‘Does Nerak have a tapestry like the one Steven found at the bank?’ Mark tossed his apple core into the underbrush and wiped his fingers on the tunic he had stolen in Estrad.
‘He does. We call them “far portals”. There are only two in existence now. The one Nerak has at Welstar Palace is not as powerful as the one you used to come here. It was actually Nerak who took that one and hid it in Colorado.’ Gilmour filled his pipe but left it unlit and dangling from the corner of his mouth.
He sighed again, almost to himself, then continued, ‘The Larion Senate in Gorsk used the two far portals for thousands of Twinmoons, travelling back and forth between Eldarn and your homelands, to research medicine, technology and even magic. We used the knowledge we gathered to improve life here in the five nations.’ He ran one hand over his balding pate and scratched vigorously at his beard. ‘The portal hidden in Colorado can pinpoint a location, the beach where you landed, for example. That is its particular strength. So even if the portal in Nerak’s palace is closed, the one you opened will send everyone who comes through to the same place.’
‘That’s why Steven landed on the same beach,’ Mark guessed.
‘Exactly. However, once it’s closed and re-opened, it finds another place. Anyone else coming through could end up anywhere in Eldarn. The far portal hidden in Welstar Palace can’t pinpoint an area unless the one in your home is left open. Otherwise it might drop you anywhere.’
The old man’s words took a moment to register. ‘You mean if someone closes the portal in our house, we might get dropped back anywhere on the planet – and it might separate us from one another? We might end up half the Earth apart?’
Somehow, while Mark was speaking, Gilmour lit his pipe – although Mark was positive he hadn’t struck a match.
‘I’m afraid that’s right,’ Gilmour said. ‘All we can do is hope that while you are with us in Eldarn, no one tampers with the far portal on your floor. But if Nerak decides to travel back to your homeland, his portal will drop him right in the middle of your home town.’
‘Oh God, no.’ Mark had not imagined their situation could get worse, yet here it was. He continued, ‘When you were describing the Larion Senate, you said “we” used the far portals. The other tapestry has been locked in Steven’s bank for over a hundred and thirty years. How old does that make you?’
Gilmour, caught out by the astute foreigner, winked, then lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘My friends here in Rona don’t know these things, although I fear I may soon have to let them know who I truly am. Mark Jenkins, I am well over fifteen hundred Twinmoons old. When I reached fifteen hundred, I stopped counting. I, like you and Steven, learned languages and cultures by travelling through the far portals many times while I served the known lands as a Larion Senator.’
Mark, somewhat punch-drunk from shock and fatigue, was surprised to find he wasn’t surprised by Gilmour’s confession. ‘So you’ve been to my homeland?’
‘I have never been to Colorado, although I heard much about it on my last trip. No, my last visit to your land ended on 2 July, 1863. It was outside a small town called-’
‘Gettysburg,’ Mark interrupted. ‘Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.’
‘That’s right.’ Gilmour beamed, remembering his younger days. ‘And from what I see from your relationship with Steven Taylor, American culture has come a long way since then.’ He exhaled a cloud of sweetly fragrant smoke that quickly faded on the morning breeze. ‘I am glad to see your society has made such progress.’
‘We have done well, but it’s been over a long period of time and we still have a long way to go. There are still inexcusable things happening that must be addressed.’ Mark paused for a moment. ‘Hold on, wait a moment: you were in Pennsylvania in 1863, and you travelled to our world specifically to bring back innovations and progressive technologies?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where is everything?’
‘Everything?’
‘We’re eating from wooden bowls. Brynne speaks of avens to tell time, but you don’t have any timepieces. There were steam engines and blast furnaces in 1863, hospitals, institutions of higher learning and social movements to improve living conditions and ensure basic human rights. Where are they?’
Gilmour suddenly looked sad; Mark was a little sorry he had asked the question.
‘That, my dear boy, is the tragic history of Eldarn.’ He smoked in silence for a moment, then went on, ‘Imagine a dictatorship, five generations long, that didn’t value progress, education, research or innovation. Imagine a dictatorship that closed universities, sought out and murdered intellectuals, stripped communities of basic health and human services and then stifled every attempt to revive any of it. Imagine that over time. People forget; progress is stalled.’
‘Well, sure, the culture would stagnate somewhat, Gilmour, but surely brilliant people would find a way to-’
The old man interrupted, ‘Brilliant people are terrified, and rightly so. There are a few wild revolutionaries operating outlawed printing presses in barns and abandoned warehouses, but too many of them are found out and executed before any real following can pick up the gauntlet and carry on. Eldarni culture has existed for seven Ages, over twenty Eras, literally thousands of Twinmoons, and I can’t even tell you what Twinmoon it is right now. A culture does more than stagnate in such a dictatorship, Mark, it dies.’
‘So there’s no hope?’
‘There is now, my friend.’
Deciding not to pursue Gilmour’s insinuations right then, Mark diverted their conversation. ‘So, you were at Gettysburg.’
‘I was, but sadly, I could not stay to see how things turned out.’ Gilmour looked up through the low-hanging tree branches and reflected aloud, ‘I was with a young man from Maine named Jed Harkness. His division took up their position at the far end of a long stretch of wooded hill called-’ He paused. ‘I can’t remember its name.’
‘Little Round Top,’ Mark helped him. ‘Harkness must have been a member of the Twentieth Maine.’ Mark was happy to be discussing something familiar. ‘You should have stayed around that day, Gilmour. You missed one of the turning points in the whole war. That group of soldiers from Maine held that flank and, some would argue, saved the Union.’
‘Ah, I’m sorry I missed it, but I was summoned back that morning and soon thereafter, there was a terrible tragedy at Sandcliff Palace. I never returned, but I have often thought about Harkness and how he fared that day.’ He hesitated before asking, ‘Why did they call it a Civil War? It seemed far from civil to me.’
‘That’s one for the ages, Gilmour,’ Mark commented ironically. Then, feeling a numbing wave of fatigue pass through him, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips and wiped sweat from his forehead. ‘I’ve never been this tired before.’
‘We’ll be there soon, and you can sleep the rest of the day away.’ Gilmour reached into his saddlebag and withdrew a small root that looked to Mark a little like ginger, light brown and strangely shaped. The older man sliced a small portion from one of the root’s twisted appendages and handed it to him. ‘Until then, chew on this. It will bring you some much-needed clarity and energy.’
The plant was flavourless, but Mark chewed it doggedly and soon felt much better. His vision cleared; his energy level rose and his wits sharpened. Even the pain in his back subsided markedly.
‘That’s some remedy,’ he said brightly. ‘What’s it called?’
‘Fennaroot.’ Gilmour handed him the curled stem. ‘Some people like to dry it out and smoke it with their tobacco.’
Mark raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, so even here they hit the peace pipe from time to time.’ He sniffed at the root and handed it back.