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VALCAS GAVE me a few pointers on how to fly the Estrel-Flyer. I could feel him watching me as I lifted up off of the ground and slipped on the travel glasses. I wondered what it would look like from Valcas’ point of view when I disappeared from his world. Reluctantly and very carefully, I pushed all thoughts of Valcas aside and focused on Edgar’s workshop in the woods. Then I pressed the accelerator as hard as I could until I was surrounded by bright white light.
The Estrel-Flyer and I landed near Edgar’s garden, now twisted and overgrown. Stillness and calm enveloped the workshop and the brook. I breathed in the warm woodsy air as I adjusted to the tart glow of the sun. It was daytime.
“That’s odd,” I said to myself as I dismounted and looked around. “I thought the Estrel-Flyer would have changed into something else once I got here.”
Leaves, cypress needles and grass crinkled under my feet as I made my way toward the workshop. The doorknob turned easily. I wondered whether Edgar had also left his workshop in Folkestone unlocked. There was so much life back at the Halls’ estate, so many people, the noisy harbor, the dragonflies. Here, his home felt empty and abandoned. Yet, I placed trust in the workshop in the woods. I hoped that somewhere inside of it I could find the recipe for the youth elixir and the ingredients needed to make it. Edgar kept handwritten notes of pretty much everything in his notebooks and papers. My goal was to find the recipe as quickly as possible. It was a grim task since everything was in hardcopy with no known index.
I began by sorting through papers that I’d already read, mostly Edgar’s own outdated essays about time travel and experimental vegetable hybrids. Next were the diaries and travel journals. I browsed through them quickly, looking specifically for any loose sheets of paper or handwritten notes in the margins. Finding nothing, I searched the shelves in the washroom for textbooks. Edgar had books on a wide variety of topics including mathematics, optics, logic, sociology, modern galaxies and medicine. I carefully checked the margins and insides of each cover for notes about elixirs or potions. Hours passed as the light that entered the workshop through the windows grew dim. Still, there was no sign of the recipe.
I gathered up an armful of additional books and moved out of the washroom into the living room. I yawned as I lit the lamps that hung on the walls. Even though I had taken a short nap earlier, I felt the effects of having been awake for an afternoon at the workshop after most of an entire day with Valcas. My thoughts wandered back to the tower. Was he already asleep, wrapped in a slumber of forgetfulness that would delete all of his memories of me? I bit my lip, remembering the lonely sadness in his eyes as he said good-bye. Whatever he felt for me in that moment would be completely lost.
I understood why Shirlyn chose to leave a lasting impression of herself on Romaso. But I knew I could go back—I had to. There was so much more to Valcas’ story and I had an overwhelming feeling that the more I learned about him, the more it would help to explain everything that happened at the dock. Until then, I needed to focus on the urgency of my present task, to help heal his uncle and my friend, Edgar.
I sat down on the love seat and opened another book: Grower’s Ingredients for Life. This one had an index that listed ingredients for herbal remedies, the way a cookbook lists ingredients that appear in recipes. I began reading at the beginning of the index with ingredients starting with the letter “A,” hoping that the name of an herb or vegetable from Edgar’s garden would jump out at me and provide some type of clue. I sighed, figuring that I may end up needing to call Enta after all. I’d already spent so much time searching with no results.
Partway through reading the index, I rested my head on the back cushion of the love seat and closed my eyes for a short break. Bad idea. The dimness of the light flickering in the workshop lamps and my exhaustion got to me. I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes again, rays of sunlight danced playfully through the trees and into the workshop windows. They seemed to be laughing at me for having done something foolish. My back felt stiff and my stomach grumbled with hunger. I squinted in the direction of the window. I knew exactly where I was, but wasn’t sure why I was there. Groggily, I looked down at the book on my lap until the words on its pages came into focus.
Neroli...................248
Nettles Leaf..........251
Nettles Root.........252
Niu Bang Gen......254
Nui Bang Zi.........255
Nutmeg................256
...
Nutmeg. Nutmeg? No, not nutmeg. For some reason I knew that nutmeg was too dark.
Cinnamon!
I jumped off of the love seat and ran into the laboratory. Rows of brightly colored tonics sat cold over burners with no flame. Edgar! I’d slept through the night when I was supposed to be finding the recipe for his elixir. Time was slipping by and I was doing a terrible job of keeping track of it.
As I grew more agitated at myself over what I’d done, it occurred to me just how important the elixir was to Edgar. It was his life’s work, the most important thing to him in the world. It had to be. He’d left everything else to pursue his work in seclusion, away from the estate and away from Shirlyn and Elizabeth. He must have also known the significance of such an invention, especially if it were to be used in combination with time travel. He wouldn’t have written down his secret formula for that. I was searching for something that he probably never wrote. Calling Enta for help finding it would be pointless.
I quickly ran to the washroom where I furiously washed my face and brushed my teeth. I knew exactly what I had to do. I needed to travel to Edgar’s more recent past, during a time when he already knew and trusted me. My plan was far from flawless. There were two major risks, one more worrisome than the other. First, I was absolutely certain that what I was about to do would break TSTA rules, and I had no idea what the consequences of that would be. Second, there was a chance that I never meant as much to Edgar as he meant to me. I would soon find out, and that concerned me more than any penalty or fine the TSTA could throw at me.
These thoughts raced feverishly through my mind as I walked out to the garden for a quick breakfast of ripened fruit. Even if I were to accurately travel to when Edgar had already promised to help me, there was no way that I could ask him for the recipe upfront. Old Edgar had never told me about his youth elixir and would have no memory of Young Edgar doing so at the Halls’ estate. I didn’t want to raise suspicion or, worse yet, have him space out.
While I chewed on the interior flesh of a fruit resembling a cross between a grapefruit and persimmon, I walked beyond the garden and through the thicket of trees. I took a long, careful look at the brook. I’d always loved the silver brook, but something about it made me uneasy. It twisted and turned in the same way as the brook at the Halls’ estate, but there were no nearby oak trees for Shirlyn’s swing. The most striking difference was that this brook did not move. It was a well-preserved fossil, lifeless and dead.
I sadly shook my head and returned to the workshop. It wasn’t just the brook that bothered me. There had been two messages from an undisclosed source asking me to call about something very important. Someone had known that I was at the Halls’ estate and had tried to get in touch with me by sending two messages, a telegram and a letter. Both were writings on physical objects, but since I existed in the present it likely didn’t break the TSTA rule about changing the past. The writing that I planned to introduce into Edgar’s past would break the rule, however, and it was a risk I was willing to take. If it worked, then not only would I discover the secret recipe needed for Edgar’s revival, but Edgar would gather all of the ingredients for me.
After finding a few loose-leaf pages and a pencil, I sat at the lab table and began to write:
Dear Edgar,
I have no idea how long I’ve been gone, but I’ve run into some trouble and I need your help. Remember that afternoon when you told me that I should take a more offensive approach to dealing with Valcas? Well, that’s what I’ve done. I mean, at least I tried. I’m not sure whether it feels to you like I just left moments ago, like you just saw me. This is all still new to me, but I suppose that since you have more experience with time travel, you won’t find this as strange.
Valcas has promised me my freedom in turn for the recipe for your youth elixir. I told him that I have no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s forcing me to write this letter anyway. If the ingredients and a written copy of the recipe are not packaged and set by the brook within the next two hours, he’s going to lock me away—forever! Valcas doesn’t want you to stay anywhere near the brook either. You should stay inside for the rest of the day—his orders.
Edgar, I’m so sorry to get you involved in all of this. But, once again, you are my only hope.
Your friend,
Calla W.
Satisfied, I folded the letter, put on the travel glasses and set off again on the Estrel-Flyer. I wouldn’t be going far. My destination would be the same exact place, only roughly one week earlier. I was traveling back to the day that Edgar graciously offered me mint leaf cakes and tea under the cypress tree. We hadn’t seen each other the rest of that day.