Eustis Gene Stephenson sat in a cheap dining hall captain’s chair as though he were sitting in a fine Barcalounger, legs crossed knee over knee, slouched slightly back into the worn vinyl backing. He was spinning a moderately sized brass coin on its edge upon the table. Occasionally he’d stop and rub his thumb over the raised image of a morning star.

Mid-morning light filled the dining hall and it still smelled of bacon grease from the morning’s repast. There was a weight to the room. Dark walls, dark furniture, dark wooden floor with bare spots from years of fraternal fellowship meals. The morning light did nothing to illuminate the dark corners, just a broad column across the floor, to Brother Eustis, and across the dining table.

When Virgil Sanders was led in, Eustis was gazing absentmindedly out the window at nothing, as they were opaque milk glass.

“Virgil!” Brother Eustis exclaimed, “my goodness it’s so nice to finally meet you! Please, please have a seat here at the head of the table. It’s such an honor to meet you!”

Eustis grasped Virgil’s dark hand in his pale, spotted own and shook vigorously. He turned to the man that led Virgil and said, “Brother John, can you believe it? Its Virgil Sanders!”

Brother John David Wilcox pulled out the chair at the head of the table and invited Virgil to sit.

Virgil sat slowly. Pulled himself to the table.

Brother Eustis sat to his left, mouth open in a wide smile. Brother John sat to his right, no expression.

Both men were dressed in navy blue blazers, starched white collared shirts, gray wool slacks. Brother Eustis wore a red and silver striped tie, Brother John wore none.

On his lapel Brother John had a small pin, a star raised from an oval field of gold.

Both men were white, older gentlemen. Brother Eustis appeared to be in his 60s, a shiney bald head ringed in tightly cut white hair. He appeared to be well fed – a man that didn’t miss too many meals.

Brother John looked to be a bit older than Eustis. But John was a taller, more fit man. He stood an inch or two taller than Virgil. Shoulder pads in his blazer made him look more intimidatingly broad. His salt and pepper hair waxed to the side of his head, nicely parted on top.

“Can we get you something to eat, Virgil?” asked Brother Eustis, “anything? I think Brother Sean is still in the kitchen. He can whip something up for you, no problem!”

“No thank you,” Virgil declined.

Brother Eustis frowned.

“Cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Hey Sean!” Eustis yelled, “Coffee made?”

A pause, then, “Sure… be right out!” came a reply.

Eustis leaned in, open mouthed smile, gazing at Virgil. 

Virgil was not easily intimidated. These broad movements and close encounters with Brother Eustis irritated him, they didn’t scare him. It reminded him of a dog sniffing one’s crotch.

“My gosh its so good to see you here! I’ve heard so many stories about you. We’ve documented you’re visions and verse for over a hundred years! I must say I’m your biggest fan!”

“Well, I thank you, Mr. Eustis,” Virgil said.

Brother John sat against the back of his chair, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles under the table. His big hands folded in his lap. A grand golden ring on his right third finger, topped with black onyx and star made of diamonds. He stared at Virgil.

Eustis slapped the table hard and said, “So, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

“Well, sir, I came to get some information I’m certain you gentlemen would have,” Virgil began.

“I went to Birmingham looking to find my sister, Sybil. While I was there I spent a lot of time in the library, you know, researchin’ old newspapers tryin to find some sort of information about what happened to her, where she might be buried, family, and all.

“And in some of those newspapers I found references to a witch, a soothsayer, a wraith that haunted Avondale park.

“Readin those stories was very similar to the stories I read about myself here in Huntsville.”

Brother Sean came through the kitchen door carrying a silver tray with porcelain coffee cups and saucers. Steam rose from a shiny silver decanter.

Brother Sean was dressed similarly to Brothers John and Eustis except instead of a blazer over his perfectly starched white shirt he wore a bright white apron. In broad yellow letter the words “Bro. Sean McMeans” across his chest. He too was a bit older with curly white hair, thinning on top.

Brother Sean divvied up the coffee cups and saucers between the three men and carefully poured the coffee.

Eustis thanked Brother Sean and politely dismissed him.

Eustis took a loud sip from his cup and said, “Go on.”

“Sir, I spent 113 years on that mountain. I’ve read a lot. Books, newspapers and all. In all those years I heard a lot of stories, too.

“Well, sir, its got in my head that it made no sense that there would only be one oracle on this whole wide world. 

“Reading those articles in Birmingham got me to thinking there might be an oracle on that red mountain.”

Brother Eustis glanced quickly at Brother John, still in repose in his cheap captain’s chair, and back at Virgil.

“Uh-huh. Go on.”

Virgil closed his eyes and smelled the coffee in his cup, then took a sip.

Virgil said, “I believe you gentlemen would have information about that.”

Brother Eustis furled his brow. “About what?”

“If there are other oracles, you gentlemen would know who and where they are. You knew me, it follows you’d know the others.”

Eustis looked perplexed, an over exaggerated perplexion as though Virgil had accused him of a lie.

“Mr. Sanders we have no information regarding any other oracle besides yourself. Even if we did I wouldn’t be at leave to give you that information. You’re not a member, you’ve no training, you’ve taken no oath.”

Virgil put the tip of his finger on the surface of his coffee, gently lifting a speck of dust.

“Mr. Eustis,” Virgil said quietly, “Over the years, a hundred years mind you, I learned a lot about people. I watched them. Listened to their conversations. I suppose my gifts enhanced it a bit but sir, I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Brother Eustis laughed loudly. “You bet, Virgil! There’s a lot here that’s hidden! The very heart of this organization is secrets! This is what binds us to each other! I have no doubt you might sense hidden things – you’re in an entire building of secrets!”

“I mean sir, I don’t think you’re being truthful with me.”

With that Brother John sat up quickly and leaned in toward Virgil.

“There are no other oracles,” he said, eyes staring deeply into Virgils.

Brother Eustis started to speak and Brother John threw up a big hand to silence him.

Virgil smiled at Brother John, his teeth bright white against his black skin. “I’ve lived a long time, John David Wilcox. You do not scare me. You can sit back down and tell me the truth.”

Brother Eustis looked confused.

“I’ve been polite. I’ve been humble. I’ve been respectful,” Virgil said, “I know things. I had visions long before that bastard Pedimore left me in Three Caves. John, you need to dismiss your underling here and then we can get to business… trading… secrets.”

~~

Brother Eustis opened the two great paneled oak doors to the library. They swung wide with no sound. Brother John stepped in first followed closely by Virgil.

Two oversized pleated leather chairs sat astride a small table. A pitcher of water and two glasses.

John dismissed Eustis with a nod. Eustis backed out of the library, taking the doors with him.

Virgil stood at the bottom of a great wall of books. Books stretched out at least twenty feet on either side of him, maybe fifteen feet up.

“Care to have a seat, Virgil?” asked Brother John.

Virgil turned. Another wall, just as big, faced him.

The chairs faced a great milk glass window. Light poured into the room. No need for the single lamp that sat on the little table.

Virgil’s footsteps were silent as he crossed the plush carpet to the chair. He paused, then sat down. Brother John sat as well, reaching for the pitcher of water. He motioned an offer with the pitcher and Virgil gave a quick nod.

John sat back into the winged chair and said quietly, “Yes, Virgil, there are other oracles. More or less evenly dispersed across the planet, I might add. However, who and where they are I cannot tell you. I am bound by oath, you understand.”

Virgil took a long drink of the water, eyes peering over the glass at John. He used his thumb and forefinger to squeeze the water from his white moustache, said, “I understand, John. What I don’t understand is why you’re breakin’ an oath to tell me there are others.”

“You’ve done a great many years of service for us. The weight of your service balances the weight of oath.”

“But not enough to tell me names and locations?” Virgil surmised.

“No. Their names and location bear the weights of their own service.”

There was silence. Virgil stared into the light of the window. John stared at Virgil.

Virgil broke the silence.

“There are other orders I can speak with.”

“Yes, there are, Virgil. We are honored you chose to speak to us.”

“I know things about your order. I know things about the other orders.”

“I am sure you do, Virgil.”

“I am willing to trade information regarding other orders for information about other oracles.”

Brother John took a deep breath and replied, “I simply cannot do that, Virgil.”

There was a long pause, the only sound being the low, metallic drum of central air conditioning.

Virgil looked around the room. At the glass of water in his hands. The huge white window in front of him. The dark carpet below his shoes.

Suddenly he stood, dropping the glass to the table.

“Well then, sir,” Virgil said, “I suppose I’ll simply have to talk to The Knights of Haifa next.”

John smiled and responded, “You do that Virgil. While our orders have a long history of opposition, they certainly will have the same dedication to their own oaths of secrecy.”

Virgil nodded. “Well,” he said, “we will just have to see.”

John stood and walked to the door of the library. As he reached for the door latch, Virgil stopped short. He put his hands in his pockets, head down. Quietly he said, “You have a son, John. His name is Jeremy, yes?”

John looked confused for a second. Then a slow smile spread across his face. He understood what Virgil was doing. Probing, looking for what it would take to break John’s dedication to his oath. Each deal, each threat, once more potent than the last. Bringing in Jeremy was surely the last shot in his quiver.

“Yes, I do. I’m very fond of him as well. What exactly does my son have to do with this?”

“What if I told you I had a vision regarding him? Would that be enough to get me that information?”

Still smiling, John replied, “No, Virgil, it wouldn’t. You see, our oaths are taken very seriously. To break an oath not only puts me in jeopardy, but my family as well. If I told you even one tiny secret, without proper balance I run the risk of my entire bloodline coming to an end. There is simply nothing I can do to help.”

He opened the door and invited Virgil to exit. Virgil paused, then sighed, and began to walk.

As he passed John he pulled a shining gold pocket watch from his pants pocket. It caught John’s eye. John asked, “What, ah, what’ve you got there?”

Virgil opened the watch to see the time.

“Oh, I’ve got an appointment with the Knights lodge later this afternoon. Just checking the time,” he said.

John let loose of the door latch and took a step closer to Virgil, standing in the middle of the hallway. “Where, ah, how did you come to posses such a piece of art as that?”

Virgil looked up and said, “Well you know I received many offerings. Got this one from a man back in the 30’s, you know. I didn’t care for it much, but he certainly did.” Virgil shook his head and laughed quietly.

“Oh really?” said John, “The 30s, you say…”

Virgil snapped the watch shut. “Yes sir, the 30s. It is pretty, I will say that. Its got this beautiful engraved scroll work all over it. Bet that cost almost as much as the gold itself!”

“I’m sure it did,” said John, moving closer, eyes never leaving the watch.

“I will say this,” Virgil said, looking at the watch held just in front of his face, “it has this strange engraving on the backside of the porcelain face. Strange symbols I’ve never seen. It also has this tiny, extra button in the hinge, here,” and Virgil held the watch toward Brother John, pointing at the hinge.

John reached slowly for the watch, but Virgil swiftly put it back in his pocket.

Tiny beads of sweat began to form on John’s forehead. His hand still outstretched, his eyes fixated on Virgil’s pants pocket.

And Virgil smiled. Knowingly.

“What could possibly balance the knowledge I seek?”

John looked into Virgil’s eyes. He cocked his head slowly and squinted. “I could make certain you don’t leave this building. Ever,” John said at almost a whisper.

Virgil shook his head.

“Nossir, I’m fairly certain that won’t happen. What would balance the murder of an oracle? In these very halls, even? Nossir, I don’t think thats gonna happen. But I do think, sir, a palm full of golden secrets is worth the information I’m after. Don’t you?”

John slowly lowered his hand and stood up straight. He pursed his lips as he sized up this casually dressed older black gentleman in his hallway. “Come with me,” he said, and led Virgil back into the library.

John took a small key from his inner jacket pocket. Small and cylindrical, it had what appeared to be a star for its grip. Using the key to unlock a drawer in the small table he retrieved a rectangular piece of glass with rounded corners.

“We have the latest technology, Virgil,” John said, smiling, and then he put his thumb in the middle of the glass. A quiet mechanical voice said, “Enter pass.”

A rectangle of light appeared in the middle of the glass and John made some swirling motions with his fingers, as though he were signing a check with his finger.

The machine voice said, “Working. State your query, John David Wilcox.”

John turned to Virgil. “Where would you like to start?”

Virgil looked at his feet and pondered. “Birmingham, I reckon. Good a place as any.”

John frowned. “We’ll pay for you to travel anywhere in the world, Virgil. Why not Greece? See where it all started?”

Virgil shook his head, “No, Birmingham is fine.”

John’s lips got thin. “Seriously, why not Cusco, Peru? Very interesting place!”

Virgil again shook his head. “No sir, Birmingham. I’m partial to it.”

John took a step toward Virgil. “Look, as a gesture of consideration and friendship, I’m telling you to go somewhere other than Birmingham.”

“Sir,” Virgil said, “I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me to go to Birmingham. Makes me want to go there even more.”

John put his hand on Virgil’s knee. “Virgil, I greatly respect your service to our order, and I’m willing to give you any information you require in the balance of that watch, but I implore you to ask about a different oracle.”

“Birmingham,” was Virgil’s only reply.

John turned to the concrete wall, took a deep breath and said, “Oracle.”

The machine voice said, “Location.”

“Birmingham.”

The machine voice said, “Date”

John sighed, looked at Virgil, raised his eyebrows. Virgil motioned for John to continue.

“Current”

The machine responded, “Ledger three three three dash N dash eight six four six dash W.”

John looked at Virgil and said, “You’re in luck, that one is here. Although I’m not sure what kind of luck it may turn out to be.”

John placed the piece of glass back in the drawer, shut it, locked it, placed the key back in his pocket. “We keep nothing but the index digital. As my son would say, if it’s plugged in it can be hacked, so everything is still on paper.”

John stepped to the wall of books on the east side of the room. “Thirty two… lets see, thirty three….” He reached for the sliding ladder and found his way up approximately two thirds the way up the wall, “….dash N….” he slid the ladder to his right, “… eight six four… ah, yes, here it is…”

John gently made his way down the ladder. He handed a green ledger book to Virgil, closed.

With the book in his right hand, Virgil started open the book with his left when John placed his own hand over it. “Perhaps you should sit,” John said.

Virgil made his way to the leather chairs in the center of the room. He sat with a flop. Again he started to open the book. “Ahem…” John said, drawing Virgil’s attention, “the watch?”

Leaning over, Virgil reached into his pocket and produced the shining golden watch. He handed it to Brother John rather non-chalantly. John quickly took it, placed it in the inside of his blue blazer and sat slowly down in the second chair, never taking his eyes off of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil opened the ledger to find yellow pages ruled with thin blue lines. The headers read: “Full Name, Date of Entry, Contact Date, Field Index, [strange triangular symbol], Iteration, Date of Transition”

“You’ll want the Field Index, Virgil,” Brother John said quietly.

Virgil raised his eyes toward John. “Whats the index for Birmingham?”

With a sigh John bowed his head and said, “C F dash G 7.”

With his right index finger Virgil followed the column for page after page. The entries werent in any particular order, but did seem to be grouped by symbols in the symbol column.

Finally he found “CF-G7.” He smiled to himself and started to move his finger to the left.

“Contact Date: 4APR1789”

“Date of Entry: 6MAR1794”

“Name: Murphrees, Rogers Tyberius”

For pages there were no other entries other than contact dates.

Then he came to another “CF-G7.”

“Contact Date: 16JUN1886”

“Date of Entry: 2SEP1892”

“Name: Sanders, Sybil Jean”

Virgil snapped his head toward John. John shrugged his shoulders.

“You mean to tell me,” Virgil growled, “the Red Mountain oracle is my own sister Sybil?”