Chapter 47: A Helping Hand

“Come in my friends,” said Nartam as he opened the door. “This is a most welcome visit.”

Bilblox studied Nartam carefully. He looked so young – no more than sixteen years old – there were pimples on his face, the faintest trace of a moustache, and he stood barely five and half feet tall. He was a fraction of Bilblox’s size. It seemed absurd to be afraid of this boy and, for a second, Bilblox wondered what would happen if he smashed Nartam with one of his massive fists. But something told him that defeating Nartam couldn’t possibly be as simple as this.

“Shall we have a spot of tea?” Nartam asked as he gestured toward a small table at the far end of the room, on top of which rested two burning candles, several porcelain cups, and a tall copper samovar, steaming with the scent of mint and cardamom. There was also a gold urn, filled with a heaping pile of iridescent black ash, which gleamed and twinkled in the flickering light.

“Why not?” said Bilblox with a shrug. “Some tea might do me good.”

Kiril nodded, but said nothing. He looked quite pale, visibly shaken, but there was no time for Bilblox to ask him what was wrong.

“Have you seen a ghost?” asked Nartam playfully. “You’re not yourself, Kiril. You need a rest?”

Kiril nodded and then shrugged, as if it was nothing to be concerned about.

“You fellows have been on quite the adventure together – haven’t you?” asked Nartam cheerily as he poured himself a cup of tea. “And it is so heartening to see that you have become fast friends. Long journeys will change a man’s perspective on many things, wouldn’t you agree, Kiril?”

“When you two were gallivanting about,” continued Nartam, “I was making a trip of my own – a little walk in the woods, you might say.”

Nartam smiled again and led the way across the room. It was very dark in the room. Three small lamps cast a murky glow across his spacious but empty quarters. Bilblox noticed that there was hardly any furniture at all in the room other than a large wooden chest in the far corner of the room. The walls were barren except for several long brass handrails that were bolted to wooden window frames – these rails were, no doubt, vestiges of the days when this ship sailed the seas and sailors needed something to grasp in stormy weather. Nartam continued over to the table where the tea was brewing and gestured for them each to take a cup.

Bilblox reached for a cup, but suddenly Nartam grabbed the longshoreman’s wrist and said, “No, no, no this won’t do.”

Bilblox stood still, uncertain of how to react.

“Kiril, be a good chap and give me the keys to these handcuffs,” said Nartam. “Bilblox here is my guest, my lucky totem, and I simply won’t have him sipping tea in my quarters with both of his hands cuffed like a common criminal.”

Again Kiril nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a set of keys, found the proper key, and handed it to Nartam.

“Much obliged,” said Nartam. He then knelt down on one knee and used the key to unlock the handcuff on Bilblox’s left wrist. Bilblox let out a small, barely audibly sigh of relief. Nartam took a little longer with the second handcuff. He seemed to be fumbling with the key and yanking the handcuffs back and forth; then suddenly, after it was too late to act, Bilblox saw what Nartam had done. He had not unfastened the second handcuff, but left it as it was – firmly locked around Bilblox’s right wrist – and, instead, he had fastened the opened handcuff to the brass handrail that was bolted into the wall. Bilblox was now, in effect, chained to the wall.

“What gives?” demanded Bilblox.

“Sorry old chap,” said Nartam as he rose to his feet and took a step back, “But I can’t have you running off on me, now can I?”

“I ain’t gonna be able to save your life if ya got me chained up like a dog,” said Bilblox, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. “Right?”

Instead of immediately responding, Nartam turned to look at Kiril. His trusted deputy stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do. Nartam turned back to Bilblox and smiled.

“Oh come now,” he said. “We both know perfectly well that you are not going to save my life. Who do you take me for? It was just a bunch of rubbish Kiril made up so that I would keep you around. The prophecy was quite clear, you are going to save the girl’s life – or at least try to. Isn’t that so?”

As he said this, Nartam pointed out a glass door, just ten feet away, that led out on to a small, open-air balcony. At first neither Bilblox nor Kiril saw what he was pointing toward – all they could see was blackness – but then, all at once, they saw the outline of a figure standing, in the darkness, on the other side of the glass door. The figure was standing on the balcony, huddled in a fur coat. Nartam picked up a lantern, which hung from a hook on the wall, and carried it over the glass door so they could all get a better view. Moments later, Naomi’s face became visible.

“I believe this is the spot where someone is destined to give her a shove – isn’t that so Kiril?” asked Nartam.

Kiril stared out at the balcony and had a strong feeling of déjà vu. There was Naomi, dressed in furs, standing on a snowy platform, on the edge of a ship. It was exactly like his vision. This had to be the spot where.... Where he – Kiril – pushed her into the abyss. But how? And why? And could this fate be altered?

Kiril took a step toward the door, instinctively wanting to do something, but then Nartam raised a finger and said, “I am sure that you are eager to speak with her, though is it really wise to go near her – given what the prophecy says?”

Kiril froze. “The prophecy?” It was the first time that he had spoken and, as he did so, he seemed hesitant and a bit confused. “What I had was a vision and...”

“That’s not what I am talking about, my son,” interrupted Nartam. “I am talking about a prophecy – a prophecy from Imad’s library, which told me the story of Bilblox’s life – all that has happened and all that may happen to our beloved longshoreman.”

“Yeah right,” said Bilblox with a snort. “The story of my whole life. That’s a good one. And what about your life? I’m guessin’ you read your own future as well? You know everything that’s gonna happen – is that it?”

“No, not my life,” replied Nartam calmly. “Imad, clever chap that he was, knew the trouble that might happen if I got hold of my own prophecy and so he had the foresight to remove it from his little library. But I assure you, I know most everything about your life, Master Bilblox. Of course, some things are left to chance, and can play out in a number of different ways, but other things are fairly certain. Would you like to hear about the manner in which you will die? It’s at sea, in a shipwreck, fitting for a longshoreman, no?”

“That’s rich,” said Bilblox, but there was a hint of uneasiness in his voice. He sensed that something terrible was about to happen and that he needed to get himself free as quickly as he could. He jerked his right arm and shoulder violently, in the hopes of pulling the brass rail out of the wall, but the rail barely budged and he only succeeded in tearing the skin on his wrist.

“Let the girl inside,” said Kiril as calmly as he could. “Whatever it is that you want I can help you get – I can give to you – but there is no reason to make the girl suffer.”

“You speak as if you are in control,” replied Nartam as he walked across the room toward the wooden chest. “Or perhaps you think I am in control. Neither is accurate. All of this has been ordained many thousands of years ago. It is what Imad wrote in his prophecies.”

“Imad’s prophecies – but how?” asked Kiril. “You found them?”

“Yes, yes – quite right,” said Nartam calmly, with the cool air of a school teacher. As he spoke, he opened the wooden chest, and took out a gleaming metal battleaxe. Bilblox thought he was seeing things, but it looked as if the hand holding the battleaxe grew thicker, as if responding to the weight of the weapon and of the prospects for an imminent fight.

Nartam smiled again, in that strange, ash-induced way which made his face look plastic.

“While you chaps were gallivanting around, having your fun in the wilderness, I made a trip of my own to Straszydlo Forest. You see, it has long been known that Imad hid his prophecies near to where he hid his sphere. Of course, no one knew where his sphere was hidden, until Alfonso found it in Straszydlo Forest. I suppose I owe a debt of gratitude to Alfonso. In any case, I simply retraced Alfonso’s footsteps, did some poking around in the woods, and eventually found my way into Imad’s library. That’s where I read about Bilblox and how he would hide the Foreseeing Pen in his anatomical snuff box.”

“Anatomical snuff box?” said Kiril.

The wind gusted outside. Naomi made her presence known by pounding on the door. It appeared to be locked from the inside with a bolt.

“Kiril, my son, go ahead and open the door,” said Nartam politely. He was now walking back across the room with the battleaxe in hand. “It’s time.”

Kiril didn’t move.

“Or perhaps you want to ask your friend Bilblox for a hand,” said Nartam, as he continued toward them, casually raising the battleaxe up over his shoulder, as if preparing to strike someone or something with it. “As it so happens, I too was going to ask Bilblox for a hand.”

Suddenly it all clicked in Kiril’s mind – he understood what Naomi had tried to tell him with her drawing in the snow and he grasped, with sudden horror, at what Nartam was about to do.