The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [109]
“My brother was the one who wished to conquer the world!” he cried. “I only wanted to do what was right! But each time, he forced his way ahead and did as he wanted—only I paid the price!”
“He paid a price too, Father,” Rose said. “He was imprisoned in the Keep of Time, never to leave. And it was his own son who banished him there.”
Madoc blinked at her, as if he didn’t understand. “Arthur?” he said. “Arthur banished him?”
“Yes,” said Rose.
“He—he never said,” Madoc began. “Even when I returned to Camelot, if he had only told me . . .”
“Would that have changed anything?” asked the professor.
Madoc grew cold again. “No,” he said, his voice edged with hatred. “He took my hand, and then he took my wife. He deserved everything I brought down on his house.”
“All you’ve ever brought down is darkness, Madoc,” said the professor. “And that darkness has continued to fester and grow, until it now threatens to cover two worlds. And you still have the ability to choose the right thing.”
“It’s too late for that,” Madoc said, shaking his head. “After what was done to me—”
“Spare me,” said Archimedes. “You were always the rational one, Madoc. But nothing you’ve said is rational in the least. So Merlin wanted to conquer the world, and sacrifice his own son in the process. You defended the boy, then lost your hand trying to kill your brother. And after all that, you set out to basically subjugate everyone else who has ever lived. And you failed at that. So why don’t you show some of the mettle you used to have, and just do the thing you know to be right?”
Madoc glared at the bird and trembled a little, but then he steadied himself and spoke. “All right.”
“All right, what?” said Archimedes.
“It’s very simple,” Madoc said. “I will do as you ask, and repair the sword. But I want you to do something for me.”
“I’ll consider it,” said Rose. “But I cannot promise anything.”
“This is not a negotiation,” said Madoc. “This is a barter. I am the only one who can give you what you want, and so I am asking you for something I want. You either say yes, or you say no. Whatever happens now is entirely up to you.”
“What is it that you want, son of Odysseus?” said Quixote. “Ask, and we shall consider.”
“As I said,” Madoc repeated, “it’s very simple. I’ll repair the sword, and you can go back and defeat whatever evil it is that my Shadow has perpetrated. But when you are victorious, I want you to return to Terminus and drop a door from the Keep of Time over the waterfall.”
“You want us to provide you with a means of escaping your prison, you mean,” said Professor Sigurdsson. “I don’t know if that will be permitted.”
“I’m not asking for escape,” said Madoc, “or else I’d be demanding to return with you now. I know that there are lines no one will cross for me, and if nothing else, I don’t relish the idea of encountering Samaranth again anytime soon. All of which is why I’m asking for the door—any random door will do. It won’t be a means of escape so much as a sort of parole.”
“Freedom is freedom,” said Quixote.
“I say we agree to it,” said Archimedes, who had continued listening and observing during the entire discussion. “I’ve actually known him longer than any of you, and honestly, I always liked him better than the other one.”
At the mention of his brother, Madoc winced, as if the words stung. But he said nothing.
“Even if we do agree,” said Quixote, “where do we find a door from the keep?”
“If this is successful,” the professor said, “then we will have recovered all of the doors that are being hoarded by Burton. We can have our pick of them.”
“And if you’re not successful?” said Madoc. “What then? I will have done this service for you for no benefit to myself.”
“Once you would not have asked a boon for yourself, to do something that cost you so little and helped so many,” the professor replied.
Madoc regarded him with a rueful stare. “That was a different time, and long past. Don’t try to sway me with what cannot be reclaimed.”
“I’ve read the Histories,” the professor said. “I know as