The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [68]
“I’m sure he had other good qualities,” Jack said, trying not to look at John, who swallowed hard and blushed. “But setting aside Magwich, isn’t it possible there were valid reasons the other, ah, apprentice Caretakers were rejected?”
“No!” Burton shouted. “It wasn’t that they were unqualified, but rather because of the same inconsequential difference of opinion that cost me the opportunity! They each disagreed with the first fundamental rule of being a Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica!”
“Secrecy,” said Bert.
“Yes!” Burton roared, eyes ablaze. “The damned secrecy! Keeping the wonders and marvels of the Archipelago of Dreams confined to the libraries and offices of a few secular scholars. Even the selection process itself is offensive. The Caretakers are supposed to be among the greatest, most creative thinkers of the world. But for centuries, the position has been reserved mostly for light-skinned Europeans, and even among them, mostly scholars from Oxford. That’s part of what I founded the society to change.”
He circled his captives, feral, hefting the Geographica in his hands. “It was my mandate from Queen Victoria herself,” Burton said, “to acquire the Imaginarium Geographica and replicate it. To make copies of it, so that any man, woman, or child, whatever race, religion, or creed, could have a copy for themselves!”
Burton lifted the book over his head, and his voice rang throughout the small valley. “I intend to make this, the rarest of books, so common that it can be purchased on any street corner!”
The sound of Burton’s proclamation rang and echoed throughout the structure, and to his surprise, the companions merely blinked and smiled.
“Uh,” Charles began, “I really don’t know how to tell you this, old fellow, because I don’t want to dampen your spirits about something that obviously means a great deal to you—but it’s been done.”
Burton paused for a moment, then lowered the book and squinted menacingly at Charles. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Charles continued, “you’re a bit behind the times. An enterprising badger named Tummeler has been publishing copies of the Geographica for almost a decade now. There were several copies on the Indigo Dragon. It’s in its fourth printing now.”
“Fifth,” said Bert.
“Pardon,” said Charles. “Fifth.”
The expressions on the faces of the other companions told Burton that Charles spoke the truth.
He looked closely at Bert. “And you agreed with this? You allowed it to be duplicated, for anyone to own?”
“Anyone in the Archipelago, yes,” said Bert. “I still stand by my oath as a Caretaker—open knowledge of the Archipelago is too dangerous to be released into the world. Or,” he added, “watched over by those who cannot be trusted to guard its secrets.”
Burton’s response was a look of fury and a brutal, openhanded slap across Bert’s jaw.
Aven cried out in anger, and the council of Indian Elders rose to their feet with a clamor of shouts and harsh language. Murthwaite began blowing into a conch shell and calling for order, and Laura Glue crawled underneath one of the unoccupied chairs to hide.
With a gesture, Burton quieted the room, then turned back to the companions. The fury was not gone, but merely subdued.
“I’ve allowed my own desires to direct the tenor of our discussion,” he said in a low, even voice. “We have brought you before the Council of Elders for something more important. And while it’s likely that you will be put to death, I give you my word as a gentleman that it will be swift and painless if you answer my question, and answer it honestly.
“What have you done with our children?”
John visibly relaxed. Perhaps the fear and concern behind that question was the reason for their brusque treatment—and this might even give them an opportunity for a nonlethal resolution after all.
“Whatever our differences regarding the Geographica and our role as Caretakers,” he said,