Apple of Discord: Chapter 4
In fact, it’s the opposite.
Every line of the place is clearly visible awash in a cool spectral white light.
You follow the plank path to the far end of the building without incident. You’re grateful there are no mummy cats.
As you round a corner, you see the warm glow of candle light. At the center of that light is a fastidiously dressed man in a Victorian suit. He’s sitting at a desk writing furiously in a journal of some kind for a few moments before he looks up to regard you.
“Hello, Mr. Watcher, sir?” you stammer.
“You’ve been through an ordeal to get here, haven't you?” the Watcher asks pleasantly.
“Yes, sir. I’m here to ask for your help,” you start. You explain about Nero, the Apple of Discord, the markers, and your missing friends.
He remains motionless for a little while as he seems to be considering your request. He’s gazing at the glow coming from his desktop.
You didn’t notice before, but the glow is coming from a tiny face carved into a vegetable of some sort. It’s putting out more light than it should, given its size and how small the openings are. It’s a very primitive looking lantern of some sort.
“What is that?” you ask respectfully.
“That, my friend, is a turnip lantern. The precursor to the Jack o’ lantern pumpkin you children know of today. My fate is bound to the light of that little lantern.” The Watcher points to the carved turnip head with his pen. “When that light goes out, I too will fade and my work with it.”
“I know a friend of a friend in New Rome that had a similar problem once. I’m sorry. That’s tough,” you say.
The Watcher laughs. “Yes, well, it’s not ideal. Samhain curses are not to be taken lightly.” The old man looks at you with renewed interest. “You seem kind and determined. I will help you. But my knowledge has a cost,” he says, holding up in two fingers in the approximation of the Boy Scout salute.
“What’s the cost?”
“It’s the curse, you see. Like attracts like. You must prove you are intelligent and wise to benefit from my intelligence and wisdom. I will ask you three questions.
You must find a teacher to teach you a subject that contains the answers to my questions. You may not, “look it up” in any way. It is knowledge gained from being the pupil of a living, breathing person.
You will have only two hours to complete this task. Do you accept this challenge?”
You think of all the teachers at Camp Half-Blood Austin. One of them should be able to help with this. After all Cat and Master Da’Mon’s lives depend on it.
“Okay, I accept. Ask your questions.”
The Watcher smiles.
“Good. Let’s begin.
My first question is this:
In the botanical world there is a term used for certain plants that have the ability to heal or knit flesh together. What is that term?” He repeats the same question again, slowly.
“My second question is this:
In the golden age of Athenian democracy, Athens had a ‘gathering of those summoned’. What is its modern pronunciation?” The Watcher repeats his question, one more time.
“My third question is this:..” The Watcher pauses.
Dramatic effect? Glitch in the Matrix? Who knows.
You have to wait, right?
“...what is the average airspeed of an unladen swallow?” He winks at you. “Go now.”
You thank him and turn to leave, then stop.
“Yes?” The watcher asks.
“What happened to all the mummified cats?” you ask with a shudder.
“Bastet had them collected,” he says dismissively.
“The Egyptian cat goddess?”
“That’s a rather simple way of stating things, don’t you think? She’s much more than that,” the Watcher explains. “None too happy about the situation, I might add. I would refrain from kicking any more cats, undead or alive, for a while.”
What, he has her on speed-dial? You wonder. I think I’ll call up the Egyptian goddess Bastet because someone forgot to spay or neuter their undead cat collection?
The Watcher regards you silently for a moment, one eyebrow raised.
“I do not own a smartphone if that’s what you are wondering.” He returns to writing in his journal. “Uncivilized monstrosities, those devices.”
“Right! Horrible things. Thank you! I’ll be back soon,” you respond politely, wondering if he can read minds or is just a good judge of character.
“Can I bring you anything on my way back?” You immediately feel weird for asking a ghost if you can “bring them something”.
He pauses his writing for a moment and smiles. “No one has ever asked me that in my entire stay here.” He nods. “I am content. Thank you, demigod. Now go.”
He waves his hand, using the same two finger salute from before, and you suddenly find yourself back at the exit to the landing.
You poke your head out to find Tree sitting on the stairs sharpening his saber with a small whetstone. No sign of Fulgar anywhere.
“Hey, where is lightning dude?” you ask.
Tree fumbles the whetstone, in shock. “A little warning next time?”
He stands and sheaths his sword. “Ansley, daughter of Nemesis and our old camp friend, Thomas Jefferson Jr. came to collect Fulgar. They are taking him to a secure location.”
“Well, that’s good news. We have to BELCH back to my place now. I’ll explain on the way.” you say, hopping down on to the landing.
<Initiating BELCH>