The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [20]
“Are you implying that if we use this Trump to escape these . . . these Un-Men,” said Jack, “we’ll risk going into our own future?”
“Yes,” Ransom said, looking anxiously through the uppermost knothole. “That’s exactly what I’m worried will happen.”
“I think we’ve already got a solution in hand, as it were,” John said, reaching into his pocket. “I have one of the watches too, remember? Once we’ve escaped these Yorick creatures, we can simply use it to return to our own time—as in, this time.”
Ransom slumped in despair. “I keep forgetting—your watch isn’t activated as an Anabasis Machine until 1937.”
“But I’m actually a Caretaker,” said John with a trace of indignation, “the Caretaker Principia, in fact, not an apprentice. Why wouldn’t mine have the same properties as yours?”
“You are indeed a Caretaker,” Ransom replied, “but of the Imaginarium Geographica, not of . . . well, it’s not for me to say. To you, the watches represent badges of honor and a secret way to identify others of our creed—but long before that, they were being used by those of us chosen by Verne to help protect time itself. It was only later that he realized they could serve a dual purpose.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to make all of them time-traveling devices to begin with?” said Jack.
“Maybe on the surface,” said Ransom. “It’s only been recently that the scope of the Caretakers’ responsibilities seems to have expanded to time as well as space, so the watches you’d been given were inert. That appears to have been a miscalculation—but then again, if they’d all been fully functional, that would mean your friend Hugo Dyson would also have one. Do you really want him meddling in time?”
“Good point,” said John. He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Can we use yours, then? If you can tell me how it works quickly enough, that is.”
Ransom shook his head. “If I could, I’d gladly hand it over. But it would be more dangerous for you if I did. I’ve been trained in its use for years by Jules Verne himself, and I still can’t manage it with any degree of accuracy. If you were to miscalculate . . .”
Jack groaned. “Never mind—I think we’ll take our chances with the Keep of Time. Otherwise, we might end up in the Winterland again, or worse.”
“One of you might,” said Ransom. “At present, the Anabasis Machine is still a single-user device.”
Jack slapped his forehead. “That’s right, that’s right. I’d forgotten. There’s also the problem of arriving naked wherever we’d go too.”
Ransom snorted, then chuckled. “Hank probably told you that, didn’t he? We actually worked out the mechanics of that particular problem a few years back—Verne and Mark Twain just made a special adjustment to Hank’s device as a joke.”
“You let him hopscotch through time naked as a joke?” John said, incredulous.
The philologist shrugged and chuckled again. “When you are trying to keep order in the entirety of creation, you have to take the opportunities for a moment’s levity when you can.”
“It is pretty funny,” said Charles.
“Gentlemen,” Flannery said, a tense pitch in his voice, “you’d best make a decision quickly. I think I may have overestimated the usefulness of our hiding place.”
He gestured with his thumb for the others to look outside, and they did. About thirty yards away, Kipling and the Yoricks were standing in a clearing—and they were all looking toward Flannery’s tree.
“That’s it,” said Jack. “Ransom, we need to use that Trump. Now. Whatever you feel the risk will be, we’ll just have to sort it out when we get there.”
The philologist removed the Trump of the Keep from the other cards, then paused. “Remember what I said about the rules that cannot be broken? The rules regarding time and space?”
“Uh-oh,” said John. “That sounds like a very bad preamble.”
Ransom scowled at him. “All I’m saying is that