Pt. I, Ch.3: “…it still feels like it was just one of my wife’s eccentricities.”

Sat, May 16th, 1992
Manhattan, New York City, United States, Terra

A little more than a week later, Joel, his father Vince, and I ended up going to one of the Manhattan federal buildings.  We were greeted by an older woman, who introduced herself as Special Agent Helen Delgado.

“You’re FBI?” I asked.

“Diplomatic Security Service, actually.  We’ve got a room prepared; please follow me.”

The room turned out to be in the basement, a long table which had seen better days and a room-length mirror.  A chalkboard sat at one end opposite the door, and a bored looking man in a suit sat at one end.  “My colleague from the Foreign Service, Richard Hull.”

Once we got settled, Delgado continued: “We realize the circumstances are quite odd, and we appreciate your coming in today.  Before we continue, we want to make clear that while no part of this briefing is classified, it is our strong recommendation that you do not speak to anyone else about this.  Anything we say here would be officially denied by the government, and if we have to spend time debunking a ‘hoax’ that really limits our ability to help you.”

Joel and I nodded, and Joel’s father replied, “I understand. Who’d believe us?  I’ve known a bit of this for nearly 20 years and it still feels like it was just one of my wife’s eccentricities.”

“If it weren’t for your late wife, Mr. Ross, we wouldn’t know what little we do,” said Delgado, “and it’s likely we wouldn’t have even our limited contact with the countries on the other side.”

“So here is what we do know: a little less than twenty years ago, your mother showed up in the gate’s old location.  She had the luck to be found by some good people, but without friends or identification she came to the attention of my first predecessor.  Initially, nobody believed her, but she indicated that the gate would re-open periodically, and when we left a guard there — sure enough, someone popped out and had a look around.

“The visitor was unarmed and introduced himself as one of the gate’s guardians — we think that may be a formal title — and said that he’d like to speak to someone in charge.  Unfortunately, the gate remains open for less than a day at a time, roughly once every two weeks, so we had to wait for that.  In the meanwhile, we learned all we could from your mother about the governments on the far side.

“When it reopened, we received our first official envoys — one from the guardians, and one from the government on the other side.  They call themselves the Union of Feldaren and claim to be descended from people who came from our Earth or a very close parallel.  The gate is located near their capital, but the guardians are independent of them and limit access. There are a huge number of parallel worlds, a few closely related to theirs or to our earth, and most very different.  Only a few, ours included, have permanent anchors and open up on a periodic cycle — the others are, in essence, a one-way trip.

“We can’t confirm that they never sent anyone through to our side before we found it, but it’s been under guard since.  They seemed happy to open relations and we’ve kept up a very limited and discreet trade.”

At this point Hull spoke up, “We have not, however, been able to send someone through to them — until now.  Whatever the situation is –” he paused to check a note “– in Obdrest — the leadership in Feldaren wants to keep them happy.  After two decades of asking, we’ve been allowed to send an envoy through and will be getting some first-hand observations back when the gate next opens, and we’ve got more visitors on our side than we‘ve ever had at one time.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” said Delgado.  “Hull here sees visions of opening a market of a few hundred million consumers to American goods, ignoring that you can only put so much through a gateway the size of a large doorway in a few hours.  We’ve hosted their people under supervision a few times in the past, but I’m already concerned about our sending professional diplomats over there. If you accept their invitation, we’ll do what we can, but there’s very little we can do on the other side if you end up in danger.”

“What are they proposing for my son to do, Agent Delgado?”

“I think it’s best they explain it themselves, but as they’ve said, your son is believed to be the heir to the throne in Obdrest. Their desire is to have him complete his education there and to be ready to take the throne.  Perhaps it’s time to introduce our other guests?”  She tapped on the mirror, and she and Hull both moved to our side of the table.

Moments later, three very mismatched people walked into the room.  The first fit Joel’s description of the Dormer, who’d spoken to him before — a blonde man in his early 20s, dressed with too much gold braid on a uniform that looked like he stepped out of a particularly Victorian PBS drama. The second was an older man in dark loose-fitting clothes that resembled a gi or pajamas; he was balding or perhaps tonsured. The last was an Asian woman, not so young as Dormer but probably still in her 20s, and the dark skirt suit she wore didn’t seem like it would have been out of place in an office in our world.

Delgado introduced them: “Carl, Count Dormer, two of you have already met,” at this Dormer bowed slightly — “…and the other two are Brother Oliver, of the Guardians of the Gate, and Ambassador Matsumoto, representative of the Union of the Etciv.”

“Thank you, Agent Delgado,” said Matsumoto in unaccented English.  “We appreciate your help in locating our ally’s lost child, and for the opportunity to speak with Joel and his family.” Turning to Joel and his father, “and we appreciate your being open to hearing what we had to say.”

“As Count Dormer has already told you, your mother Christina was a princess from the royal family of Obdrest. As the child of a younger prince, and with two older brothers and one younger, it was only a minor source of diplomatic friction when she disappeared through the gate. She was not seen as critical to the succession.  In the intervening decades, a series of mishaps have befallen the Imperial family, and at this point as her child, Joel is the last person in a direct line for the throne.”

Here Brother Oliver spoke up: “I was not yet part of the brotherhood when the Princess was allowed to pass through the gate, but I am told that at the time she seemed legitimately facing what would have been a coerced marriage, and in fear for her life if she declined.  She was given a humanitarian exception then; the interests of stability in both Obdrest and Feldaren compel us to make an exception now.”

Finally, Count Dormer spoke — his accent was faint, and unplaceable: “The age of majority in Obdrest is normally twenty, and as I understand it Prince Joel is in his sixteenth year, so even if the king passes sooner he could certainly wait to assume official duties.  While it is inconceivable to me that he would not want to take his throne, both your diplomats and Legatus Matsumoto” — was that Latin? it seemed a bit odd to me — “have impressed upon me that to someone unused to the idea of our world, or of having a title, this may come as something of a shock.

“She made the suggestion to me that you and your family come through as a guest of Feldaren, and attend school there.  Learn about our world, our nations.  If you truly wish to return here, and do not wish not to take your rightful place, we are not barbarians — no one will force you, you can abdicate and the guardians will see to your return here.”

Matsumoto spoke again.  “My government is prepared to guarantee your safety, and those of your government’s diplomats.  Even so, we know relocating your schooling is a big step; if I may suggest, the gate opens for the better part of a day — I’d like to invite you and your family to see our capitol on one of the upcoming openings, and we can have you back here in Manhattan in time for a late dinner.”

Joel’s father looked very skeptical.  “Joel has a comfortable life here, and mentions of mishaps in my late wife’s family are not at all encouraging.  She did speak with some fondness of her schooling there — in your country, Ambassador, at least by my hazy memory of her stories.”

Dormer gave a proud smile.  “Queen Sara Memorial Academy.  I’m a recent graduate, and the Legatus graduated a few years before me.”

She nodded.  “The crown jewel of our education system, and it was the first school in our world to exclusively use modern English.”

Joel and I kind of boggled at that; oddly, neither of the State Department folks nor his dad showed any surprise.  “Christine told me she learned English growing up, even though it wasn’t her first language,” said Joel’s dad. “She said something about a lot of folks coming through from yet another world like ours, something like in her grandfather’s childhood?”

“The event, yes,” said Matsumoto. “Before it, people came through to our world in small numbers and at an unpredictable pace. Enough had come through from various ‘Americas’ that we had some English-speaking population in Feldaren before the event.   The event was different; some scientific experiment had gone awry on their side, in a world much more like yours.

“My great-grandparents came through with a group of more than a hundred thousand, mostly students and academics, and most of them Americans.  Even for those who weren’t, English was very much their common language.”

She reached into her bag and produced a hardcover textbook; it was labelled World History, 5th Edition. “With your permission,” and here she looked at Special Agent Delgado and Joel’s father, “I’d like to give this to Joel.  I think it can answer his questions about our history in a great deal more depth than I can. In today’s trade crates, we’ve got another copy for your government, as well as some longer works and an encyclopedia.”

“You couldn’t find something more readable than that textbook?” asked Dormer.

Matsumoto chuckled. “We could have, but it’s a good textbook and most of the popular works assume a certain level of background knowledge.  This one doesn’t, and it’s what a transfer student his age would should know for entrance exams.”

Dormer shook his head again.  “Surely the prince doesn’t need to take exams; we would sponsor him.”

“We didn’t talk about this in advance, but think about it, Count.” She looked over at Joel’s father, “If we were to convince you to allow your son to spend a year getting to know our world, I think you would want to keep things discreet.  There’s no sense in making his potential future as King of Obdrest public.  The fewer people know about that, the easier it is for both our security arrangements and his potential return here.”

Dormer looked a bit deflated. “I don’t like sneaking around, but it makes sense.”

“I’m sure I can get our ministry to sponsor him as a friend of the Senate without having to say why if he doesn’t pass, but I suspect he’ll have no trouble; it’s not like he needs to get a scholarship, and from what I’ve heard his high school is already a very selective one.”

“It isn’t a public school?” asked Joel’s father.

“The Academy is independent, but part of the class is there on scholarships either from its endowment or on public funds. Some others are the children of, as you’d say, ‘VIPs,’ and the tuition is not significant for them.  From what we’ve seen in trade, incomes tend to be lower on our side of the gate, but the tuition is generally within the means of our middle-class families.”

“Not that it would be necessary; as I said, there’s no expectation that Joel would need to win a scholarship, and I suspect we’re more likely to see some argument about whether we or the Obdresti treasury would get the honor of paying his expenses.” She glanced at Dormer.

“Yes,” he said, “I think not being able to pay the prince’s expenses would lead to some offense on the part of my government. The king is already asking why I haven’t set up arrangements for allowance for his living expenses already.”

“Allowance?”  Joel perked up.

“I’m fairly sure that he imagines you living in a crowded garret, and by tradition you should have a household and servants.”

“Like maids and a butler?” Joel asked.

“A bit more than that, but yes.”

I suppressed a chuckle.  Joel’s family had a nicer than average house for our part of Queens, but that mostly amounted to being in a neighborhood new enough to have a one-car garage and central air.  They had a spare bedroom which his dad used as a home office, but I’m not sure where they could have put servants.

Joel’s father had a lot of questions about the logistics of Joel possibly going to school there, and about his late wife’s life before she came through.  They had a lot of answers for him about the logistics, and very few answers about her life.  None of the three had known her; Brother Oliver had been a young man and not yet one of the guardians when she passed to our world and the other two had been small children.  What Brother Oliver knew was passed on through his organization; the other two mostly from legend.

In the end, Joel’s father accepted the offer of a tour of their capitol and the school, to be arranged a few weeks later.  On the way out, I asked Joel: “Hey, have you told anyone at school about this?”

“Not yet.  How likely is anyone to believe me, anyway?”

“If you’re really thinking of going, you should at least tell Anne about it sooner rather than later.”

He grimaced a bit. “You two are closer than we are, but yeah, we’ve known each other a long time and hang out enough.”

I’d known Anne even longer than I’d known Joel — we’d started in kindergarten together, and had been two of a very few “smart kids” at an elementary school where that stood out in a less than positive way.  While we weren’t as close anymore, she lived a few blocks from me — we took the subway home together often enough if she didn’t have practice and I didn’t need to ride my bike home.  She had been bugging me about getting more exercise for years, and I’d started bicycling to school at her suggestion around the end of the prior year, occasionally at first and pretty regularly more recently.  I’ve always been on the chubby side, but not as much as I’d once been.

Pt. I, Ch. 2: [Interlude/Historic] The Last Day of the Wizards War

22nd day of the month of Kan, Imperial Year 2379
(Saturday, May 13, 1899 in the Terran common era)
6th year of the Wizards’ War
Blockade around the Isle of Mages

Admiral Marius Nement looked on with satisfaction as a flight of bombers returned to his carrier, the flagship of a fleet that his nation had built in a few short years since the newcomers had arrived.  The Admiral had started his service in the Second Slave War, almost thirty years prior. He had been a lieutenant on one of the battleships that had bombarded Pandac at the end of the war, and ships had not changed much in the first 25 years of his career.  The knowledge the newcomers had brought with them had changed the world very swiftly.

The blockade around the island was as tight as modern technology could make it. The prior winter’s bad weather had broken, and from what he could see, the Wizards’ stronghold was on the verge of collapse.  If they had anyone left to assail the steel ships directly, they did not send them out, and the balls of fire or ice flung from the island were more sporadic while bombs fell more regularly, limited mostly by their ability to fuel the planes.

One of the newcomers, an engineer named Harry Hoyle, was on board as an advisor.  He knew as much about the big planes as anyone who could be spared for the fleet and had apparently made a study of what the newcomers called the Second World War.  Most of all, though, he was the newcomers’ expert on the big bombs that the fleet held in reserve.

“Do you think we’ll need to use them?” Hoyle had asked at the captain’s dinner the prior night.

“I certainly hope not,” replied the Admiral, “but I’m glad I don’t have to make the choice whether to land an army if they don’t surrender.”

The conversation moved on, but today he had called Hoyle to the flag bridge to discuss flight operations.  Their conversation had wound down, and Hoyle would likely have returned to consult with the engineering staff had they not been watching the bombers return.

Then, suddenly, there was a very bright flash in the eastern sky, almost blinding, and as vision returned he could see it was followed by a gigantic plume of smoke or steam past the horizon rapidly rising as high as one could see.

“Holy cow,” said Hoyle. “They’ve actually got one.”  Then, after a moment: “We’ve got minutes before a shockwave reaches us, Admiral.  Possibly a tidal wave after that.”

Orders went out first, questions later. “Mr. Hoyle, does this mean that they’ve got these bombs as well?”

“That looked too large to be anything else from my world. Given magic, I couldn’t say for sure.  I think it must be something like this, not straight magic, though – if they had that much power left, rationally, they’d have used it on us.”

“You’ve seen the photos of what they left of Behele and their own people. The wizards are anything but rational.”

The fleet was far enough away from the island that it weathered the blast, and Hoyle was wrong – tidal waves do not form in deep water.  Instead, the wave hit all along the coast of the Etciv and of Toyeri, with many lives lost, a final retribution of the guild – indiscriminate to whether it killed enemies or their former allies.

The cloud had gone up into the stratosphere, but it also spread out across the fleet, terrifyingly dark but there was no obvious ill effect; Hoyle and the ship’s senior magician had each taken measurements, and come to the same conclusion – this was the result of some kind of magic, not the physics that Hoyle’s bombs would have used, and if there was any danger to it, it was deeply hidden.

The cloud took hours to settle, and left a fine ash on every surface.  After the decks were cleared, the fleet sent out a reconnaissance plane.  As it approached where the island should have been, no anti-aircraft fire, neither magical or fired from guns, greeted it.  Indeed, where the island should have been there was an open ocean and the only sign of it was scattered floating debris and odd new volcanic rocks floating on the waves.

Whatever magic the Wizards had used, it was something of remarkable subtlety for the amount of power it had unleashed; destroying an island that large directly would have echoed throughout the world in ways even untrained but magically sensitive people would have felt. It was debated by the greatest magicians of the age, or at least those who had not stayed part of the guild after it broke its traditional neutrality and thus perished with the Island.  The consensus they came to was that the guild had somehow tapped into the natural magic and geologic forces that had led the guild to settle its headquarters there in the first place.

To the rest of the world, that the guild was gone and had blown themselves up was enough; the war was over.  The newcomers’ bombs, useless in peacetime, were dismantled and remained a great secret of the war.

Pt. I, Ch. 1: “…even if it’s a hoax, it’s an interesting one.”

Wed, May 6, 1992
Queens, New York City, United States, Terra

“…so other worlds with magic are real, and supposedly my mom was a princess from one of them and they’re asking me to go there because I’m next in line for the throne.”

My best friend, Joel, was out of breath having just shared the craziest story — twice, since the first time around I’d had the presence of mind to reply only with “Huh? What?”

Less than an hour earlier, I’d been at home trying to beat Civilization at a higher difficulty level without cheesing out by using the Earth map and starting in the Americas… without much luck.  The phone rang, and my younger brother Sammy yelled upstairs “Hey Mark! Joel is on the phone,” and all Joel had said was he’d had a really weird day and that he needed to talk to someone.  Could we hang out?

So here we were at the BK near his house, and while the story was utterly unbelievable, there was just too much detail there.  There had been three strangers sitting with his dad at home when he got home from band practice — the first two introduced themselves as coming from the US state department.  The third, who Joel said looked young enough to be in college or newly out of it, introduced himself as a Count Dormer — and Joel hadn’t been able to tell whether that was his name, or where he was Count of.

After the introductions, his dad told him what he’d gone on to tell me — that his mom had been a princess from the same country as the Count and had somehow run away through something called the Gate Between Worlds when she was a teenager.  As long as she’d been a younger daughter from a large family, the guardians of the gate — whoever they were — had protected her privacy but something “tragic” had happened to the rest of her family, and the guardians had reluctantly revealed that she’d gone to our world and let the royals send through the Count as their representative.

From what the two State Department officials said, the US had known about the Gate for some time and guarded its own side of it. Someone well above their pay grade had some record of his mother’s arrival, her family, and her passing and at least some idea that she was a VIP.  So the Department of State had agreed to allow the Count to approach the family, but it was clear that there was a division of opinion between parts of the government — some folks wanting to open diplomatic relations further with the nations on the far side of the gate, while others were very concerned about the possible dangers to Joel or his family.

The choice, they made clear, was his.

The Count, meanwhile, seemed horrified that the Prince — he was refusing to refer to or address Joel by name, only as “the Prince” or “Highness” — had been raised in such common surroundings, and that there was even the possibility that he wouldn’t “return.”

Joel stammered out that he’d need to think about it and asked how he’d find out more about the country and other worlds.  “We can give you a briefing about what we know, and perhaps the Count can present more about his world at that time.”

Dormer agreed, and the state department officials told Joel and his father to call their office when they were ready to talk further.  And with that, they left.  What followed was a far less calm conversation with his dad — followed by Joel storming out and calling me from the Burger King on Northern Boulevard where we now sat.

“That’s crazy.  Your dad believed them?” I asked.

“Yeah.  He’d said that he’d always known that she wasn’t from here.  ‘Here,’” he shook his head, “since when do we have to qualify Earth as ‘here’?  Not the princess part — just that she’d been getting away from her family, and that there was a ‘there.’”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

He gave a frustrated sigh. “I guess I’m going to go to their briefing.  I can only spend so much time on video games” – he gave me a look here – “or at band practice.  This feels like way too much effort for a hoax and even if I end up saying ‘no’ it does have me curious.”

“Man, you, a prince?”

Joel laughed.  “Yeah, really.  Or not really.   Hey, do you want to come along for the briefing? If they’ll let you, when this all blows over, nobody is going to believe me if I don’t have a witness.”

“Sure. I probably can” – and I glared back at him – “spend that long in front of my computer, but what are friends for?  And like you said, even if it’s a hoax, it’s an interesting one.”

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