A Zodiac's Thesis: Book 2 - Winding Unity

The tweets of blue jays and robins sang against an array of old wood and stone. Wild birds perched up the steeple of a church. Wings of white, red, and blue fluttered around the top of a cross. They pecked at a bronze figure. One of the birds bounced its head around copiously.

In the distance, leafy branches swayed and shivered from the afternoon’s chilling breeze. On occasion, some of the smaller bluejays skittered off. They were bothered by the growing crowd. However, hopping over from one of the trees, a couple more blue robins joined in. They pecked at the bronze statue of a cross all the harder. The afternoon boasted scenic sights for such winged creatures.

Meanwhile, below them, a silver cube slowly revealed itself. It had half-spheres over its silver exterior. Some of the birds looked down to see a large, silver spaceship of some kind. As if like a disco-ball in silver-played armor -- alongside mortar made of diamond, and corners composed of obsidian --, the ship hummed. Muffled yelling echoed from its front double-doors. Right there, in front of the chapel, the silver ship seemed then to force itself upright. It had bobbed chaotically for only a few seconds.

Inside the church, however, the whistle of pipes bellowed. As it swam alongside the tune of organ-pipes, a quippy piano with a gospel-tempo began to tap away. It was like happy glass. The birds all sang with the piano’s song.

The pews were a cacophony of music. Major chords exploded across the property. Suddenly, the organ-pipes stopped. All of the birds flew away from the bronze cross. The music slowed to a crawl.

Liana De’Marquis and Jonathan Pike stepped out of the Dianemes.

“Your hot-sauce box almost emptied out all over me!” Liana huffed. She caught her breath slowly. She patted away dust from her blue dress. “Why do you even have a hot-sauce box? Is there something I should know about, Jonathan?”

Jonathan rubbed at his wrist. He made way for the church’s doors. “I’m not certain! I keep a lot of memento-boxes, you understand. Sorry that the ship landed weirdly at first. That’s never happened before.”

“Eh, s’alright. Was an easy thing to push!” Liana gave a thumbs-up. “I didn’t think it’d tip t my command, but also… are you ever gonna, I don’t know, use any of those hot-sauces?”

“What? Uh, well, probably not.”

“And why’s that then? Pineapple Habanero not strike your fancy, big guy?”

“Because, Liana,” Jonathan pushed open the church’s door. He gestured for Liana to walk ahead of him. He rolled up the sleeves of his yellow corduroy coat. “we’re British.”

“And what alternate-earth is this that you just had to show me, anyway?” Liana asked. She raised her brow as she stepped forward. She walked right into the furry, fuzzy, dank fragrance of the church. The frankincense, myrrh, and mothballs didn’t exactly smell good.

“I thought it’d inspire you to practice piano more. You’ve mumbled something about piano once or twice in your sleep. Not to mention, you often wince about not getting into it anymore ever since you were seventeen, albeit offscreen.”

“Yes, yes, ‘off-screen’!”

“Anyway, I present to you… the Competitive Keyboard Earth, or… the Earth of Competitive Keyboards, or, the Competi-Board Key-Titive--”

“That’s nice. Anyway, I’m gonna go check all this out now. You know, peruse the wares?”

And with that, Liana trotted off. Her wavy, Renoir hair swayed around as much as her simple, blue dress did. Women in fancy red dresses -- or men in black tuxedos -- ran their hands across black and white keys.

They laughed and carried on, talking about the weather or traffic. Some simply stared at their pianos. They also stared at the Sheet Music atop the wooden counters. An old man stood up from his piano-throne. He caught Liana in the corner of his eye. He put a hand out for her to shake.

“Privyet, I am… Jakovska.” He said. The stranger had a tight, wrinkled face. He spoke with a strong Russian accent. He had a receding hairline and tucked any loose clumps behind his ear.

Liana shook his clammy, spotted hand. “P-- Pleasure’s all mine? Good day to you, sir.”

The man gave a distant, but familiar, nod. “Good day, indeed. You don’t look like a native to our… little Elysium. You look like a girl from one of those paintings that newly married couples buy. Do you play any piano?”

“Um, well, I dabbled when I was much younger. I’ve always wanted to get back into it, actually! I just, yanno, often get distracted. With things like Maths Exams and saving villages on parallel-earths. Um, whoops? I don’t think I was outright meant to say that last part.”

Jakovska chuckled. He put a jovial hand on her shoulder. “No, I don’t think you were. That is okay, your secret is safe with me!”

“Granted, that was with a piano, too, actually! The saving of the village. Long story!”

“Mhm. Tell me, what’s your… full name? Call me a curious cat.”

“Erm, like, legally, or like-- Ugh, it’s Juliana Georgia De’Marquis.”

The elder piano-player swallowed. He looked back down at his hands. He rested them over the keys, playing a couple of chords. He got lost in thought. I thought as such. A De’Marquis in my midst? I never thought I’d see the day… ever since… that day.

“So, how do ya do this then?” Liana asked. She already made her way over to a chair. She hovered her fingertips over a C-Chord, closing her eyes. With a deep breath, she plunged her smooth fingertips into the ceramic. The soft chord vibrated across her spot in the room. She then had to open her eyes.

Jonathan peered at all of the fancy, jetblack pianos. He ran his hand across the dust of an upright keyboard. He rubbed his fingers together, the gray fuzz falling over the keys. Beside him, a random blonde woman struck a series of minor chords in quick succession.

The sound proved chilling to Jonathan’s ear as his back tingled with goosebumps. The woman’s hair fell over her face like heavy curtains. Jonathan sighed and picked at his ear. He made way to run back to Liana. To his surprise, he saw her talking with the elder Russian man.

“Well, well, well! Getting free lessons, are we?” Jonathan teased.

Liana whipped around. “Huh? Hey pal, I was just in a ‘flow-state’. It was pretty cool!”

“Pfft, well don’t let me bother you! I just wanted to see if you wanted to check out any of the other pianos. And play something better than that woman over there.”

Liana just pursed her lips. She turned back to a sheet of music. “I’m actually a rather fast sight-reader when it comes down to it. I got a piano for my ninth birthday, but I was a rueful klutz and broke it not too long after. I could only look at sheet-music and practice with my fingers over my bed. Parents didn’t make too much money for a quarter or so. Real Estate Agents. Really stuck to the market and all.”

Suddenly, Jakovska cleared his throat. He shot a concerned glance between Jonathan and Liana. He pulled out a letter from his tight, rosy tuxedo-pocket. He unfolded it and carefully unbent the edges of the old paper. “Truth be told, Juliana, I know a lot about the De’Marquis family. Ancestry, even, for I had -- Ah, you must think me crazy for this, young lady --, but I had a special kind of… space-ship. I called it ‘The Mozart’. When I was young, I was a sweltering genius, albeit often lost in my own solitude. Hmmm. That is how one should live life, I reckon. You don’t get to innovate by trying to socialize at all waking hours of the day. You see, I took the concept of ‘string theory’ to a…very weird conclusion. I ended up combining the power of a piano’s keys… with the control-panels of an interdimensionally space-faring ship. Nevertheless,” Jakovska began. He tried to speak Posh, like Liana, but his Russian accent overcame. “Indeed, nevertheless, my ship went kaputt. I’ve been marooned here, ever since.”

“Wh-- What?” Liana blinked.

“When I said that you did not look native to our ‘little Elysium’, I meant it.”

Liana turned to Jonathan. Thankfully, Jonathan had stopped inspecting every single angle of the pianos sometime ago. Now, he stood right beside the girl. He eyed Jakovska just as anxiously as Liana. He then resigned himself to a shrug. He rubbed his hair and gave Liana a defeated look. Liana groaned and nudged him in the ribs.

“You mean to tell me,” Liana began. She looked up at Jonathan. “that the Dianemes isn’t the only Interdimensional Traveling Device in the multiverse?”

“Well, I mean, there was that scientist version of yourself… Dr. Forrie.” Jonathan said. “You know! With her Scryenemes and all.”

“Oh! Ugh,” Liana facepalmed. “how could I’ve forgotten? She was a handsome woman and I constantly wanted to know what skin-creams she used.”

Jakovska chuckled. “I know a lot of the De’Marquis, but not every single iteration of what it means to be a ‘De’Marquis’, of course. With many families, many names, there are… alternate occurrences of them across this multiverse. The De’Marquis is no exception.”

Jonathan swallowed. No, but Liana herself is. She’ll always be the exception in my eyes.

“However, I wonder if I happened to stumble upon your specific universe. I have-- Oh!” Jakovska winced in pain. He put an arm up in realization, then immediately brought it back down. He had to do so slowly. “AGH! I pulled a stinking nerve. Wretched bones always trying to do me in. Even when I’m just playing the piano.”

Liana winced for him. “I’m terribly sorry to see that.”

“Ah, ah, ah. In any case… I have… letter.” Jakovska said. He reached into a pocket deeper in his dress-pants. He slid out a moist and crumpled envelope. “Actually, no. It is a multitude. A collection. It is no mere letter. I have always gotten along with the De’Marquis, wherever I have traveled. Your families are always good to me.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. Guess he’s never met Queen Alisandra’s old family, then.

Jakovska shakily gave Liana the letter. “In all the universes, all the planets, all the ways in which things get better or get worse… how funny it is, indeed, that I meet you. Here’s to hoping you’re the right Liana for these letters. They encase all sorts of private dialogues between Ava Wyndyl and Maxwell De’Marquis. You remind me a bit of the Wyndyls.”

Liana shivered as she put her hand out. That’s my mother’s maiden-name. Who is this man? How does he know so much about me? Is that Grand Piano of his seriously a Traveling Device?

“But I know more than them! I knew a man and a woman by the names of Pierre Sartre and Mavis Sorwell. I knew I wasn’t meant to hold onto these letters for forever. Juliana, please--”

Jonathan snatched the envelope. He snatched it even against Liana’s wishes. He gave Jakovska a stern look, then undid the red tie that held the letters together. For a moment, Jonathan gave a light chuckle, recalling how bulging Jakovska’s envelope initially appeared. And yet, it was just parchment, after all. It unraveled into light, crumpled papers now.

All those letters. All that history. All that time, preserved. He thought. He chewed his bottom lip as he read the first letter. “You’ve been busy, Mr. Jakovska. And you’ve really just kept all this to yourself? Why?”

Jakovska put a hand to his chest. His brow furrowed defensively. “Who was I supposed to give it to? I didn’t know I’d be speaking with a De’Marquis today! Fate encounters are just that. Spontaneous destinies that roll along above us like a twisting atmos--”

“Uhuh, yeah, very cute! Very cute! Really, really! Well, that’s reasonable and all, but do you even know which Earth these are from? Since you’re supposedly an ‘Interdimensional Traveler’, you should know about the multiversal directory.”

Jakovska fixed his collar. His white gloves grew moist and sweaty. “Earth Eight. My old interdimensional-traveling ship, The Mozart, told me which Earth it was, before it broke… and I swore to remember it. By the greats, I almost fell in love with a De’Marquis woman from there. It was a while, while back. I’m old, as you can see.” The Russian man said. He pointed to his wrinkling, saggy neck.

“Funny, nothing else about you looks all that old.” Liana said. She nudged the old man playfully. Then she glared at Jonathan. “Ya got some cream in your backpocket for our new friend here? I want him to feel relaxed. These letters are a gift. I’ll cherish them.”

“You’re too kind, Juliana. I just look good for my age. I’m the only 102 year-old I know who can still walk and play piano. The cataracts and arthritis, which are natural evils to my age, have… still been delayed, it would seem.”

Jonathan gave a slow nod. “Earth Eight. Why, it would appear he’s not bullshitting. That’s where-- Well, that’s where I found you.” He turned to Liana.

“Really? I’m from Earth Eight? Bloody hell, why not Earth #714? Or… Earth #444? Oh! Yeah, that’d be really cool. A repeating number! Is that like a Lucky Lotto thing? Is there Lucky Lotto Numbers in the multiverse? Like multiverse bingo?” Liana spun around. “A repeating number would’ve been so cool! I mean, I’m in the early digits. Isn’t that nice? It means I came first by a lot of other Lianas, right? And yet, a repeating nu--”

“Oh, please,” Jonathan sighed. “it’s easy to remember, is all!”

“How so?” “‘Eight’ is the total syllables in all three of your names. LI-A-NA, three. GEOR-GIA, two. DE-MAR-QUIS, another three. That makes six and two. Eight. Easy.”

“Wow, you can do simple arithmetic! I’m impressed, Johnny-boy.” Liana laughed. She teased and wagged her wrist.

“That wasn’t exactly supposed to be an expo, but if ya wanna treat it as such, have your peace. Now,” Jonathan began. He looked back at the letters. He scanned through some epithets and photographs. Little poems got sprinkled into the package, too. “to think we’re currently on Earth #288. My God. Your family. Your family, Liana. It appears they were close to the Sartre Family.”

“The Sartre Family?”

Jonathan unrolled another letter. He started to set some of the others down in a pile over the piano. He looked at a letter in disbelief. “Jean-Paul Sartre? The famous philosopher? In your universe, it seems, the bloodline didn’t die off with him. In other universes, it did. This is crazy! I never knew Jean-Paul Sartre had such variance in the multiverse.”

“Well, wait. ’Addon-- Jonathan! If these are letters about my family, I should be reading them, no?” Liana asked. She jumped and smacked some of the letters out of his hand.

Jonathan, hurriedly, gave her the rest of the letters. “No, sorry, you’re right! Sorry, it’s just… a lot. And you know how I love to travel. God, Jakovska, you’ve been quite the chronicler. I wonder what else the others around here do besides play piano.”

“I should be saying that, shouldn’t I?” Liana huffed. She looked down at one letter. She un-creased its corners and started to read to herself.

’November 27th, 1920

Good afternoon, Antoinette. I hope this finds you well. I recently had lots of trouble getting Charles into Law. He seems to just want to compose music. He seldom sets his hands upon an instrument, and he barely finds himself drawn to any of those who do. And yet, day in and day out, he scribbles out whole symphonies on a completely blank sheet of paper. If it wasn’t hard enough, he also does this while he cooks and bakes. A few good batches of cupcakes have gotten sorely burnt from this musical charade of his.

Nevertheless, it is in his blood. He’s your child, after all, and I swore I’d look after him while you had your second. By the way, what will you name it? I know the De’Marquis tradition. You must tell me more context, as I recount it only as a silly wives’ tale to Charles every now and again. If memory still serves, the tale went something like this:

Long ago, a French Jesuit fell in love with a Chinese Nobleman of the Warbler Court. He himself was what the Chinese had called a ‘Marquis’, as well. When was this, again? The 1720s? The 1620s? Perhaps… 1500s? The exact names of the supposed family-tree are fuzzy to me, but I recall that the French woman’s name was… Eliana Marquis. Ever since… every few generations or so… you are to name a daughter some derivative of this name. Juliana. Giuliana. Mareliana. Aqualiana. The list goes on, I see.

Really, we MUST catch up over tea sometime.

Yours truly,

Louis Sartre.’

As a tear fell down her face, Liana kept reading. Her throat caught. She held the letter with a tight grip. Unable to look up, she bit her bottom lip. She could just give a curt nod. Her wavy, dark-brown hair fell over her eyes. Her freckles were covered over by the thick, curling texture of her French locks.

“Sir, um, is it alright i-- if I keep these?” Liana asked. She spoke in a tight, stringent register.

Mr. Jakovska gave a quick nod. “B-- By all means! If you really are the Liana De’Marquis of Earth Eight, please! Take’em! Don’t let me stop you. It always felt wrong. Holding onto someone else’s history from another universe. No one in this piano-littered church ever gave a shit.”

Liana sniffled, her eyes red and teary. “I-- I know nothing of my family from before my grandparents, and even then… they were very platonic. Ideal and cookie-cutter, you understand. My grandma was quite literally over the river and through the woods, and would always bake us cookies. Why didn’t-- Why didn’t my mother, Ava, or dad, ever tell me any of this?”

Jonathan tightened his lips. He put his hand over her shoulder. “I wonder if the connection to the Sartres had subsided by the time you came onto the scene? Probably long before, too.”

Jakovska’s face twisted in confusion. “No, no. That can’t be right. Perhaps it was a falling-out. I have-- Well, she now has… letters sent between Ava De’Marquis and Pierre Sartre. Pierre was Jean-Paul’s child. Also, Ava’s… your mother? Hm, that is odd. I could’ve sworn Ava said she was thinking of naming her kid ‘Liana’.”

Liana chuckled through tears. “Is ‘Juliana’ really that far off from ‘Liana’? Ava Wyndyl… is my mother.”

Jakovska stood back. “Oh. Oh my God. It really is you! The girl with the pink eyes at birth!”

Suddenly, Liana tilted her head. “Wh-- What? Come again?”

Jakovska looked away. He chuckled to himself before smacking his knee. “Your parents got really freaked out when you were born. You had pink eyes for a few hours. Then, the next day, the color subsided and never returned.”

Jonathan also looked confused. “Um? Hi, her friend here. Pink eyes?”

Liana shook her head. “Maybe it was just a medical condition? You mean, like, pink-eye?”

“No, no. Dearest Juliana De’Marquis, your irises were a rose color. Perhaps, a carnation color, before fading to the current deep blue, almost brown, almost black. Funny, even after all these years, I see the subtle features of your Chinese ancestors in your face.” Jakovska rubbed his at his eyes. “Even with the cataracts.”

“Well,” Liana sighed. Her eyes began to dry. “I’m just gonna go back into the Dianemes. Jonathan and I are gonna find a beach where I can get tipsy and into my yellow bikini, and I’m gonna read all these letters! I might even take a bloody DNA test, ’cuz this is all… insane!”

Jakovska laughed. It was boisterous and youthful, despite his age. “I’m glad I could help, Juliana Georgia De’Marquis.”

Liana let out her own pure giggles. “Please, please, I insist-- Liana. It’s Liana now.”

Jonathan looked back at the Dianemes. “Well, Jakovska, you’re free to come along with us to visit the other parallel universes of Terramesos, since your ship, uh, broke, as you said. Say, Liana, what kind of drink were you thinking of having? I can only see you with a framboise… or a cab-sav. Anyway. We could always do with more travelers aboard the ship! The girl and I get along just fine, but a third wheel would be right at home.”

“I appreciate it, stranger, but my place is here now. Among the pianos! I can only insist that the young Liana here tries to get into music, herself.”

“Yes, that was my suggestion too.” Jonathan crossed his arms. “Kinda the whole reason why we all came here today. The girl needs to play some sweet, sweet jazz!”

“Truth be told,” Jakovska began. “I can never leave this place again. I know it sounds crazy, but I think that the vibrations from the music in this church have been keeping me alive. I might just die if I step foot anywhere else, let alone outside. This chapel is a monastery of sorts. I go anywhere else, and I will most certainly perish.”

“Well, I hope that ‘anywhere else’ doesn’t also constitute a bathroom! ’Cuz your age is showing right now, poor thing.” Jonathan teased. He pointed down to a dark puddle forming inside the man’s trousers.

“Jonathan! Rude much?” Liana smacked Jonathan’s arm lightly.

“Oh my goodness! Well, this is becoming quite the strange way to part ways. Off with you two, then! Haha! It seems that you two British have, as they say, ‘taken the piss out of me’. Although that is most assuredly my failing bladder.”

Liana gave a quick salute. “Um, uh, Merci! Merci, old man! Merci Beaucoup!”

Jonathan watched as the girl ran back to the Dianemes with her letters. Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not even a little bit. Hm. Even a Zodaian like me. Speaking of which, what is this girl’s zodiac-sign, anyhow? It was either Virgo or Saggitarius. I hope it’s not Saggitarius.

And with that, the two adventurers looked onward.

Unfortunately, back on Earth #288, Jakovska put a hand to his chest. He fumbled over a series of pianos, feeling his lips go numb. It was now nighttime and everyone else had left. At first, when he had gathered his focus to sit down, he felt young again.

The numbness subsided. The dizziness faded. The pain in his chest melted away. However, his trousers were still currently soiled. His elder age had betrayed a condition of bladder incontinence long ago.

As he rested his hands over a Baby Grand, he felt himself go deaf. Only a faint ringing could be heard in the dark church. It was as if the piano’s vibrations had just stopped. He constantly put his ear out, trying to listen for anyone in the distance.

Behind him, however, was a strange sight. Covered in dark robes, curling and folding in on themselves, a beaked creature stared back at Jakovska. They had a lifeless stare and a boney face. The nightmarish creature put a boney fingertip out to Jakvoska’s forehead.

The piano keys started to play a chilling rendition of a famed song. It was a famed song on Earth #288, known as Salve Regina. Except, it wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t holy and Major. It was in a Minor Key. The black keys often got plucked instead. As he put a hand to his throat, Jakovska’s eyes bulged out of his head. His corneas were bloodshot and irritated. His chest burned once again.

“Good evening, Jakovska Abramov. My name is Heshmoseth… and you are a Historian, are you not? I see you have penned many archives in your day. I fear that today was your last day on this Earth. I am quite busy, and your blood will make a beautiful addition to these keys. I see you met my old friend, Liana. But she would know me by another name. Freud. But I am a Barded One.”

“E-- Evil. You do not belong…” Jakovska grabbed at his chest. “... in this church!”

“‘Evil’? And yet, through her pure-hearted naivety, Liana collaborated with me in saving a village from certain peril. She could not have known back then. But soon… she will. The Historians of that village interested me back then, just as you do now.”

And before Jakvoska could even protest, his piano was splattered with crimson.

The loud thud of his lifeless body slumped to the floor of the church.

Back in the Dianemes, Liana continued to read through the letters.

“Thank you, Jonathan. Today… was a pretty darn-good day.”

And, from their point of view, all was right with the world.

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