The Indigo King - James A. Owen [39]
“Camazotz?” Hugo said.
Pellinor laughed. “Close enough, my odd friend.
“Camelot,” the king said. “We are going to Camelot.”
Once John, Jack, and Chaz were through the portal, all the din and clamor of the giants’ assault upon Sanctuary ceased. It had opened along the wall of a tall building and was framed by pillars and grapevines. Looking back, they could see the faint impressions of the room they had left behind, lit by the glare of the projector. Reynard was near the door of the room, barking instructions to someone in the hallway, and both badgers were giving a relieved thumbs-up to the companions, who would be visible now inside the projection. There was no doubt—Verne’s Infernal Device had worked.
The building formations within the plaza where they had emerged were familiar to John and Jack, who had seen similar structures in the islands of the Underneath in the Archipelago. The main difference was that these were clean and undamaged. This architecture was that of a vital, living city.
Chaz couldn’t understand the words being spoken by the storyteller in the amphitheater, but John and Jack were both adept at speaking the language and identified it immediately.
“Extraordinary,” marveled Jack. “We’ve actually gone back in time.”
“And, ah, across in space,” added John. “We’re in Greece … or perhaps Turkey.”
Jack nodded. “The structures are Ionian, definitely. But it must be prior to the Persian conquest,” he said, glancing about, “given the manner of dress we’re seeing. So what time do you think it is, anyway?”
On impulse, John reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch. He had it open for a few seconds before chuckling mirthlessly and hastily putting it back.
“Force of habit,” he said, shrugging and hoping no one had noticed the strange device he’d just held.
Jack voiced a similar concern. “We’re not going to accomplish much dressed like this.” He gestured at their modern English outfits. “We’re going to need to, um, borrow something more suitable.”
A robed figure appeared at their side and proffered two robes to them. “Here, take these.”
It was Chaz.
“How did you get these?” exclaimed Jack. “We’ve only just walked through the portal!”
“I’m a thief, remember?” Chaz said drolly. “Just doin’ what comes natural.”
“Oh, I’m not …,” Jack started to protest, as John took both robes and pressed one on him.
“Don’t argue, Jack,” he said. “We were about to do the same thing—you just resent that it was Chaz who acquired them for us.”
Jack grumbled under his breath but put on the robe. With their sleeves and trousers sticking out, they looked more akin to travelers from the east or south than native Greeks, but the disguises would work well enough.
No one was looking at them, anyway. The attention of everyone in the plaza and amphitheater was focused on the young man in the center, who was telling stories. And for good reason—he was positively magnetic.
The man exuded a natural charisma that came with the confidence of knowing that the audience was completely caught up in the tale being told.
Chaz looked bewildered; he clearly could not understand anything being said. John leaned close to him to translate.
“He’s telling a story about a great warrior,” he whispered, “who came to this land at the behest of a king called Minos, to defeat a giant called Asterius. The giant had horns and six arms and could not be beaten by a display of strength or prowess, but only by a game of logic.”
“Six arms,” Chaz replied. “Who ever heard of a giant with six arms?”
“He’s got the number of arms right,” Jack put in, “but if Asterius is a giant, I’m Sir Walter Scott.”
Chaz, scowling, continued watching the storyteller. He’d survived in the Winterland by being aware of everything in his environment. And here he was watching with the eyes of a predator; not looking for prey, but trying to spot the competition. And in a trice, he realized that was exactly what he was seeing: another predator.
“The teller,” Chaz said, moving closer to the others and speaking in a hushed whisper. “Look closely at the teller.”
There