The Story that Knew Better

I don’t have any idea of the crime, the clues or even the protagonist.  But I have everything I need to begin.

I stared at the old man thoughtfully and waited.  He sat in a faded blue armchair puffing on a long wooden tobacco pipe, which he held with long white fingers.  This made his large ring stand out all the more obvious.  The band was intricately shaped like a dragon which coiled around a large blue opal.  It sparkled in the light as he moved, clearly something he kept polished and cared for greatly.  My eyes continued past his hand and rested on the surface of the chair beneath his arm which was discolored and stood out from the rest.  

I often learn more in silence, so I was happy to wait.  

So we’ve learned that the ring is obnoxious and large and somehow important.  We’ve learned that he smokes often, and often in the same chair.  The protagonist is still much of a mystery however.  Truth be told, he is still a mystery to me as well.  But what wants to be revealed next?  What is interesting about an observant individual who is comfortable in silence?

Perhaps the old man will reveal more.

Finally, the man began to speak.

“They say that at the moment of creation there came to be two divine beings.  The first, some call Odin, a creature of creation who bent nature’s power to his will and with nothing more than a thought could create or destroy entire galaxies.  To exercise his will was his purpose, and the universe his playground.”

He paused and puffed from his pipe, exhaling in slow, smoky breaths.

“The second, was a creature of divine beauty.  She existed only to move through the cosmos in an endless dance, endlessly drawn to the power of creation, like a moth to the flame.  It was inevitable that these two beings would meet and so they did and in doing so formed the first great love of the cosmos.”

Another puff while I waited.

“Yet it was not meant to last, and through an unspeakable act, the divine beauty was slain.  Her essence was torn apart and spread to the far reaches of the universe, and beyond.  Odin, was devastated and reached out for her as she was torn away but grabbed only a small piece of her beauty, which he laid to rest in what we now call the Caelestia Diamond.  It is a jewel of unmatched beauty, whose even existence is something of a myth.”

Interesting.  I had thought that it would be the protagonist that wanted to step into the light but it’s not, it’s the myth.  It’s the mystery itself.  It never occurred to me until I got to the end of the paragraph that a mystery surrounding an object whose very existence is a mystery would be a fascinating layering of truth.  What are myths after all but stories?  If I’m really being honest, they are lies built on truth.  So what a task our protagonist has before him.  Presumably he is here to discover the truth, but what is real and what is myth?  And what happened to the diamond?  Further to that, a myth is great foreshadowing, so where does this story want to go and why did this story of Gods reveal itself.  Well, I'm invested now.  Show me more. 

He leaned forward, the pipe momentarily forgotten and gazed at me with his intensely blue eyes.  

“The people you will find within these walls are sworn to secrecy on the day they first enter and now I must ask you to do the same.”

I paused, weighing just how to respond.  Finally, I nodded.

“I just have two questions.”

“Of course.”

“First, you strike me as a man of careful thought.”  My eyes flickered to the arm of his chair.  “I further presume you are aware that I am an acquirer of rare items, and called me here because you are in need of a service which requires these special talents.”  I paused.  He did not disagree.  “So if I am sworn to secrecy, how may I locate something of which I am unable to speak?”

The man’s eyes twinkled and he smiled.  “You do not disappoint Mr. Augustus.  You are exactly what I was hoping for.  You see our dilemma and I am afraid I cannot speak another word until you say the words.”

I chewed on my lip.  It was not lost on me that the man had not introduced himself.  It meant that was either rude, or didn’t consider his identity relevant to the matter at hand.  I suspected the latter.  As an acquirer of rare things I had a knack for making connections and asking questions.  I concluded that the old man knew that I would be unable to resist a seemingly impossible problem and the fact that I had made it this far meant I had passed some sort of initial test already.

Very well.

“I accept.”

What kind of man seeks out impossible problems?  If he is being tested, then what conversation is having beyond the one on the surface?  I am tempted to provide more subtext, but I know that what is not said is far more interesting than what is.  This is where I must trust the reader.

I feel like the scene needs to expand.  Perhaps a new perspective will illuminate both of these characters.

The old man set down his pipe and clapped his hands twice.  The wall to the right of us responded by opening, revealing a hidden side room and an extremely tall bald man with a long grey beard..  He wore a black suit and on his right hand he wore the same blue ring.

I decided to call him “The Wizard.”

He proceeded towards the large bookshelf behind me and withdrew a large book which he handled with great care.

“Your hand Mr. Augustus if you please.”  His voice was deep and unapologetic.

For someone who makes a living solving the impossible in presumably high stakes environments, he has a sense of humor about him.  

I too can have a flair for the dramatic.  In one swift movement I stood and presented my hand which he placed upon the book, palm down.

I knew it.

“Do you swear to keep the sacred knowledge you acquire here today safe and hidden from those that would exploit or misuse it?

I looked him straight in the eyes and flashed my cockiest smile.  “I swear.”

Interesting.  Not just a sense of humour.  Defiant.  I’m not sure if I like him more or less.

“Do you swear to keep an open mind and to consider all that you learn here today to be of the utmost of truth?”

Well that’s interesting.  “I swear.”

The Wizard leaned forward and stared into my eyes.  I held his gaze, refusing to so much as blink.  This wasn’t my first rodeo.

Finally The Wizard smiled.  “We’ll see.”

By gazing into each other’s eyes, they are seeing the reflections of each other.  That’s actually kind of poetic.  I so want to write that in so everyone can know how poetic it is!  But alas, it would ruin the moment.  I must trust the reader.

Also, what’s with the second oath?  Where did that come from?  I swear I set out to write a single oath, that second one just came along.  Why would it be important that the protagonist accept something unbelievable as truth?  I have no idea.  It scares me a bit but also excites me.  I want to keep writing.  We’ve already established that myth is important.  I suspect that this will be the key to the mystery.  The answer to an impossible problem that asks, what if your view of reality is wrong?  

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  I’ve said too much already.

I slowly let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.  I had the vague notion that I had just committed to something for which I hadn’t the slightest idea what the stakes were.

Maybe that’s just the way I liked it.

Ok, I see you.  We are starting to get the idea of the stakes.  We still don’t know why the protagonist is here, although we can guess.  But with myth, lies and truth tangled together, do we really?  Or do we expect something more interesting?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”  I smiled sweetly.  The Wizard merely grunted.

The old man stood and patted The Wizard’s arm.  “Do not mind my esteemed colleague.  We have not had someone say the words in sometime.  You may call him Mr. Avery, and I am Mr. St. Laurent.  Welcome to the Arx.”

I raised an eyebrow.  Ok I concede.  These two were way more dramatic than me.

How fitting.  A mysterious book.  Names that aren’t revealed until the protagonist has said “The Words”.  Not sworn in, not an oath, “The Words”.  This implies a sacredness to them.  They are more than just binding.  But how?  And did you notice how they introduced their names?  “You may call me…”  It implies that it may not be their real names.  So already, we are uncertain what is true and what is not.

But the second oath…

Oh baby.  I am in!

I exhaled.  A sharp comment about “The Arx” poised on the tip of my tongue but I just blew it out.  It was time for the business at hand.

Wait.  Did you miss it?  I bet you missed it.  What about the second question?  Our protagonist said he had two questions, and he never asked the second one.  To be honest, the scene wanted to move, and also I knew you’d miss it.  So how cool to bring it back later.  In fact, I think the second question will define the protagonist’s relationship to the problem.  Perhaps even to the myth itself.  What’s fun about this part if I know what the second question is, and you, dear reader, most certainly do not.

I am literally rubbing my hands together in anticipation because I have an inkling of first how I’m going to remind you that there was a second question and second, tell you what it is.

But I said an inkling.  Much is still to be revealed to me.

Unfortunately that is as far as I got.  At first you might ask why on earth did he stop?  Why is this a story about something not coming together?  

Well, maybe it isn’t a story about something not coming together.  Perhaps it’s a story about not coming together, yet.

There are few things that aren’t sitting well with me, the author.  First, I’m excited about the intrigue, the setup and the characters so far.  But I have done nothing to make you, the reader, care about the protagonist.

Second, I haven’t the slightest clue what the crime is or who did it.

So herein lies my problem.  I need more time.  I had intended this as a short story about an impossible heist, but darnit, that is not what emerged.

Instead, I unearthed something far more interesting.

My first novel.