we make port in Shanghai and passing it over to that Guild that I’ve briefed you about.”
“With this, there should be nothing to interrupt the siege in Beijing or the occupation of Nanjing and Guangzhou,” Antonio exclaimed eagerly.
Renault nodded but kept his stern mechanical stare. “I’ll make sure to have these verified once or twice before we get too deep into counter-operations. If this is some Ming trap…”
Renault did not have to go any further; Antonio already understood his apprehension. With such an amazing find it was slightly suspect. Some things are never this easy, he thought to himself. However, all these suspicions truly rested with one person and she was behind secured walls constantly monitored by the three Lions Renault brought with him from San Francisco. “I suppose we can only hope,” Antonio finally said. Having explained to Renault what had occurred over the course of the winter, Renault had an inkling of what Antonio must be feeling.
“You’ve forgiven her already?” Renault asked in a softer tone.
Antonio looked back towards the map as if some secret on the wooden surface would provide a more comprehensive answer for him. “I think it’s enough that I want to.”
“If it’s true that she’s a defector, we are in need of a Far East specialist… now that…”
“Now that Isabella is dead and Sweet will assume command back home; I know.”
Antonio pulled himself away from the table but nonetheless held his gaze directly forward as if he was seeing something appear on the wall—as if someone was looking back at him through the eye of his mind. Renault quietly and respectfully kept silent. Although he was also pleased to see Antonio, he was not as close to this secret master than some of his other associates.
“Oh, I had meant to ask,” Antonio said smiling away the vision he saw on the dim wall, “What brings you over to this side of the Pacific anyway? The Viceroyalty isn’t getting boring for you is it?”
“Far from it!” Renault eagerly replied taking the change of conversation as a valuable diversion. “Master Jakob sent me word to head over here since he told me that one of the Royce’s had died.”
Antonio’s smile reluctantly faded the second Renault explained his intentions for the visit. “When we received word that you were alive, Grubby sent me to come get you as soon as possible!” Renault added.
“Ahh yes… Sebastian,” Antonio recalled with a faltering smile.
“Oh, you knew him, right? I apologize, sometimes all these analysis can do terrible things to my memory.”
“You can say that,” Antonio quickly answered instead of having to go through some lengthy thought out explanation. It would be enough just to avoid the awkwardness, he thought. “What do you think you’ll be doing about it?” Antonio asked.
“Well, I’m not sure if you knew since you were detained but apparently the body was also stolen.”
Antonio blinked at the announcement. “Stolen?”
“Yes, since it was a suicide it wasn’t buried in the church cemeteries and one day it was unearthed…” for a moment both thought over the strange circumstances surrounding such a theft.
“It’s quite unfortunate that the misconduct of such a false Catholic boy might mean that the keys transferred from England and Northern Ireland would fall into Protestant hands,” Renault attempted to input as a conclusion.
“Yes… a death of a guardian like this is something we haven’t dealt with for a long time. But I have faith that you can figure this one out for me, Renault.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As Renault excused himself from the chamber, the dark atmosphere of the galleon’s belly suddenly contrasted with Antonio’s lucid memories of the white beaches of Boracay. Antonio’s perception of his surroundings was darker than usual. Sebastian and Isabella were now gone. For some reason he felt terribly alone. It was not long before he found himself walking towards the brig…
---
The moans and screams intensified and filled up the cloudy atmosphere of the sealed chamber. Deep in the bowels of some hellish abode, Sio-Pan stood over a table where a writhing human gurgled up bloody breaths and oozed with the fresh red liquid. As the pain ruptured through the man’s body and was excreted through his throat, the poisons and elixirs Sio-Pan had polluted into him spewed out simultaneously. Despite the gore, Sio-Pan underpinned the diabolical symphony with his staccato of laughter like some impish metronome.
With filmy eyes, the man looked up at his torturer with a confused glance; his skin slightly sizzling under the auspices of various liquids pressed her and there by the Mandarin’s terrible touch. Like some bloody sacrifice on a pagan altar, Sio-Pan mercilessly punctured holes into the man’s flesh and poured strange coloured liquids until that whole body began to shudder and rise up and down on the stone slab.
“Excellent!!” Sio-Pan exclaimed with a high pitched glee.
The man on the table looked up with continued confusion and terror. The light from above made Sio-Pan’s silhouette into a devilish outline. “Who do you serve?!” Sio-Pan demanded from him.
Like some half drowning victim, the gasping man vomited out the response: “You, master! You!”
“That’s right!” Sio-Pan panted excitedly at the response. “Awaken! Awaken! Know that I have made you immortal through my magic! Now! What is your name?”
Another great lurch as that body writhed in blood and liquid on the table as the whole of its flesh jostled and moved. The man let loose another spillage of strange acids before announcing: “Sebastian Royce!”
Tom could not see anything. The pitch blackness secured that not even his own fingers were visible when put near his eyes. What had added to this frightening circumstance was that he had gained consciousness here—in this solitude.
“Hello?!” he called out desperately but he nearly gasped at his own question. The moment he attempted to make a sound, it was like the noise was sucked into the void.
The floor from which he rose up felt stony and warm but more so than that, it had a strange dampness. The atmosphere around him was also thick and chafed his lungs with every breath. Unfortunately, he could only breathe through his mouth—anything attempting to pass through his noise made him vomit; His surroundings smelled of iron and rotting meat.
It did not help that when attempting to find the wall, he did indeed feel some barrier but it was lined with some hideous slime that made Tom jump back in terror and nearly slip on the wet floor. Where was he, he thought? Turning around, Tom heard what sounded like the opening of a great metal door and suddenly his vision was blinded by an amazing light.
Quickly turning away from this stunning vision and shielding his dilated pupils from the burning gaze with his arms, he was only able to glimpse the source for a second before blackness returned and the warmth dissipated. Tom grit his teeth from the pain in his eyes while a soft moaning erupted from his throat and wailed against the darkness. He was alone again.
---
Hayato’s personal automobile was much faster than the limousine or the van and it was the method of choice for the three youngsters although Captain DeWitt insisted on driving. The unmarked sedan behind them contained the rest of the small team that accompanied them.
“Are you sure about this, Lara?” Hayato asked from the passenger’s seat to the rear.
Lara barely noticed the question until she chanced to see Hayato staring intently at her. “Oh yes,” she said quickly, “It makes perfect sense with what Carlos said on the phone…”
Hayato nodded but noticed the apprehension by which she watched the street quickly pass by from the window. “It’s not too late; there’s always hope we can save them both,” Hayato said with a strangely emphatic nod.
Lara did not readily respond but those words involuntarily drove her hand to hover above her collarbone. Hayato noticed the shining material underneath her palm. “A Peacock?” Hayato inquired looking at the gold outline and jewel filling of the caricature.
“When you mentioned hope, it reminded me of this… It was something my mother gave me,” Lara said strangely.
“A gift? Well I suppose it is a pretty bird,” Hayato tried to joke with a smile. Lara met his eyes with her serious gaze and managed to melt a small smirk as well.
“Ancient Legend was that the flesh of the Peacock never decayed… so the Early Christians used the animal in mosaics.”
“Oh?” Hayato said clearly impressed at her knowledge of such things.
“Yes,” Lara said widening her smile as she held onto the neckpiece, “that and because it sheds its feathers every year for new ones, it came to be known as a symbol for Christ’s Resurrection.”
Chapter XLVII: Resurrection (coming soon)