The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [89]
“So are we,” Charles said, gesturing at the others. “Do you trust us?”
“That’s different,” said Jack. “You’re only adults on the outside—but on the inside, you’re just like me.”
“Okay!” Laura Glue exclaimed as she and Daedalus returned to the workshop, laden with bundles. “We’re ready to go save the world!”
It was decided that they wouldn’t wake the other children, but would let them slumber as the companions left. John made the suggestion in part to hasten their departure, but also because he realized that leaving would be more difficult for Aven if she had to say good-bye to all her friends.
There had been some discussion as to whether Jack and Laura Glue should remain behind, in the safer confines of Haven, but Laura Glue insisted that she could be an invaluable guide, since she had been born in the Underneath. And Jack refused to stay on more practical grounds: The missing Lost Boys had been taken from Haven to begin with, and even Peter Pan couldn’t protect them. The safest place for him to be was with the others whom Peter was depending on to save them all.
Daedalus hugged Aven and Laura Glue and walked with the group of travelers to the westernmost gate of Haven. He opened the gate but did not step through.
“Go ahead,” John said to the others. “I want to speak with Daedalus a moment.”
When the rest of the companions were safely out of earshot, Daedalus folded his hands behind his back and looked questioningly at John. “Yes, Caveo Principia?”
“You can’t leave, can you?” John said in a low voice.
Daedalus looked at him as if to say something defiant, then deflated slightly and shook his head, looking down at the edges of the stonework that marked the limits of Haven’s foundation.
“You didn’t take your father’s name, did you?” John continued. “You are Daedalus.”
The inventor didn’t answer right away, but instead looked out across Haven and sighed deeply.
“After Icarus’s death, Iapyx wouldn’t speak to me,” he said at last. “He believed it was my arrogance that had caused the death of his brother, and I cannot disagree. But I could not see it until it was too late.
“Daedalus, the self-obsessed instrument of his own son’s death, could never atone for that sin. But another son of Daedalus, who takes the name of his father and continues his work out of respect for the values he once had, might restore honor to the family, if not to its patriarch. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” John said after a long pause, “but I’m not sure what purpose is served by keeping your identity secret from Aven or the Caretakers.”
Daedalus sighed again. “It’s not so much that it’s a secret,” he explained, watching the others in the near distance. “Every child who comes to Haven takes a new name. To them it’s a new beginning, an opportunity to start over, without being judged for who they may have been before. I simply wanted to afford myself the same chance.”
“By masquerading as yourself?” asked John.
“By portraying myself as someone who chose to honor, rather than blame,” Daedalus replied. “But even after all these years, after all the good I have done, my name is still remembered because I murdered my nephew and caused the death of my son.”
John shook his head. “It isn’t what I would have chosen,” he said. “The fact that you pretend to be your younger son means that all of the good you have done isn’t credited to you, it’s credited to him. What good is atonement if it isn’t yourself doing the atoning?”
Daedalus didn’t answer but stared hard at John, then turned to walk back into Haven.
“Be well, Caveo Principia,” he called out without looking back.
John watched as Daedalus disappeared into the spires of Haven, then turned and ran to catch up with his friends.
The light of the Underneath was beginning to change the sky from deep umber darkness to the colors of bruised fruit. In front, Laura Glue led the companions with a bronze lamp that cast a bright glow all about them. Jack, to his friends’ slight dismay, skirted the edges of the light, jumping in and out of its gleam, delighting