D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“Queen Mary” Dodger said in awe. “This is the closest I’ll ever get to sailing on her.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Courtney said.

Dodger gave her a confused look. Courtney’s response was to grab his hand and run for shore. The two quickly escaped from the pier before the police showed up and started asking questions they wouldn’t have answers for. Or answers they wanted to give. They headed back to the hotel. On the subway. Neither had the stomach for getting into another cab. They traveled silently, both lost in thought. Courtney thought long and hard about what she was going to tell Dodger. She no longer thought he was Saint Dane. If there was anything good that came out of their cab ride from hell, it was that she now knew for sure that he wasn’t Saint Dane. She couldn’t ask him to ignore reality any longer. That wouldn’t be fair. No, she figured, Dodger was going to want the truth. The question was, how much of it should she reveal? She didn’t want to scare him off, but he needed to know what he had gotten himself into. His allegiance to Gunny aside, he nearly died in that cab. He deserved to know why.

By the time they got back to the hotel, their clothes were dry. Aside from a few scratches and a nasty bruise on Courtney’s forehead, they weren’t much the worse for wear. Both had lost their hats, but hats were replaceable. The two were walking through the garden toward the front door of the hotel when Courtney stopped Dodger.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For helping me even though you didn’t have to.” “But Gunny asked-“

“Yeah, I know,” Courtney interrupted. “But thanks just the same.”

“You’re welcome,” Dodger said sincerely.

“I’ve decided to tell you the truth. All of it.”

“You don’t have to,” Dodger said quickly.

“But I want to,” Courtney countered. “You deserve that.”

“Yeah, maybe, but still, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t get it,” Courtney said with a frown. “Before you were all about wanting to know what was going on. Now you don’t care? Why’s that? Are you giving up on me?”

“Who said anything about giving up? All I said was you didn’t have to tell me.”

“Uh… confused.”

“I’ll show you something, ” Dodger said with a sly smile.

He led Courtney into the hotel and down the stairs toward Gunny’s apartment. But they didn’t go to Gunny’s. Dodger brought her to the hotel vault, where a gray-haired guy in a bellhop suit sat behind a desk, reading the newspaper.

“Hey, Mike, working hard?” Dodger asked.

“Hardly working,” Mike answered grumpily without taking his eye off the paper.

“I need that strongbox you’re holding for me,” Dodger said.

Mike looked up at him, over his half-glasses. “You got some identification?”

“Yeah,” Dodger said. He held up his right hand with his fingers spread. “I got five friends to vouch for me. One, two, three, four, five.” With each number he curled a finger, until he ended up with a fist… and gave Mike a sharp but friendly punch in the arm.

“Ow!” the old guy winced. “Good enough.” Mike pulled himself off the high stool and shuffled into the large vault.

“What’s this about?” Courtney asked.

“Patience,” Dodger said. “It’s my turn to be mysterious.”

Courtney shrugged and waited. A few minutes later Mike shuffled out, carrying a gray, metal strongbox that looked about twenty-four inches square. He put it on the desk and slid it over to Dodger.

“I should make you sign for this,” Mike grumped. “But you won’t,” Dodger replied.

“What you got in there?’ Mike asked. “The family jewels?” The old guy cackled a laugh.

“That’s exactly what I got,” Dodger answered as he slid the box off the desk. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a prince.”

“So they say,” Mike replied. “So they say.” He was already back to reading his paper before Dodger and Courtney left the vault room.

“Let’s take this to Gunny’s apartment,” Dodger said. “It’s private.”

Courtney walked the rest of the way to Gunny’s door and used the key that was hidden overhead. Before going in, she said teasingly, “I thought it was wrong to go inside a lady’s boudoir unless it’s official business.”

Dodger answered without a trace of humor, “This is official business.”

Courtney’s smile dropped. She had never seen Dodger so serious. Courtney closed and locked the door behind them, while Dodger put the strongbox on Gunny’s kitchen table.

“So?” Courtney asked curiously.

“You said you wanted to tell me the truth. I figured I’d save you some breath.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a chain. Hanging from it was a silver key that he used to open the strongbox. “Thing is, I already know the truth.”

Dodger opened the box and took out a handful of papers. Some were rolled up and wrapped with twine. Others were typed sheets bound into leather volumes. Courtney stared, not sure what she was seeing.

“I know it all, Courtney,” Dodger said. “Or at least, as much as Gunny does. These are the journals of the Traveler from First Earth. I told you, I’m Gunny’s acolyte.”

Courtney was stunned. “Gunny’s been sending these to you through the ring?”

Dodger nodded. “I know it all. Pendragon, Third Earth, the Hindenburg. I gotta keep that one pretty quiet. It wouldn’t do no good for the cops to find out Gunny was responsible for bringing it down. I know about Eelong and Spader and the poison from Cloral and Black Water, and even about how Kasha died. It’s all here.”

Courtney was reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dodger chuckled. “Hey, I had to be careful. You weren’t sure if I was Saint Dane? I wasn’t sure if you were.”

Courtney punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What’s that for? It works both ways, you know!”

“I guess,” Courtney said insincerely. She didn’t like the idea that anybody could think she was Saint Dane.

Dodger pulled a single sheet of folded parchment out of the box. “Now that I know you’re legit, I can deliver this.”

Dodger held out the sheet to Courtney.

“For me?” Courtney asked, numb.

“Straight from Eelong, from Gunny and Spader… to you.”

Dear Mark and Courtney,

I’m sending this note to my acolyte, Dodger, on First Earth in hopes that he can deliver it to you. You can trust Dodger. He’s a good man. If you’re reading this, you already know that. I think it’s important you learn some of the things that have happened since you left Eelong.

First off, Spader and I are doing just fine. We’re living in Black Water. It’s not First Earth, and I sure do miss the food and the friends back home, but it’s good enough. So if anybody out there is worried about us, don’t be. Until we find a way off this territory, we’ll be fine.

As I’m writing this, I’m guessing that Spader and I have been here about two years. You might say the changes we’ve seen are pretty spectacular. Edict Forty-six was defeated. The klees will not be hunting gars anymore. But that was just the beginning. There is a spirit of cooperation between the two races (or is it species?) that has turned this territory completely around. Black Water has become a center of technology and education. Their radio invention is now used throughout Eelong, and they’ve even started figuring out how to send out pictures. That’s more advanced than that television thing they’re talking about on First Earth. Isn’t that just amazing? Now there are regular gig flights between Leeandra and Black Water.

They’re about to finish a permanent railway line that will