Chapter Seven
> Maybe rescuing the queen would simply require a lot of paperwork or something.
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> The sword, which had looked like a claymore in James’ hands the few times he’d had to lift the awful thing, looked comfortable in Gabriel’s grip. He hadn’t taken his hands off the sword once since he’d pulled the weapon from the rotting stump out back, even though an hour had passed since then and the pair of them were about to eat dinner.
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> Gabriel somehow managed to wash and chop vegetables, cook them, and set out two plates with generous helpings one-handed.
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> In James’ opinion, it looked a little dangerous, but his internal clock was insisting he eat and then get to bed. Wouldn’t want to get off a schedule thirty or forty years in the making. Thanks to Gabriel’s miraculous cleaning, making a meal in the kitchen was much easier; the floor was clear of pots and mushrooms, the table was spotless, and the various plates, cups, saucers, spoons, ladles, and other cooking supplies had been gathered from the four corners of the tower and meticulously organized on the various wooden shelves bolted into the stone walls.
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> James was busy reading through the old man’s homemade newspaper. Like he’d suspected, the old man, whose name was John, had scribbled down a lengthy article on the results of the dry landscape on their produce and animals, including the skinny cows James had spotted on his walk into the Village proper. He was enjoying a dramatic short about Lady Anna’s tomatoes when Gabriel announced that the food was ready to eat.
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> He insisted he wasn’t much of a chef, and after tasting a forkful of the dish Gabriel had put together, James mostly disagreed. The food was bland and the combination of ingredients was a little strange—he probably wouldn’t have chopped the bread into perfect cubes and scattered it over the eggplant and peppers—but it was good enough and filling. Gabriel seemed to take any ingredients and turn them into a salad. Like everything else that had to do with the blond, good-looking young man, the presentation of the meal was perfect. Every eggplant had been cut into exactly the same size and shape, every pepper looked like it had been measured with a tape measurer, and the shavings of butter gently melting over the top were artistic.
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> It wasn’t Tavern on the Green, but it was nice.
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> Kat was curled on one of the kitchen chairs, taking a nap. After all the chairs had been retrieved from their scattered locations throughout the main floor of Beacon Tower, the kitchen table was now surrounded with twelve low chairs, hand-carved and rather nice. Harold must have been quite the entertainer.
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> James was halfway through his plate when he glanced over at Gabriel. The young man had finally set down the sword to eat. He had placed it reverently on a simple white blanket on the far side of the table where they weren’t sitting. The young man was eating slowly, taking small, polite bites and frequently dabbing at his face with a cloth napkin in a dignified manner. On the surface he seemed the definition of poise, but James had lived a little too long to miss the telltale signs of Gabriel’s unbridled excitement. Or maybe he’d just spent too much time around his grandnephews and nieces.
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> “Yes, Gabriel?”
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> Startled, the young man looked over at James. “Did you call my name, High Wizard Just James, Bearer of the Quest and the One Who Will Defeat the Wicked Crimson King?”
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> Yeah, the boy was definitely still thinking about the quest.
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> “I don’t remember the little poem saying anything about the king being wicked, or even particularly evil,” James commented.
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> “But anyone who would steal away the Queen of Life is an enemy of life, right?” Gabriel asked.
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> “I’m not sure. I was just wondering what has you so preoccupied.” James took another small bite of his food, more out of habit than hunger, before adding, “Somehow I doubt it has anything to do with the nice meal you prepared for us.”
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> “Do you like it, High Wizard Just James? I haven’t really made anything like it before, and I wasn’t sure if I should add the tomatoes, or if it would go better with a little cream and…”
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> “Out with it, boy. You’re dying to go on a quest, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince you otherwise either, does that sound about right?” James picked up his own napkin and tried to navigate around his bushy beard. He’d probably lost an entire slice of bread in crumbs to the hairy thing already.
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> “You would let me accompany you on your holy quest, High Wizard?” Gabriel’s bright eyes grew wide.
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> “You do seem to be in possession of a magical sword now,” James pointed out, finishing off the last couple cubed pieces of pepper before getting up slowly and shuffling over to rinse his plate and fork in a fresh bucket of water Gabriel had fetched from the well earlier. James had to admit, it was nice to be old sometimes. It gave him a wonderful excuse to not be the one fetching and toting things all the time.
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> “And it is without rust!” Gabriel added, some of his giddiness spilling out from behind his well-behaved, mature persona.
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> “I could use a capable, handy man like you on my journey—”
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> “I am ready to go now,” Gabriel said quickly. Before James could protest, the blond man had shoveled the rest of the food on his plate into his mouth while still looking dignified, rinsed and dried his plate and fork, and buckled the sword onto his waist, slipping it into the scabbard in a swift, seemingly practiced motion.
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> “I didn’t mean right right now. We’ll need to pack and prepare for something like this. I’ve never gone camping, but I assume we’ll need to bring food, and spare clothes, and stuff like that.”
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> “I took the liberty of packing and preparing everything for a journey after I stumbled on the prophecy inscribed in the scroll. In case you decided to undertake the quest.” Gabriel at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed by his immense desire to go questing.
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> “Of course.” The old man threw up his hands. “While you were alphabetizing the books on the shelf and polishing the ceiling.”
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> “I haven’t actually polished the ceiling yet. I can do that now, if you want,” but James was quick to cut off Gabriel.
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> “I think even someone like you should sleep before we head out into the unknown.”
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> James glanced around the main floor of the tower. He’d been so focused on the transformation from scatter-brained wizardly living to Gabriel’s high standards of cleanliness to notice that the young man had, in fact, packed. There was a large pack by the door, and when James squinted at the contents he saw some bulky items wrapped in thick white paper that was probably food stuffs, as well as some basic cooking materials, like a pot and ladle. There was a much smaller pack next to it, which James assumed was for him. Unlike the large pack, the bag was sealed shut, and the old man had no idea what Gabriel had put inside. What did wizards even take on journeys like this? Strange potions? A spare pair of robes? An extra pointy hat in case the first hat suffered casualties, like getting blown away?
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> “Whatever you think would be best, Master Wizard Just James, Most Benevolent and Wise Leader…”
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> “Just James,” he gently reminded Gabriel. “Just James. If you keep calling me high wizard of anything I’ll have to leave you here to take care of the tower while I go on the quest. Besides, don’t you get tired of making your sentences so much longer than they need to be?”
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> “I’ll go rest in preparation for our upcoming quest, Just James.” Gabriel was already gone, likely halfway up the spiral staircase in the center of the room when James realized he had no idea where to find a proper bed in this strange tower. After all, his lazy bottom had been taking a delicious nap while Gabriel had been flying around the tower with a mop and broom in true Cinderella fashion, tackling twenty-six floors.
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> James would feel bad about it, if he’d had a say in Gabriel’s cleaning spree in the first place. But since he had been fast asleep when the young man had scrubbed and organized the tower, James figured he wasn’t to blame. After all, no reason to feel guilty about something he had no power over. One of the many lessons he’d finally started to learn after seven decades.
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> Now, to sleep. Harold had to have at least a couple beds spread throughout the twenty-five other floors of Beacon Tower. If it was a prerequisite for all wizards to be old men, Old Man Harold probably had multiple sleeping quarters spread throughout the tower.
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> Or maybe he just magicked himself wherever he needed to go.
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> Which brought up an excellent question. How would James go on some “hero’s quest” as the resident wizard if he didn’t know a single spell? Or anything about magic? Sure, he had the tome of mysteries, but if learning magic was anything like learning how to use the cell phone his sister had insisted he have on hand, it sounded like far too much work.
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> “Maybe the cat can teach me magic.”
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> He tried nudging Kat, but she was deep asleep and making a strange sound between purring and snoring. She’d probably be out until the next morning, and James honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep Gabriel from running head-first out the front door with that sword at the crack of dawn.
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> James shrugged. There would be plenty of time to figure out this “spell” stuff later. He might not even have to use the magic book and its contents. What could be so difficult about trekking through some dead grass to find the Queen of Green, or whatever her title was? The part about “defeating” the king sounded like a lot of work, but that didn’t necessarily mean James would be called upon to cast a massive, powerful spell. Maybe rescuing the queen would simply require a lot of paperwork or something.
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> “Sure. I’m sure that’s what it means.”
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> James made his way over to the staircase, once again happy to have his homemade walking stick on hand. Hitching up his silky blue robes slightly so he didn’t trip and break his nose on the stairs, or a hip, he started making his way up the steps. His joints were apparently too traumatized from the last forty-eight hours or so to complain any more. He’d been in a constant state of dull pain ever since James Jr. had landed on him in the bookshop, and at this point his body was too tired to manage more than a feeble whine.
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> The second floor of the tower could not have been more different from the main floor where James had spent all of his time up until now.
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> The theme seemed to be anything conceivable that was shiny—baubles of every color, although Harold seemed partial to purple; potions with labels written in elegant script and claiming to do all sorts of impossible things, like grow a person’s hair; a large display case full to bursting with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other precious gems James didn’t have a name for; a vast array of weapons Gabriel must have polished, because James knew Harold wouldn’t have bothered; heavy full suits of plate and armor that looked designed for men even bulkier than the young man; and two crowns befitting of royalty. It wasn’t how James would have organized the room, but he figured there was a method to the young man’s madness. After all, he had gone through the entire tower while James had been happily “meditating” in the previous wizard’s velvet armchair.
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> That’s right. James was looking for somewhere to sleep. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t stumble on a bed, and if he had it probably would have been plated in gold with diamond-studded pillow cases and metal sheets. Maybe bedposts made of maces or spears or something.
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> The third floor was full to bursting with books and scrolls. Harold’s collection on the first floor had been impressive enough that James figured his parents would have been jealous of such an array of books, but this room put the bookshelves down below to shame. There were so many shelves that it looked like Gabriel had decided to make the room into a “proper” library of sorts, with shelves in the middle of the room instead of only hugging the walls, making for a maze of sorts with the spiral staircase sitting square in the middle. All of the shelves not in the middle of the room were slightly rounded to fit nicely against the tower’s circular design, which Harold probably had done. With magic. James’ quickly realized why Gabriel hadn’t moved the bookshelves on the first floor to this room. There was no space for a single extra tome, much less an entire bookshelf. His mother Sera would have instantly dropped to a cross-legged position on the floor, which was mostly covered with expensive-looking rugs, and began diving into one of the shelves. Henrie would have gone down each of the rows, studying the different topics and getting a feel for the space and its contents before choosing the most interesting book and going over to one of the few chairs that were squeezed between the shelves almost as an afterthought.
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> James looked around, did not find a bed, and went to the fourth floor. His knees were starting to protest, and he mentally decided that if he didn’t find a bed soon, he would just curl up in a chair somewhere.
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> The fourth-floor’s walls were covered with maps and detailed sketches of various cities. There were several world globes, and a quick purview made it obvious this place was not Earth. James had figured as much. Maybe it was the talking cat, but it was probably the existence of Gabriel. People like him only lived in the pages of a book. There were several tables with heavy, detail-laden maps pinned to them. The name of this fantastical world was nowhere to be seen, however. How convenient.
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> “En it is then,” James said to the empty room before yawning and hobbling, slower this time, to the fifth floor. If this area of the tower didn’t have a bed, or a thick rug or big pile of hay, he’d probably just curl up on the floor. It would be clean enough, even if it killed his joints and Gabriel had to scrape him off the ground the next morning.
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> He was breathing heavily when he crested the staircase’s exit to the fifth level of Beacon Tower. It looked like a mushroom farm. It was almost completely black, a stark contrast from the rest of the tower, which remained at eye-watering brightness at all times.
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> This room was cool and dark and felt slightly humid, but the thing that instantly caught James’ attention was a small cot wedged in between several shelves housing mushrooms of every conceivable color. They weren’t the mushrooms James would buy at Costco, that was obvious. He would barely fit on the bed, given how small it was, but if his feet dangled off the end, that wasn’t going to keep him from using it.
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> He was tucked into the bed in moments, enjoying the gentle sound of sprinkling water as something misted over the mushrooms. Maybe Harold had set a timer before he left the planet decades earlier? Maybe Kat looked after the mushrooms, claws and all.
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> Or maybe it was magic.
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> But James was happy to enjoy the cave-like space, and in no time at all he was drifting off, dreaming of flowers and gardening supplies.
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> ***
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> True to his word, Gabriel was ready the next morning. By the time James opened his eyes and stumbled to the spiral staircase, going blind as the brilliant light filling the steps dazzled his vision and almost falling down the five flights to the main floor, Gabriel had already eaten and had shouldered on his massive pack, the sword sheathed and hanging from his waist. He was still clothed in his farmer garb, which was clean but worn, the color so faded James wasn’t sure what color it had been originally.
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> James settled himself into his chair at the foot of the old-fashioned wood table in the kitchen and was tucking into the young man’s latest invention, something to do with tomatoes and cream with toasted bread on the side slathered in peppers he’d crushed into a paste. Gabriel was getting bold—this didn’t seem to be a salad. James would have slathered them with butter, but to each their own.
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> “Did you have a good rest, Just James?” Gabriel asked him brightly. The back door of the wizard’s tower was open slightly, letting in the early-morning breeze while attempting to keep out the dust. James could tell that the sun was just rising, only cracks of silvery sunlight coming through, almost invisible in the blinding confines of Beacon Tower.
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> “Yes, did you sleep at all?” the old man asked as he nibbled on his funky toast.
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> “Of course. I hope to never shun one of your lessons or any of your shared wisdom, Just James.”
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> James held back a snort. It would be improper. And it would probably result in pepper paste ending up in his beard. Which would look undignified. And be sticky.
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> “I know they say old people are filled with wisdom, but this is the first time in my life anyone has claimed I had any wisdom to dispel onto others. Oh, Gabriel, do you know where a bright-red tunic and uncomfortable pair of leggings ended up while you were working your magic earlier?”
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> “Me? Magic? I wouldn’t dream of something so mystical!” The young man, who was petting Kat, looked upset, equal parts longing and insistence on his chiseled face.
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> “Regardless,” James said dryly—no, mystically—“do you know where that clothing ended up?”
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> “Of course.”
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> “Well, if it fits you, it’s yours, if you want it. I think it goes along with that sword strapped at your side.”
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> “You want me to wear the garb of a hero?”
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> James smirked. “Is that what heroes wear here? I suppose it’s better than what ‘heroes’ wear back on Earth. No will see your underwear at least. But yes, lad, go ahead. It looks like your current clothing could use a break, maybe never be used again.”
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> “I agree with James the Just,” Kat said, licking her paws. “Before you go on the quest, you should be prepared. I would have personally taken several more days to gather supplies and consider your route and prepare for potential crises that may arise on the path to reach the Queen of Life, but I am also not going on this journey, so…”
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> Gabriel had already unstrapped his pack from his back and marched back upstairs, no doubt to retrieve the “hero’s” tunic and leggings.
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> “The young man will be useful to you on your quest,” Kat said conversationally. “He has been talking continuously to me all morning about nothing else. Although it seems like he worries about whether or not his parents will approve.”
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> “Isn’t the boy nineteen years old?”
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> “Yes, but it is still customary to inform one’s parents before going on a dangerous quest with a wizard. Especially if it involves a wizard, since that tends to multiply the dangers.”
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> “What dangers?” James’ gaze snapped up to meet the cat.
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> “All quests are fraught with danger, James the Just.”
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> “Even simple ones? Like going to get a jug of milk from the local grocery… farm? Cow?”
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> “That would not be considered a quest, James the Just. A quest is more than just traveling from one point to the other and reaching a certain destination. A quest involves conflict, cunning, and suffering.”
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> “My cunning? Or the cunning of whoever it is that will apparently be hampering me on my quest thing? And what do you mean suffering? Is it all the walking? That does sound bad, I have to admit…”
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> “Each quest is tailor-made to fit its questers. But you have no reason to fear, James the Just. The quest is designed to test the hero. As a wizard, with perfect command over the elements and countless spells at your fingertips, the quest should be trivial, if not somewhat boring.”
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> Countless spells. Command over the elements?
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> James began rethinking this whole idea to leave the comfort of the now-clean tower to go suffering through the outside world, with its dust and cunning “things,” when Gabriel returned, clad in the red tunic and leggings.
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> James was not surprised to see that the hero garb fit the Gab perfectly. Then again, Gabriel could also lift the massive sword with ease and make it look regular-sized, so James was just happy to be the one in the plush robes, someone one expected to wield a walking stick—staff—instead of the weapon.
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> The young man had taken the time, something he seemed to have infinite quantities of, to clean the crimson tunic until is seemed to shine. Now that he was out of the dust, James could make out gold embroidery throughout. It honestly did make Gabriel look much more heroic. The young man was beaming, his smile as blinding as the tower.
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> “Kat, is there a way to make the light in here less, umm, hazardous?”
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> “Hazardous?” The cat tilted her head to the side in a clear sign of feline confusion.
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> “Bright. Is there any way to make the tower less bright?”
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> “Of course, James the Just. You need only to say the word and the tower will adjust accordingly.”
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> “Okay.” James dragged out the word as he scrambled mentally for how to comply to the cat’s “simple” instructions. After a few seconds passed, with both Kat and Gabriel looking at him with curiosity, James took a deep breath and decided to mimic the requests he’d seen his grandnephews and nieces make to the Alexis—Alex?—robot in their living room.
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> “Beacon Tower, brightness at fifty percent,” he said, attempting to both lower his voice and project loudly into the space at the same time. He only ended up coughing at the end, but it was with great relief that he noticed the bright light filling the room soften until James could easily see without having to perpetually squint.
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> “I wish I had known that earlier…” he muttered, so softly probably only Kat heard him. But she was a cat and hopefully wouldn’t rat him out to Gabriel, who was shouldering his large pack once more and stealing glances at James’ plate while he thought the old man wasn’t looking to see if James had finally finished pushing his food around and taking baby bites from it.
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> “I get it,” James said, finishing his last bite and cleaning the few dishes he’d used before laying them on a towel to dry. “You’re ready to go I take it?”
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> “I’m ready whenever you want me to be,” Gabriel said modestly.
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> “And have you told your parents you will be questing yet?” James said, rising from his chair and using his broom handle to aid his balance.
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> “I… I fear they will say no,” the young man admitted. “They put great stock in farming, and because I am the youngest member of our family, they will likely not want me to run off.”
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> “They didn’t seem to mind you coming and helping me here at the tower,” James noted. “They actually seemed thrilled about it.”
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> “Assisting a powerful wizard is a great honor, and since I was not having much success on my small plot of land, my parents were happy to lend you their aid through me. But going on a quest… they will likely assume I stumbled upon this sword by accident and am not the one meant to wield the sword without rust.”
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> “Sounds like we’ll be stopping by the Village first then,” James said, already feeling exhaustion begin to settle over his shoulders at the thought of all the walking he’d soon have to endure. It would be nice to just stay in the tower, especially now that it was cozy. James was looking forward to taking a nap on the floor with the mushroom farm again. He hadn’t slept so well in decades, even if the bed was too small and lumpy.
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> “Of course, Just James,” Gabriel said deferentially.
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> “Did you happen to stumble on a map when you found the quest scroll?” James asked, suddenly realizing he knew nothing about the land outside the tower’s circular walls. He could find the Village, yes—anyone could—but he didn’t have the faintest clue how to reach the Crimson King.
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> “I have a map,” the boy said proudly. “Although I don’t know how to read it,” he added as an afterthought.
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> “I think I can handle the map reading,” James said, straightening his robes and reaching for one of many pointy hats on the coach hangar by the front door.
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> “Besides, you can’t be perfect at everything.”
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> Gabriel was kind enough to hand James his pack, which he shouldered, grateful it not only looked much lighter than the young man’s heavy load, but felt comfortable sitting on his shoulders.
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> “Take care of the place while we’re gone, Kat.”
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> She meowed in acknowledgement, although it seemed more like amusement, her fluffy black tail swishing from side to side as she sat in the doorway.
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> The pair were lost in a downpour of dust and early-morning sun as they walked out the front door.
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> It was time to go questing.