The Indigo King - James A. Owen [61]
Chaz looked at the others. All three were making their choice—whether to trust this man before them, or not. There was no way to be sure that they could. The only thing they could be certain of was that they needed to stop his twin. That was their first priority, above all.
“We wanted to know for sure it was you we were dealing with before we liberated you,” John said. “No offense intended. But we had to know you were the man we could trust.”
“And how do you know I am?” argued Meridian. “We’ve met twice now, skipping over centuries, and for less than a day each time. And, as you pointed out, I tried to have Anaximander poison you in Miletus. So why trust me now?”
His face was an open book. This was no subversion, John realized. Meridian really wanted to know.
“We trust you,” John said, “because we know the man that you will one day become. Not as friends, really, but not as adversaries. And one of the reasons we’re here now, the main reason, really, is that we were told by someone we do believe in that the future’s sake depends on the Cartographer. So we will trust in that. And in you.”
Meridian stepped between John and Jack, past Chaz, and into the empty corridor. “The Cartographer, you say? I’ve been called worse, but few have called me better.”
“So you’ll help us?” Chaz said plaintively. “You’ll help us stop your brother?”
“You all have my gratitude,” Meridian replied, smiling broadly and nodding. “That should mean something.”
Jack quietly closed the door behind them, and it locked with a soft click. Meridian shuddered.
“I think if I’d had to spend one more day confined inside that wretched stone room,” he said, with a somewhat restrained tone, “I’d have gone mad. I was grateful that Ptolemy permitted me the materials to continue my work, but I was actually starting to look forward to my own execution, just to escape.
“Now,” he finished, rubbing his hands together, “let’s deal with Madoc.”
With Meridian leading the way, they wound back through the rooms and corridors with greater speed than before. John paced alongside him, asking questions about the rooms they passed, while Jack kept a watchful eye out for other guards, but they moved through undisturbed.
Jack noticed Chaz hanging back, moving more slowly. He seemed to be worrying over something.
“Chaz, what’s up?” Jack asked him quietly. “Did you see something that’s amiss?”
Chaz glanced ahead at John and Meridian, then gestured for Jack to slow down with him. “It’s a couple o’ things, really,” he said. “F’r one thing, that seemed too easy. Too quick-like.”
“I get where you’re coming from,” Jack retorted, “but I’m not going to complain about something going our way for a change.”
“I’m not tryin’ t’ quiet y’r kettle, Jack, but did that look like a cell to you? Or he, like a man about t’ be killed?”
“It was an unusual setting, sure,” said Jack, “but Ptolemy wasn’t operating on all cylinders either.”
“There’s summat else, though,” Chaz continued. “If he—Meridian—if he does this now, won’t it change history even worse?”
“How do you mean worse?”
“If we Bind Madoc now,” Chaz said bluntly, “then he might not become the Winter King at all. Ever.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Chaz admitted, “but a lot of good things that happened because of him might never happen either.”
Jack realized what Chaz meant. If it hadn’t been for the Winter King, John, Jack, and Charles—their Charles—might never have met. And if it hadn’t been for the events that created Albion, Chaz himself might never have come to be.
“I don’t know,” Jack said slowly. “It’s a risk, certainly. But Jules Verne and Bert both gave their lives so that we could try to do … something to stop him. And we’re running out of options.”
Chaz stared at him for a moment, then nodded grimly and quickened his step to catch up to the others.
Meridian altered the course they took so as not to pass by Ptolemy’s workshop. A