The First Dragon (Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica, The) (32 page)

My dear Rose,

This armor belongs to you now. I have no further use for it, but you may still do some good in the world. I hope that I have as well, though I cannot be sure. I tried to help when I could, and I hope it was enough. I know that there are still many questions, and I’m afraid you’ll have to answer them on your own. That is part of the path of the Imago. But I know you, Rose, and I believe in you. And if anyone ever questions you, if they question your motives, or your choices, you can point to me as an example. I had every reason to fall into shadow, but when I had the opportunity to choose, I chose the light. Not because of some noble cause, or for any
great purpose, but because, when I was a child, and I was afraid, the Caretakers did not leave me behind.

Small gestures can change the world. Never forget that, my dear Rose. And never forget me.

Tears began to well up in Rose’s eyes again as she read and reread the note, and then her breath caught when she realized that there was someone in the room with her, sitting quietly in the shadows.

“Telemachus?” she said. “Is that you?”

Her silent visitor stood up, and she realized it wasn’t the boy prince—it was Poe.

He walked to the door, beckoning for her to follow.

The corridors and hallways were empty—all the Caretakers were keeping themselves busy with the restoration project, and so they were spending as little time as possible cooped up inside Tamerlane House. So Rose simply followed Poe as they walked silently to the uppermost minaret of the house.

Poe walked to the balcony and pushed open the doors, letting in the sea air. Then, with no preamble, he began to speak.

“The Archimago came first into the new world,” Poe began, “because that was the way of things. Without darkness to penetrate, light would have no meaning. And so he came to make his way, and find his purpose. The Imago followed after, but the light was too much for the Archimago to bear. He was merely a Namer, whereas his younger sibling, the Imago, was a Maker.

“He didn’t realize that there could be as much meaning in Naming as in Making, and in his jealousy, he . . .” Poe stopped, his voice trailing off into silence.

“From the moment I raised my hand and struck him,” Poe said, still not turning from the balcony, “and he fell to the ground . . . there was sorrow. And regret. I—I need you to know that.

“He was meant to be the Imago. The protector of the world, and I took that from him. I didn’t understand what I had done, until it was too late.”

He dropped a small ring to the floor, and it dissolved in smoke and ash. “A Binding,” he said, “of my own devising. I could not bear to speak of it, and so I made certain I never could—not until he was truly freed, and the damage I caused was undone. It was the best I could do to live here, in Kairos time, and try to restore that which I had destroyed, and to help those who cared for the Archipelago to try to find another Imago to take his place.”

At that he turned to look at her. “I am grateful that we have. I am grateful to you, Rose Dyson.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” she answered truthfully. “I’m not even certain what I should call you.”

“I have gone by many names, and lived many lives, over these thousands of years,” said Poe, “and the one that suited me best was the one given to me by my father—Cain. But the one that I think I shall return to is the one my mother called me—Chronos. I think it suits me better now, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” said Rose. “I do.”

He didn’t say anything after that, but merely turned to look out over the sea, so after a few moments, Rose turned and left, closing the door behind her.

♦  ♦  ♦

As the restoration of the Archipelago continued apace, a meeting was called among the Caretakers to address something being
asked by the reemerging peoples of the lands: Who would rule?

“I think ‘govern’ is a better word,” Madoc said as he and the Prime Caretaker made their way to the great hall. “Ruling is an anachronism, I think.”

“That’s just modesty talking,” said John.

“Not modesty,” said Madoc. “Caution. It was my ambition to rule the Archipelago that created most of the problems to begin with, remember?”

“And it was your eventual wisdom that resolved them,” John said. “You mustn’t forget that, either.”

“I wasted my youth.” Madoc sighed. “I could have done so much better, for so many around me.”

“You were a good boy, who never had the opportunity to become a good man,” said John.

Madoc shook his head. “I had opportunities—I just allowed the bitterness to dominate my choices. That, and deciding to listen to John Dee instead of . . .” He sighed again heavily. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life—and it has been a very long life.”

♦  ♦  ♦

Madoc and John had decided that the best approach would be the most direct one, and so at John’s urging, the son of Odysseus stood to address the Caretakers.

“We are going to dissolve the Frontier,” he said simply. “Before today is ended, the Archipelago of Dreams and the Summer Country will once more be one world.”

At hearing this, da Vinci choked on his wine, spraying it across his hapless colleagues at the end of the table. “Are you mad?” he said, barely containing his anger. “If you do that, then anyone can simply cross over! It’s madness!”

“Anyone who has a guide,” Madoc said, gesturing at the stack of
Imaginarium Geographicas
piled on the floor next to Fred. “A guide, and the purity of heart to see the invisible world that our magic has restored.”

Twain nodded in agreement. “Most humans wouldn’t be able to find the Archipelago if we strapped them to a Dragonship and dropped them onto Tamerlane House,” he said as he lit another cigar, “but there are some who would be able to find a way here if they were blind, deaf, and dumb. They would still feel the magic, and heed its call. And for those people, it should be as open as possible.”

Da Vinci scowled. “This has all gone exactly as you wanted, Mordred,” he said, deliberately using the name that had at one time struck fear into the hearts of all the Caretakers. “You wanted to rule the Archipelago, and you shall. You wanted to open the Archipelago to the world, and you will. And after all our efforts trying to defeat you over the years, and all the lives that were lost in the pursuit of that goal, you have won everything after all. Well. Done.”

“I am no longer Mordred,” Madoc said, his words measured and cool, “and I am dictating terms to no one. I have the support of the Prime Caretaker”—he gestured to John—“the Caveo Principia,” he continued, gesturing at Jack, “the other Caretakers of this era”—he nodded at Charles and Fred—“and the Imago herself. This is the best plan we can try, and it will be worth our efforts.”

“It also supports what I established with the International Cartological Society, back in the Summer Country,” said Jack. “We already have dozens of apprentices, and hundreds of associate Caretakers, and we hope that number will soon grow.”

“Grow?” da Vinci said, incredulous. “At this rate, anyone in the world who wants to will be able to find their way into the Archipelago of Dreams!”

“Yes,” Madoc said, smiling. “If we do our jobs right, that’s exactly what will happen.”

♦  ♦  ♦

It was dusk when John, Jack, Charles, and Madoc made their way to Terminus for a private discussion they had wanted to have for a very long time.

“You realize,” Madoc said as they stepped off the new boat Shakespeare had built to be pulled by the flying goats, “the last time all four of us were together was here, on this island.”

“So many graves here,” Madoc said. In addition to Captain Nemo and Artus, they had also added markers for Kipling, Tummeler, and Samaranth. “It’s a good place to think about the future. A good place to remember the good choices, and the bad ones.”

“It’s easy to see the good and bad in others,” said Jack. “It’s much harder to see it in ourselves.”

“Is it?” asked Madoc.

“You knew about me,” Jack said. “When we first met, all those years ago, when I was still a child, you knew. You saw the shadow-side I didn’t even know I possessed.”

“I was a different man then—” Madoc began, before Jack cut him off.

“You keep saying that,” the Caretaker told him, “but that’s not actually true. You are the same man, Madoc—you’ve just been Named differently. Sometimes of your own volition. Sometimes by others. But still the same man.

“When I was young, and brash, and full of good trouble,” Jack went on, “you saw the potential in me to have a darker side. That was very difficult to accept. But when I finally did, I was able to do things others could not. I was able to restore a Shadowed Archipelago not because of my purity, but because I had faced my own shadows—and accepted them. That’s all I did when I faced my shadow-self here on Terminus. And if it hadn’t been for the lessons you taught me all those years ago, I never would have been able to do it.”

“We wanted to bring you here,” Charles said, “to tell you about the new History I’ve just begun. It’s a history that starts here, today, with the four of us—just the way the last one ended.”

“That one was a prophecy, though,” said Madoc. “It was all about the things that happened—the things I caused to happen—that only the three of you were able to stop.”

“This one is going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, then,” said John. “It’s going to project all the things we want to have happen, and will make happen, because we choose for them to happen.”

“Yes?” Madoc said. “And what are you going to call this work of fiction-made-real?”

“Rose suggested the name. We’re going to call it
The Reign of the Summer King
,” John said as the three men put their hands atop one another in front of him. “May you live forever, Madoc. Forever.”

The old man was dying. He had, however, lived a very long and happy life, and he had accomplished many things. He had a loving family and colleagues who respected him, and he wasn’t in pain. All those things were important to him.

Two years earlier, when his wife passed away, he had returned here to his Oxford, to live at Merton College. It was a balm for him, to live in familiar surroundings.

It was, in truth, his second-favorite place in the entire world. He blinked his eyes in the soft light—someone, several someones, had entered his room.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Who is it?”

“Uncle Hugo let us know it was time,” said Rose, “and we’ve all come to be here with you.”

“Rose! Charles!” he exclaimed, rising up on his elbows. “And Jack! You shouldn’t have left Tamerlane House! What if . . .”

Jack simply smiled and helped him lie back down. “Now, John—you know I’ve left Tamerlane a hundred times in the last ten years. Just as long as I’m not away more than a week. You know that.”

“I know,” John said, breathing heavily. There was a rasp in his
lungs. He was not long for this world. “So has Basil painted my portrait, then?” he asked. “Please tell me he thickened up my hair and tightened up my belly.”

“No portrait, Uncle John,” said Rose. “You would never be content being so tied to Tamerlane House.”

A look of alarm crossed the old man’s features. “But I haven’t prepared a tulpa! And there isn’t time, unless someone else has already . . .” He looked at Charles, who raised his hands in protest.

“Not I,” Charles said. “I learned my lesson the last time, remember?”

“Then what?” asked John. “What’s to become of me?”

“Something you earned, Scowler John,” Fred said, stepping out from behind Charles. “Something special.”

“The lands of the Archipelago are restored and flourishing once more,” Rose said as she removed a small pendant from around her neck, “but the restoration is not yet complete. One thing remains to be done. The Archipelago of Dreams must have a protector.”

She held up the pendant. John could see it was made of clear crystal, with some kind of fluid inside that caught the light and made it dance.

“Water from Echo’s Well, which is the same water from the Moon Pool of the City of Jade,” Rose said, smiling even as tears began to streak her cheeks. “Just look into the water, and speak the words.”

A momentary thrill crossed John’s features, only to dim a moment later. “It’s . . . a great, great honor,” he said, “but to suddenly vanish from the Summer Country . . .”

“Your family knows,” said Fred. “Your son is an apprentice Caretaker, after all. It’s all been arranged.”

“Well then, it’s all fine and good,” said John, “but I was hoping . . . I mean to say that I wished that Edith . . .”

Jack leaned forward and put a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Edmund made a chronal trump, and he and Hugo are with her now, two years behind us. She will meet you on New Paralon.”

“Two hearts are as one, Uncle John,” said Rose. “Of course we wouldn’t give this to you, without offering it to her as well.”