The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [12]
The philologist bit his lip and thought a moment before answering. “I know who she is,” he said finally, “but what she is is a conundrum.”
“Or an enigma,” Jack chimed in. “Or both.”
“What I mean,” said Ransom, “is that she isn’t supposed to be here at all. In practical terms, the girl doesn’t exist.”
“But clearly she does,” said John.
“What’s clear to you and me is not so clear to others,” Ransom pointed out. “Did you notice that when we entered, the barman didn’t bring anything for her, or even ask?”
“I just assumed that he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with children,” said John.
“No,” said Ransom. “There are children in here all the time, especially during the day. He didn’t see her. Couldn’t see her.”
Jack sat up straighter in his seat. “This isn’t the first time that’s happened,” he said, gripping John’s arm. “Remember? After we returned to England with Rose and Hugo? At the Bird and Baby?”
John frowned, then glanced over at the bar. “That’s right— Burton couldn’t see her either.”
“But that boy, Flannery, could,” said Jack. He eyed Ransom appraisingly. “But why would you say she isn’t supposed to exist?”
“Because,” Ransom replied, “in the original History, she actually did sacrifice herself to save Arthur. It was a life for a life. She was supposed to die.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” John said, leaning over the table. “She was willing, but that was enough.”
“You know that because you were there,” said Ransom, “but it wasn’t the way history recorded it. And when you chose to bring her here, you somehow removed her from history altogether.”
“Then why would some people see her while others can’t?” Jack asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I can’t tell you that,” Ransom replied. “But since you returned, everything has been in flux—that’s part of the reason I came to find you.”
“What’s that?” said Charles as he and Rose returned with their drinks. “Hope we haven’t missed anything good.”
“Just chatting,” John said as he took a mug from his friend. “Seems like a fine sort of pub, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Charles agreed, sitting. “But,” he added in a hushed voice, “I think the barman has a tail. And I’m all but certain that he has donkey’s ears tucked in around that ginger hair under his hat.”
“Oh, Lampwick’s a good enough fellow,” said Ransom as he took a drink, “but I wouldn’t mention the ears if I were you. He’s a bit touchy about them.”
“To your good health,” John said, lifting his glass in a toast to his companions. “May all our travels end in such favorable places.”
“Hear, hear,” said Jack. “This is almost like the Tuesday night meetings with the fellows back at Oxford.”
“Except for the fact that we’re at an inn named for a dragon, which we can only get to through a drawing on a card,” said Charles, “and we’re being served drinks by a barman with a tail and donkey ears.”
“Well, yes,” said Jack. “Except for that.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Pursuit of the Un-Men
Once they had settled in with their drinks, John brought the conversation back to the point. “What’s so significant about 1936?” he asked. “Since you were aiming for 1943, why would it matter what year you landed in, as long as it was prior to your target?”
“It’s significant,” came the reply, “because it’s the first time the two of you”—he indicated John and Jack—“formally met him,” he finished, pointing at Charles.
John bristled, and his eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound valid. “If Verne did send you, then you both should have been aware that we’ve known Charles for many years now.”
“Sure,” said Ransom, “in this dimension. But not in others. In most of them, the two of you never met him until the spring of 1936. So there were things that could not be shared with you until the natural greater course of events had occurred. Even you three have realized this at some level,” he continued, gesturing at the trio of men, “else you would not have gone to such pains to keep the relationship a secret for all this time.”
“Bert said we must, not for temporal or dimensional reasons,” said