The Indigo King - James A. Owen [57]
The first guard didn’t even have time to call out before John clocked him hard on the chin. The guard fell and slumped against the wall, and Jack grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to a less conspicuous spot. Just then, Chaz appeared at the other end of the corridor and trotted to them.
“What happened to the other guard?” John whispered. “I thought there were two.”
“There were,” Chaz whispered back, “but he couldn’t handle his wine.”
“You got him drunk? That fast?”
“Nah,” said Chaz, pointing to his forehead. “Hit him with th’ bottle.”
Jack came back just in time to overhear them. “You know, Chaz,” he said, only half joking, “for a thief and a traitor, you’ve turned out to be really useful.”
“I resemble that remark,” said Chaz.
“Fair enough,” Jack declared. “I got the keys from the guard. Let’s go see who we find.”
Jack fumbled a bit with the keys, so Chaz offered to try. The third key he put into the lock worked, and the door swung open with a gentle push.
The cell beyond was rectangular and made entirely of stone. There was a small window on the far wall, but it was blocked by wooden beams just outside. John saw at once that this room had never been intended for use as a cell at all; it had to have been a storeroom of some kind, only recently converted to hold a prisoner.
Even so, it was a cell in name only, and distinguishable from other rooms at the library solely because of the lock on the door and the guards in front of it.
There was a solitary desk and a chair, but the only light came from a small oil lamp that hung near the door, and a second positioned over the desk. In many ways, the room bore a strong resemblance to Ptolemy’s workshop. Every surface was covered with maps, and there were globes and statuary scattered throughout. As they stepped over the threshold, the lamp at the door seemed to brighten, and it cast their shadows deep into the room.
“Hello?” John said cautiously. “Is someone there?”
At the desk, a man raised his tousled head up from the work he was concentrating on, and eyes that were more distracted than curious peered at them.
“Is it time already? I still have work to do, and I was hoping for a little more sleep before morning so my eyes wouldn’t be puffy when you lop off my head.”
“We’re not here to execute you,” said Jack. “We’re here to, uh …” He looked at John, who shrugged. What were they here to do? Rescue him?
“We’ve got a couple of questions,” said Chaz. “If you please.” The man at the desk perked up. “Three visitors, and three voices I haven’t heard in oh so long,” he said, standing and straightening his clothes. “You’ve picked a good time to visit. Another day and I’d have been unable to answer.”
“So we heard,” said Jack. “My sympathy would be greater if you hadn’t tried to poison us, then chase us with a sword the last time we met.”
“Last time, or first?” came the reply. “Not that I really care, mind you. For what it’s worth, I do regret trying to poison you. It was a different time then, and I was a different man. What are your questions?”
As he said this, he stepped farther into the lamplight. He hadn’t aged much but was perhaps shorter, as if gravity had noticed him more than before. Still, they couldn’t quite tell if he was Myrddyn or Madoc.
John suddenly realized that the answer to one question was literally right in front of them. This was Ptolemy’s understudy. Whichever of the twins this was would be the Cartographer.
“What’s your name?” asked Chaz.
The man’s smile was warm, but slightly weary also. “I’ve had many names, but at present I am called Meridian.”
John’s mouth twitched imperceptibly, as he tried not to sigh in relief. Meridian was the name of a line of longitude. This was the Cartographer.
“What brought you here?” asked Jack.
“I first traveled here when it was still called Rhakotis, before Alexander transfigured everything in his own image,” Meridian said, pacing back and forth in front of them, so that he constantly passed between light and shadow. “That Alexander should later come here to establish a great center