The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [52]
Da Vinci had taken the first chair on the left, opposite Chaucer. Next to them were Sir Thomas Malory, who was dirtier than the companions would have imagined, and the Frenchman Chrétien de Troyes, whom Bert said had to be kept a distance away from Malory.
Tycho Brahe, Miguel de Cervantes, and Edmund Spenser, the first trio of Caretakers, sat together on one side, and across from them, ravishing the fruit plates, were William Shakespeare, Kepler, and the philosopher Goethe. Next to him, Franz Schubert sat with his head down, talking to no one and just twisting his napkin into knots.
“Schubert doesn’t socialize,” whispered Bert. “There aren’t enough women here to suit his tastes, and confident men make him uncomfortable.”
“Are there any women here other than Mary Shelley?” John asked, looking up and down the table as he and his companions took seats adjacent to Mark Twain. “We certainly are a boys’ club, aren’t we?”
“There have been one or two considered as apprentices,” Twain offered as he gestured at John with his cigar, “but Mary alone was chosen, I’m afraid.”
The Feast Beasts, which were identical to the ones the Lost Book had imagined on Haven, entered the room with silver trays laden with roasts, and dumplings, and all manner of exotic delicacies. The companions had seldom seen such a repast, and it was only then that they realized how hungry they were.
“I suppose it’s been days,” said Charles, “although in more practical terms you might say we haven’t eaten in years.”
As they ate, Jack kept a wary eye on Kipling, whom he was still certain he’d seen at the Inn of the Flying Dragon. John, for his part, was itching to know why no one had taken the chair at the head of the table. He’d come to the conclusion that it had been reserved for the Prime Caretaker, and he knew without a doubt that Jules Verne was that man.
Bert excused himself to go move Malory to a different chair. He’d been making comments about the French spices, and de Troyes was getting red in the face.
After Bert got up, John realized that there was an uneasy truce being negotiated at this end of the table as well. Professor Sigurdsson had not looked up from his plate except to ask for the gravy boat; and across from him, James Barrie was trying desperately to look in any other direction. John decided that if anyone were to break the ice, it would have to be one of the current Caretakers.
He elbowed Charles. “Say something,” John hissed.
“What?” Charles hissed back. “I don’t want to be stuck in the middle.”
“Anything. Just get one of them talking.”
“So, Jamie,” said Charles jovially, “what happened to your dog? When you died, that is.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said John.
“What?” said Charles. “You said anything.”
The professor and Jamie looked at each other, then burst out laughing. When they caught their breath again, the two old colleagues regarded each other with baleful looks and held them, unblinking, until finally Jamie broke the trance and lowered his head.
“You didn’t have to cross out my name,” he said without looking up. “In the Geographica. That was quite painful to me, Stellan.”
“As your choice was painful to me, Jamie,” the professor noted. “Of them all, you had the most open mind. You understood the Archipelago better than any of us before or since—no offense, John,” he added quickly.
“That may have been the problem, Stellan,” Jamie admitted, looking up again. “I would have given myself over to it too fully. And I knew that I had to make a choice, so I did.”
“If it will help, yours wasn’t the only one, Jamie,” said the professor. “We crossed out Houdini and Conan Doyle’s names too, and one or two others as well.”
“That doesn’t really help, no,” said Jamie.
“So what did happen to your dog?” asked Charles.
“The boys are taking care of him,” Jamie answered. “He’s in good hands.”
“What?” Charles said again as he noticed Jack and John’s expressions of exasperation. “I was really worried about the dog, is all.”
From the front of the table, Bert signaled for silence by tapping a spoon against one of the crystal glasses.