The Indigo King - James A. Owen [50]
Chaz nodded grimly. “An’ they could be lurkin’ about even now—so we’d best get prepared and decide what t’ do right.”
“Is it me,” Reynard whispered to John, “or didst his countenance change during your journey into the projection?”
“His appearance?”
The fox shook his head. “Countenance. His … appearance beneath what we see with our eyes.”
“Mmm, perhaps,” John mused, looking at his reluctant companion. “Maybe it has, at that.”
“So,” Uncas began, “how do we prepare you better for the next trip, other than giving you the hourglass this time around?”
“Yes,” said John. “You saved us there, too, it seems. As to being better prepared, I don’t think there is anything further that we can do. We simply don’t have enough information to work with.”
“Maybe we do,” Jack said, a look of excitement on his face. “Remember? The warning! The warning in the book that was sent to Charles!”
John swore under his breath. “I’d completely forgotten about it,” he admitted, “not that it would have done us any good where Verne sent us.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jack. “Why not?”
“At its earliest, the representation of the Grail wouldn’t have had any meaning at all until a few decades after the crucifixion of Christ. And we already know that Hugo was sent back several centuries later than that. So I don’t see how his warning is relevant to Verne’s mission.”
“But it is relevant, don’t you see, John?” Jack exclaimed. “Hugo gave us the answer in his message! It’s the Cartographer! Mordred’s twin! His own brother would be capable of the Binding!”
John’s brow furrowed in concentration as he considered Jack’s idea. It might in fact be possible—he was unclear as to the rules that regulated the power behind the Summonings and the Bindings, except that they had to be spoken by someone of royal birth. Artus was able to do it, as had Arthur, generations before him. Aven’s son, Stephen, could have done it as well. And they already knew Mordred was capable of doing a Binding—so the same might be true of his brother.
“We know the Cartographer’s existence predates Arthur’s rule,” John reasoned, “and we’d already suspected that Mordred did too. And remember—back on Terminus, Mordred did say that he and Artus shared the same blood. So somehow the authority to speak Bindings and Summonings comes from somewhere beyond even Mordred.”
“Fair enough,” said Jack. “That means his twin—the Cartographer—would possess the same ability. Hugo’s note mentioned the Cartographer, and Verne told us we needed to discover Mordred’s true name in order to defeat him. We can’t do that here,” he said, waving his arms to indicate Albion as a whole. “There are no other kings able to do to him what he can do to us. And I don’t think the authority of the Caretakers can overpower the authority of the king.”
“Mebbe that’s what this ‘Verne’ meant f’r us t’ do,” said Chaz, who was sitting against the wall, dozing, but still listening. “Mebbe it’s up t’ us t’ turn one of the brothers against the other.”
“That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?” Jack asked. “We have to convince whichever one is the Cartographer that his brother will eventually turn rotten, and that the only way to prevent it is to Bind him.”
“But for how long?” wondered John. “Binding can’t really be permanent, unless …”
Only Chaz and Reynard didn’t understand John’s unspoken thought, which the others knew as part of their own history: The only way to defeat the Winter King was to kill him. And even that had proven to be problematic.
“Y’r still forgetting one thing,” said Chaz. “He in’t the Cartographer yet. And both of ’em were thrown out of the Archipelago, remember? I heard ’em say it. And they were both in on th’ plan t’ kill us, if you recall. When they was chasin’ us out of Miletus, they both had drawn swords. That says poison t’ me. Both of ‘em. They be poison.”
“Isn’t the Cartographer your friend?” asked Uncas. “Back where we came from?”
John shook his head slowly. “I don’t think the Cartographer is anyone’s friend, to be honest,” he said.