The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [44]
Traveling so directly north, the only islands they passed that were familiar to them were Prydain and a small group of islands called the Capa Blanca. Prydain was one of the greater islands, second only to the capital island of Paralon, but the Caretakers had never actually traveled to the Capa Blanca islands before.
“I understood from the Histories Bert wrote that they were originally settled by shipwrecked sailors from Spain,” Charles remarked, feeling a chill now that the sun was setting. “The sailors built several very lovely towns and had quite a nice culture developing until some British doctor showed up and taught the animals there how to talk. After that it was all downhill. The animals wanted better working conditions and higher wages. You know how it goes.”
“Spanish, eh?” said Quixote. “Perhaps we could stop in on our way home. It’s been too long since I heard my native tongue.”
“Doesn’t Verne speak Spanish?” asked Jack.
“Dreadfully,” said Quixote. “I made him promise to never again make the attempt.”
The last island they passed, the easternmost and most northerly island in the Geographica, was a midsize round island called Gondour.
“They’re quite the democracy, according to Mark Twain’s notes,” said John, “although I never did care for his spelling of the name. Always have to catch myself when I mispronounce it ‘dour’ instead of ‘door.’”
“Aren’t they assisting Artus with his new republic?” asked Jack.
“I think so. The one oddity is that they are a republic ruled over by an impeachable caliph. I’d imagine it makes for some very lively debates.”
After Gondour, there was going to be very little to see for a long while, so the companions made themselves as comfortable as they could in the Scarlet Dragon, and took turns sleeping. Jack and Quixote volunteered for the first watch and took up positions at the fore of the boat.
“Jack, may I ask you something?” said Quixote.
“Certainly.”
“Have you ever known failure?”
Jack turned to the knight in surprise. “Of course I have. Everyone does, at one time or another.”
The knight chewed on his lip as he pondered Jack’s reply. “I thought I had failed, once,” he said at length, “but I am wondering if that event was not part of my own destiny, Prophecy or no.”
“How do you mean?”
“I think I know why I am here, with you,” said Quixote. “I think I understand, at least in part, my role. I am owed a debt—and my claiming it may be a key to all that we are experiencing.”
“Who owes you the debt?” asked Jack.
“The Lady,” Quixote replied. “The Lady of the Lake.”
He turned away and said no more, and Jack was reluctant to press him. The rest of the night passed without incident.
In the morning John again instructed Charles to sprawl himself against the masthead so that they could better read the map.
“This is not very dignified, you know,” Charles pouted. “Can’t you just sketch out a copy in the Geographica, so I can keep my shirt on?”
“Sorry, old boy,” said John. “Some of the islands have already changed position.”
It was true—the locations of several of the Nameless Isles had moved during the night. John made some corrections and adjusted the tiller on the Scarlet Dragon to communicate the changes to the boat.
“If all goes as I hope it shall,” John said, “we ought to be there by nightfall.”
The course the map took them on led them safely distant from the kingdom of the Trolls, farther to the west—which was for the best, as none of the companions had ever liked Arawn, the former prince who was now king of the Trolls. He had been a rabble-rouser during their first encounter with the Winter King, and later allied with him against them. Arawn had been as ungracious in defeat as Artus had been gracious in his victory, and so the Northlands had been a place to avoid ever since—if they could help it.
The islands of the Christmas Saint, past the Troll Kingdom, were the absolute northernmost chronicled in the Geographica. All three companions had read the annotations thoroughly,