The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [95]
“I concur,” said one of the others. “We may have lost the tower, but they still have no idea how to discover the spies within their own house.”
“Indeed,” said the Shadow King, “we know where they are hiding, and we will take the battle to them, and end this, once and for all.”
He unrolled a sheet of what appeared to be leather, but was pliable, pale, and . . . moist?
“This map will tell us where we need to go,” said the Shadow King. “Its previous owner was reluctant to supply it to us, but all things come to pass, given time.”
“Have you converted them all, then?” said Houdini. “All of the dragons?”
“Enough,” said the Shadow King. “One remains elusive, but only because I cannot find his True Name.”
“You can’t just sneak up on him?” said Houdini. ”I could sneak up on him.”
The Shadow King didn’t answer, but instead shot the Magician a withering look. Houdini lowered his head and stepped back.
The Shadow King looked down at his new map, which was leaving a red puddle on the ground. “It was clever of them not to include this in the atlas,” he murmured. “When we find these islands, I will make certain that the world knows just where they are.”
Burton blinked. “Hasn’t that been the goal of the society all along?” he asked. “To open all the borders and reveal all the secrets? Why else have we been doing all this for you, if not to usurp their power and change the world in the way it’s meant to be changed?”
“The goals of the Imperial Cartological Society are of interest to me,” said the Shadow King, “so long as they serve my own. Don’t forget your place, Burton.”
“But Mordred,” Burton began.
“I am not Mordred!” the Shadow King hissed. For a moment longer, the explorer and the clockwork king stood looking at one another. Then Burton dropped his eyes.
“Good,” said the Shadow King. “Anyone else?”
No one spoke.
“Then it is time for the Wars of the Worlds to begin.” The Shadow King and his minions left the Great Hall of Paralon, but Burton lagged behind, pensive.
Kipling turned at the doorway. “Coming, Sir Richard?”
“After a moment.”
Kipling paused. “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you? About your support of the Chancellor?”
Burton’s eyes glittered. “You’ve had them yourself.”
Kipling raised an eyebrow. “Come, Burton,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “We should talk.”
“You want to talk about what I think?”
“No,” replied Kipling. “I want to talk about what you believe.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Descent
“The Elves have annexed Abaton as one of their territories,” said Artus, “and with my blessing. All in all, I’d say we’ve achieved a great victory. We destroyed the tower of doors into time that was giving the Chancellor his power, and we’ve taken over his base of operations. Not too shabby.”
“Of course, he still has control of the rest of the Archipelago,” said Jack, “and Lord knows how many Dragon shadows at his command.”
“It’s a start,” Artus said defensively.
“I still believe it was the right course of action,” said John. “Having access to his secrets was going to do little good if he could still cause damage by using the doors and the spear. Now he’s lost one of his tools.”
“I just wish we still had eyes and ears in his camp the way he seems to have them in ours,” said Artus.
“Pardon the interruption,” said Defoe, “but there’s some sort of commotion going on outside.”
“Is it an attack?” John exclaimed, bolting from his chair. Was it possible for the Shadow King to retaliate so quickly for the raid on Abaton?
Resting amid some coral . . . was an oval-shaped
frame . . .
“It’s another Dragonship,” Artus said, pulling aside the curtains for a look. “Have we had another Time Storm?”
Jack groaned inwardly. Dealing with two Yellow Dragons was already more than he could handle even without Nemo. Adding a third was impossible to even contemplate.
“I don’t think so,” John said. “This one looks like it’s come voluntarily.”
The others crowded around the windows for a look, and Bert was unable to contain the cheer that left his lips.
It was the Indigo Dragon. His ship.
“But if the Indigo