The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [76]
“Wasn’t the Silver Throne established to unite both worlds?” John asked. “Under the rule of Arthur?”
“That was the original plan, and one of the reasons to have Rings of Power in both,” said Chaucer, “but that was effectively ended when Mordred returned and killed Arthur. His heirs were able rulers, but they constrained themselves to rule in the Archipelago, not in the Summer Country. And as the years passed, the divide simply grew broader.”
“And now,” continued Twain, “we fear that Artus may seek to reestablish a foothold in the Summer Country. And if that happens, even in the attempt, he will compromise everything that is here.”
John leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “If it’s as risky as you say, then isn’t the debate about Burton moot?”
“Burton cares less about rule and authority than he does about the welfare of the Archipelago itself,” said Dickens. “He was, and is, an explorer at heart—and he simply wishes to share his discoveries with the world.”
“That’s something I’ve often wondered about,” said John. “If Burton believes so strongly that the truth of the Archipelago should be known, why hasn’t he spread copies of the Geographica far and wide a long time ago? All he’d have to do to expose all of us is tell the truth—so why bother with the cloak-and-dagger machinations and plotting?”
“For the same reason that Houdini and Conan Doyle chose discreet silence,” said Twain. “Without the permission of either the dragons, the king, or the Caretakers, Samaranth would hunt them down and roast them otherwise.”
“Which alludes to my point about Artus,” said Chaucer. “Our oath of secrecy was to protect the Archipelago as well as the atlas itself.”
“It seems to me we’ve strayed far afield from our point,” said Twain, “which is that as the Geographica becomes more widely known, it becomes far less rare—and less dangerous.”
“There are still many things within the actual atlas that are secret,” said John. “We certainly didn’t allow Tummeler access to those.”
“There will always be secrets, just as there will always be mysteries,” said Chaucer. “But stories will go on regardless. All we are really given is the opportunity to shape how the stories are told.”
“There is one great difference between them,” a soft voice said from somewhere above. Poe was watching, listening.
“Mysteries are meant to be solved, to be discovered. But secrets are meant to be kept, to remain hidden,” he said, “and sometimes one doesn’t discover a secret was actually a mystery until it’s too late.”
“What is it?” asked Twain. “What’s happened?”
“The book,” said Poe. “Someone has stolen the Last Book.”
The entire room was pin-drop silent for a few seconds before it exploded into an uproar. Caretakers were yelling at one another, and yelling for order, and one or two were simply yelling.
“That’s done it,” said Irving. “We’re done for.”
“Someone should be flogged,” said Shakespeare.
“It was bound to happen,” said Defoe.
“Will everyone please be quiet!” said Chaucer.
Suddenly a shot rang out, and the entire room went silent again.
Mark Twain blew the smoke off the barrel and pocketed his small silver gun.
“A gentleman never fires a pistol unless it’s to defend a lady’s honor or to quiet a herd of braying jackasses,” he said. “Luckily, since Lady Shelley and Miss Dyson are among us, I got to do both at once.
“We like to pretend that we’re civilized and organized,” Twain continued, “but when we’re taken by surprise, we suddenly fall apart like clay soldiers. We have the Caretaker Principia with us, and the Grail Child. The Prophecy will be fulfilled—as long as we don’t derail it ourselves.”
John stood up to better take advantage of the momentary lull. “Samuel’s right. We need to organize, and I think the most important concern isn’t that the book is gone, but that it was taken at all.”
“I concur,” said Chaucer. “We still have an enemy in our midst.”
“Well,” Grimalkin said as he appeared in the center of the table, “you’ll have plenty of help discovering who he is. There’s an entire armada