The Indigo King - James A. Owen [62]
“He’s here?” John said, startled. “At the library?”
Meridian nodded, his features inscrutable. “He’s the other Caretaker of the Sangreal. The only one these past weeks since I was arrested for trying to steal it. It’s a fine irony. The one entrusted to the care of the Grail is the very one who tried to take it.”
“Madoc tried to steal the Grail?” said Jack. “Then why were you arrested?”
“The three of you are well-educated and seem to know much about my brother and me,” Meridian said wryly, “and even you have trouble telling us apart. How much harder is it for that fool Ptolemy?”
“Fool?” John said, furrowing his brow. “I thought he was helping you with your work.”
“He’s a genius geographer,” Meridian replied quickly, “and as an astronomer, he’s had some astonishingly astute insights. But as a king, he’s a half-full pitcher of stale water.”
“So Madoc blamed you for the crime?”
Meridian nodded.
Chaz shook his head in disbelief. “And you were going to just let yourself be executed? For what he did?”
“Hardly,” Meridian said with a droll chuckle. “It served my purposes not to disrupt the library more than necessary, and losing him would have done that. And as for myself, I was never in danger.”
Jack and John traded skeptical glances, and Meridian laughed and looked at them with a trace of smugness.
“I’m a millennium old,” he said. “Don’t you suppose that room would only have held me for as long as I wished to be held?”
“Right,” Chaz muttered under his breath. He knew bravado when he saw it. And he knew when a truth was whole, and when it was in pieces.
“We’re here,” Meridian declared. “Hello, Archimedes.”
The owl squawked and looked up from his calculations. “Aren’t you dead yet, Meridian?”
“I’m not Meridian, I’m Madoc.”
“Then who’s in there with the Sangreal?” Archimedes asked. “You’re not supposed to leave your post.”
“That’s why my friends and I need to get in,” Meridian said. “To do my job.”
The bird peered at him with one eye. “How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked.
“I always lie,” answered Meridian, “except when I tell the truth.”
The great bird considered this for a moment, then nodded and walked over to a small opening set in the side wall. He inserted one clawed foot, and the companions heard a lever inside release with a clicking sound. To the bird’s right, the door that bore the image of the Grail swung open on mechanized hinges and the companions stepped inside.
“Have a nice day, Madoc,” Archimedes said as he returned to his figures.
“See what I mean?” Meridian said. “We used to do that to Anaximander all the time.”
“That’s an impressive door,” John said as it swung closed. “Those mechanisms are remarkable.”
“It’s a design built by the owl’s creator,” Meridian said as he pushed open an inner door and ushered them through. “Both were based on a curious device that I sold to him a few centuries ago. That’s why it may look familiar to you. I think you called it a ‘watch.’”
Grinning, Meridian and John stepped into the inner chamber and stopped. Jack and Chaz were already inside, and at a loss as to what they should do next.
It was a large dome, with a massive fireplace opposite the doors, which provided both heat and light. Pillars placed through the room supported high arches, and there were two sets of stairs that presumably led to other rooms. All along the walls were pictographs showing points of recent history, a story in pictures of the Christian myth, and below them, various objects that were likely other talismans related to the Grail.
As to the Grail itself, there were several cups and saucers on the low wall that ringed the room. It wasn’t readily apparent which, if any, was the true Grail. But none of the companions were focused on any of that. Instead they were transfixed by the sight of the couple sleeping on the blankets and mats that lay in the middle of the floor, as if the Grail room was nothing more than an elaborate bedchamber.
“Brother,” Meridian said softly. “What … have … you … done?”
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