“Traveling in time is a difficult proposition,” said Seth. “It flows in two directions, you know.”
“This in’t our first time at the Sweet Corn Festival, you know,” said Uncas. “We’ve done this before.”
“My point,” Seth said, grinning at the badger, “is that time and history are two separate things. They have been since the time of the Adam. Before that, they were one, and mixed together freely. After that, they moved in divergent ways.”
“What happened that changed everything?” asked Madoc.
“The moment when the Imago was slain by the Archimago,” said Enoch. “That is the moment when history truly began.”
The companions all went still. “What Imago?” Madoc asked slowly, putting a hand protectively in front of Rose. “And what Archimago?”
“The first Maker, and the first Namer,” Seth said. “My elder brothers. That was the moment when time was divided. If meaning is what you seek, search out that moment above all others, and perhaps you will find what you need.”
“That’s part of the difficulty,” said Edmund. “The way the Zanzibar Gate—the pyramid structure we came through—works is by programming a date or period into it, which we can refine with an illumination of whom or what we’re seeking. But we don’t know anything about the Architect, and if time is separate from history, that’s even worse—because history is what gives us the markers by which we set the dates.”
“It seems to me,” Enoch said, “now that you have explained how your mechanism works, that the answer to your question is very simple.”
“Simple?” Uncas all but hollered at him. “We’ve had the best scowlers and the best minds of all of history tryin’ t’ figure out how t’ make this work for years now. How can it be simple?”
“Decorum, my squire,” Quixote admonished him. “Always decorum, even at the end of all things.”
“Exactly,” said Enoch.
Suddenly the diverse pieces of the puzzle came together in Rose’s head, as she realized what the Maker was trying to tell them.
“The beginning,” she said, excitement rising in her face. “All this time we’ve been trying to figure out exactly when the Architect built the keep, and everyone we’ve met has told us the answer!”
Edmund frowned, still unsure of where she was leading them. “Except all anyone was ever told is that it was built long before their time,” he said. “That it has always existed. Even the Caretakers have said as much—that it was there because it had always been there since . . .” His eyes went wide with the realization.
“. . . since the beginning,” he finished. “Can it be?” he asked Rose. “Can it really be that simple?”
“Nothing is ever simple,” Fred said, looking at his father, “but sometimes, things are easier than we make them out to be.”
“I’m afraid they’ve lost me completely,” Quixote said, looking down at Uncas. “Are you following any of this?”
“I am,” Laura Glue said brightly. “We’ve always worried about how to go back further and further, to find the right place in time when the keep was built, when what we should have been doing was trying to go back before it was built!”
Madoc threw his head back and laughed. “That’s brilliant,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I am overcome.”
Edmund jumped to his feet and pounded a fist into his hand. “It’s too perfect not to try,” he said, almost breathless with anticipation. “All we have to do is turn all the settings to zero and go through the gate. It should allow us to return, right here, at the moment of the keep’s creation.”
“I agree,” said Rose. “We’ve been so worried about who built the keep that we’ve forgotten that it’s just as important when it was built. And if we go to when, we’ll finally find out who the Architect is!”
“That’s what you’ve all been debating?” Archie said as he glided down and landed on Edmund’s shoulder. “I could have told you that much.” He looked at Madoc and made a clucking noise. “Did you learn nothing from my philosophy lectures?”
“This is all very exciting for you, isn’t it?” Enoch said to the badgers.
“You have no idea,” said Fred.
♦ ♦ ♦
The companions bid the Archons farewell and prepared the Indigo Dragon for one final trip through the gate.
“Here,” Enoch said as they climbed aboard. “The visitor, Telemachus, said that when you realized where you needed to go, I should give you this.” He reached out and put the silver watch into Madoc’s hand. “He told me that you had no watch of your own, and so this is yours.”
“You don’t want to keep it?”
Enoch smiled. “I’m a Maker, remember?” he said, stepping away from the airship. “I’ll make more.”
“All right,” Edmund said, rubbing his hands together. “There is nothing guiding us but the settings on the gate, and I’ve set them all for zero. Everyone cross your fingers.”
Fred engaged the internal motor of the airship and urged the goats forward at the same time. Within moments they were going toward the gate, which glowed as Madoc came near, and in a moment more, they were through.
♦ ♦ ♦
At Tamerlane House, the word quickly spread that Poe had some grand revelations to share, and no one wanted to miss out, so the great hall was quickly filled with all the residents and visitors it could hold. Caretakers Emeriti took most of the seats around the table, while the Mystorians filled in the standing room next to the walls. For his part, the detective Aristophanes brought in a couch from one of the other rooms for himself and the Messenger Beatrice, and, surprisingly, a chair for the shipbuilder Argus. Only the half-clockwork men called Jason’s sons, known as Hugh the Iron and William the Pig, remained outside to guard Shakespeare’s Bridge. Hawthorne and Irving went out one last time just to check on them before the meeting commenced, but otherwise, everyone at Tamerlane House was present.
A bright chime suddenly rang out from all the Caretakers’ watches: once, twice, and then a third time. As one, they all stopped to look at the time, to see why the watches had made such an unusual sound, and that was when they all realized what had happened.
The watches were resetting themselves.
“What is this?” asked John. “What is happening here, Jules? Bert? They’ve never done that before.”
“There is a new zero point,” Bert said in amazement. “The Anabasis Machines have reset themselves to it. All of them. At once.”
“That’s not just any zero point,” Verne said, peering at his watch. “They’re resetting because it’s the zero point. The prime zero. The moment in history when everything was connected, and the Keep of Time was built.”
“Does that mean they’ve succeeded?” asked John. “Can this really be over?”
“I don’t know,” said Verne. “We should ask Poe about it immediately, though. This may preclude whatever he was planning to share.”
“Not just yet,” John said, holding up both his hands. “We’re still waiting on a few fellows to arrive, and I think everyone should be here.”
“I think they’re coming now,” Twain said, lifting a curtain to glance out the window, “and at top speed, apparently.”
Hawthorne and Irving blew through the front doors with a bang, rounded the corner, and skidded into the room. Both their faces were ashen.
“Jack, you must come, quickly,” Hawthorne said, ignoring all decorum in favor of urgency. “You, and everyone! Something’s happened at the bridge.”
“What?” Jack implored as the Caretakers all rose to rush outside with their colleagues. “What’s happened, Nathaniel?”
“It’s Warnie,” Irving answered. “Dr. Dee has your brother, Jack. And he’s going to kill him unless we give him access to Tamerlane House and the Nameless Isles.”
♦ ♦ ♦
It was dusk in the place and time where the Indigo Dragon emerged from the Zanzibar Gate. As they passed through, the glow that signaled it was functioning
properly waned and died.
“Well, that’s that,” said Fred. “I really hope this works, or we may as well start building houses.”
“I don’t think it worked,” Edmund said, unable to hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. “Look.”
In the distance, dark against the fading light in the sky, was the swirl of clouds that made up the Barrier around the Garden of Eden. “We’re still in the same place.”
“But not in the same time,” said Madoc. “The trees are different, as far as I can see. And those stones were not here.”
In the center of the clearing, similar to the one where they’d met the Archons, was a small ring of stones, with a stone table in the center.
“It’s like a small Ring of Power,” Charles said, barely daring to breathe, “except for the table in the center. That’s different.”
Uncas and Fred both sniffed the air, as did the goats. “That’s blood,” Fred said with a shudder. “Fresh blood. Recent blood.”
The companions all held their breath when they realized Fred was right—and that the dark stains covering the stone table still glistened in the waning light of day.
“Seth was right,” Rose said, choking as she spoke. “We can’t go back further in time than this moment, no matter how much older the keep is.”
“A paradox,” a young man said as he stepped around from behind one of the stones. “The keep is what binds the two worlds together, even though they are growing further and further apart.”
Uncas, Fred, Quixote, and Laura Glue recognized him immediately. They had seen him in a battle on Easter Island only a few months earlier.
The others didn’t know his face, but the Ruby Armor he wore was instantly recognizable.
“To restore what has been broken, you must travel beyond the point where the worlds have been split,” he continued, “but to do so is impossible without the presence of the keep. It is, as I said, a paradox.”
“If we can’t go beyond this point in time,” Edmund said slowly, not certain of the wisdom of speaking to this mysterious man, “then how are we possibly going to restore time? We’ve had two last chances to find the Architect, and now we’re out of options.”
The young man turned to Rose. “What do you think? Is your quest hopeless? Is it over?”
“There’s got to be a way,” Rose said, her voice low. “There is always a way. Always.”
“Ah,” said the young man. “That’s what I was waiting for.”
“Waiting for to do what?” asked Fred.
“Help you,” the young man replied. “One last time.”
In a trice, the young man in the Ruby Armor was replaced by someone Rose had seen twice before: a very ancient man, wearing a flowing robe. He nodded at them as if this were an entirely anticipated turn of events, then looked at Rose, smiling. “Hello, my dear,” he said. “I have been waiting for you for a very long time, but I knew you’d show up again . . . eventually.”
Without hesitation, Rose simply asked him the first question that came to mind. “Are you him?” she said. “Are you the Architect?”
“No,” the old man said firmly. “I am not the Architect.”
“Who are you, then?” asked Rose.
“You know, Moonchild,” he replied gently. “You have always known.”
“Coal,” she said, her voice soft. “You’re Coal.”
He nodded. “I was. Am. Although I think I prefer the name I chose for myself. It suits me best, when I need a name, that is. You may call me Telemachus.”
Chapter EIGHTEEN
The Architect
The Caretakers of Tamerlane House gathered en masse at their side of Shakespeare’s Bridge. There, just on the other side, they could see Dr. Dee and two tall men in black, who wore dark glasses and bowler hats. In between them was Jack’s brother, Warnie.
“These are my colleagues, Mr. Kirke and Mr. Bangs,” said Dr. Dee. “They have been trained to do many things, but what they most excel at is following my orders—and I have told them that unless you do exactly as I ask, they are to tear Major Lewis into pieces.”
“Sorry, Jack,” Warnie said. His military reserve and strength of character gave him the appearance of fortitude, but Jack could tell he was properly scared.
“You know me well enough, Jules,” Dee said. “I’m not bluffing. And if need be, my colleagues can also kill Caretakers—no matter what form they’ve taken.”
“What is it you want?” Verne asked, casting a quick glance at John to see if he would object. John nodded his head faintly, giving Verne the go-ahead to keep speaking. If Dee wasn’t aware there was a new Prime Caretaker at Tamerlane, then John certainly wasn’t going to correct him.
“These are my colleagues, Mr. Kirke and Mr. Bangs.”
“There are guards set in these stones, and in the bridge,” said Dee. “Runic wards. I want you to cancel them.”
“I see,” Verne said, stalling for time. “We use silver rings to bypass the—”
“I don’t want a ring, Jules!” Dee all but shouted. “I want you to drop all the protection you have built up around these islands! Now!”
To punctuate his request, Mr. Kirke twisted Warnie’s arm backward and up, dislocating his shoulder. Jack’s brother let out a yelp of pain, then gritted his teeth and bore it.
“What if we decline?” asked Verne, trying not to look at Major Lewis. “What if we simply say no?”
“Mr. Kirke and Mr. Bangs are very, very strong,” said Dr. Dee, “and we have silver sledgehammers that can shatter even cavorite.”
“And?”
“And,” said Dee, “as far as I know, this bridge is the only thing keeping Tamerlane House tethered to the Summer Country. If we smash it—and we will—then you suddenly get hurled into the heart of the Echthroi’s domain. Forever. And then,” he added, “we’ll still kill Jack’s brother.”
“All right!” John shouted, realizing Verne was more likely to sacrifice Warnie than give up any tactical advantage. “We’ll do as you ask.”
Dr. Dee’s eyes glittered as he looked from John to Verne and back again, processing this apparent breach of Caretaker protocol. “Good,” he said, gesturing for Mr. Kirke to ease up on Jack’s brother. “I see you are going to be reasonable men. Lower the wards.”
“And then what?” John demanded.
“Then,” said Dee, “I’m going to go home.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“You were taken from us, you know that,” said Rose. “We’ve tried everything we could to find you!”
“I believe you,” said Telemachus.
“So you’ve chosen?” asked Fred. “You decided to help the Caretakers after all?”
“I wasn’t sure, not completely,” he answered, “until I put on the Ruby Armor—and realized that I had more in common with T’ai Shan than I did with John Dee, or the Echthroi.
“T’ai Shan was born into a family of gods, but she was crippled, and so was cast out. She had to make her way in the world as a beggar, or perish. She survived in part because she was an adept—like you and I, Rose—but she thrived because she saw it as her purpose to serve others.
“She was given the power of a star, who then betrayed her. But she fought him and won. The giants, who were the children of angels, were subdued by her and made to serve the cause of the Dragons. She was betrayed, terribly and often, by those closest to her—and still, her purpose was to serve. And then, somehow, I was brought to this world through improbable circumstance, and given this miraculous armor, and with it, a choice. Do I serve the Echthroi, or do I serve the Light?”
“Is this one of those remoracle questions?” asked Uncas. “Because if it in’t, I’m really afraid of what his answer is.”
Telemachus smiled at this. “Don’t worry, little fellow,” he said. “With great power comes great responsibility, and an even greater awareness. I’ve made my choice, and I’m going to do what I can to help you set things right.”
“That is exactly why I came to the end
of time,” said Charles. He looked at Edmund. “Or is it the beginning? I keep losing track.”
Edmund shrugged. “Where he’s from, I don’t think it matters.”
“Wise boy,” said Telemachus. “In Platonia there is no Chronos time, only Kairos time.”
“Seth, the Namer, told us something similar about Eden,” said Rose. “He told us time was different there, because it had only just been separated, and so both kinds of time still mixed freely, but I didn’t really understand him. What did he mean?”
“Chronos time is merely about the progression of moments,” said Telemachus, “but Kairos time is about the meaning held within those moments—and the meaning of a single moment can last an eternity.”
“The killing,” Charles murmured. “When Chronos—Cain—slew Kairos—Abel—it split the two kinds of time, because that murder was the first act of true meaning in the world.”
“Yes,” Telemachus said, glancing down at the stone table. “This is the moment when it all began, and so this is the moment when the keep must be built.”
“But the doors,” said Madoc. “I’ve been inside them, and time goes back much further than this. Eden, even the time of the Adam, is not the beginning.”
“You’re right, and wrong,” said Telemachus. “The keep, once restored, will persist in time in both directions, forward and back. But history, and true meaning, began here, with this murder. The keep is what connected the Archipelago with the Summer Country, and Chronos time with Kairos time. It was not necessary before, because nothing was divided.”
“So what happens now?”
“Now,” Telemachus said, “the Architect must build the keep, restore what was broken, and redeem the murder that split the world in two.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Nathaniel Hawthorne and William Shakespeare were in charge of the security of the bridge. It took only a few minutes to completely disable all the runes and lower all the wards.
“All right, Dee,” John said. “Now what?”
The First Dragon (Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica, The) Page 16
