The cognomina codex, p.10
The Cognomina Codex, page 10
Galen let out a long exhale beside him. “This is very good,” the physician whispered. “What Samas did for you there was very compelling.”
Samas turned his attention back to Evan. “Thank you. Now let us get to some of the details of your life as Evan Michaels. Where was Evan Michaels born? What were his parents’ names? What was his first job?”
“Inadmissible.”
Evan shook off the objection and answered question after question, pacing his progress by the count of crushed cigarette butts in the clear ashtray in front of him. He let his mind drift as he answered inquiries about this somehow distant, yet ever-present other man. The memories were native to his mind but still felt alien to this new body, like being an adult and remembering who you had been as a child, or who you would have been before you moved to that new town to start that new life. Is that what this series of lives would always be like—an endless treadmill of new starts, undiscovered, unrequested, unreturnable?
He recognized a few faces in the gallery in the flickering torchlight—Kress, Jens, and the impish Mr. Ing. He studied what detail he could see of their faces and tried, for the first time, to see them not for their current veneer, but for the layers of lives beneath. He imagined each of them sitting in his defendant’s chair, recalling the facts and dates from their own half-remembered stranger-selves. Their collections of successes and failures, loves and losses, triumphs and defeats all dumped out as a scattered assortment of irregular stones that you are forced to build a new life from.
“What was your prison time in Tunisia like?” Samas asked.
The question jolted Evan back into focus. He was surprised that Samas, of all people, would be the one to bring it up. “It was dark. It left me utterly defeated, without hope for redemption or relief. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in any life—until I could do it no longer.”
Samas did not reply and the tension of his silence compelled Evan to continue. “And when I could endure it no longer, I took a leap of faith that what you and others in this room told me was true: once you come back and remember a past life, you will continue to do so. That was my only solace. And one day, when I could take it no longer, I chose to become that new person, this person before you. I sit here now as a vindication of that faith.”
Deep furrows formed on Samas’s face. “I am sorry, Evan, for what I put you through,” he said, turning to watch the main scribe as he captured his confession. “It was wrong to tempt you as I did.” Samas stared at Evan with a look that seemed to want forgiveness. “That concludes my questions for the candidate.”
The four judges paused after Samas concluded. Then Ramsay moved forward in her seat and spoke directly to Evan in a foreign language. The strange language stunned the other judges. The scribes looked up from their pages, unsure of what to write. Galen turned to look at Evan.
Evan looked at her for what seemed like a full minute. Ramsay repeated the line, her steel-gray eyes locked on his.
He sat up straight in his chair and replied, “Tova, koeto se nauchava v’mladostta, y izdulbano v’kamuk.”12
Ramsay smiled. “Let it be known the candidate speaks another foreign language,” she said to the chroniclers as they wrote, “his native Bulgarian.” She stepped down from the bench and paced in front of it as she began her series of questions. “Let us discuss your life in Bulgaria, your first life that was not in your writing. What school did you attend? Who was your commanding officer in the army? What did your unit’s insignia look like?”
Evan lit another cigarette and took his mind into the virtual room he and Galen had created for Vasili Blagavich Arda as he found and delivered the answers for her.
Her questions took them into the night as judge and candidate reviewed the major parts of an entire life. After Evan’s last answer, Chance, Samas, and Ramsay looked at each other as if taking a silent poll. Chance’s purposeful cough finally caught the attention of a distracted Poppy.
“What?” she asked, shooting them a strange look. “I told you hours ago that I was a yes.”
Chance scowled at her. “Please ask the candidate some questions,” he said, gesturing toward the scribes, “for the record.”
Poppy sighed and resigned herself to the redundant task of proving the identity of the lover she had welcomed back into her bed. She stood gracefully and stepped down from the bench. Her elegant shoes clicked a cadence on the floor as she walked up to Evan. She extended her delicate hand out to him as all eyes followed her. He took her hand in his, and she gently pulled him to his feet. “Do you remember who introduced us?”
Evan stood next to her and thought back to their first encounter, not sure how to answer. She led him to one of the tall, free-standing silver braziers that supported a small leaping flame. Evan, unable to fight the attraction, turned his head to the orange flickering as Poppy began. “Tell us all what you see here. Tell us what the flame is to you.” She turned to the crowd in the gallery. “You see, this is what brought us together. This is what brought Evan Michaels to us last time.”
Evan looked down into her eyes and knew at that moment that he would always belong to her. With this simple act, she had touched and opened his soul to the others in an intimacy beyond the power of a mere lover. They would see him now as she saw him, and they would have their choice to accept him in the same way she had.
Chance straightened in his chair, intrigued by Poppy’s direction.
Evan kept his hand in hers. “I remember fire,” he started, “in all its benevolent and malevolent forms. I remember it killing me as a boy, I remember it saving me from the cold as a soldier, I remember becoming its master as an arsonist. The thing about fire is that it is always the same whenever I summon it—a constant through lives where I have been different. When I see it, I recognize it, and it sees me too, reacts to me, validates that unseen part of me that recognizes it across time. Fire is what puts me back together from the scattered pieces of what I have seen through different eyes. It burns off the superficial and leaves behind what is lasting. It is my judge in the same way you are,” he said, looking at each in turn.
Poppy smiled and turned back to Chance. “For the record.”
Evan stood with her in silence, awaiting judgment.
Galen rose and spoke first. “I think that is enough for tonight. I would like to close this evening with a preliminary vote of the judges. Are each of you four judges convinced that this candidate is our returning brother?”
“You have my vote,” Poppy said, not pulling away from Evan.
“We have one affirmation,” Galen repeated.
“I am a yes. It is the Evan Michaels I knew,” declared Samas.
“Two,” Galen shouted.
Ramsay rose from her seat. “Before I cast my vote, I want to take a moment to remind the candidate of the oath of secrecy we all take when we first enter the Cognomina. We keep each other’s secrets, and we keep our home a secret,” she said, looking sternly into Evan’s eyes. “The person you claim to be violated that oath by carelessly leaving an account that has escaped. That misguided act has drawn us into the light of the world.”
Evan and Galen looked nervously at the gallery as a few voices rose in agreement with Ramsay’s indictment.
“That said, I did know that man briefly and I know now that this person before me is one of us. I vote yes.”
Galen sighed through pursed lips and turned to his giant friend. “And you, my friend, what say you to conclude us?”
Chance looked back at him and raised his voice for all to hear. “I will give you my vote, but know that I do not conclude this proceeding,” he objected. “You will remember that the candidate must appear before a fifth judge.”
“Yes, but he is confirmed back into the Cognomina with four affirmations,” Galen countered.
Chance sighed and tilted his massive head back. “True. A no vote from me today means that the candidate still has a chance with Clovis’s verdict. A yes vote from me today and we all see what treats our good doctor has in store for us beyond that divider,” Chance said, opening a massive hand toward the heavy curtain, “as technically we can celebrate his Ascension tonight. But I want to be clear to all that whatever my vote is, the candidate will travel to Yemen as soon as possible to present himself to the fifth judge, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Galen said before looking over to his candidate, urging him to reply to Chance.
Evan reached his right arm out to embrace Poppy. “Yes, I am eager to see him again.”
“Then I have a single question for the candidate,” Chance stated, leaning forward with his wide forearms covering the bench. “You claim that you flew with me to Yemen to visit our friend.”
Evan nodded as Poppy squeezed her arms around him.
“What color are the seats on my jet?” the giant man asked with a tilt of his head.
Evan smiled as he held Chance’s stare. “They are white leather,” he answered. “And very comfortable.”
Chance sat motionless as if testing the candidate’s confidence. “Yes, they are comfortable,” the large man said with pride. “I am a yes then,” he shouted. “Let’s get this party started.”
“Ibi semper est Victoria ubi Concordia est!”13 Galen exclaimed as he rushed toward Evan and Poppy.
Evan’s knees buckled for a moment, and Poppy tightened her embrace on him as the gallery broke into applause and moved toward them. Galen’s arms encircled them both, followed by others until all arms embraced Evan.
12. Research with a native speaker identified this as a traditional Bulgarian saying—“What is learned in youth is carved in stone.”
13. Latin—Where there is concord there is always victory, Publilius Syrus
9
Chance untied the thick rope knotted to the cleat on the wall, and the heavy black curtain crept back, revealing the rest of the grotto. The clattering noise of the curtain’s ancient mechanism echoed about the cavernous room and drowned the jubilant conversations into stilled silence. Galen grabbed a burning torch from a wall sconce and walked toward the darkness of the larger half of the grotto, lighting additional braziers to show four more colonnades stretching back into the blackness beyond.
“Welcome home, Evan,” Chance said, parting the crowd gathered around Evan and Poppy. “There are some old and some new family members for you to meet tonight, and we are all very excited to meet you. Let us advance to the celebration phase of Evan’s Ascension,” he said, directing everyone to follow Galen. “Our good doctor has organized the festivities for this evening, so at least there will be enough wine.”
“Enough for me anyway,” Galen shouted back. “Come, I have a mind-expanding night in store for each of you. Come, come.”
Chance led them past the line where the curtain hung. One long table stretched into the darkness toward a rectangular pool of shimmering water. Dozens and dozens of wine bottles ran down the spine of the table—some clean and new, others dust-covered and oddly shaped like relics. Six tall wine glasses surrounded each place setting and chair. The first revelers looked beyond the table toward the edge of the pool to see leather chairs from the upstairs study arrayed in groups of four atop luxurious hand-woven carpets. Stainless-steel medical IV holders stood above each comfortable chair with bags of clear liquid twinkling in the growing firelight.
Galen finished lighting the last of the illuminating fires. “Mr. Pianosa, can you please have our staff bring down the menu we planned?” he shouted and heard footsteps start up the stairs.
“Brothers and sisters,” Galen bellowed into the cavern, “please grab a glass of wine and line up beside me. Tonight, some of you will see a lost brother again, and some of you will meet our newest member for the first time. Ladies and gentlemen of the Cognomina, I present to you, Evan Michaels.”
Everyone burst into applause and organized into a long receiving line.
Galen moved to the head of the line nearest him. “I am Galen of Pergamon, physician to gladiator and emperor, king and queen, caliph and pope, and now you.” Galen embraced him tightly. “You did it, Evan. I’m proud of you,” he whispered before stepping back and passing him on to Chance.
The large man gave the physician a puzzled look, unprepared to give such a florid biography. “I am Chance, speculator on everything from money to man, diviner of probabilities and outcomes, master of the games of risk and reward, and know, my young friend, that everything in this world is a game.”
Ramsay was next in line. “I am Ramsay, warrior, defender, an agent of change.”
“I am Samas, as you well know. So good to have you back. Remind me that we have something to show you later.”
Cy, the young man with curly black hair he had seen in the dining room before was next. “Hello, Evan. I am Rafic of Los Angeles, California, by choice and Jerusalem by birth. I study history and its patterns to expose the dark and forgotten corners where many of these characters around you have left their fingerprints.”
“That’s why we call him Cipher,” a voice shouted from behind him.
“Or Cy for short,” Rafic corrected. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello, I am Etyma,” said a slender black woman dressed in an elegant purple silk dress. “My passion is music in all its forms. Welcome back to us.”
“I’m Jens. I handle most of the investments for our collected funds. I have a nice surprise for you later.”
Auda was next in line. “I am Auda, one of the old ones. I protect our family above all things.”
Nestor, Kress, Dilmun, Steen, Kerr, Mr. Ing, Castor—the names and backgrounds came to him through warm and welcoming faces. Poppy stood at the end of the line, waiting patiently. The first platters of food were arriving behind the line as he stepped down to her.
“I am Poppy,” she said softly.
“I know you are. Thank you for what you did back there,” Evan said, nodding back to the empty bench.
“Collected members of the Cognomina,” Galen shouted over scattered conversations. “We are ready to dine. Please come and take your seats. Evan, please sit in the place of honor this evening.” He directed Evan to the higher-backed chair in the middle of the table and placed Poppy opposite him. “In addition to a returning family member, we have also set a place of honor for our retiring innkeeper of the last fifty years. Please welcome to our table Mr. Leopold Diltz,” Galen said, breaking into a clap that started the whole grotto into thunderous applause.
An emotional Mr. Diltz took his seat between Auda and Samas as the white-uniformed staff of young women set plate after plate on the long banquet table.
“Tonight we have prepared a sixteen-course menu for you, each with a wine pairing of my choosing. First up is a fillet of skate in browned butter with a Grüner Veltliner wine to pair. But first, I propose a toast,” Galen said, raising a glass of the white wine. “A warm welcome to our returning brother and a fond farewell to our faithful friend. Familia supra omnia.”14
“Familia supra omnia,” they all repeated in unison.
“Am I going to have to learn Latin to spend time with all of you?” Evan asked Poppy.
“To spend time with him you will. The rest of us have pretty much learned just to nod and repeat his phrases and assume that what he is saying is wise and appropriate.”
“Because no one ever questions him, he thinks we all learned Latin in our past lives as he did,” Rafic said, laughing. “We don’t have the heart to tell him that we have no idea what he is saying most of the time.”
The staff brought down course after exotic course: smoked bison tongue with Châteauneuf-du-Pape, stuffed sweetbreads with Ribera del Duero, candied plums with an 1864 Madeira, raw fennel with champagne. They ate and drank into the night as black tattooed hands worked with a headlong hedonism.
Samas approached blond-haired Jens seated next to Evan. “Did you show him yet?” Samas asked.
Jens set down his wine glass and reached inside a jacket pocket. “No, but I have it here.” He leaned over and tapped Evan on the arm. “Evan, I asked Mr. Pianosa to pull yesterday’s balance from your account.”
“My account?” Evan asked.
“Yes, your account,” Jens answered. “The gentleman behind me deposited a rather large sum of money for you almost two decades ago.”
“An increased sum negotiated by your agent,” Samas said, glancing at a smirking Poppy.
“Yes,” Jens continued, “we keep funds in our trust from our departed members and we like to keep it working while those members are, shall we say, away from us. Anyway, now that you have officially passed your Ascension, the account is yours. I will have Mr. Pianosa transfer the account to your current identity in the morning. Here is the balance,” he said, placing the printout on the table next to his plate.
Evan looked over at the paper and then leaned in closer to look at the number circled in red ink at the lower left of the page—37,931,843.29 SFr. “I don’t understand, what does SFr stand for?”
“Sorry, Swiss Francs. They currently trade at parity with the US dollar.”
Evan looked at the number again and then at Poppy, who simply nodded with a sly smile. “Am I reading this right? That’s a big number.”
“It is, Evan,” Samas said, “and thirty-seven million that was well earned.” He clapped a fat hand on Evan’s shoulder before walking back to his seat.
“Coming back to yourself and remembering who you were is always a very difficult time. We all suffer it, but looking at a surprise balance always takes a bit of the sting out of it for me,” Jens said, smiling at Evan over his wine glass.
Evan’s eyes fell back to the statement with its circled number. Just days ago he didn’t even have enough money to buy a single piece of the fruit that he carried. He hadn’t thought about money on the trek to Zurich—just about the driving desire to get to this place and these people. He raised his wine glass and drank deeply. He remembered when he first entered this group that he had felt like a second-class citizen, unable to match their budgets and appetites for life. The feeling of finding his home but not quite fitting in drove him to accept Samas’s dangerous offer. Now he would join them as a true peer, able to keep up with them.
