Eternity Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

harsh whisper. “But it was abject nonsense from the start and you and I both knew it. We told him so and challenged him to show his evidence. Show the map. But he refused.”
    Flojian finished his drink and sighed. “He walked out of here with a group of children . I apologize for that, Chaka, but it’s so. He took advantage of people who believed in him. And he led them to their graves. Nothing changes that, no matter what anyone says here.”
     
    Chaka was about to leave when Flojian appeared again and asked whether he could speak with her privately. The request was put so earnestly that she was at a loss to guess his purpose.
    He led her to a sitting room in the back of the house, and drew aside a set of heavy curtains. Sunlight fell on a collection of four books.
    The room was comfortably furnished with leather chairs, a desk, a cabinet, a side table, and a reading stand. “This was my father’s sanctum,” he said, “before he retreated into the north wing.” All four volumes were bound and, of course, hand-written. Two were inside the cabinet, a third was on the desk, and a fourth lay open on the reading stand. They were Kessler’s The Poetic Rationale; Karik’s own history of Illyria, Empire and Sunset; Molka’s Foundations of the League; and a fragment copy of The Travels of Abraham Polk .
    “They’re lovely,” she said.
    “Thank you.”
    The Molka book, on the stand, was most accessible. The craftsmanship was marvelous: leather binding, vellum of the highest order, exquisite calligraphy, fine inks, golden flourishes in strategic locations, brilliant illustrations.
    “They must be quite valuable.”
    “They are.” His brown eyes focused on her. “I’m going to sell them.”
    “You’re not serious.”
    “Oh, yes. I have no way to protect them. When Father was here, it was one thing. But now, I’d have to hire a guard. No, they don’t really mean much to me, Chaka. I’d rather have the money.”
    “I see.” She ran her fingers lightly over the binding.
    “A pleasant sensation, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you must be wondering why I wanted to see you.” He opened a cabinet drawer and removed a package. She guessed by its dimensions and weight it contained a fifth book. He set it down on a table and stood aside. “I don’t know whether you’re aware of it or not, but you made a considerable impression on my father.”
    “That’s hard to believe, Flojian. He never really knew me.”
    “He remembered. He left instructions that this was to be given to you.” The package was wrapped in black leather and held shut by a pair of straps. Chaka released the buckles, and caught her breath.
    Gold leaf, red leather binding, fine parchment, although somewhat yellowed with age. “This is for me ?”
    “It’s Mark Twain,” said Flojian. “ A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court .”
    She lifted the cover and stared at the title page. “Mark Twain’s books are lost,” she said.
    “Well.” He laughed. “Not all of them. Not anymore.”
    There were illustrations of knights on horseback and castle walls and beautiful women in flowing gowns. And a picture of a man fashioning a pistol.
    The language was antiquated.
    “Where did it come from?”
    “That’s a question I wish I could answer. It was as much a surprise to me as it is to you.” He pursed his lips. “It’s somewhat worn, as you can see. But this is the way it was put into my hands.”
    Chaka was overwhelmed. “I can’t take this,” she said.
    “I think you have to,” said Flojian. “It’s in his will. Be careful of it, though. I suspect it will command a substantial price.”
    “I would think so.”
    “I can make some suggestions with regard to getting full value for it, Chaka.”
    She closed the book and refastened the case. “Oh, no,” she said. “I wouldn’t sell it. But thank you anyway.”
     
    Raney was waiting for her on Sundown Road. He was tall, congenial, with dark eyes and a gentleness that