The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [100]
“Pardon,” said Quixote, “but that is a strange platitude to hear from someone who is himself dead.”
“I am a Caretaker,” Sigurdsson replied. “The troubles of this world are my business.”
No one spoke any further, and Quixote adjusted the sails, pointing the little craft to the west.
Standing among the ruins was a man, dressed in rags . . .
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Ruined City
The portrait of Charles Johnson struck up an immediate friendship with Archimedes, who was fascinated by the tales of pirates and privateers. Their Golden Age, which had been documented by Johnson, Defoe, and the McGees, was an era that the owl had missed completely when Jack and John had brought him into the future with Rose.
“You actually hid clues to the treasures in the maps themselves?” Archimedes asked. “Ingenious!”
“It was Ernest’s idea,” said Johnson, “because of his connection to the Empress Josephine, and Napoleon’s hidden fortune.”
“You’re more interesting than most portraits I’m acquainted with,” said the owl.
“Thank you,” said the captain.
With Johnson thusly preoccupied at one end of the boat, the professor, Quixote, and Rose were able to discuss their concerns with a bit more privacy.
“The Aurora belonged to the Goblins,” said the professor. “If Burton was able to procure it from them, along with my notes, it’s all but certain they are in league together.”
“What worries me more,” Quixote mused, “is what Johnson told us about Defoe. That isn’t the behavior of a Caretaker.”
“It isn’t,” said the professor, “but we shall just have to trust in the Caretakers’ ability to look after themselves. We have a hard enough task of our own.”
“Heads up,” Johnson called. “We’re approaching the first gate.”
The first of the seven gates was a lighthouse.
“That’s rather small for an island, and rather odd for a gate,” said Quixote.
“It’s a most important one,” said the professor, “and one I’m guessing the society disregarded.”
“I tried to tell them,” Johnson said, sighing, “but they wouldn’t listen.”
“What must we do?” said Quixote.
The professor picked up the tallow lantern. “Simply take this to the room at the top and replace the lantern that’s there.”
Quixote looked at him in surprise. “That’s all?”
The professor nodded. “That’s all. But hold fast to the empty lantern. It’s our receipt, so to speak.”
“On whose account?”
“This is the land of the dragons,” said the professor. “Somewhere up there in the darkness, they’re watching. And somewhere here below as well. The lantern is marked with the letter alpha, and replacing a light in the lighthouse is a show of our good intentions.”
“Sort of like leaving the milk out for the faery folk, or the brownies,” said Rose. “I think I understand.”
Quixote hopped from the boat to the narrow steps of the lighthouse and quickly ascended the steps. While the others waited, they scanned the waters around them for any signs of life, and it was Johnson who found it.
“Oh, dear,” he moaned. “Look.”
They looked in the direction Johnson was facing and saw a rising swell of water. Something massive was swimming just under the surface, and it was coming toward the Scarlet Dragon. It grew closer, and larger, and the professor was just about to suggest deploying the balloons on the boat when a brilliant beam of light cut through the gloom above their heads. The light shone in two directions: one beam back toward the waterfall, and the other forward to the west.
The swell disappeared.
“Whew,” said Johnson, as Quixote descended the steps with the empty lantern and rejoined them. “That was excellent timing.”
“I’m sorry it took as long as it did,” Quixote replied. “I forgot to take a match. Fortunately, someone had left some behind.”
He held up a small brown coin purse. “There were a few matches inside, along with some coins and a few pebbles,” he said. “We got lucky.”
“The luck is accidental,” the professor said, taking the small purse. “I must have left it there myself. I’ve been wondering what happened to it for decades.
“Here, look,” he said, examining