The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [83]
“There’s no space,” said Fred. “They’ll all be jammed in together.”
“That’s my worry,” said Charles. “I don’t think anything good can come of this.”
The tower was all but impossible to approach. It was positioned high enough that any two guards could see everything approaching in any direction, and that would have been hard enough to bypass. The tower’s scaffolding was a beehive of activity, with workers shoring up the base, adding to the top, and building new frames for doors to be set into.
Even worse, two more men approached the tower from the west, dragging another door behind them. Charles had briefly entertained the idea of disguising himself as a laborer, but there was also the possibility of running into Burton, who would easily recognize him. These two new arrivals tripled the odds of that happening.
“Houdini and Conan Doyle,” Charles whispered. “The rogue Caretakers.”
“I’ve heard tell of them,” said Fred. “That’s why I signed their names when we got here—although just mentioning them makes Bert very sad.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Charles. “They’re worthy men—they’ve just made some very poor choices.”
They watched as the Magician and the Detective carried the door to a frame that was built in a nearby field and placed it upright. Another man was called over from the tower to examine it, and Charles shuddered in recognition.
“And there he is,” he hissed. “Burton. All the players but one have come to the stage.”
Burton opened the door and looked inside. From their position, Charles and Fred couldn’t see what he was looking at, but he seemed to declare it satisfactory, as two other workers came over to help carry it up to the top of the winding scaffolding.
“Do you think they’re arranged the same way as they were in the real keep?” Charles wondered aloud. “Oldest at the bottom, and getting younger as they rise?”
“That would make sense,” said Fred, “if they have been harvesting them as they fell. They would want to fix each door in place as they brought it here.”
“I agree, apprentice,” said Charles. “We’ve got to get over to that tower for a closer look. They’re building it for some purpose, and we must discover what it is.”
“Someone’s coming this way,” said Fred, pointing.
A very familiar-looking figure came clomping along the cobblestones. He was muttering to himself and walking with a strange, clumsy, high-footed gait.
As he came closer, they could see why. Bags, which were leaking sand in copious amounts, were bound around each of his feet and were tightly bound mid-calf. With every step he took there was a whumping sound and a small cloud of dust.
The figure stepped under one of the lights, and Charles swore softly and rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Why am I not surprised in the least?” he said under his breath. “If there’s something shifty or untrustworthy to be done, it’s a level bet that Maggot is somewhere about.”
Fred squinted to see better. “The Green Knight, you mean? He’s a maggot?” He frowned. “He doesn’t look like a maggot.”
“You’d be surprised,” Charles replied. “There’s nothing under that armor but slime.”
“Then how did he get to be the Green Knight?”
“It’s supposed to be a penance.”
Fred looked over the crates again. “Well then, he’s doing it wrong.”
Charles grinned. “We’ll fix that. Follow me.”
The Caretaker and his apprentice slipped silently along the tree line just on the outer edge of Abaton’s southernmost wall, mirroring Magwich’s movements along the cobblestone path. When he came to an entrance into the town itself and turned his back to them, they leaped out and seized him, dragging him back into the bushes.
At first Magwich thought he’d been grabbed by a witch and an overly large familiar, but then Charles pulled off the hat and shawl and revealed his identity to the hapless knight.
“Eeep!” Magwich shrieked. “What—what are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here!”
He stopped and looked at Charles more closely, puzzled. “You’re dressed