The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

The Stellae Errantes

Previously: "Of Horoscopes" 

"How did I get mixed up in this?" you quietly ask, and you hunch over your plate with your hands under the table.

"You were born into it." Joe indicates your chart. "If you wanna wax poetic, you can say it was written in the stars. Or are you asking how we stumbled onto you?"

"Yeah, that," you say.

Joe folds his hands. "Well, our current crisis started small, which is why Frank and me were handling it. The Libra Personae is one of those really dangerous things, like the Ark of Covenant, that swims only in subterranean channels. But when we heard that it had finally surfaced a few months ago in upstate New York, its recovery it seemed like a job that could be handled quickly and quietly. So Dad gave it to us. No one pays attention to kids." He rolls his eyes.

Then he grimaces. "But we got there too late. Someone had snagged it and also a few artifacts associated with it. We managed to trace it here, to Saratoga Falls, and went in to Eastman as 'transfer students' while we looked around. Never mind why--suffice it to say there was evidence it had fallen into the hands of students at that school." Your eyes widen, and he smiles. "Yeah, we missed the target by a little. Anyway, our attention soon fell on Blackwell, and he also became a suspect, especially after something that happened about ten days ago."

From his pocket he pulls an object that looks like a small golden plate. Its surface is covered with intricate designs, and tiny pearl-like beads slide easily over its surface without tumbling off. "Let's call this a compass," he says. "A special kind. Regular compasses point toward magnetic north, or to nearby magnetic sources. This one points to a special kind of essentia. Blackwell tell you about that stuff?"

"A little," you admit, feeling disinclined to say much. "I didn't really understand what it was."

"You'd call it a kind of magical stuff," he says. "It won't ooze out if you cut yourself. It's not even really a 'stuff' at all. Probably better to call it a relation between certain metaphysical constituents of people, though there are also ways of getting it to manifest itself in a substance-like way." You say nothing, though your mind is working furiously to recall everything Blackwell said about Cindy's mask and the essentia you had discharged into it.

"Now, iron can be magnetized," Joe is saying, and if he notices that your attention has retreated he doesn't mention it. "Essentia can also be charged, you might say. More accurately, it can be alchemically sensitive, and when it is it can exist in a variety of relations with other substances, and through these substances it can become oriented to a planet." He drums his fingers meaningfully on the discarded placemats. "You cannot manufacture charged essentia--and please remember that 'charged' is just a metaphor--and it very rarely manifests itself in a charged state. Very rarely," he says, staring at you from under his eyebrows and again drumming his fingers on the placemats.

"This compass can point to people who are in such charged states, though you have to be very close to them for it to pick them out. Basically, in the same room. So, it is actually less of a compass and more of a close-range detector. Mostly, one uses it to confirm that someone is a person with this very rare kind of stuff."

He taps the compass. "But we have been using it as a compass recently, because about two weeks ago it went absolutely haywire, pointing at something miles away. We managed to pin the location of the thing down to Blackwell's, but then it went wandering. Naturally, we thought it was Blackwell, promptly soiled ourselves, and huddled with Dad."

He rubs his cheek. "Well, he's a tough old bird and instead of giving the job to someone else he sent us back here. After lots of trial and error, we finally pinned you down as the source. We didn't know for sure who you were, because there were masks involved, but we spied on you, got Justin's stuff from you, set up a meeting with you, and now here we are."

He stops talking. It's a lot to take in, and you're not sure you followed half of it. "So ..." you start slowly. "This special stuff ... You're saying that I have it."

"Mm-hmm," he says through pursed lips. "So do I. So does Frank. So does Dad. Every member of the Stellae has it, it's the stuff that makes us dangerous."

"How so?" you ask, and feel a quickening interest.

"Keep it down, Sparky," he snaps. "When I say 'dangerous' I don't mean you're a bottle of nitroglycerin, and I don't mean you'll be able to stand up and start shooting sparks out your finger. You're nothing but a dumb high school student who can't even keep his shoelaces tied. If you're dangerous, it's because things happen around you."

"That's what my own dad says," you mutter.

"Well, he wasn't talking about what I'm talking about either," Joe retorts. "To be honest, you're so dumb you can't even get into trouble." You suppress a flash of anger. "You were just a menace to kids in crosswalks until the Libra showed up. And even then it was the Libra that was causing the trouble, for reasons I don't fully understand."

"I was using it to copy people," you murmur.

"No, that was just orneriness on your part. No, the queer thing is that your alchemical signature is too strong. No one can make this thing dance the way you can--" He taps the compass again, and frowns. "And since you didn't just move to town, that must mean it has something to do with your coming into contact with the Libra. It's the only coincidence that makes sense."

Two weeks ago ... That was about the time you showed up inside Blackwell's golem. But still you say nothing.

"And don't feel too offended when I say you're too dumb to get into trouble," Joe continues, as though reading your thoughts. "It's not really your fault--or lack of fault in this case. Everyone who's in the Stellae, or who ought to be, including you, is tied closely to two planets. These each have a different kind of influence, and you will be almost helplessly in their grip. With me its Sol and Mercury. With Frank it's Mars and Saturn. With you it's the Moon and ... either Uranus or Neptune. My calculations weren't complete enough for me to say for sure.

"Now, what does this mean for you and your lack of ability to cause trouble without getting into any? You are primarily oriented toward the Moon. That's a wandering planet, shifting, waxing and waning, going into eclipse and then blazing brightly. It's a planet of tides. Those oriented toward the Moon aren't going to be in one place long enough to get into real trouble, and often they'll slip out of it without noticing they've flooded any coastlines."

You scratch your forehead. "And the other two planets?"

He shrugs. "Suggestive without being dispositive. Uranus is the crab-wise planet, the star of lateral movements, of revolutions and reformations. It disassembles things and reassembles them in new configurations, then takes them apart again. It doesn't rule anything, it just fucks things up. Neptune is water, a planet of ambiguity and layered cross-currents, of metamorphosis and transformation, of deception and disguise." He hesitates. "The book is a creature of these latter two planets, I think."

You can tell there is something he's not telling you. You are both quiet for awhile.

Finally, Joe leans back and stretches. "Well, that's enough for now. I've told you everything I can probably safely tell you before you meet Dad. He's Sol and Jupiter, by the way, which makes the rest of us real shrinky-dinks by comparison, as you can imagine by now. We coulda saved a lot of this talk for the car, because we've got a long drive in front of us, but sports and girls will be more fun to talk about then.

"Oh, and I got two more important things to tell you before we go," he says as he stands up and glances at the bill. Your spirits sink. "The first is that there is one really important thing I haven't told you, and I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to find it out after we meet Dad."

Your stomach clenches. "And the other one?"

He tosses the bill to you. "You're paying for dinner."

* * * * *

His phone rings on the way out to the car. "Yeah," he says into it, and listens. "No, we ate first. I've been debriefing him." He listens again with a deepening frown, then shoves the phone back in his pocket.

"That was Frank," he says. "He didn't waste any time after we left, and your old boss is now yesterday's news. But he wants us to bring him the Libra." He stops and stares off at nothingness. "Odd, and not just because he said nothing about you."

"What's up?"

"It's probably something to do with those girls." He looks at you keenly. "You know, I'd really like you to go on ahead and meet Dad. Your truck should still be at our house, and I can drop you there to pick it up, and follow you out in a day or so. You'll be okay, even by yourself." He muses to himself. "But it's your planets I'm thinking about," he mutters.

"What about them?"

"Uranus and Neptune are trans-Saturnian planets. That means you have to have a meeting-- Okay, I won't mince words, you have to have a confrontation with Frank at some point. I'm wondering if it's not better to have it sooner rather than later." He says nothing more, and you realize he is leaving the decision to you.

Next: "A Fearful Fate for Two Siblings" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"