The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [128]
“You mean Nemo,” said Jack, nodding. “I’ve considered that. It’s a strange loop to be caught in—to know I’m still the one responsible for his death in his future, while having had the chance to teach him, to mentor him, in my present creates conflicting feelings I don’t quite know how to process.”
“It’s very simple,” said Bert. “Your actions now redeem your actions then. Nemo knew his part and valued you for what you would one day become—a good man.”
“How can we do any less for Madoc,” John said, “considering it’s in large part our fault that he became the man he is today?”
Throughout the entire discussion, the Cartographer had remained silent, observing but not offering any opinion either way. Rose stepped over to his desk and laid a hand on his arm.
“You knew him best, Uncle Merlin,” she said plaintively. “What would you choose?”
The Cartographer looked at her for a long moment, then swallowed hard. “I—I have no right to suggest a course of action here,” he finally said. “I betrayed him at every turn, and if we’re laying our cards out on the table, I have to take as much responsibility as anyone for the evil he’s done.”
“What would you choose?” Rose repeated, more firmly this time. “You cannot answer badly, Uncle. And whatever you say, it won’t change my decision to free you from the keep.”
“That’s the reason I hesitate,” the old man replied. “If we are discussing justice, then he should stay, as punishment for his crimes. But if so, should I not continue to pay for mine, and also his, which he committed because of what we made him into?
“But if we are discussing an act of mercy, which you are offering to me, then would it not also be an act of mercy to offer freedom to him as well?”
“There are no longer any Dragons to compel you to stay,” said Rose. “None save for Samaranth, and I think he’d agree with my decision.”
“Then . . . yes,” said the old mapmaker. “If you are asking, I would choose freedom for myself—and for Madoc.”
The keep trembled, and below them they could hear the muffled sounds of stones ripping away from the walls.
“You’d best hurry,” said the Cartographer. “There are only a few doors left.”
Quickly the Caretakers raced down the stairway to where a door was hanging precariously from a half-fallen archway. They grabbed it just as the stairway below was starting to buckle, and then secured it onboard their own airship.
“Good enough and done,” said John.
“Yes,” Jack said, grimacing. “Heaven help us all.”
“What will you do?” Charles asked as they returned to the Cartographer’s room.
“For centuries I have made maps based on the descriptions of others,” he replied. “I have long wished to return to the journeys I abandoned so long ago in my youth, and I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Would you like to take anything with you?” asked Rose.
He looked around the small room of Solitude, which had been his only home, and shrugged. “I brought very little with me, and there’s little here I wish to keep.”
He bent down and retrieved a black scabbard from behind his chair. “Here,” he said, handing it to Rose. “Give this to your cousin Stephen. It belongs with his sword, anyway.”
The Cartographer gathered together a few rolls of parchment, some bottles of ink, and several pens, and wrapped them all together in a large sheet of oilcloth.
“That should do it,” he said as another rumble shook the remains of the tower, “and just in time, from the sound of things.”
“Then it’s time, Rose,” John said, stepping back.
Rose used a small knife to cut into her palm, which she then placed against the old man’s forehead as she began to recite the words of power:
Myrddyn, son of Odysseus
By right and rule
For need of might
I thus free thee
I thus free thee
By blood bound
By honor given
I thus free thee
I thus free thee
For strength and speed and heaven’s power
By ancient claim in this dark hour
I thus free thee
I thus free thee
As she spoke the last word, the lock on the door popped open with a quiet click. It would lock no longer.
The Cartographer was free.