The Pages of Historie (6 Feb 2003) Thomas and Simon search through the catacombes underneath the Palace of All Seasons, for the Book of Historie.

Forgotten Hallway
It has been a long time since anyone has been here, to judge from the thickness of the dust here. Tall streaked marble columns rise from the eroded tiles to a vaulted ceiling overhead. There are several doors framed in gilt to both sides, but they are tiny compared to the massive one at the far end of the hall, an immense stone arch with a lion's head at the top and lion's paws at the base. There is no doorknob upon this door, nor a keyhole. It is a flat surface of dark walnut, apparently so massive that it could resist the greatest battering ram, and tall enough to admit giants.

Before the door stands a tall young man with wild black hair, garbed in a chainmail shirt upon practical forester's clothes, looking up at the lion. His fading words hang upon the air: "In any event, we stand on the threshold to a way to save, or destroy, this world. We must decide carefully on what we do from this point on."

The lion's head turns down to gaze levelly upon him. "Decide carefully, Seeker," says a deep voice, subtlypurring its R's, the hint of a snarl in its narrowed eyes. Did those paws move? Were there claws exposed before, or did they only recently unsheathe? Simon gulps, edging back out of the guardian's reach, holding his torch up as if it were a shield and weapon.

"You stand before the Royal Mausoleum and between the paws of its guardian. By what right do you seek entrance?"

Thomas quirks an eyebrow and looks up at the lion, unwavering. "I have three reasons I have the right to enter. One, I am a seeker of the truth and beyond that door lies the book which defines the reality of this world.Two, the world walks upon a knife's edge as we stand here. We seek the book, to help save this world from destruction. Three, I am the descendant of one of the world's founders and have a right to her legacy," Thomas answers boldly and locks his eyes on the stone lion's.

The lion rumbles, leaning down to sniff Thomas gently. A chill breath stirs his already tousled and dusty hair.

Thomas doesn't or even bat an eye; he simply awaits an answer.

"You have the smell of one of February, and of November," says the lion at last. "From whom do you claim your heritage?"

Simon watches with obvious worry, one hand resting on his belt pouch.

"You ask a question I have tried to hide from all my life," Thomas replies and looks directly into the stone lion's eyes. "I claim November, because it is the lands in which I grew up, it was the lands my father came from, and it is the lands which I bear most of my resemblance from. But, my mother was of February -- she was the daughter of Lady Cherise, the founder of House February. Their tale is one long forgotten by most -- perhaps just considered a fable now." He lets out a sigh and says, "At the time, the two houses were feuding. It was unfortunate that they had fallen in love. When they refused to part, they were both disowned by their families and left to fend for themselves in the wilds. It was never recorded that many Years later, they had a son. While some may consider it a sad tale, I don't. I can explain why, if you wish."

The look that Simon gives Thomas says very plainly, "Since when did all this happen?"

Thomas briefly glances at Simon.

"Descendent of the line of Lady Cherise of February, you are kin to King Searlas," rumbles the lion at last. "You may pass to pay your respects to his memory in the Mausoleum. Yet be warned, traveler, the Book of Historie is denied you. None but those of the Royal Blood that now rules may enter its chamber."

"If we do not access the book, then the world is in grave danger. I am here now, on behalf of the ruling family. But, if you insist, I shall have to bring one of them here," Thomas answers. "But, in any event, I would like to enter. And thank you."

"Have you proof?" asks the lion-guardian.

Simon moves close enough to whisper to Thomas, "Boy, I can see why many people don't visit this place. Who'd want to get the third degree from Stone-Face about their right to visit?"

"Only my word. They were concerning themselves with the siege and the welfare of those about to go into battle,"Thomas says, then ponders for a moment. He digs into his pouch and produces the worn flute and says, "Unless that the fact that they allow me to carry an object of great power from the beginnings of this world is proof in your eyes? The flute of Lord Bram."

The lion's head turns toward Simon, seeming irritated. "Many came here once. Since the Destroyer himself took the Book of Historie from this place once, it was ordered that this place be barred and guarded. I myself was placed here to guarantee access only to those of the bloodline of Kings." He turns back to Thomas. "This child of mortal blood. Do you take responsibility for his conduct?"

"Full responsibility. He is my friend. He would not betray me, nor the trust others place in me," Thomas answers without hesitation.

Simon looks up at the lion-gate with shock. "What do you mean, took the Book from here? That can't be right! Tom, you tell him that."

The lion's head begins to lean downward to sniff at Simon suspiciously. Its paws shift on the ground.

"Simon, we shall discuss such matters later. We have many questions we must answer, remember? We must discover which is the truth to save all," Thomas says softly to Simon. He then directs his attention tot he statue and says, "Simon here has spent time with some of the Destroyer's men. You probably sense it on him and the clothing he now wears. He has learned some things from their view that may have some truth to them. We are trying to piece together the truth of it all and I have been willing to hear them as well. But again, I trust him. He has always been my friend and will not betray me. We are here to help save this world. But, if you'd rather he stay out here, I will not deny you that authority. Simon, would you be willing to do so, if the guardian requests?"

"I... I'd rather stick with you," Simon says. He looks nervously up at the lion-gate.

For its part, the lion's guardian wrinkles its nose in obvious distaste. "Indeed, I smell monsters upon the boy's clothes. As you are a child of February, I shall grant you the responsibility of his conduct. Yet as for the right to enter the Chamber of Historie..." There is a pause. "Do you know the power of the flute of Bram?"

"I do. It has the power over all locks," Thomas replies.

The lion asks, "And do you know the song that unlocks all locks?"

"I do," Thomas answers.

Simon looks at the flute with raised eyebrows. "Boy, think of all the trouble you could get into with that," he whispers.

"It was taught to me by the daughter of the Queen," Thomas adds, then glances at Simon again.

The lion's head narrows its eyes in deep thought as it gazes down upon Thomas and Simon for a time. The silence grows uncomfortably long.

"And had I planned deceit, I would not have admitted to having it, much less its powers, would I? I speak the truth on the reason I am here," Thomas injects into the silence.

"As you have not used it to force entrance by magic, you have gained a small credence, Seeker," agrees the lion. Claws momentarily velveted unsheathe again in a sequence of eight quick clacks against the worn tiles. "Yet troubled times are when the Book of Historie is most in danger. You must give to me the flute of Bram to hold before you may enter, and you must pledge that you will not touch nor take away the Book."

Simon frowns, looking up at Thomas.

"As for the flute, I accept your terms. As for the book, may we read it without touching it, then? It may hold further answers to the mysteries we seek to unravel. If the contents of the book then require us full access, I will locate one of the royal house to claim it, then," Thomas replies with a nod. He then glances at Simon and says, "We seek to help this world. Let us do it with honor and respect the wishes of the guardian."

"If you can, you may, Seeker," replies the guardian. One of its paws rises soundlessly from the floor and reaches out to Thomas, so that the flute may be deposited into its palm. Amazingly, even though it could not have been sculpted flat against the floor, the paw shows pads and the ruffling of stylized fur.

Thomas does so and drops the flute into the palm of the lion. "Thank you," Thomas says..

"It has been long since any have come this way," the lion-guardian replies. The paw wraps around the flute and lowers itself once again to the floor, and the door begins to creak open inward, slowly at first, and then more quickly.

Within is shadowy darkness at first, pierced only by the light from Thomas's lantern and Simon's torch, but then hanging orbs of golden light begin to appear, one after another, illuminating large stone statues on both sides of a massive hall, striking glints from the plaques at the base of each statue.

Thomas unhooks his cloak and sets it on the floor. "Simon, please remove your cloak as well," Thomas says softly. "Time to try to piece together the stories that make up this mystery."

Simon swallows. "All right," he says as he takes off his cloak and sets that next to Thomas's. "But this place is creepy."

"This place is nothing in comparison to some places I've been since I came here," Thomas replies with a grin and walks through the doorway. "Let's see what there is to see, eh?"

Simon cranes his neck up at the robed kings as he follows close behind. "Dead people, I guess... Or statues of them. I wonder what they did, put the bodies inside coffins shaped just like them? I read that they did that in Egypt."

"They went into the pages of Historie, as it was told to me," Thomas replies and looks for two nameplates in particular, Riordan and Searlas. "As for what the statue said a bit ago, I was told the Destroyer already took the book once and tried to re-write the rules. He was unable to."

"What? Then what am I here for, if he already tried it?" Simon demands.

King Riordan's statue is in fact the first statue near the door, and it shows a young-seeming man who manages to convey both great strength of will and compassion in his pose as he stands looking into the distance. His plaque reads, "Born in time without measuring, passed into Historie Year 2," and goes on to recount some of the significant events of his rule.

"What, indeed?" Thomas muses. "You need to calm down a bit and think. Remember when I said neither of us may know the whole truth? It may be simply that since then he found out why he couldn't, but now can't get near it. Or it may be that he's lied to you about something. We need to figure out which is the truth." Thomas pauses and looks at the bust of Riordan and says, "My grandmother had a huge crush on him, you know. And I do mean my grandmother. She was the one who became Lady Cherise when the Harcourt children and her friends first came here. He gave his existence to give the beings of this world a chance to have a stable life. A world where they have continuity."

"My grandmother still remembers him to this day," Thomas replies with a sad smile. "To her memories now, he supposedly had to move away. She still wishes she knew what really happened to him. Sad thing is, she does know. I just don't think she wants to believe that was the truth."

Simon frowns, working this through slowly. "Then where did he come from before that, if they didn't have continuity?"

"The rolling wave of spirits that existed in the chaos before. A few had a bit more awareness than others and they wanted to form some reality for their kind so they could live like those in the world they called 'the mortal world'. Riordan took the name 'Ryan Jordan' and pretended to be a child in their world. He became friends with the Harcourts," Thomas explains

Thomas reaches out and touches the bust lightly out of curiosity.

The statue is cold to the touch. Riordan looks only somewhat older than Thomas, and wears a sword but is apparently comfortable to leave it where it is, in favor of holding a scepter in one hand, which bears the Mirari insignia of a crowned unicorn. He confidently regards the future, which stretches before him as a succession of Kings.

Simon nods thoughtfully, looking up at the statue. "And that's when they wrote the Rules, right? But who really made the Rules? Him or the Harcourts?"

"He knew he would die, in a sense. Yet, he did it anyway for the sake of others. That's courage, Simon. I'm not sure I could," Thomas says soberly, then salutes the statue. "As for the rules, I believe it was done by all of them. The Harcourts, Riordan, and the Lord Protector, one of the spirits who was also more aware than most. They tried to set down a foundation for a stable world that could endure." He then turns and starts walking further down the corridor and says, "I want to see what Searlas looked like. And, I really should ask my grandmother whom she 'pretended' to marry when she existed in this world with the Harcourts. You see, Simon, this world can pull you into it and make you a part of it, in a sense."

"Boy, don't I know that," Simon says with a grin.

Thomas pauses and looks at Simon. "Know what?" Thomas asks.

"Well, that's how I wound up here," Simon says as he looks about for Searlas's statue. "Lord April-- Eoin-- had his servants bring me through, when I fell in the water, and they sent Tatterdemalion... Sir Lefallon... through to substitute for me, and he made me a page. He told me that he'd seen that everyone picked on me. You remember Boris, right? But he thought I had some real potential, and he wanted to make sure I'd reach it. I've learned a lot from him. Stuff about how to behave in court, sure, but stuff like how to ride a horse, and some neat magic tricks, and handling a sword, too." He shrugs self-deprecatingly. "I'm not very good with a sword though. They're too heavy for me."

"Well, this world took me in even further, I'm afraid. While here, I'm one of them. Even iron harms me," Thomas says as he looks as well. He then adds, "Part of me honestly wonders if Eoin was honest with you on that, or if he was trying to use you. And please, don't get angry as I have to consider as many angles as I can here because we are dealing with the fate of the world. Have you ever considered that because of how lousy you were treated, that he thought he could easily sway you to do whatever he wants by showing you kindness? Again, that is just a speculation and may or may not be true in any way. So, please, don't get mad for me simply suggesting it."

"And have you ever thought that maybe he isn't all bad the way people make him out to be, and that he saw a chance to break the cycle once and for all?" Simon retorts angrily. "I'm not stupid and I'm not going to destroy all Mirari just because he says so, but I do think it's wrong to force him to be the ultimate enemy, for all time. He gave me a chance, and I'm going to give him a chance."

"Aside from all the things this world's version of me has suffered at his hands, including having to fight a wraith who was supposed to have been an old friend of mine -- yes, I have. I told you, I am here to find out the truth. Had I ever considered otherwise, Simon, you wouldn't be walking here with me now," Thomas answers at looks at the smaller boy. "You should have better faith in me than that."

The statue of King Searlas is not quite halfway down the hall, and depicts a tall, stout man who looks rather familiar. He is robed in royal fashion like the other Kings here, but his left hand is upon his sword hilt, his right over his eyes to shade them as if he were looking very far away into the sun. His plaque reads, "Born in the Year 32, passed into Historie in the Year 37," and describes some of his chief accomplishments as driving off an invasion of trolls, and establishing border fortresses to watch for their return. Under his rule, Mirari is supposed to have experienced a renaissance of trade with the Wild Lands.

"And you should have some faith in me too," Simon shoots back. "You're my best friend! Let's just leave this alone and concentrate on finding that Book. Maybe we'll get some answers out of it."

"I do. Again, that's why you're here. You don't need to get defensive," Thomas replies and continues on. "But yes, we need to see if the book can tell us anything. We can second guess each other's thoughts until we grow old and rot in this place."

The Mausoleum stretches out further, and eventually there are places without statues, perhaps for the memorials of future Kings. Light comes through a barred arch at the very end of the hall.

"And that's probably the book," Thomas says as he walks toward the archway.

Up closer, the shadowy bars resolve into a rusted portcullis set into the arch, with a lever to one side. Beyond it is a circular chamber with an intricate colored tile pattern on the floor, and murals on the walls, brilliantly lit from some source high out of sight; perhaps it is natural sunlight.

The chill breeze cannot mask the feeling of heat on Thomas's face, and he knows its source long before he comes close enough to see the rust on the lever. The portcullis and its lever are iron.

Simon doesn't even notice as he walks closer to look through the bars. "Oh, wow," he says.

"Of course. I know why he needs you to get the book, Simon," Thomas replies and tries to force himself toward the bars.

"What? Why?" Simon looks back from his place by the bars, and seems even more puzzled to observe Thomas's evident difficulty.

"That's iron, Simon. I can feel it," Thomas replies through gritted teeth.

Simon nods. "So?"

"It hurts people who are part of this world," Thomas answers, "Like Eoin. And now, like me."

The younger boy stops and then scrutinizes Thomas. "But I've seen you handle iron things before. I know I have! Back in Ainigton--" A dark look passes across his face. "Tell me something that only Tom would know."

"Yeah, in Ainigton I can," Thomas answers. "As for something only Tom would know? How about that goofy duel I had with Agatha the first time we went to the cave? You know, when I had to pretend to be a dragon and I lamely used a towel for wings? Or when we all had lunch at school, right before Rebecca was told she was chosen for the exchange program?"

"Huh! I thought for a crazy moment you might have been a kobold. They're April's shapeshifters," Simon says. He nods thoughtfully. "So you're saying, only I can pull this lever and get us through?"

"Yes. But remember, I promised we would not try to take the book," Thomas replies. "If we go through so we can read it, great. But, we cannot take it."

Simon scrunches his nose up. "Spoilsport. Well, here goes-- nothing!" He puts his hands upon the lever and pulls.

Nothing happens. The lever fails to move.

The younger boy heaves his weight against it, and finally lets up, gasping for breath. "Darn! It's rusted!"

Thomas winces. "I can try to help ... but ... it's going to hurt. A lot," he says, and then he digs in his pack.

"What have you got in mind?" Simon looks wary.

"Well, either I have to grab it and pull too -- which I might add would be like grabbing red-hot metal. Or, you tie this rope to it and we pull from a distance that is safe for me," Thomas says and pulls out his trusty coil of rope.

Simon nods agreement, taking the end of the rope from Thomas. "I think we'll go with the latter."

The younger boy wraps the rope around the lever a few times and then secures it with a square knot. "There! Give that a try."

"Okay, good. I'd rather not blister my hands and arms," Thomas says and pulls the rope taut. "I was worried you would look at me funny when you found out that I really meant it when I said this world really made me a part of it." He then pulls on the rope slowly, letting the tension grow at a steady rate to avoid either snapping the rope or perhaps damaging the mechanism if it gave suddenly.

The rope grows taut ... but that seems to be all. The lever is as immovable as if it were solid iron from handle to floor. It does not even creak slightly as it did with Simon's attempt.

"I did look at you funny," Simon points out. He waits a while, and then starts tapping his foot as if to say 'Any time now'.

"Grab the rope and pull too," Thomas says, then puts all his strength into it and growls.

Simon grins wryly, then goes to lend a hand. The lever begins to creak slightly, but only to the extent that Simon was able to move it before.

"Okay, this is not working," Thomas replies with a grunt, then releases the rope. He taps his foot, annoyed, and eyes the level. "I suppose I could try to manually pull it," he says.

"How strong are your legs?" Thomas asks Simon.

"Something goofy is going on here," Simon says thoughtfully. "I thought I could almost move it when I was trying the first time. It should have moved when we were both trying it!" He looks down and then adds, "I guess they're stronger now than before; I've been doing a lot of walking."

"Well, consider this: If the lever and door are designed for fey to not be able to move it -- I won't be able to, no matter what," Thomas explains, then hmms. "Can you get behind the lever and push it with your legs? Y'know, put your shoulder against it and not bother with your arms."

Simon looks doubtful. "I guess I could try..." He walks quickly back to the lever and positions himself as suggested.

crr-r-rreak! Simon grits his teeth as he shoves hard, legs straining against the floor. "This is hard!" he complains.

"Yes, I know," Thomas says, "Keep pushing. You can do it."

"If only I could somehow shift myself back to just my Ainigton self, I could help," Thomas grumbles, "Bah, how do I do that?"

The lever begins to move, slowly, with a horrendous grating sound, then slows again to a stop. Simon stops to pant for breath. "I don't know, think Ainigton thoughts maybe, or something!"

"Well, you're moving it! Keep at it and I think we'll get through. Can you see the book from here at all?" Thomas asks.

"Or, we could fetch Alice and Agatha, then get Alice to get the book -- as she has the right to do so," Thomas suggests. "If we sat down with just those two, we could explain what Eoin told you. I think they'd be willing to listen."

"No, it's just a black door on the other side of the chamber," Simon calls back. "Maybe the light in there makes it too bright to see!" He takes a deep breath, and then throws himself against the lever again, pushing with his legs.

crrr-rrr... THUNK All of a sudden, the lever falls into position, and the portcullis clangs upward with a thunderous boom. Simon windmills his arms before grabbing onto the lever to hold himself upright. "Whoa!"

"Okay, so we don't have to fetch them to get in," Thomas says with a worried look as he moves toward the lever. However, he winces and stops a foot from it. "Sorry, I can't get any closer. You okay?""

Simon stands up dizzily, then leans on the wall of the arch. "Yeah, give me a minute to catch my breath. Go ahead, I'll catch up."

"Nah, I'll wait and go with you. Want to make sure you'll be okay," Thomas replies with a grin. "It took me long enough to find you. Not losing you again."

"Like I was lost in the first place!" Simon shoots back. He does seem grateful to Thomas nevertheless, and after a moment, he stands and pronounces himself fit to walk again. "Okay, lead on, fearless leader!"

Thomas grins and claps Simon on the back. "You were lost in the fact that I didn't know where you were," Thomas says and heads through the archway with Simon.

The murals distract Thomas from the portal directly ahead. The bright light from the pearly orb overhead makes them all seem as real as if he were standing in the midst of the very place that they describe, a grassy meadow in the midst of the vast countryside. To one side is a familiar hill, and beyond them, the Dragonspine Mountains, separated by a wide sparkling river. A vast host of people stand in the meadow, led by a woman with long blonde hair that flows upon the breeze, a dark-haired, handsome young man, and an older man carrying a bound book. Across from them are a black unicorn and a white pegasus.

Simon looks about in amazement. "Wow! It looks real enough you could just reach out and touch them."

Thomas points to the mural. "The arrival. That's Anastasia, for one -- the Lord Protector and his wife, I think." He pauses to examine the details of the figures closely.

"Lord Mel... Melshie... What was it Alice called her doll?" Simon says, recalling the stuffed black unicorn.

"Lord Melchizedek. And hey, don't you recognize one of the guys?" Thomas asks.

"Lord Eoin!" says Simon with surprise. "That's him, all right. They all look happy together ... but then they had their falling out, didn't they?"

"Yes, they did. I imagine Eoin helped write some of the rules, even, in the real early days," Thomas replies. "The falling out, as far as I know, was because the girls wanted Riordan to be the ruler over Eoin."

Simon grimaces. "I don't imagine that he was too happy about that. He didn't talk too much about that part, I think maybe he felt kind of embarrassed about what happened."

"Well, the girls, in all honesty, all liked Riordan a lot. But anyway, I want to see what the book defines out. Maybe we can bring peace to this," Thomas says and heads toward the door slowly. He eyes it intently.

The door... Where was it again? Both of them seem to have shifted their positions, so lost were Thomas and Simon in inspecting the murals.

Thomas blinks. "Simon, can you see the door? What the heck is going on?" he says.

Simon clutches Thomas's hand as he realizes the disorientation. "There's one there, and one there, but I don't remember which one we came through!"

"We didn't come through a door. We came through an arch," Thomas says. He blinks repeatedly and squints, trying to figure out where the real door is. "Come on, Tom. Trust your instincts," he thinks.

The shadows are equally dark through both doors, yielding not a hint as to which one is the one that leads into the Chamber of Historie.

"Well, worst case, we end up back in the statue room and have to turn around, right?" Thomas says, "Or ... I wonder." He turns to one of the walls and starts inspecting it for an outline. "A door seems just too obvious to me. Perhaps the real doorway is hidden ... or magic. Such as going through the mural?" he thinks.

The wall feels like a fresco, cool to the touch. But something about it tingles to Thomas's touch. A spell of some kind exists on the chamber. He just can't be sure what it is.

Thomas starts knocking lightly along one side of the passage. "Simon, knock along the other and listen for changes in sound," he explains.

Simon peers around the room, shading his eyes from the light overhead to spot Thomas. "Got it," he says, and begins knocking.

Nothing. Both sides of the chamber appear equally solid.

Thomas walks back to the center of the room and looks up at the mural again. "Okay, I'm going to try something. If anything bad happens -- run. I have a theory I know where the book is," he says. "If this works, then you follow."

"As long as we don't wind up dealing with a dragon or an outraged mob," Simon says.

"No, just a crazy hunch," Thomas replies. He then stretches upward and tries to see if he can touch the mural.

The pearlescent orb overhead is, alas, out of reach. It shadows Thomas's hand, appearing bright as the sun would be.

"The gate is magic. We just have to trip it somehow," Thomas muses.

Simon shakes his head. "There're two doors, so one of them must be the right one, right?"

"Not necessarily. Let me think a bit and let's walk onward toward one of the doorways," Thomas says and picks a direction.

Nearer to the doorway, the light creates a sharply delineated patch of stone floor. The darkness is all but impenetrable by contrast. Simon trails along.

"Scared?" Thomas asks as the approach the border.

Simon rolls his eyes. "We're who knows how far in stone catacombs and if we got trapped somewhere, they wouldn't even know where to look for us, and I'm guessing that someone put these little things in because they didn't want anyone getting to the Book of Historie. You bet I'm scared." A pause, and then a quieter voice. "But as long as you're here, I'm all right."

"Well, you're not the only one. But, being afraid doesn't mean you can't act. Pass through the darkness and learn what's on the other side and there's nothing left to be scared of. So, onward," Thomas says, convincing himself to continue on. At last, he dares it and puts one foot into the darkness.

The Mausoleum. Rows of statues greet his gaze, almost as he had expected.

Behind them is the mural chamber, with an identical archway on the opposite wall. Now that both of them are out of the light, the murals don't appear quite as compellingly realistic.

"And now, we turn around and walk back through the way we came. And it's straight, so I'm closing my eyes. You too. Just take my hand so we don't get separated," Thomas replies. He about-faces and extends his hand to Simon.

Simon blinks. "Well, all right," he says dubiously. He takes Thomas's hand and squints his eyes shut.

Thomas closes his eyes and walks under the archway. He continues forward, slow and steady -- testing the floor ahead of himself with his toes before each complete step.

The floor feels completely normal. The air feels cool against Thomas's skin, rather than the heat he had felt from the light before.

Thomas continues on for some time, then cracks open one eye slightly to see where he is.

Shadow. But a different place from before. It takes a moment for Thomas's eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he can make out the outlines of knights in armor standing to attention around the chamber, and stairs leading upward. In the middle of the room is a large stone block, upon which is a black bound tome.

Simon's hand clutches Thomas's, tightening as the Explorer stops. "Are we there yet?" he asks.

Thomas edges forward slowly. "Okay, open your eyes," he whispers. "I see the book, but I also see lots of suits of armor and that worries me. In this place, nothing is likely safe. With our luck, they're iron too." But even as he says it, he can't sense the red heat emanating from them that he has come to associate with iron.

Simon opens his eyes and looks around. "Oh, keen! We made it! Is that the book then?" He walks up to the block, and begins to lean over the edge to grasp it.

Thomas rushes up and tries to grab Simon's arm. "No!" he says.

"Huh? What?" Simon's hand is stopped short of the book.

"We aren't supposed to touch it, remember? And, it might be trapped. What if it sucks you in?" Thomas points out. Instead, he stands before the book and eyes it, looking for any writing on or around it.

"Well, what do we do now then? Wait for a passing breeze of wind to knock it open so we can start reading?" says Simon. "He won't know if we touch it, relax, Tom!"

"Yes, he will," Thomas says grimly.

The book is black and leather-bound, but without printing on the front or side.

Simon moves to the other side and starts huffing and buffing. "Well, we'd better hope for a breeze then, because I want to know what it says," he says.

Thomas grins and rubs his chin. "This has to be a magical book, so I wonder if it perhaps accepts requests," he says. He takes in a breath and intones, "Pages of Historie, show us the Rules that form the foundation of Mirari."

Nothing happens.

The younger boy starts drumming his fingers on the block.

"This place is entirely too irritating," Thomas mutters and walks around the book slowly.

Simon suggests, "How about if we poke it open with something long? Then we won't really be touching it."

Thomas then looks around the room for a side alcove or niche. "Perhaps this isn't even the real book. If I was trying to protect it, I wouldn't have left it out here," he thinks, then says, "I'm considering that a last resort. That is pushing it."

There are stairs on the far side from the door which leads into the circular chamber, there are decorative knights to all sides. Perhaps in the darkness there might be elaborate tapestries hanging upon the walls. There is nothing else that obviously stands out as a mechanism of any kind.

"I'll do it for you," Simon offers. "You're the one who said you wouldn't touch it, so he didn't mean me."

"Nah, let's use the proverbial ten foot pole," Thomas says and goes to get one of the lances. "You can turn it with this. That way it wasn't me touching it, as I say, and it's questionable if you did as well."

Simon grins. "Now you're talking!" He takes the lance from Thomas and fiddles to find a comfortable working angle, which turns out to be about halfway down its length. "Ready?"

"Just be ready to run if legions of doom show up, okay?" Thomas replies with a nod. "Open the cover. Slowly."

The younger boy moves the lance down to open the cover. At its touch ... nothing unusual happens. A thin coat of dust sloughs off as Simon tilts it over, until it thumps against the block. There is a short passage on the front page.

Thomas cranes his neck and tries to read it.

Penned in a bold, firm hand: "Dear Lord Eoin. Did you truly think that it would be so easy to find the Book of Historie a second time? Yours, Melchizedek, Lord Protector of Mirari."

The rest of the page contains meaningless scribbles.

Thomas laughs lightly and says, "It's a fake. I thought so. Lord Eoin did take the book once before, see? So, the real book is elsewhere...."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.