The Indigo King - James A. Owen [60]
The two Caretakers might have set aside the poisoning attempt in Miletus, but Chaz had not. And they didn’t have Fred around to sniff out a second try.
When they had finished, Meridian sat at the table, thinking. A minute passed. Then another. Then five more.
“If all you have said is true,” Meridian finally said, measuring out his words carefully, “then I have been working in error for my entire life.”
“What error?” asked John. “Trying to steal the Grail?”
“That would only be the least, and most recent, of my mistakes,” Meridian replied, “if it had in fact been I who deigned to take it.”
“You didn’t try to steal the Grail?” Jack asked.
“Of course it wasn’t me!” Meridian exclaimed angrily, stopping so his face was half in shadow. “I have my work laid out to do. I’m not interested in some relic that may or may not have belonged to a false god over a century ago! Why would I risk so much, especially with my position here at the library, to gain so little?”
“Historically speaking, it’s worth a great deal to many, many people,” John said in answer. “Even now, you can see how it’s regarded. This entire institution has been retooled to its service. And we in fact do believe it has value to you—because we know you still want to return to the Archipelago.”
“What does that have to do with the Grail?”
Jack gave John a look of caution; this was a crucial piece of information to be sharing with a still uncertain ally. John shared the concern, but he was running out of options—and arguments.
“To cross the Frontier,” he said, “you need to carry with you an object that has been touched by divinity. For this reason alone, I think you would desire the Grail.”
Meridian narrowed his eyes, then snorted disdainfully. “Divinity? Hardly. I was a thousand years old before he was even born, and his mother was never touched by any of the gods I know. The fact that his story has become a myth believed by many people doesn’t make anything he touched divine.”
“It might if it’s a true myth,” John countered. “Ordo Maas crossed the Frontier because he carried the Flame of Prometheus—but most scholars would agree that Prometheus was only a myth.”
Meridian’s eyes flared at the mention of Prometheus, or so it seemed. He smiled patiently, as if he were explaining a lesson to a slow student. “Most scholars aren’t descended from him,” heretorted, “and if you want to believe in a new, modern god, that’s your business, not mine.”
“I don’t, really,” said Jack. “I believe in a God, but not necessarily in the Christ myth any more than I believe in Prometheus.”
“And yet,” Meridian continued, “you have crossed the Frontier yourselves, have you not? So you must believe in something.”
That was an issue Jack wasn’t prepared to tackle. And neither was John. Chaz broke the moment with another question.
“Mebbe you don’t believe,” he said pointedly, “but what if your brother does?”
“Yes,” Meridian replied. “That would seem like a reason for his actions, to ones such as yourselves. But it would not have been mine, even if it was Madoc’s. But he could not have meant to use the Grail in the way that you suggest, to cross back to the Archipelago.”
“Why not?”
“Simple,” Meridian replied. “We never knew that’s how it was done.”
John and Jack both groaned inwardly. This might be the Cartographer, but it was a gamble telling him as much as they had. The problem was, the stakes were still unknown.
Meridian smiled. “Don’t worry. I reconciled myself to being here in Odysseus’s world a long time ago. If—no, when—I do return to the Archipelago, it shall be in the proper time, after the proper order of things.”
“One more question,” said Chaz, who had clearly taken the lead in the discussion. “Why were you and Madoc exiled from the Archipelago?”
Meridian started, and actually put out a hand to steady himself against the desk. This was not a question he had anticipated, and it seemed to rattle him deeply.
“We made a mistake,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “We tried to become more than we were, to become great, but we wanted to take