The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [67]
Laura Glue bit her lip and looked at her shoes. Sadie cleared her throat loudly, and Laura Glue looked up again. There were tears in her eyes.
“Three years ago, there was a skirmish with the Yoricks at one of the Soft Places,” she said, her voice steady. “It went up in flames. Flannery didn’t make it out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Charles.
“As am I,” said Jack. “We left him only a few days ago, but to everyone else, we’ve been gone for seven years. A lot can happen in that time.”
“A lot has happened in the last seven years,” said Laura Glue. “Not much of it is good. They’ll fill you in at Paralon. Artus is waiting to receive you.”
She moved over to speak to Bert about other arrangements that needed to be made at Paralon, and Jack pulled Charles aside.
“One thing’s for certain,” Jack whispered. “When this is all over, and we’ve gotten back to the time we’re supposed to be in, I’m going to make certain that Flannery is nowhere near that tavern, wherever it is.”
“Changing a history?” asked Charles.
“Making a prophecy,” said Jack.
As the crew of the White Dragon gently guided the airship to its customary spot in the Paralon harbor, a tremendous racket sprang up from the docks. It had the vaguest resemblance to music, but was more on the order of a collision of train cars that happened to be carrying musical instruments.
“The Royal Animal Rescue Squad,” Jack explained to Charles. “I’d forgotten you haven’t met them yet.”
Jack went through the group of mammals and made introductions, giving special attention to their friend Tummeler’s son, Uncas.
“I have a speech prepared,” announced Uncas. “Would you like to hear it?”
“A speech? In our honor?” said Charles, puffing out his chest. “But of course!”
“I think it’s honor enough that you chose to write it,” said Jack. “To hear it read aloud would only be anticlimactic.”
“Oh, uh, great!” said Uncas brightly while Jack winked at the deflated Charles. “Well then, since it’s on the way, would you like to come by the shop? We’ve now got the biggest operation on Paralon, and my son Fred would love to meet the great Scowler Charles.”
“You don’t say?” Charles said heartily. “Lead the way, Uncas.”
The badgers’ publishing enterprise, which had begun with Uncas’s father’s editions of poorly selling cookbooks, had grown exponentially with the release of the popular edition of the Imaginarium Geographica, then again with the abridged edition of the guidebook to everything, the Little Whatsit. But even then, the whole venture consisted of a single storefront and a backroom printing facility. It was nothing like the Herculean complex that Uncas was so proudly ushering them into.
The main building itself was the size of an airplane hangar, and was tall enough to have its own weather patterns— indoors. There were badgers of every size scurrying to and fro, very occupied with the business at hand. They were all smartly dressed in white shirts and frocks, and all wore black armbands.
“Grandfather Tummeler will be very sorry to have missed you,” Fred said earnestly. “He still speaks of you often.”
“Good old Tummeler,” said Charles jovially. “How is he?”
“Well enough,” Fred replied, “but quite far along in badger years. He’s basically in retirement at a house Artus had built for him next to the Great Whatsit. That way, he can use it for research as often as he likes.”
“Research?” exclaimed Charles. “Is he working on another book?”
“Several,” Uncas said, handing a stack of papers to his son. “He’s constantly offering revisions on the Little Whatsit, but he’s also working on his memoirs. I think he’s titled it There and Back Again: A Badger’s Tale’”.
“Really!” said Charles. “That’s extraordinary. I can’t wait to read it.”
“The title’s a bit bland, though,” said Jack. “We’ll have to mention it to John. Maybe he can think of a way to improve it. He’s very good with titles, you know.”
“Uncas,” Charles said, “what is the meaning of the black armbands? Are you in mourning for someone?”
On hearing