The Indigo King - James A. Owen [54]
“The Grail trials are math problems?” asked John.
“Yes, oh master of the obvious,” retorted the owl. “Or a part of them, anyway. The trials judge one’s worth, through tests spiritual, physical, and intellectual. I’m in charge of the intellectual part.”
“We’ll leave you alone to work, we promise,” John said. “We’d just like to ask some directions.”
“Oh?” said Archimedes. “To find your nameless friend?”
“We’re looking for someone who likes t’ make maps,” said Chaz. “Y’ know anyone like that?”
“I do, actually,” Archimedes replied, still distracted by his equations. “Go north three hundred paces, then open the second door. That should be the man you seek.”
“Thanks, Archie,” said Chaz, turning to the others. “Time’s a-wastin’. Shall we go?”
“Wait,” John said, still flabbergasted at having somehow become the third wheel of the trio. “He’s here? In this very building?”
“Well, where else would someone who’s anyone be?” Archimedes asked without looking up. “If you aren’t working at the library, you aren’t worth paying attention to, anyway.”
John and Jack exchanged knowing glances. Of course. The seat of learning, the crossroads of culture for the entire civilized world, wouldn’t just be the city. It would be the Library of Alexandria itself.
Heartened by the progress they seemed to be making, the three companions followed the owl’s directions down the passageway and opened the door.
They were looking into a broad, high-ceilinged room that was essentially one great, global map. The walls and ceilings were festooned with drawings, and all across them were lines that even connected across the floor, which was also covered with illustrations. The effect was not unlike stepping inside an immense transparent globe.
“Impressive, I know,” a voice said from somewhere across the expanse of parchment that lined the tables and shelves scattered about the room. “I call the lines drawn across the maps ‘latitude’ and ‘longitude.’ Forgive me if I’ve forgotten a meeting. I’m not expected to present my discoveries in the rotunda until next week, but they’re taking all my attention at present.”
A short, pleasantly anxious man stepped around a tall papiermâché globe he was constructing and offered them a hand in greeting.
He was olive-skinned, and he spoke with an accent that demonstrated both travel abroad and great education, but his mannerisms were those of a tailor who can’t decide between creating a more finely cut suit, or a more satisfied customer. He wore a round cap and breeches that seemed to be Persian, or perhaps Egyptian. And shoes, rather than the sandals they’d seen the others wearing through the projection. They’d expected to go straight from Archimedes to one or both of the twins, and so they had not procured any appropriate clothing. However, their unusual dress seemed not to matter at all to the man, who was dressed even more oddly than they were.
John took the man’s hand, which was sticky with paste, and shook it firmly.
“Oh! I’m very sorry,” the man said, just realizing what he’d done. “Can you forgive?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said John, wiping his hand on the back of his trousers and smiling. “I’m John.”
“Claudius Ptolemaeus. Call me Ptolemy,” the man replied. “Did we have a meeting today?”
“We’re just here for the trials,” Jack answered. “To become Caretakers of the, uh, Grail.”
Ptolemy squinted, as if he was having trouble with Jack’s accent. “Oh!” he said finally. “Of course! The trials. Yes, a sorry business it is.”
“The trials?”
“No,” said Ptolemy. “The need for a new Caretaker. One of them—one of the best we’ve had, in fact—tried to …”
He paused and cupped his hands around his mouth, as if he didn’t want to be heard speaking the words. “He tried to take the Grail. For himself. And he was caught and shall be executed soon. That’s the reason I’m behind schedule,” Ptolemy explained, gesturing at the room full of maps. “The betrayer was my own understudy,