One Long Panel of Stones – Chapter 2

Gus reaches under the counter and lifts up a comically large tomb of a book. It’s dusty and old looking, the type of prop you’d see in a movie when a bookstore owner proudly shows off a book to an eccentric customer.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“This, Sally, is the Book of the Hermetic Order of Owl,” he replies.

I squint, “And?”

“Sally!” he exclaims, “This is the type of book you’ve been waiting for.”

Gus and I always talk about finding ancient books filled with secrets. The type of book filled with mysteries only a book nerd can solve, and that sets them forward on an unexpected journey, perhaps even death. I’m having a hard time believing such a book would show up at a small dusty book shop in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.

“You’re going to need to explain.” I say, sitting on the stool on the opposite side of Gus at the register. A customer idles nearby, trying to figure out why I’d just cut them in line. Gus waves them up, not greeting the customer and continues on with me.

“Have you heard of the Hermetic Order of Owl?” he asks, but continues before I can reply, “No. Of course not—that’ll be $32.55,” he cuts out to the customer, who hands him a credit card.

“No, Gus, but, can I just take a look before we continue this?”

“It’s incredible, Sally,” he says, sliding the book over to me. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The book is filled with dozens and dozens of maps. Each map has a variety of symbols, with roads and trails connecting them. I don’t recognize the place—which doesn’t mean anything, I don’t have a deep repository of the world’s maps sitting in my head—but there is something weird about how the land masses work. Town names like Quetz, Blunque, and Zottt don’t seem familiar.

There isn’t much text to accompany the maps, but there is an introduction. Gus takes it upon himself to read it aloud in the most dubious-secret-society voice he can muster.

Greetings, friends.

What follows is the collection of maps we’ve amassed over the last 432 years. I am not including the research here, because I’m worried about keeping a key and a lock in the same place. Yet, our work has been so complex, so long, and so tiring, that I cannot simply let it disappear into obscurity. I’d like to think our order will continue its work long into the future, but as the fires of war come closer to our doorstep, I must concede that this is the end. Perhaps there is a day where someone can take these maps and the work we’ve put into them and do something noteworthy.

Anyway,

Athanasius

“Well that doesn’t really tell us much.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Gus replies, “But isn’t this exciting?” Gus noticeably warms up as he says this, something I’m not used to seeing him do. I don’t want to call him stuffy, because that’s the kind of stereotype of a bookshop owner I’d rather avoid, but he struggles with showing emotion in a way I’d never seen before meeting him. It’s almost like he feels guilty smiling, as though the despair and weight of the world rests solely on his shoulders, and he doesn’t deserve to have a moment of joy unless the rest of the universe can do the same.

“It is exciting,” I mumble, flipping through the book. There is a lot to unpack here. The unhelpful intro doesn’t get us anywhere, but the way the maps are constructed is definitely abnormal. They’re consistent, which makes it easier for me to buy into the idea they’re a representation of an actual place. Even after years of making fictional maps I struggle to create cohesion, especially if I decide to revisit a world from the past. But here, everything clicks together.

“I suppose we should start by looking into this Hermetic Order of the Owl.”

“It’s just ‘Owl’ replies Gus.

“What?”

“You said Hermetic Order of the Owl, it’s just Owl, Hermetic Order of Owl.”

“Sure,” doing my best not to let my eyes roll back too far.