John Hawks: The Golden City

Maya sat down on a park bench and ate two biscotti . Directly across the lake was an Ionic temple dedicated to Aesculapius, the god of health; it felt like good luck to gaze at his statue.

Alice had too much energy to endure such sedentary pleasures. She ran around the park tossing pebbles into the lake and searching for a group of baby ducks hidden among the bamboo and banana trees. Finally, she returned to the bench and approached Simon.

“Let’s go to the River. Did you bring a boat?”

“Instead of just one vessel, I’ve brought a fleet.”

Simon reached into his canvas shopping bag and took out a piece of balsa wood with a stick mast and paper sails. In the middle of the gardens, someone had built a brick and concrete canal about the size of a drainage ditch. Alice called this ornamental gesture “the River,” because the water in the canal meandered down a low hill, passed beneath tiny bridges and finally emptied into the Sea. The Italian children liked to send chips of wood or paper boats down this miniature waterway, but Alice had insisted on a “real” toy boat. Three weeks ago, Simon had shown up with a balsa wood craft. His creations had gradually become more sophisticated.

Alice peered into the bag. “How many did you make?”

“Five. An eighteenth century warship. A Polynesian outrigger. A rich man’s yacht. The ocean liner. And a tug boat. I’ll admit that most of them look the same, but you have to use your imagination.”

“Who gets the fifth boat?”

“The fifth one is Fate’s vessel and la signora sails it wherever she wishes. But you can pick your own, Alice.”

“Let’s test them first,” Alice said. “We’ll sail each one to the first bend in the river.”

“An excellent idea.” Simon bowed to Maya. “We shall perform a quick test of seaworthiness and then return.”

The two of them walked off together and Priest sat down next to Maya. “I get the feeling that Alice is going to end up with the fastest boat.”

“I think you’re right about that. And Simon will be a gentleman and take the slowest.”

Maya sipped from a water bottle and gazed out at the Sea. West of the park, the sun was approaching the horizon, and the light around them began to change. The shallow man-made lake gradually began to look ageless and deep. When a light breeze touched the branches above them, shadows danced upon the ground.

Hollis Wilson might have chatted about where they were going to go for dinner that night, but Priest could sit for hours without saying anything. The rage he had shown after Vicki’s death had disappeared, leaving a quiet seriousness that intimidated strangers. He picked the right name, Maya thought, and wondered if her friend would always look sad whenever he saw lovers walking through the park.

“ Alice said you got a message from Linden.”

“I was planning to tell you. Over the weekend, Linden and two of his mercenaries traveled to England and raided Wellspring Manor. They were going to rescue Matthew Corrigan’s body, but all they found was a grave. According to a log book, the Traveler’s heart stopped beating about two weeks ago.”

Maya gazed out at the swans and tried not to panic. Did this mean that Gabriel had also died? After the incident in Los Angeles, the bodies of both brothers were taken north and concealed in the cellar of a Jonesie church in the Sierra Mountains.

Priest saw the fear in her eyes. He touched her arm and spoke in a soothing voice. “Don’t worry. Tommy Wu drove up to Northern California last weekend to make sure everything was okay. Both Gabriel and Michael were still breathing. Their hearts beat every two or three minutes. That means they’re still alive.”

“When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me stories about the sleeping hero,” Maya said. “There always a legendary person that’s hidden in a cave-like King Arthur in Britain or Priester John in Africa. They’re sleeping, but alive, waiting to emerge once again.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait, but encourage the Resistance.”

“We’re going to have a race!” Alice ran up to the bench and danced around them. “I get the yacht, Maya gets the outrigger and Priest gets the warship.”

“And I have chosen the ocean liner,” Simon said solemnly. “Like its owner, it’s somewhat awkward in the water.”

They left the lake and followed a dirt path that meandered up the hill. The River started at a marble fountain that dribbled into a leaf-clogged pool. They placed the boats in the water and watched as the current pushed them over a thin lip of concrete and into the canal. Although Alice ’s boat appeared to be the fastest, all five vessels stalled at the first bend in the River. “Don’t push them,” Simon told Alice. “Let them go their own way.”

When Simon wasn’t looking, Maya picked up a stick and tossed it into the water. This Harlequin catalyst drifted down to the first bend and struck the warship-which promptly bumped into the other vessels.

That was all that was needed. One by one, the balsa wood boats slipped around the bend. Excited, Alice darted back and forth, cheering each boat on. Simon followed in his somber black clothes with a smile on his face. Even Priest was drawn into the competition. His sword case swung back and forth as he jumped across the River.

Maya stood alone and saw everything, the sun touching the western horizon with a blaze of light, her three friends and the dark green canopy of leaves. No angels appeared with clarion trumpets. But she knew at that moment-knew with a subtle, quiet certainty-that she was carrying a new prophet, carrying a Traveler.

And the four little boats and the fifth boat as well continued on their journey, stopping and turning, then racing to the Sea.