The Indigo King - James A. Owen [47]
Giving him, whichever of the twins he was, the means to return twenty-five centuries earlier could devastate the world more than Hugo’s mishap had. So they would organize, but not contribute to, the philosopher’s work.
A not-too-casual mention by Anaximander that he was fascinated by the concept of time was enough of a prompt for John to pull out his gold pocket watch and proudly show it off. He explained the mechanism and workings of the watch, but much to Jack’s amusement and Anaximander’s confusion, the watch, as usual, didn’t work.
“So it’s like my gnomon,” the philosopher concluded. “A stationary vertical rod set on a horizontal plane. But,” he added, still puzzled, “what is the transparent dome for? It seems it would work better if the rods were more vertically inclined.”
“Oh never mind,” John said, setting the watch on the table and glaring at it. “It’s really best as a paperweight.”
“It’s an excellent paperweight,” said Anaximander.
Twice as they worked, the philosopher’s younger student, Pythagoras, brought food and drink. The second time, Anaximander left the companions for a moment to give more instructions to the boy.
“John,” whispered Jack, moving around the table so Anaximander would not overhear them, “Chaz went out a long time ago. I don’t think he’s coming ba—”
“I know,” John whispered back, his voice bitter. “I know, Jack. We still have time. Let’s just do what we can here, and hope …”
John let the sentence trail off without finishing and resumed work on the maps.
Chaz made it to within twenty feet of the portal, where he paced through the entire night. He couldn’t decide whether to go through or pee, so he merely paced, and argued with himself.
He had paced through the night and into morning before the pressure became too bad, and he finally was forced to relieve himself on the broad wall next to the plaza entrance.
“Aw, geez, Mister Chaz,” came a small voice from behind him. “D’you hafta do that out here, where everyone can see? What, were you raised in a barn?”
Startled, Chaz turned around to see who had spoken. It was Fred, tapping his foot and trying not to watch as the human splashed urine all across the wall.
“Fred!” Chaz exclaimed, with a chagrined, half-embarrassed look. “Have you been watching me pee?”
“No,” replied Fred, “we’ve been watching you pace. We thought you must have been sent back t’ stand guard. You only just started t’ pee.”
Chaz looked around worriedly. It might be a strange land, but he suspected a talking badger wouldn’t go unnoticed for very long. “What are you doing here? Why did y’ come through th’ portal?”
The small mammal held up an hourglass. “Th’ time limit!” he exclaimed. “It’s almost up. You and Scowler John and Scowler Jack must return, right now!”
The badger was right. There was only a thin layer of sand left inside the upper globe of the hourglass. Could it really have been twenty-four hours already? Chaz wondered. Regardless, he wasn’t about to be trapped in a place where he couldn’t speak or understand the language without getting a headache.
“Okay,” he said, heading for the portal.
“Wait!” Fred cried, pulling on the man’s shirt. “What about Scowler Jack and Scowler John?”
Chaz sighed and rolled his eyes, then looked from the portal to Fred, and back again.
“This way,” he said finally, fastening up the buckle on his trousers. “We’ll have to hurry.”
By midday Anaximander’s entire map room was sorted and indexed, John and Jack were completely exhausted, and they were not one inch closer to discovering which of the twins was destined to become Mordred.
“This would have been easier if he already had the hook,” Jack grumbled, yawning.
“At the Ring of Power, when Artus and I were fighting Mordred, he said he was nearly as old as Ordo Maas,” John said, rubbing his chin. “I thought it was just bluff and bluster at the time, but the flood