The Indigo King - James A. Owen [45]
“It’s all beyond me,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know what any of that whose-father-sailed-what-ship stuff has t’ do with our job.”
“It helps us understand what’s at stake,” John told him, “and gives us clues to figure out what to do.”
Chaz took on a disdainful expression. “Easy-peasy,” he said. “We go back to Sanctuary and try both names—Myrddyn and Madoc—on th’ Winter King. Whichever one works, well, that’ll Bind him, right?”
“I don’t think it’ll be as easy as all that,” John replied. “Not when there may be a blood rite, and the speaking of the Binding itself—if we can find someone who’s able. It’s too much time to risk on fifty-fifty odds.”
“So we have to find out for certain which of them will become a tyrannical despot in the future,” Jack was saying as Anaximander returned to the courtyard. “Great.”
“Hey,” said Chaz, “how do I ask where the, uh, facilities are?”
“Facilities for what?” asked John.
“I have t’ pee.”
“Oh,” John said. He repeated the query in Greek to Anaximander, who seemed not to understand.
“He wants to go to the room where we make water?” the philosopher asked. “We don’t have a ‘room’ for that, but we do have pots in some of the larger buildings. I have one myself, if your friend would like to make use of it.”
John translated, and Chaz screwed up his face in disgust. “I’d just as soon not be sharing a chamber pot, t’anks,” he said. “Isn’t there a nice, clean hollow log somewheres?”
Again John translated, and Anaximander answered.
“He says most everyone just uses the street,” John said apologetically. “Welcome to ancient Greece.”
Grumbling, Chaz exited the same way the twins had left, and Anaximander moved over to take his chair.
“What do you think of my students?” the philosopher said, sitting between John and Jack. “Impressive, are they not?”
“Do you believe them?” Jack asked. “Do you really think they are the sons of Odysseus?”
“It’s impossible to know for certain,” Anaximander admitted, “but their tale rings true. We know from our own histories that Odysseus had children with both the witch Circe and the nymph Calypso, but little was known of what became of them, until last year, when I found Myrddyn and Madoc and learned of their parentage. They know more about the details of Odysseus’s journeys than any scholar, more than has been recorded in any history. And so I must give credence to their claims, however outrageous they might seem.”
“I don’t know what we can do to help,” John said plaintively. “We’ve told you all we can.”
“Ah, but I think this is not the case,” Anaximander replied. “No—don’t be alarmed. I’m not irritated that you have chosen to keep things to yourselves—especially in front of an unknown audience. Am I correct?”
Their uncomfortable silence told him he was.
“Well then,” the philosopher said, “it seems I must make the first gesture of trust.” He stood and walked to the far side of the courtyard, motioning for them to follow. “I have been developing a new science, based on the idea that there are places in the world that cannot be traveled to except by following a very specific and detailed route,” he said as he opened a large, stout door.
“The place where Myrddyn and Madoc were born, the Archipelago, is of our world, and not, all at once. And so I reasoned that the only way to discover the location of an unknown place would be to create a means to represent all the places that are known.” Anaximander lit one of the lamps in the darkened room, and it suddenly blazed with light. “I call it a map.”
The two Caretakers stepped into the room and looked around in mute astonishment. Maps. The entire chamber was filled with maps. There were also globes, whole and in pieces, and crude sextants, and even a construction that resembled the solar system, hanging from a thin wire in a corner of the room.
“Cartography,” John said, his voice trembling with the realization, as he gripped Jack by the shoulder. “Anaximander is teaching them to make maps.”
“Better than that,” Jack replied. He was also shaking. “He’s making maps to unknown lands. To lost places.”
“Are