The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [124]
“It’s going to make for a fragile peace,” said Jack. “The races of the Archipelago are still as fractured as ever—and the first real unifying personage they’ve ever had turned out to be a despot. That’ll be hard to overcome.”
“A fragile peace is what we’ve always had,” said Stephen. “I don’t think it was any different with a republic than it was with a monarchy. Mother told me there was a Parliament of Kings guiding the lands before, and it really wasn’t any more successful at preventing wars and conflicts than we’ve been these last decades.”
“So what are you going to do?” John asked.
Stephen grinned and shrugged. “We’re going to pick up the pieces and start all over again,” he said wryly. “Just because we’re terrible at making it work in practice doesn’t mean the principles aren’t still sound in theory. That’s what my father believed, and it’s the reason he sent away the Dragons in the first place. As long as we always had a fallback position, we were never truly committed to the battle.”
“Can the Dragons be reunited with their shadows and made whole again?” asked John. “We’re going to be returning to our proper time, before these events all took place. Is there a way to save all the Dragons whose shadows were taken as well?”
Samaranth looked away for a long while without answering, and when he finally did turn to face the companions, they were shocked by his expression. As long as they had known him, Samaranth had always appeared ancient. But this was the first time he had ever appeared . . . old.
“They are finally free—free of a choice I compelled them to make aeons ago. I believe they should remain so.
“The Dragonships remain ships, but they are no longer living and cannot cross the Frontier. They lost their lives when their shadows were taken. Those that may have escaped the Shadow King in the past will never return to this place, now or ever. And those lost cannot be restored.
“I am now in fact as well as name the last Dragon,” said Samaranth, “and you are, as a race, now well and truly entirely on your own.”
“Defoe survived?” John exclaimed when they returned to the Nameless Isles. “But we saw Samaranth crush him to death!”
“Correction,” said Bert. “We saw Samaranth crush him. He was already dead. Now he’s just a bit more disorganized and upset than usual. But no,” he finished, sighing, “he didn’t die.”
“What’s to be done with him, then?” asked John. “He’s far too dangerous to just be released or banished. And I doubt anyone would consider making him the Green Knight. After Rose’s report, and after what happened with Magwich, it’d be foolhardy in the extreme to release someone as willful and resourceful as Daniel Defoe.”
“The Caretakers Emeritis have penalties of their own,” said Bert. “I don’t think there’s any way he can escape what’s planned for him.”
“Fair enough,” John said. “And what of Burton?”
“That’s going to be a matter of some debate,” Bert replied. “Poe for one believes him. We weren’t exactly winning when he chose to defect—which lends credence to his claim that he and certain other members of the Imperial Cartological Society did indeed have goals more noble than world domination.”
“Pull the other one,” said John.
“Don’t ascribe to evil what can be attributed to well-intentioned stupidity, John,” Bert cautioned. “Burton caused more damage than Defoe, but at the end, he wouldn’t betray his ideals. For Defoe, the cause was just a means to an end, which was to gain power over others. That made him a stronger ally for the Shadow King, and a weaker man than Burton. But rest assured—everyone pays a price for the choices they make, no matter what their reasons were.”
“Burned alive?” Charles exclaimed. “That’s a terrible way to go, even for Maggot—er, Magwich. I can’t say I’m sorry that . . .” He paused. “Oh, curse it all.” He sighed deeply. “As despicable as he was, there was something I did like about Magwich. Maybe it was his constancy.”
“His constant whining, his constant lying, his constant cowardice,” said Jack. “Is that what you mean?