The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [104]
“You know it was once great,” said the professor. “You know how it began.”
“I did not know how it ended,” Coleridge said, looking up at the sky. “I did not know.”
He did not turn around again. The professor motioned for the others to get on the boat, and they sailed around and past the city.
“What a sad man,” said Quixote. “What happened to him?”
“On this island, dreams do eventually come true,” said the professor, “but true things are also real, and real things eventually fade. What we saw was the end of his particular dream.”
“What was this island called?” asked Rose.
The professor smiled, but it was a melancholy smile. “Xanadu,” he said. “It was called Xanadu.”
The waters after the Ruined City were placid, with no indication of currents or tides. Above them, disturbingly, the stars began to go out—but soon they realized it was because the light was coming up again. Strangely, it appeared that the sun was rising in the west—until they realized that it was not the sun at all, but the last of the seven island gates.
The island, emerald green with a thick blanket of grasses, was smaller than the last, and had no structures on it—only a ring of standing stones.
A Ring of Power, virtually identical to that on Terminus, save that the stones were larger.
They were pristine, and spread far enough apart that the areas between were paved with smooth stones. In the center was a long stone table draped with a crimson cloth, and seated at the table was a tall, silver-haired man.
As the companions approached, he rose to greet them. His tunic was also silver, shot through with crimson down the left side of his chest, and he was almost as tall as the Quintessence had been.
“Greetings,” said the professor. He introduced himself and the others, then asked if the tall man had a name.
“I am a star,” he said with an air of haughtiness, “or at least, I once was. I think I may be still, but it is difficult to say. However, when I was still in the sky, those who worshipped me called me Rao.”
“Is this a Ring of Power?” Rose asked. “Like the one used to summon the Dragons?”
Rao frowned. “Dragons? I know of none here who may be called to this place, save that I call them. And I would not deign to call Dragons, for they would not come for one such as I.”
“A Dragon would not come at the call of a star?”
“One, perhaps,” said Rao. “He would not look down upon me as the others might, for not having ascended. He himself chose to descend to the office of Dragon for the sake of a city, so he is, as you might think, different.”
“What was his name?” asked Rose.
“Samaranth,” said Rao. “But enough of this. Will you settle the dispute?”
“What dispute is that?” asked Quixote.
“There is a dispute between some of my children,” said Rao. “Have you come to arbitrate for them? To judge which is in the ascent, and which must descend?”
“We have not come to judge anyone,” said the professor. “We have merely come seeking someone who may have passed this way. He is called Madoc.”
Rao’s eyes narrowed. “None come here save that they fell. Are you saying you have come seeking one of the fallen?”
Before the professor could answer, Rose stepped forward again. “Not everyone must fall, great star,” she said, bowing her head respectfully. “We have come here of our own accord, and we did not fall. We flew.”
“Hmm,” Rao mused. “This I see, Little Thing. But take a caution—others before you have chosen a similar path, and fared the worse for it. Flying is not always ascending.”
“Are you one of the fallen?” Rose asked.
Professor Sigurdsson winced. That was not a question he thought would get a good response from a former star.
Strangely enough, Rao looked at her with gentleness, and even touched her head. “I was not,” he said. “I had not yet ascended, and thus did not have to choose. But soon, soon.”
“If I may,” said the professor.
“Little Thing,” Rao said bluntly. “Why have you come here?”
“We seek passage beyond your island,” said the professor, “in search of the man Madoc.