The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [19]
“We’re at the Inn of the Flying Dragon,” Ransom reported, “but we’ve had a bit of a complication develop. Can we come through?”
“You can’t,” said Hank, shaking his head for emphasis. “Not here, nor any of the Soft Places. I was here in Midian looking to acquire some manuscripts left by Saint Paul of Tarsus, and almost as soon as I arrived, I had to ask the Midians for protection. I’ve checked the other Trumps—every key Crossroads location is swarming with Un-Men.”
“Yoricks?”
Hank nodded. “Those, and worse. Any place you bring Rose will be equally dangerous. I think they’re looking for you.”
“But how?” Ransom exclaimed. “I wasn’t even supposed to end up here! It isn’t even a zero point. I was aiming for—”
“For 1943, we know,” Hank finished for him. “The best we can determine is that your arrival there, near Oxford in 1936, is what made it a zero point. And that changed the sequence of events, as well as their relative importance. Where we knew without doubt how crucial Rose was to the Wars of the Worlds, our enemies could only suspect.”
“Until now,” said Ransom, groaning in realization. “Until I confirmed it for them.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Hank told him. “None of us could know. At least,” he added with a conspiratorial look, “none of us who could share the information.”
John looked askance at Jack and Charles. Was that comment in reference to Verne and his penchant for secrecy? They were the Caretakers of the Imaginarium Geographica, and although Verne knew everything they did, they had never so much as glimpsed the so-called Prime Caretaker.
“Have you told them yet?” Hank was asking. “About the Prophecy?”
Ransom swore under his breath and glanced sideways at the Caretakers. “I have not, but I was getting to it. I thought we had . . . well, more time.”
“We don’t,” Hank stated. “Best get them to the Gatherum as quickly as possible.”
“The Gatherum?” Ransom repeated. “But that’s only possible in—”
“I know, believe me, I know,” said Hank. He stepped out of frame for a moment, and the companions could hear muffled shouts and a large crash.
“I’m sorry,” he said, moving back into view. “I need to go—I think the locals are about to set fire to the place.”
“Anything I can do?” asked Ransom.
“I’ll be fine,” Hank replied. “Just whatever you do, don’t take Rose to any of the Crossroads. Elsewhere she may be safe—but not here. Once you’ve seen to her security, get the Caretakers to the Nameless Isles, with no delay. Everything may depend on it. Fare thee well, friends.”
And with that, the surface of the card blurred and went dark.
“That doesn’t sound very promising,” said Charles.
“Where do we take her, Ransom?” Jack said as he peered out one of the knotholes. “If the Crossroads places are off-limits, and Oxford will be watched, can we take her back to Reading? Or London?”
“I’m concerned that anywhere we go, we’ll be tracked,” Ransom answered. “I don’t think there’s anywhere in this world where she will be safe.”
Jack snapped his fingers. “Then how about a place that’s out of this world?” he said excitedly. “Do you have any Trumps that lead to the Archipelago?”
“I have just one,” Ransom replied. “I’ve been there a few times in the recent past—my recent past—but it might be the only option we have left.” He shuffled the cards and removed one, turning it around for the companions to see.
On the card was a drawing, precise down to the details of the stonework, intertwined staircases, and windows, of the interior of a place the companions all knew very well.
“The Keep of Time,” said John with visible relief. “That will be as good a place as any, and better than most.”
“Maybe, and maybe not,” Ransom said with obvious discomfort. “Coming to the Inn of the Flying Dragon is one thing, because I’ve been here before, and often. But I haven’t been to the Keep of Time—not yet, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” John demanded. “You just said you’ve been there several times.”
“Yes, I have,