Hank frowned. “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “When do you think you are?”
“It’s the twentieth of September, 1931,” Hugo replied.
Hank didn’t reply to this but squinted at the silver watch and turned two of the dials set in its side. The watch began to chime, then buzzed harshly. He tapped it on his armor, then shook it. “Dratted machine,” he complained. “Something’s off. I don’t think I can get a message to anyone much earlier than about a decade and a half before your prime time, but that ought to give them sufficient notice to set things aright before you leave.”
He said all this as if it would mean something to Hugo, then realized that the scholar hadn’t comprehended a word of it. “Never mind,” Hank said with a wave. “Just wait here and try to stay out of everyone’s way. I’ll send the message for you and see if the Frenchman can’t help somehow, and then I have to finish my report for Sam. And I can’t do either out in the open.”
With that, he began to stride off, leaving the hapless Hugo sitting in the grass, holding his helmet and gauntlets. “But wait!” Hugo called. “Who’s Sam?”
“The man who sent me here to begin with,” Hank answered over his shoulder without turning around. “Samuel Clemens, the Caretaker Principia of the Imaginarium Geographica.”
John and Jack took turns telling Meridian why they had come to Alexandria, with occasional contributions from Chaz. He seemed to have thoroughly mastered Greek far more quickly than they had thought possible, but however he’d done it, they were grateful. He had a keener sense than they did of which topics should be avoided and when, cutting in if he suspected they were saying too much.
The two Caretakers might have set aside the poisoning attempt in Miletus, but Chaz had not. And they didn’t have Fred around to sniff out a second try.
When they had finished, Meridian sat at the table, thinking. A minute passed. Then another. Then five more.
“If all you have said is true,” Meridian finally said, measuring out his words carefully, “then I have been working in error for my entire life.”
“What error?” asked John. “Trying to steal the Grail?”
“That would only be the least, and most recent, of my mistakes,” Meridian replied, “if it had in fact been I who deigned to take it.”
“You didn’t try to steal the Grail?” Jack asked.
“Of course it wasn’t me!” Meridian exclaimed angrily, stopping so his face was half in shadow. “I have my work laid out to do. I’m not interested in some relic that may or may not have belonged to a false god over a century ago! Why would I risk so much, especially with my position here at the library, to gain so little?”
“Historically speaking, it’s worth a great deal to many, many people,” John said in answer. “Even now, you can see how it’s regarded. This entire institution has been retooled to its service. And we in fact do believe it has value to you—because we know you still want to return to the Archipelago.”
“What does that have to do with the Grail?”
Jack gave John a look of caution; this was a crucial piece of information to be sharing with a still uncertain ally. John shared the concern, but he was running out of options—and arguments.
“To cross the Frontier,” he said, “you need to carry with you an object that has been touched by divinity. For this reason alone, I think you would desire the Grail.”
Meridian narrowed his eyes, then snorted disdainfully. “Divinity? Hardly. I was a thousand years old before he was even born, and his mother was never touched by any of the gods I know. The fact that his story has become a myth believed by many people doesn’t make anything he touched divine.”
“It might if it’s a true myth,” John countered. “Ordo Maas crossed the Frontier because he carried the Flame of Prometheus—but most scholars would agree that Prometheus was only a myth.”
Meridian’s eyes flared at the mention of Prometheus, or so it seemed. He smiled patiently, as if he were explaining a lesson to a slow student. “Most scholars aren’t descended from him,” heretorted, “and if you want to believe in a new, modern god, that’s your business, not mine.”
“I don’t, really,” said Jack. “I believe in a God, but not necessarily in the Christ myth any more than I believe in Prometheus.”
“And yet,” Meridian continued, “you have crossed the Frontier yourselves, have you not? So you must believe in something.”
That was an issue Jack wasn’t prepared to tackle. And neither was John. Chaz broke the moment with another question.
“Mebbe you don’t believe,” he said pointedly, “but what if your brother does?”
“Yes,” Meridian replied. “That would seem like a reason for his actions, to ones such as yourselves. But it would not have been mine, even if it was Madoc’s. But he could not have meant to use the Grail in the way that you suggest, to cross back to the Archipelago.”
“Why not?”
“Simple,” Meridian replied. “We never knew that’s how it was done.”
John and Jack both groaned inwardly. This might be the Cartographer, but it was a gamble telling him as much as they had. The problem was, the stakes were still unknown.
Meridian smiled. “Don’t worry. I reconciled myself to being here in Odysseus’s world a long time ago. If—no, when—I do return to the Archipelago, it shall be in the proper time, after the proper order of things.”
“One more question,” said Chaz, who had clearly taken the lead in the discussion. “Why were you and Madoc exiled from the Archipelago?”
Meridian started, and actually put out a hand to steady himself against the desk. This was not a question he had anticipated, and it seemed to rattle him deeply.
“We made a mistake,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “We tried to become more than we were, to become great, but we wanted to take a shortcut. We tried to open a door that was not meant to be opened, and we were caught, and punished. And that’s all I can say. I shall not speak of it again.”
Chaz looked at the others. All three were making their choice—whether to trust this man before them, or not. There was no way to be sure that they could. The only thing they could be certain of was that they needed to stop his twin. That was their first priority, above all.
“We wanted to know for sure it was you we were dealing with before we liberated you,” John said. “No offense intended. But we had to know you were the man we could trust.”
“And how do you know I am?” argued Meridian. “We’ve met twice now, skipping over centuries, and for less than a day each time. And, as you pointed out, I tried to have Anaximander poison you in Miletus. So why trust me now?”
His face was an open book. This was no subversion, John realized. Meridian really wanted to know.
“We trust you,” John said, “because we know the man that you will one day become. Not as friends, really, but not as adversaries. And one of the reasons we’re here now, the main reason, really, is that we were told by someone we do believe in that the future’s sake depends on the Cartographer. So we will trust in that. And in you.”
Meridian stepped between John and Jack, past Chaz, and into the empty corridor. “The Cartographer, you say? I’ve been called worse, but few have called me better.”
“So you’ll help us?” Chaz said plaintively. “You’ll help us stop your brother?”
“You all have my gratitude,” Meridian replied, smiling broadly and nodding. “That should mean something.”
Jack quietly closed the door behind them, and it locked with a soft click. Meridian shuddered.
“I think if I’d had to spend one more day confined inside that wretched stone room,” he said, with a somewhat restrained tone, “I’d have gone mad. I was grateful that Ptolemy permitted me the materials to continue my work, but I was actually starting to look forward to my own execution, just to escape.
“Now,” he finished, rubbing his hands together, “let’s deal with Mad
oc.”
With Meridian leading the way, they wound back through the rooms and corridors with greater speed than before. John paced alongside him, asking questions about the rooms they passed, while Jack kept a watchful eye out for other guards, but they moved through undisturbed.
Jack noticed Chaz hanging back, moving more slowly. He seemed to be worrying over something.
“Chaz, what’s up?” Jack asked him quietly. “Did you see something that’s amiss?”
Chaz glanced ahead at John and Meridian, then gestured for Jack to slow down with him. “It’s a couple o’ things, really,” he said. “F’r one thing, that seemed too easy. Too quick-like.”
“I get where you’re coming from,” Jack retorted, “but I’m not going to complain about something going our way for a change.”
“I’m not tryin’ t’ quiet y’r kettle, Jack, but did that look like a cell to you? Or he, like a man about t’ be killed?”
“It was an unusual setting, sure,” said Jack, “but Ptolemy wasn’t operating on all cylinders either.”
“There’s summat else, though,” Chaz continued. “If he—Meridian—if he does this now, won’t it change history even worse?”
“How do you mean worse?”
“If we Bind Madoc now,” Chaz said bluntly, “then he might not become the Winter King at all. Ever.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Chaz admitted, “but a lot of good things that happened because of him might never happen either.”
Jack realized what Chaz meant. If it hadn’t been for the Winter King, John, Jack, and Charles—their Charles—might never have met. And if it hadn’t been for the events that created Albion, Chaz himself might never have come to be.
“I don’t know,” Jack said slowly. “It’s a risk, certainly. But Jules Verne and Bert both gave their lives so that we could try to do … something to stop him. And we’re running out of options.”
Chaz stared at him for a moment, then nodded grimly and quickened his step to catch up to the others.
Meridian altered the course they took so as not to pass by Ptolemy’s workshop. A confrontation with the geographer would only delay them, and might warn Madoc.
“He’s here?” John said, startled. “At the library?”
Meridian nodded, his features inscrutable. “He’s the other Caretaker of the Sangreal. The only one these past weeks since I was arrested for trying to steal it. It’s a fine irony. The one entrusted to the care of the Grail is the very one who tried to take it.”
“Madoc tried to steal the Grail?” said Jack. “Then why were you arrested?”
“The three of you are well-educated and seem to know much about my brother and me,” Meridian said wryly, “and even you have trouble telling us apart. How much harder is it for that fool Ptolemy?”
“Fool?” John said, furrowing his brow. “I thought he was helping you with your work.”
“He’s a genius geographer,” Meridian replied quickly, “and as an astronomer, he’s had some astonishingly astute insights. But as a king, he’s a half-full pitcher of stale water.”
“So Madoc blamed you for the crime?”
Meridian nodded.
Chaz shook his head in disbelief. “And you were going to just let yourself be executed? For what he did?”
“Hardly,” Meridian said with a droll chuckle. “It served my purposes not to disrupt the library more than necessary, and losing him would have done that. And as for myself, I was never in danger.”
Jack and John traded skeptical glances, and Meridian laughed and looked at them with a trace of smugness.
“I’m a millennium old,” he said. “Don’t you suppose that room would only have held me for as long as I wished to be held?”
“Right,” Chaz muttered under his breath. He knew bravado when he saw it. And he knew when a truth was whole, and when it was in pieces.
“We’re here,” Meridian declared. “Hello, Archimedes.”
The owl squawked and looked up from his calculations. “Aren’t you dead yet, Meridian?”
“I’m not Meridian, I’m Madoc.”
“Then who’s in there with the Sangreal?” Archimedes asked. “You’re not supposed to leave your post.”
“That’s why my friends and I need to get in,” Meridian said. “To do my job.”
The bird peered at him with one eye. “How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked.
“I always lie,” answered Meridian, “except when I tell the truth.”
The great bird considered this for a moment, then nodded and walked over to a small opening set in the side wall. He inserted one clawed foot, and the companions heard a lever inside release with a clicking sound. To the bird’s right, the door that bore the image of the Grail swung open on mechanized hinges and the companions stepped inside.
“Have a nice day, Madoc,” Archimedes said as he returned to his figures.
“See what I mean?” Meridian said. “We used to do that to Anaximander all the time.”
“That’s an impressive door,” John said as it swung closed. “Those mechanisms are remarkable.”
“It’s a design built by the owl’s creator,” Meridian said as he pushed open an inner door and ushered them through. “Both were based on a curious device that I sold to him a few centuries ago. That’s why it may look familiar to you. I think you called it a ‘watch.’”
Grinning, Meridian and John stepped into the inner chamber and stopped. Jack and Chaz were already inside, and at a loss as to what they should do next.
It was a large dome, with a massive fireplace opposite the doors, which provided both heat and light. Pillars placed through the room supported high arches, and there were two sets of stairs that presumably led to other rooms. All along the walls were pictographs showing points of recent history, a story in pictures of the Christian myth, and below them, various objects that were likely other talismans related to the Grail.
As to the Grail itself, there were several cups and saucers on the low wall that ringed the room. It wasn’t readily apparent which, if any, was the true Grail. But none of the companions were focused on any of that. Instead they were transfixed by the sight of the couple sleeping on the blankets and mats that lay in the middle of the floor, as if the Grail room was nothing more than an elaborate bedchamber.
“Brother,” Meridian said softly. “What … have … you … done?”
At once Madoc was awake. He was startled to see his brother—and the entourage he’d brought with him.
“Meridian!” he exclaimed. “What are you—”
His sentence remained unfinished as the girl, perhaps twenty years old, if that, suddenly awoke and pulled the cloak they’d used as a blanket over herself in fear. She had dark hair, skin that glistened, and eyes that were clear and focused.
“I can explain,” Madoc began, rising.
“No need,” Meridian said, taking a spear from the wall closest to him. “I now know all that I need to.”
“Jack!” John exclaimed, realizing the Cartographer’s intentions. “We can’t let him kill Madoc!”
Before any of them could move, Meridian lunged at his brother with the spear. He missed, but only just.
The girl leaped to her feet, crying out in fear, and Madoc placed himself between her and Meridian. “Don’t do this!” he implored. “You don’t realize what you’re doing!”
“Wrong,” Meridian answered. “I know exactly what I must do.”
Jack and John grabbed him, and they were surprised to realize that they could barely hold him. His strength was astonishing. “Meridian!” John shouted. “We can’t risk killing him! Bind him! Then we can decide what to do!”
The Cartographer nodded and cast aside the spear.
Madoc turned to the girl, who was pulling away from him, screaming in terror now. He clutched at her robe, which tore in his hands as she ran from him, tears streaming.
“Please!” Madoc cried to her, implorin
g. “I’m sorry! Forgive me! Please!”
But no answer was forthcoming, and she disappeared through a second doorway at the other end of the chamber. Voices and footsteps could be heard coming from the other rooms. Her screams had alerted the library that something was amiss.
“We’re about to have company,” Chaz said grimly. “We got t’ hurry.”
Meridian leaped forward and knocked his twin to the floor, then spun him about. He held Madoc down, pinning his brother’s shoulders with his knees. Meridian bit down hard on his thumb, then marked Madoc’s forehead with his blood. And then he began to speak the words:
Madoc, son of Odysseus
By right and rule
For need of might
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee
By blood bound
By honor given
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee
For strength and speed and heaven’s power
By ancient claim in this dark hour
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee.
As Meridian finished speaking, both brothers screamed and convulsed, spines arching, as if they’d received a tremendous shock. Panting, Meridian rolled away from his brother and staggered to his feet.
“You are thus Bound, Madoc,” he rasped. “By blood, and by the Old Magic, I have Bound you. And I command you …” He stopped and looked hesitatingly at John. It was the question none of them had any answer to. How, even Bound, could Madoc be stopped without simply killing him?
Suddenly Meridian’s eyes glittered, and he turned back to his brother, who was still struggling to rise to his feet.
“Madoc, duly Bound,” said Meridian, “I command you to go to the very ends of the known world, there to stay until you are summoned again, by blood.”
Madoc looked stricken. For a brief instant, John actually felt compassion for him. This man still had no realization of what was happening to him, of what had been done to him—and of what fate his own twin brother had just sentenced him to.
Madoc stood shakily and reached a hand out to his brother. “I’m to be exiled?” he said pleadingly. “Again? But I don’t … I don’t … When?” he asked. “When will you summon me back?”
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