The Indigo King - James A. Owen [84]
“That quickly?” asked John. “Excellent. Good show, Hank.”
Jack seemed a bit put out that Arthur was not spending more time with them. “We are the ones who brought him here, after all,” he complained. “If not for us, he’d still be asleep under the tree.”
“Now, Jack,” Hugo said consolingly, “he is the High King, after all. He’s got a lot to do, I’m sure.”
Of Merlin there was no sign. And Mordred never rode back to the camp. In his stead, Arthur had moved in to occupy the tent he left behind.
“There’s a metaphor in there somewhere,” John remarked, “but I’ll be damned if I know what it is.”
By late the next morning, the generator was assembled and running.
“Should we say good-bye to Arthur?” asked Jack.
“Best not,” John replied. “We’d have to explain too much about where we’re going and why. And I’d prefer to let history take its course without any further help from us. And you, Hank?” he said to the engineer. “Will you be all right?”
“My device is still not working,” Hank said, holding the silver watch to his ear, “but no matter. If I have to stay awhile, so be it. Sam and Verne will straighten it out. Besides, it’s good weather—I’m thinking about organizing a few baseball teams and having a tournament of my own.”
“Ah … Go Sox!” said Hugo.
“Attaboy!” said Hank. “Good luck to you, gentlemen … and badgers.”
They plugged in the Lanterna Magica and crossed their fingers. “Ready?” Hank asked. Everyone nodded, and he gave a signal to Uncas, who threw the switch.
Against the wall of Hank’s tent, the brilliant projection sprang to life. But instead of the room at Sanctuary they were expecting to see, they saw a tree on a hillside, with a young man sleeping underneath.
Jack realized it first and slapped his forehead. “Of course,” he moaned. “This isn’t like the doors, where it’s two-way. The Lanterna Magica only projects a portal into whatever’s on the slide.”
“In this case, a couple of days ago, when we got here,” said John.
“Can we go through there,” asked Chaz, “before we got shut out?”
John shook his head. “We’d still have no way to get to Sanctuary, and,” he noted bitterly as the edges of the slide began to thicken and fade, “this slide is nearly finished, anyway.”
“Can we go through one of the other slides instead?” asked Fred.
“Too risky,” said John. “They would just take us to another spot in our past, and presumably, another encounter with Mordred. And now that Arthur’s taken control, I don’t want to chance another change.”
“I’m sorry,” Hank said as the slide burned away and the projection turned clear. “I got her going for you, but after that, I’m fresh out of miracles.”
“You might be, but we aren’t!” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “The Serendipity Box!”
John pulled it out of his bag and handed it to Jack as Chaz explained the workings of it to Hugo and Hank.
“All I want,” said Jack, closing his eyes, “is a ticket home.” He opened his eyes and the box at the same time, and everyone leaned in close to see what it had given him.
Inside the box was a miniature ship inside a bottle. Jack took it out and looked closely at it.
“A ship?” said John. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to do for us.”
“Neither do I,” admitted Jack, deflated. He’d hoped for something more clearly useful, but this ship in a bottle was, according to the box, the thing he needed most.
“There’s no time limit, remember,” John pointed out. “It doesn’t seem to be constrained by the urgency of the moment. Bert’s scarab brooch wasn’t needed for years.”
“Grand,” Jack said, pocketing the bottle and closing the box. “Now what do we do?”
“Let me try,” Chaz suggested. “It is more my world we left from, after all. Maybe it’ll be my need the box responds to.”
Jack shrugged and handed it over. “I don’t see that we’ll lose anything if you try.”
Chaz rubbed Uncas’s head for luck. “If it’s not a magic carpet t’ home,” he said cheerfully, “let’s hope for some oyster crackers, eh?”
Chaz opened the box.
“Oh, drat again,” said Uncas. “And after you got my hopes up an’ all.”
Chaz reached inside and removed