The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [30]
“The palace is just up the boulevard,” Bert said, “but I wanted to stop and pick up a spare Geographica, and say hello to an old friend while we’re at it.”
Across the plaza, amidst shops selling pieces of the North Wind (fifty centimes a bag), and bezoars, and enchanted violins, was a small shopfront that was apparently dedicated to the sale of a single item: the Imaginarium Geographica. Piles of the books were the only things on display within and without the store.
A small figure burst through the door to a jangling of bells. “Bless my soul,” he said, voice quivering with emotion. “Be it the scowlers, my friends, returned to us at long last?”
“Tummeler!” Charles shouted, as he raced forward and embraced the little badger. “Tummeler, it’s grand to see you again!”
“I be filled with joyful thoughts myself, Scowler Charles,” Tummeler said, wiping at his tear-filled eyes with a paw. “An’ Scowler Jack an’ Scowler John, too! This be a day of days, it be.”
Jack and John both greeted their furry friend warmly, while Charles stepped inside the shop.
“I say, Tummeler,” Charles began. “You have quite an enterprise going here.”
He handed copies of the oversize book to both Jack and John, and all three made noises of praise and astonishment.
The book was roughly the shape of the real Geographica, and had a tooled leather cover, but it also bore an illustrated jacket and was annotated entirely in English.
“Th’ language of Oxford scowlers, you know,” explained Tummeler proudly.
“Tummeler, I’m greatly impressed,” said Charles.
“I’m speechless,” said John, flipping through the pages. “Most of the major islands are here—and with better notes than I remember.”
“And look,” Jack pointed out, “it’s got an introduction by the king.”
“It was a favor,” Tummeler admitted. “But it helped get the word out.”
“How did you do this, Tum?” John asked. “You even have Terminus in here.”
The badger held up his paws and shrugged. “Badgers has good mem’ries,” he explained. “I just wrote what I remembered when I came back to Paralon, and Bert helped me with copies o’ th’ maps.”
“I’m terribly impressed,” Charles said again, patting his small friend on the back.
“T’anks muchly,” said Tummeler, beaming. “I does what I can.”
“Don’t let the humility fool you,” said Bert. “He’s sold through four printings of the concise edition of the Imaginarium Geographica to date.”
“Five,” Tummeler corrected. “We’ve only just delivered th’ last of th’ inventory to the libraries at Prydain…at least, I hope they arrived, what with all th’ troubles.”
“What’s happened to the ships, Tummeler?” asked Bert.
“No one knows,” replied the badger. “But peoples think it’s a curse what began after th’ Dragonships disappeared.”
“What’s cursed?” Jack asked.
“The rest of the ships in the Archipelago,” said Tummeler. “They’re all cursed. In a single night, we found all of ’em sunk, or put to th’ torch. And worse, any new ships bein’ built seem to sink the minute they’re put to sea. Just fall apart before y’r eyes. And as a result…”
“Everything in the Archipelago has been disconnected,” concluded John somberly. “All the unity that was achieved by the creation of the Geographica and the rule of the High King…”
“Utterly in a shambles,” finished Bert. “At least we still have Tummeler’s copies of the Geographica. By now they’re on every land in the Archipelago.”
“So everyone knows where everything is,” said Jack, “but no one can get anywhere.”
“That’s been th’ problem,” agreed Tummeler. “Th’ king an’ queen have been using the Great Cranes of Byblos to take messages back an’ forth, but that only works f’r th’ nearby islands. The rest…”
“Are completely cut off,” Charles finished.
“We’d better get to the palace,” said Bert. “We must speak to Artus.”
He turned to Tummeler. “We find ourselves in need of a Geographica, Master Tummeler. We’ve ah, neglected to bring along our own. May we purchase a copy from you?”
“Purchase? Y’ mean buy a copy? Of my