The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [67]
“He was being trained,” countered Bert. “He has the temperament. Surely even you can see this. That’s much different.”
“Is it?” said Burton. “The only difference I see is that I have more faith in mankind’s ability to bear the burden. I think they will be able to take it. More, I think it is their right.
“The world and the Archipelago were once one. It was only because of their separation that someone decided the Archipelago should be kept secret—and because of that one foolish choice, the world has been starved of treasures and resources we should have claimed long ago.
“So I took my argument to the queen, who sanctioned a private organization—the Imperial Cartological Society—to begin keeping records, making maps, and funding exploratory ventures that would not be hostage to the Caretakers.”
“Private, eh?” said John. “Now who’s keeping secrets?”
“A necessary function at the onset,” retorted Burton, “else we’d have risked being discovered by those like yourself, and possibly losing our greatest resources.”
“What resources?” Bert asked.
“We have our own apprentices in the society,” said Burton. “And we wanted them as untainted as possible—or converted to our cause before you could reach them.”
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I was pretty young when I was recruited into all this.”
“We get them younger still,” said Burton, “so that if they’re approached by one of you, they already believe in a different agenda.”
Bert’s eyes widened in horror as he realized whom Burton was referring to. “Harry. You mean Harry, and Conan Doyle, don’t you?”
Burton laughed again, and it was at once mocking and triumphant. “How do you think the Winter King and his minions were able to track you so quickly?” he said. “They nearly caught you that night in London, didn’t they?”
John felt the blood drain from his face. “How could you know about our meeting at the club in London, when you’ve been trapped down here?”
“I get reports from those who sometimes fall into the Underneath,” said Burton, “as well as from books, newspapers, and diaries that come with the occasional ship. I read about the break-in at 221B Baker Street in a copy of the Illustrated London News that came down with a dory. And your adventures in the Archipelago became the stuff of legend fast enough, so I put the pieces together.
“And as to the Winter King—how do you think he was able to operate so easily in your world, if not for the help of those who shared his goals?”
“World domination?” John said wryly.
“No,” said Burton. “World reunification.”
Charles was still processing Burton’s revelation. “So Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle were…”
“My apprentices,” Burton confirmed. “I recruited them before you and that idiot Verne had the chance to.” He gestured brusquely at Bert. “They were barely more than boys, but they had the minds for it—and the will to defy those who would keep this knowledge for themselves.”
“So for decades now,” said Jack, “there has been, what? A counter-Caretaker organization, run by the British Crown?”
“Victoria may have sanctioned the society, but the seeds of its founding were Elizabethan,” Burton said, turning again to Bert. “Surely you know to whom I’m referring?”
Bert’s face darkened. “That’s apocryphal. There’s no evidence of John Dee’s betrayal—not that it has any bearing on us now.”
Burton crossed his arms and began to pace, as if giving a lecture. “No? Then think on this: How many Caretakers have been formally enlisted throughout history?”
“Formally?” said John. “That’s easy enough to guess—most of their signatures are inside the Geographica.”
“Right,” said Burton. “Three every generation or so, for several hundred years. But consider—how many more, like myself, were initiated into the mysteries of the Geographica and the Archipelago, only to be cast aside when they were deemed unworthy?”
“If Magwich is any example of one who was cast out,” put in Charles, “then I’d say it was pretty justified.”
“I can’t argue with you there,”