TCOTNK 2.7 The 15th letter part 3
TCOTNK 2.7 The 15th letter part 3
New to TCOTNK? Reading along is free for everyone, so you can check out the last stretch of Season 2 that follows here… it will spoil several fictional goodies though. Better start on the first page.
back to chapter 1 (of season 1)
The 15th Letter part III
I was apparently staring at Sapi’s notebook quite intently because Thalia snatched it from my fingers. Catherine/Yeshe stirred. And because I tried to stop Thalia, the woman on my lap woke up even more. I didn't want to lose that little notebook again. I would have preferred to never let it go, but Thalia stuffed it back into the bag. She put her arm around the resurrecting treasurer. With a concerned look from my lap to my face, the woman sat up. Thalia waved me away. signalling leave this bit to me.
"We have to get off the ship soon," she said, helping Catherine to her feet, "Maybe you can drive the lady's car off the ship?" Sending me a big wink behind the curved back.
"Are the keys in your bag?" she asked, gently rubbing that same back. Catherine belched, nodded, and looked around in a slow panic.
"Are you okay with that, girl?" Thalia-The-Shrewd asked. 'You shouldn't go into that dark hold for a while, maybe, the two of us are going to walk off the boat, don’t you agree?”
Thalia casually handed me the bag and continued directed at me;
“Can you still copy those insurance papers before we disembark, dear? Not doing it would be a shame. There is a machine at the office. Just mention my name to the lady, I already asked if it was okay. You're a sweetheart.”
And that's what I did. I'm probably unsuitable as a spy. The whole action was nerve-wracking.
For the most part, it went smoothly.
After I had finally found the office again, I hurried through making two hundred mediocre copies. Then reported to the men at the bow door that I, besides ‘my own’ car would also drive Thalia's scooter off the ramp. They couldn’t care less. Sweating with guilt in the half-dark hold I dug through Yeshe's rental car bumper to tailpipe and was completely exhausted by the time I was forced to move due to impatient passengers behind me.
Catherine and Thalia were waiting along the roadway. I got out. Gave the key to Catherine, who looked a bit better being back on land. She nodded and said as I walked away, “Thank you, Michelangelo. I'm sorry about my intrusion.”
I didn’t manage to say something coherent. Too many thoughts were flooding my empty head. Our eyes met for a millisecond and I blanked, raised my hand, grabbing for the excuse to quickly get the scooter off board as well. A moment later, Thalia came after me. 'Shit,' she said, catching up to me, 'I almost forgot about my luggage. A colleague brought it on board during my shift!' she shouted, pulling open the heavy metal door to the stairs, "Without them I won't have anything to wear."
And she was gone. I looked over my shoulder but couldn’t see Yeshe from where is was. I felt unreal.
I got the scooter. With an indefinable sense of haste. When I turned the key and started the bike I was terrified. The copies! I had placed the open box on top of the car and then began searching the car. What a fool I was. Now Catherine would discover our hack. I drove through the empty hold on my two wheeler much too quickly. Nearly slipped on the slope, to cheers of encouragement from the crew closing the gate behind me, and raced into the brightly lit parking lot. The car was gone. Catherine had already left. I skidded to a stop and cursed. Next to me was a traffic sign. A warning triangle with an exclamation mark.
Would it make sense to go after her? Maybe, but I couldn't just leave Thalia behind, could I? I was tired and disappointed and angry with myself. The minutes passed in doubt.
It took almost half an hour for Thalia to disembark. In the cheerful company of several crew members. The large lanterns on the quay had already gone out and I stood in the dark putting on my vest. I sighed. I was already trying to accept that I was on my own again.
"How big is your trunk?" she shouted, one hand above her eyes, peering into the darkness. She was left alone, standing between two monstrous suitcases under the light at the bus stop.
'The rest of the team is from the other side,' she explained as I approached, 'they're going into town until they have to return in two hours. You are my ride home.”
I told Thalia about my blunder. She frowned.
'On the roof?' she asked, hands on hips, looking sternly at me with eyes that sparkled.
She started moving. 'You put your scoot mobile in the shed behind here and bring your pathetically light luggage with you,' a warm index finger lifted my nose, 'I'll call a taxi in the meantime. Otherwise I won't get my suitcases home. You pay the fare, dumbass.”
The taxi driver, a man who bore a striking resemblance to the Mona Lisa, thought the drive, stop, drive, stop, was the most fun he had in a long time. It was a slow evening anyway. We recovered a total of sixteen sheets all the way to the highway. There was hardly any wind so they simply lay on the sidewalk or roadway. On a bit of highway it became too dangerous. Too few too far apart. The smiling taxi guy only calculated the distance to Thalia's house, not the time.
The day passed with shopping on foot and lunch on the edge of the city pond. Thalia knew half the towns’ population. I hung around enjoying her lilting dialect that I didn't understand. At the end of the afternoon we returned to her room exhausted. Without any objection, I was assigned Thalia's narrow bed. Sleep first, she ordered. It was muggy in her spacious attic at the top of an old warehouse. And despite Thalia thoughtlessly undressing while unpacking her stuff off more and I no longer noticed. I slept. Without dreams that I can remember.
The second day (ending with the second dream).
I opened my eyes with the sensation no time had passed. Thalia was lying on top of the sheet. A camp bed on the floor. I watched her from her bed. The open warehouse doors let in the morning sun. The curly shadows of the wrought iron balcony fence fell over her sweaty naked skin. Worth a painting.
I sketched her in my mind. Following the curvy contours. Filling the dark shadows of her form.
Thalia sat up. Apparently feeling my gaze.
She looked satisfied. 'Was it nice?' she asked, stretching in the backlight.
"You're torturing me," I said.
She looked innocent and said, wrapping the sheet around her body,
“Play is for later, we have work to do.”
That brought me back to yesterday’s landslide.
Catherine was not a bounty hunter. Maybe she was looking for me, but more likely, and especially after going through her papers, it turned out she was on her own mission. Her quest wasn't just about me. And there was overlap with 'my'discovery. Were we both on the trail of the same treasure, the same secret? And that only added to the mystery. That made Yeshe even more mysterious and intriguing. But alarm bells also went off. The inner warning platoon was in commotion.
While Thalia made breakfast, I wrote down everything I could remember. Made a list of questions. Wrote the first part of this letter in draft. All on pink index cards. She had a drawer full of them in her desk. “Storyboarding,” she said, “is a perfect way to get things in the right order. The best way to analyze events. And also perfect for channeling your spiking chi, you old teddy bear.”
I got a kiss on my bald head.
“I'm going to buy yoghurt, which I forgot and cannot live without, borrow a car, go to the hairdresser, long overdue, and visit the library.”
I was alone for a while. Stood in front of her open warehouse doors looking out over the little square five floors below. The cool sea breeze was clearly palpable. I felt strangely emotional. The thought struck me and was tied to the complex feelings for three women. Thalia and Yeshe seemed to be standing to my left and right. And you? Where do you stand in this lineup? I don't know, but we are tied together in a strange way. This sad loser and the three goddesses of the picture book secret.
You know what I thought, Scarlotte? Catherine/Yeshe is not looking for me. Although I am on her list. She is looking for you, through me.
Included in her papers were the first five of my letters to you. In addition, of course, the full writing that appeared to be Sapi's. There were lists of names of our festival. Oucatur documented. Multiple photos of participants. Like Roos, Troll, James, Pedr, that boy with his eternal phone, two photos of me and a whole series of you. It all looks like it was mostly taken from the internet but not all. And there was a printed email from that big festival coming up. She has signed up as a volunteer. Now do you understand that I was confused, excited, full of anxious forebodings and great expectations. What the fuck in hells name!
Remember when I left a message with the family of that woodcarver Barin? A drawing and a rune sign? With that I indicated that I would meet him there. Through that same festival he was chartered as a woodworker on a ship. I don't see how this is all connected. But gradually I end up in a universe where clues lie everywhere and under every stone. There’s probably medicine for that.
And these are the things I recognized and remembered. There was a lot more to Yeshe's car that I couldn't place. And do you remember that I also made long lists in my camper workshop of everything that appears in The Castle of the Naked Knights? She almost did the same thing. And those two collections, hers and mine. They look very similar. So someone is still interested in that book. Who are you Scarlotte? Do you even know yourself?
A rally car stopped on the street below. Right under my open doors. Blue with white stripes and a roaring exhaust. The engine stopped with a thud and out the window Thalia climbed.
'Hey Raphael,' she called up, 'can you lower the shopping trolley for a moment?
I had seen the large protruding beam with the electric winch. I unhooked the wire box from the outside wall. Took out the weathered rag doll that was decaying rather gruesomely in a corner and let the cage with float down with the switch. Useful. That saved a lot of climbing stairs with heavy boxes. And what came up was heavy. The first load was a week's worth of food. Then several boxes of books came up. And last and heaviest, there was a huge linen bag in the metal cage.
She reached her attic taking the steps as quickly as the linen bag and helped bring it in.
Thalia had short hair and suddenly looked much cooler. She had freckles. I hadn't noticed those before. Her shaved neck was beautiful.
“Wow,” I said sincerely.
“Yes Nice?” she asked, "I've been planning to do it for a long time. And now that I'm spending the summer with you, I dared to do it.”
I froze for a moment. My scalp twitched. Spend the summer with me?
"If you don't mind me rooting around with you, that is?"
I smiled crookedly, somewhere between affected, honoured and confused.
"You might be a Byronic hero," she said, picking up one of the three boxes of books and moving it to a kitchen chair, “not angry like Heathcliff, or tragic like Werther but of some yet unknown Romantic era.” I know hardly anything of these men, but I felt like being body-painted, you know that close attention tingle? She cleared her round dining table. Put the vase of withered flowers in the sink. Filled the kettle and switched it on. Took a look at my work. Slid the camp bed under her wire-iron squat bed. Dumped the suitcase with laundry on top. Cleaned up the food. Bit off a piece of carrot. 'What?' she said, "you can't look like that."
That was the first time I saw her shy.
She took out the cot again.
"I haven't showered yet," I said.
"Well hurry up then," she said, "I'll lock the front door."
The moment I stepped in the shower after fiddling to get the temperature right, she joined me, turned the tap to cold got me in a headlock from behind while screaming in my ear.
I dried her off and and with her eyes closed she let me explore her body. Singing softly along to the music seeping in from the living room. Thalia matched my excitement. She expected to be infected by it. And I tried to take my time, but my body took over.
She wasn’t done yet. Led my hand. My fingers on her stomach. My thumb sliding in. She made me feel what was happening. How the shape changed. The inner form and feel responded. How little it took to play her. Her shiny body writhing, her breath billowing and slow as she got closer and closer. She stirred up my fire. I remembered.
It was not just this small extension that entered her. It was all me. Which only pushed her further. The connection was electrical. Energy flowed from her to me and climbed up my spine. What was hard turned soft and sensitive. A body no longer separate that increased and became bigger. Less massive but more powerful than ever. I floated and pulsed with the being beneath me that no longer existed apart from me. And now the release was what my mind sought. I emptied into her. Went beneath her surface and disappeared for a moment to a place eternal. All possible tension came together in it. I remained anchored for a long time. Me on my knees, her lying back. We looked at each other. Surprised at how obvious it is. About the naturalness. Neither particularly in love. Having no expectations. Just sharing the same moment. Feeling at home. She sat up and gave me a long hug. Our breath calm and deep. Until the little devil woke up again.
Thalia got up and started stacking books from the box onto the table. She sniffed and said, "It smells like sex in here."
I bit her buttocks. She continued unperturbed and moved to the other side of the table.
"Orders of knighthood," she said, "runic signs, an encyclopedia of symbols and two titles on tapestries from the Low Middle Ages,"
I looked across the table on my knees.
“And I also have Vikings, shipbuilding, Rosicrucians, Greek festivals, Robin Hood, Celts, castles, angels, modern outlaws, witches, Ossian, dragons, visual storytelling, arch building, alchemy, women's history and a few more topics that I thought could come in handy. What else would we need?”
I got up. “Jesus,” I said.
"Yeshua, yes got him too," she said, and collected the last box behind her from the floor. Offering me a relentless glance. I had to take a shower. Shielded myself with a massive book on high magic.
“Maybe we need a bit of clothing,” I suggested returning, “otherwise it won't work out.”
Thalia had plundered the university library. I could spend weeks soaking up the wealth of welcome new information, haphazardly browsing as it would unwind. How had she chosen, I wondered. Until it dawned on me. What I needed to decipher was just almost everything that could have come into play a little over a thousand years ago. I should work the other way around. These were reference works that I had to search specifically. I wasn’t yet looking for answers. First I had to have questions. While I was deep into my post pairing ponderings, which maybe is a typical guy thing I believe, Thalia got to the shower first. Being post pairing practical.
When she emerged from her small bathroom, she was wearing cut-off jeans and a white shirt.
"We're parting again," she said and sat down at the table.
I took a seat opposite her and nodded. “Yes,” I agreed, “I do have to go back. The picture book is still in the camper and I need more clothes and....'
"You can't go back," she said, "you have to move on." and before I could protest, "I will bring everything here."
I dropped my shoulders. Considered how much I would love that.
'Yes,' she said with a sigh, 'I'll go back and forth one more time, get the camper here, then you can go to the university with my pass to do research and whatever else you need to prepare for the hunt.'
“The hunt?”
"Yes, for the castle."
"Which castle?"
“The one with those naked knights and their grandmother.”
"When do you want to go?"
“Well. The night boat leaves in forty minutes. If I catch that I will arrive early and I can pack your things there and perhaps sail back with the same ferry a few hours later. I'll be back this time tomorrow. Good plan, right? It costs a bit of bucks, but I can do a lot of rustling. There's plenty of room. The advantage is that I normally never take this ferry. The boys on ‘my’ ship know me too well.”
I looked up questioningly.
"Because it helped me sleep," she added, explaining.
She gathered her things and we raced to the terminal in the roaring striped racing car. Along the way I told her where, and how, and what. About the peculiarities of the camper, how to pack up the army tent and its contents. I gave her money from my rapidly dwindling wealth, gave her my keys and warned with a kiss that she was doing something illegal and that she didn't have to do it. She pinched my nose. 'Of course,' she said, “you're stuck with me this summer, that's just the way it is. Get used to it.”
It all went just fine. She climbed out of the car, gave me her cell phone at the last minute, gave me a kiss like liquid honey, said see you tomorrow and slipped under the lever. The gaping ship’s maw, already closing, swallowed her effortlessly.
What’s the opposite of the Bad Sex Award 😂