The Indigo King - James A. Owen [52]
John turned to Reynard, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “There’s no more time to waste,” he said as boldly as he could manage. “Let’s see the second slide.”
* * *
The companions prepared for the second jaunt through the Lanterna Magica’s projections while trying to ignore the frequent taunts of the giants, and even more so the grisly present in the burlap bag.
John decided against including the hourglass in their supplies, making the argument that it could too easily be lost, broken, or upended. “No,” he said, “I think what happened before is really our ideal. Uncas and Fred will be our timekeepers. You’re both safe here on Sanctuary anyway, and you can come fetch us as the time grows short.”
“They were able to do that last time because I, ah, were passin’ by the portal,” said Chaz. “How will they find us this time around?”
“We’ll have to be aware of the time ourselves as best we can,” said John, “and try to keep a bearing on the position of the portal so we’ll be nearby.”
“Don’t worry, Scowler John,” Uncas stated with a salute. “Th’ Royal Animal Rescue Squad will not fail you.”
“I know you won’t, Uncas,” John said, resisting the urge to pat the badger on the head while he was being stately. “The son of Tummeler would never let us down.”
Uncas looked so proud at the compliment that John thought he might burst into tears. “Ready?” he said to Jack and Chaz.
Chaz yawned and nodded. “Enough, I guess.”
“Ready,” agreed Jack.
“All right,” John said, signaling Reynard. “Light it up.”
The fox pressed the switch that rotated the disc of slides, and the next image slid smoothly into view. John, Jack, and Chaz stepped aside to better get a view of the slide, and Uncas and Fred dutifully turned over the hourglass.
As before, the multiple layers that were projected on the wall gave everyone a slightly disoriented feeling. It took a few moments for their vision to adjust to the shifting perspectives, and then they could see what was on the slide.
In front of them, perhaps thirty feet distant, was the elaborately decorated entrance to a mosque, or perhaps a temple. The architecture was more advanced than what they had seen in the previous projection, but harder to place.
“Persian?” Jack murmured.
“No,” said John. “More Egyptian, I’d say.”
The wall they faced was dominated by a great arched doorway, in front of which was a broad pedestal. On it was an immense horned owl, which was clutching a piece of chalk in one clawed foot and seemed to be using it to scribble on a piece of slate.
“What do you make of that?” John asked.
“The bird?” said Jack. “I think it’s an owl.”
John groaned. “I know it’s an owl!” he whispered back. “I mean that!” He pointed behind the bird.
Jack gasped, as did Chaz. Behind the pedestal, engraved into the door and embellished with golden ornaments and designs crusted with jewels, was the image of the Holy Grail, the same one that was on the cover of the book back at Magdalen College.
“So we’re definitely into Anno Domini,” Jack said. “Past the time of Christ.”
“Or within it,” said John, as a man, absorbed in whatever work he was attending to, passed by the scene in front of them. He wore sandals and a simple robe with a sash. “I can’t tell from the attire. First century? Second, maybe? We’ll have to suss it out for certain once we’ve crossed over.”
“Good enough,” said Jack. “Who wants to go first?”
“Don’t look at me,” said Chaz. “You two are the ‘Scowlers.’”
“It doesn’t need to be a debate,” John said. “We’ve done it before.”
“You couldn’t tell from all the bickering,” said a trilling voice that was airy and condescending at the same time. “If you asked me, I’d say you’re all scared to death.”
John and Jack stared at each other in surprise. The voice had spoken in Greek—but it had come from the owl.
“What?” the owl asked. “Cat got your tongues?”
The three companions all stepped through the portal and into the hallway they’d been watching. If they were going to converse with a giant bird, John figured it would be less conspicuous to do so in person than to risk anyone