The Indigo King - James A. Owen [35]
Reynard shuddered with the thought, then went on. “Those who could escape him, even temporarily, fled to the edges of the Earth. But even there, in those havens, they will eventually be found, and used—although it took him centuries to realize our fiercest warriors were those closest to the earth.”
“The houses,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “That’s why most of the houses were on stilts, to raise them up off the ground.”
“Human arrogance,” Reynard said, nodding, “to think that we are limited to crawling on our bellies in the dirt. To do otherwise was among the first things taught to us by Ordo Maas.”
In unison, the fox and two badgers stood at attention and began to recite:
“Not to go on all fours, not to suck up drink; not to eat flesh or fish; not to claw the bark of trees; not to chase other creatures, to willingly cause them harm. For all those of the earth are bright and beautiful; all creatures, great and small; all beasts are wise and wonderful; for the Lord God made them all.”
“Coleridge?” Jack asked.
“Cecil Alexander,” said John. “Mostly, anyway. Coleridge may have been a Caretaker, but he was never that sentimental, or poetic.”
“Pardon,” said Reynard. “A Caretaker of what?”
“The Imaginarium Geographica, of course,” said Uncas. “The great book, with all the maps of …”
He stopped, and his eyes widened in realization as the fox looked at them all with a blank expression. The rest of them realized it too.
In this place, in this timeline, there was no Geographica. There had been no Caretakers, no Coleridge. All that existed was a single map, one that had never been a part of the atlas to begin with—and the sole Caretaker who had been known by that name was only a skull in John’s bag.
“Never mind,” said John, patting Uncas comfortingly. “We’ll fix that soon enough.”
Reynard led them to an ornate hallway, which ended in a great carved door. It was elaborately decorated with sculpted cherubs and angels and, reassuringly, dragons. Inset at the center of the door, on a shield held within a dragon’s claws, was the symbol π—the mark of the Caretaker Principia. John’s mark.
Jack caressed the surface of the door and exhaled heavily. “As happy as I was to see the Dragonship,” he said with a broad grin, “I’m almost happier to see this. It tells me we’re on the right path. I don’t recognize the dragon, though.”
This was the first remark any of them had made that seemed to rattle Reynard. “You actually know a dragon?” the fox said, mouth agape. “Really and truly?”
“We know many dragons,” said Jack. “I’m surprised you don’t know them yourself.”
The fox shook his head. “Not in many, many centuries. They were the guardians of the Archipelago, but something happened to them when the Winter King ascended. After that, there was no one left who could appoint them.”
“Appoint them?” John said in surprise. “Isn’t a dragon simply a dragon?”
Reynard looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened. “Oh, I see. You misunderstand. No, a dragon isn’t the name of the creature—although most of them were the great sky-serpents you’re thinking of. ‘Dragon’ is the name of the office they hold, and it is a title given only by appointment.
“Now,” he said, turning back to the door before the companions could ask more questions, “which among you has the Golden Ticket?”
“The what?” said John.
“Golden Ticket,” Reynard replied. “This room has been locked for almost fifteen hundred years. Only my distant ancestors, who helped to build it, and the Prime Caretaker himself have ever been inside. And the door can only be opened here,” he said, indicating a slit beneath the mark on the shield, “by inserting a Golden Ticket.”
John sighed. “I’m sorry, Reynard, we don’t—”
“But we might,” Jack interrupted. “You’ve forgotten the box.”
They opened the bag John had been carrying and removed the Serendipity Box, careful to keep it out of Uncas’s reach.
“Could it be that simple?” John said, turning the box over and over in his hands.
“It can’t hurt to find out,” said Jack. “At worst, we’ll end up with more