The Remembering

All our journeys are singular. We travel within ourselves, no matter where we go, alone among others we learn a traveler’s language, a code of recognition and respect. The longer the journey, the deeper the dream, the more we become one. We never forget. We remember everything and everyone. We survive. We are travelers.

No one said a word while I was “reading” the sphere, and if they had I would not have heard them. The experience was trancelike. As the markings and their meanings came to me, it was much more like being in a dream state than the conscious act of translating or decoding. It was an intuitive understanding, but I also realized that once learned, the ability could be taught to others. The markings were there not just for me; they were there for all of us.

I turned to look at Opari. She had a nervous, excited expression on her face. “Are you able to read the sphere, my love?”

At first, I said nothing. Then for some reason, I laughed. “Yes … yes, I am.”

The Fleur-du-Mal had walked out from behind his desk and was standing near Ray. “Is it a message? What does it say, mon petit?”

“It’s not really a message. It’s more of an … invitation.”

“An invitation to what?” Ray asked.

“I’m not sure what, but I know where. These markings are directions — elaborate, specific directions to a specific place on Earth. It is a system and a language that is not words, not symbols, but an intuitive, collective set of instructions, understood by the heart as much as the mind.”

“Damn!”

“The Remembering is never mentioned?” Opari asked.

“No,” I answered, then smiled. “But the Sixth Stone is, and the Egongela, the Living Room, although the markings are closer to meaning the ‘Shelter.’ ”

I walked over to the sphere from the Caucasus and studied it briefly, then circled the oldest sphere of the three, the one found among the possessions of “the Thracian.” Each sphere was a set of instructions and directions, with the one from Portugal being the most complex, ornate, and precise, as if the “dream language” had evolved or added layers. There was one marking that did not change and appeared exactly the same on all three spheres. “The nearest equivalent in English is the word ‘West,’ but in the ‘dream language,’ the meaning is animate. It is a living ‘West.’ ”

“Where is this ‘place on Earth’?” the Fleur-du-Mal asked.

“Nearer than you might think.” I looked around me, into the shadows of the spacious room. “Do you have a globe somewhere in the milk barn?”

“Yes, of course. Come with me.”

We walked between the desk and the chalkboard to another crowded area in the rear of the room. The Fleur-du-Mal switched on a floor lamp and pointed to a beautiful freestanding globe two feet in diameter. “There,” he said.

I turned the globe until I found the location, then put my finger on it.

“The south coast of Wales?” Opari said, a little surprised.

“Yes. Near Swansea.”

“That ain’t far from Caitlin’s Ruby,” Ray replied.

“About a hundred miles.”

The Fleur-du-Mal said nothing for several moments, staring at the globe and frowning. “Can you teach me to read the markings, mon petit?”

“Yes, I think so,” I said, realizing suddenly that I finally had some leverage with the Fleur-du-Mal. “However, I will not do it here. I want you to move the spheres to Caitlin’s Ruby. It may be difficult to get them out of East Germany, but I know you can find a way. And I will teach everyone to read the spheres, not just you. This invitation is for all of us.”

The Fleur-du-Mal stood motionless for a few seconds, still frowning, then reached out and spun the globe with one hand. “Agreed,” he said with a bitter smile.

Opari, Ray, and I left for Paris the following day. The Fleur-du-Mal assured me it should take no longer than a month to arrange delivery of the spheres. I asked him how he planned to do it and he told me to mind my own business. He also demanded his own private quarters at Caitlin’s Ruby, saying it was nothing personal, just habit. I said I would look into it and reminded him that Koldo and Arrosa Txopitea were the owners of Caitlin’s Ruby; we were merely their guests.

Once we were back on the Giselle, things went very quickly. After Sailor heard about the breakthrough, he seemed happier and more gregarious than I’d seen him in years. When I told him I could teach him to “read” the spheres, he became almost ecstatic and couldn’t wait to begin. Sheela said, “Well done, Z.” I told her it wasn’t me, it was Carolina, and Sheela and Sailor exchanged puzzled looks.

The next day we sent word to Geaxi, Mowsel, and Zeru-Meq to meet us at Caitlin’s Ruby within the week. Jack and Star acted as our “chaperones” entering England, and we all boarded a train in London for the trip west to Cornwall. Along the way, the weather was perfect, and the passing farms and fields were green and lush and in full flower.

Koldo and Arrosa greeted us in Plymouth and drove us in separate cars the rest of the way to Caitlin’s Ruby. I was told by Arrosa that once again we had missed seeing Kepa and Yaldi. They were both touring in North America. I told her more of us were on the way, and she said there was plenty of room and we should not worry about it. I brought up the Fleur-du-Mal’s request and she had the solution. He could stay in the garage, which she had recently refurbished and converted to a studio with a small apartment and a full kitchen. I asked if Tillman Fadle’s old cottage was occupied, and when Arrosa said no, I knew it was the ideal place to house the spheres, once they arrived, and teach the others how to “read” the “dream language.” As we pulled into the long gravel driveway and approached the main house, almost all the cats of Caitlin’s Ruby were there to greet us. They lined the low stone walls and every window ledge.

“Is this an omen?” I asked Arrosa.

“Oh, yes, Z! A good one,” she said.

Jack and Star returned to London two days later, only hours before Geaxi, Mowsel, and Zeru-Meq arrived. The trip to Paris had worked its magic and lifted their spirits, and they were both anxious to get back to St. Louis. As we were saying good-bye, I told Jack something important was about to happen for the Meq, but I couldn’t tell him what it was. I also said I didn’t know when I would be in St. Louis again and apologized for being so mysterious about it. Jack laughed and told me no apology was necessary; it never had been and never would be. He said, “Mama explained to me when I was a kid that you and your ways should never be doubted or questioned. She was right, Z. Just knowing that you and the others exist in this world has made my life a rich one.” We embraced and he added, “Be well, Z, and we will see you when we see you.” I hugged and kissed Star, then Koldo drove them away, with Star waving out the back window until they were completely out of sight.

It felt good to have everyone in one place again. We settled easily into Caitlin’s Ruby and our routines, which included a great amount of walking and talking. We didn’t hear a word from the Fleur-du-Mal, and we expected to wait at least three to four weeks before we did. However, just ten days into our stay, we were surprised to see two identical white vans driving up to the main house and entrance and coming to a stop. In bold black print on the sides of the vans were the words, “MINISTRY OF AGRICULTURE, FISHERIES & FOOD.” The two drivers and two other men stepped out. They each wore white coveralls with the letters MAFF printed on their backs. The side doors of the vans were opened and inside were three large crates, two in one van and one in the other. “FRAGILE” was stamped in red on the crates.

Koldo looked at the men. “May I help you?”

One of the drivers said, “Where would you like us to put them?”

“I’m sorry,” Koldo replied. “Put what?”

“The beehives, the Czechoslovakian HFN2 beehives. We took good care of them. Nothing to worry about there, sir. Now, if you please, we have a long drive back, so where would you like us to put them, sir?”