The Indigo King - James A. Owen [48]
“That’s still almost a thousand years earlier than we’ve come,” Jack countered. “But I suppose it isn’t inconceivable that they both lived a long time, maybe centuries, in the Archipelago before coming here.”
Before they could continue the discussion, the door burst open and Chaz and Fred rushed inside.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jack exclaimed. “We thought you—”
“Wasn’t coming back?” Chaz shot back. “Hah. Fat chance of that, eh, Fred?”
The little badger looked up, surprised, then gave Chaz a thumbs-up and a grin.
“Where have you—,” John started to say.
“No time,” Chaz cut in. “You have to hear what I overheard last night, an’ then”—he pointed to Fred’s hourglass—“we got t’ go.”
Chaz quickly recounted the whole argument he’d witnessed between Myrddyn and Madoc, repeating the strange Greek words as best he could. When he was finished, Jack snorted.
“You don’t speak ancient Greek, Chaz,” he said mockingly. “I think you’re making things up out of your head.”
“I’m picking up more than you know,” Chaz retorted. “An’ I didn’t need t’ understand it all t’ remember it.”
“I don’t know, Chaz.” John said doubtfully. “It all fits, but Jack does have a point. We don’t know you heard what you think you heard.”
“If it wasn’t me,” Chaz asked, glancing down at Fred, “if it was him, th’ other me, would you trust me?”
“You mean Charles?” said Jack. “Of course.”
“Then trust him,” Chaz said to John. “Somewhere I’m him, you say. Well, last night he was me. Trust him. I mean, me. Trust me, John.”
John looked questioningly at each of the others in turn. Fred nodded immediately, and finally, more reluctantly, so did Jack.
“They want to get Odysseus’s ship back, do they?” John began. “He got it from his father, Laertes, who was one of the original Argonauts,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Do you suppose the ship Anaximander saw was … ?”
“The Red Dragon!” Jack said excitedly. “They came here from the Archipelago in the Red Dragon!”
“Mmm, no,” said Chaz. “They called it something else … the ‘Aragorn’ or some such.”
“The Argo,” said John. “Jason’s ship. That means that Ordo Maas, or at least his sons, had gone to the island to take the wreck of the Argo back into the Archipelago, in order to transform it into the first of the Dragonships—the Red Dragon.”
“Exiled, eh?” said Jack. “I bet that’s the reason they were shipwrecked, and why the ship was taken back once they were here.”
“One or t’ other has t’ be Mordred,” said Chaz, “but if the other is anything like th’ first, then wouldn’t he still be somewhere in the future, too?”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “That’s brilliant, Chaz.”
“We already have met both of them!” John said. “One of them is the Winter King—and his twin is the Cartographer of Lost Places! It’s the only answer that makes any sense!”
“But which is which?” said Jack.
Fred tugged on Chaz’s shirt and tapped the nearly empty hourglass.
“The twenty-four hours!” Chaz said. “It’s almost up! We have to go, else we’ll be trapped here!”
“You’ve labored long and hard,” a voice said from the doorway. “I’ve brought you more refreshments.”
Anaximander entered carrying a tray with a flagon of wine and two goblets. He started when he saw Chaz, and he studiously ignored Fred. “I’m sorry,” the philosopher said, awkwardly balancing the tray. “I’ll fetch another goblet.”
“Where’s Pythagoras?” Jack asked. “Doesn’t he usually fetch the wine?”
“I, er, sent him home,” Anaximander said. “I thought as a show of gratitude I would serve you the morning wine myself.”
“No!” yelled Fred, leaping up to the table and knocking the tray from the philosopher’s hands.
“Fred!” Jack began, but he stopped short as they all looked down at the spilled wine, which sizzled and bubbled on the stone floor.
“Animal instincts,” said Fred, “and a good nose.”
“Right,” Chaz said. His left fist snapped up, and he struck Anaximander brutally in the jaw. The philosopher went down hard, falling in a sprawl at the man’s feet.