“But Rose,” Jack exclaimed, “you know what Defoe is! You know what he’s done! How could you listen to him?”
“He hasn’t done it yet,” said Rose, “and the one I met here is still a Caretaker. He had to have been good, once.”
“But he became evil,” said Fred.
“So did my father, once,” said Rose, “and then he changed again, when we gave him a second chance.”
Jack sighed heavily and looked at John. They’d made a terrible choice themselves, and they were partly to blame for the events happening right now. They were both expecting Rose to act like an adult who had saved the world, while at the same time treating her like the child she still seemed to be. Defoe had taken advantage of that—and Rose was suffering for it.
“Everyone was sure that the McGees’ maps were going to save us all,” Rose went on, “and so when Defoe told me I needed to burn them, I thought you’d have no choice but to turn back to me to save us all. You’d have to listen to me again.”
“Ah, me,” said John. “I’m so sorry, Rose. We didn’t see—didn’t realize.”
At this Madoc started weeping, and Lady Twilight pulled him closer.
“Now, Rose,” she said. “Only you can make him believe. Only you can ask this last choice of him.”
Madoc turned his head away. “No,” he said. “I’m not worthy of it. Not any longer. And not for a long time.”
“Not true,” Lady Twilight said gently. “You earned your redemption when you chose to pay the price for your daughter’s mistake with your own life. Your offer was true, and real, and you are worthy, Madoc.”
Madoc turned his head to look at his daughter. “Rose,” he said, his voice soft, “look at me.”
Rose blinked and opened her eyes, looking at her father. She was afraid of what she would see there, in his eyes—but found nothing but love, and trust, and hope, and acceptance.
He believed in her, as she would always believe in him. And in that moment, she made her decision.
“If you can do it, I want you to become a Dragon, Father,” she said, weeping again—but this time the tears were full of hope. “I believe in you—but I still feel as if I’ve cost you your life.”
“You made the mistakes you needed to make to learn,” said Madoc, “and growing up isn’t just about making decisions—it’s about taking responsibility for what happens after. I was just here to help you through it—because after all, isn’t that what a father is for?”
Sobbing, Rose clutched her father and hugged him tightly.
“That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard,” said Fred, “considering th’ source.”
Madoc reached up and stroked his daughter’s hair. “If,” he said slowly, his voice strained and weak, “if I do this thing, will you make the badger stop talking?”
Fresh tears burst forth from Rose’s eyes. She nodded. “I will, I promise.”
“Wisdom runs in the blood,” said Archimedes.
“Hey, now,” said Fred.
“Rose,” Jack said, touching her shoulder. “Look.”
There, mingled with the shadows cast by the fire, was Rose’s own elusive shadow. Still unattached, but not lost.
“You’re still making choices, my daughter,” said Madoc. “Make them good ones. Remember me. And do not despair—because this is why I was sent here through the door, to be here, for this moment, now.” He looked his daughter in the eyes, strong and unafraid. “I can choose too. I can ascend. I can choose to become a Dragon.”
The moment those words were spoken, there was a terrible shrieking sound that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. It pierced everyone who heard it to the core, as if it was trying to shatter their souls with its pain and anguish. As it sounded, a shadow passed across the setting sun, then vanished. The shrill cry faded into nothingness, and in seconds, it was as if it had never happened.
“The Echthroi,” said Fred. “The enemy have lost one they hoped to make a Lloigor. For good this time.”
Lady Twilight had gone. The choice had been made.
Rose pulled Madoc’s head onto her lap and stroked his face as he closed his eyes. He was fading.
“What do you want us to do, Madoc?” John asked.
“Take me out of this place,” said Madoc weakly. “Take me to the water.”
Madoc was a large man, and his burns and fractures meant he was already in almost constant agony. It took all the companions to make a litter that would allow them to transport him down to one of the docks that jutted out into the Thames.
Within an hour, the torchlit processional had made its way to the water’s edge, where John, Jack, and Burton gently lifted Madoc from the litter.
“Take me in, Caretakers,” he said to John. “You, and Jack, and—and my daughter, if she will.”
“Of course, Father,” Rose said, weeping. “Of course I will.”
“Don’t cry, little dove,” said Madoc, touching her face with his blackened hand. “I’m not going to die, after all.”
“But you won’t be with me anymore,” Rose said, “and I feel like I only just got you.”
“I wasn’t with you for the whole of your life,” Madoc said as they moved him farther out into the river, “but after this is done, I always shall be.”
She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Father.”
“And I you, little dove.”
On his signal, Rose moved away, and the three men lowered him into the water. The swirling blackness closed over his face as he slowly became submerged.
“What now?” Jack asked the others. “I don’t want him to drown.”
“Wait for it,” said John, watching anxiously. “Wait. We have to trust he knows what he’s doing.”
An explosion of light suddenly lit the bottom of the river and burst upward into the air, showering the companions with water and debris. John, Jack, and Burton were thrown off their feet and fell backward into the water as a sleek, massive creature erupted out of the Thames and into the sky.
Madoc had become a Dragon—the Black Dragon.
He wheeled around, wings outstretched, and landed skillfully on the dock, where he waited until the others had clambered out of the river.
Most of the companions had seen Dragons before, but this was a new experience for Franklin and the McGees. The Doctor seemed to switch back and forth between delight and terror, but the McGees were simply awestruck, looking at the Dragon with their mouths hanging open.
For John and Jack, it was still a thrill, as it had been the first time they met Samaranth—never mind the fact that he could have just as easily eaten them.
For Burton, Houdini, and Doyle, it was a bittersweet experience. They were realizing how the wheel of destiny turns—and finally understood that as with Rose, all their choices had also brought them to this place.
Rose walked across the dock to the Dragon and without a pause reached up and wrapped her arms around him. In response, he enfolded her with his wings.
“So,” the Black Dragon rumbled in a voice not unlike Madoc’s. “Speak. Ask of me what you will, and I shall do my best to answer.”
“The riddle,” Rose said. “The one given to me by Mother Night. I need to know what it means.”
She repeated it in a clear, unhurried voice. There was no need to hurry now.
To turn, from time to time
To things both real and not,
Give hints of world within a world,
And creatures long forgot.
With limelight turn to these, regard
In all thy wisdom stressed;
To save both time and space above—
Forever, ere moons crest.
The Dragon made a huffing noise, and the companions realized he was laughing. “She was not telling you what you needed to learn to fix the Archipelago,” said the Dragon. “She was telling you what must happen in both worlds: no more secrets.”
“That’s it?” said Fred. “What a lousy riddle.�
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“Hardly, little Child of the Earth,” the Dragon said. “It is a great truth, and one any honest creature should recognize.”
“Mother Night said I needed to find you and say those words,” said Rose. “Why was that so important?”
“Because,” the Dragon replied, “only a Dragon could give you what you needed. Once, all the doors to the Keep of Time were locked, but the Dragons created the doors, and made them work by giving a piece of themselves to each one. They gave their hearts to the times they guarded. You came here through the last door, and I am the last Dragon. And I will give you what you need, Rose …
“… I’ll give you my heart.”
The Black Dragon reached into his chest, which had begun to glow with an ethereal light, and removed a small stone circlet. “Take this with you,” he said as he unfolded his wings. “When the time comes, use it wisely. Use it well. And never forget your father, my dove.”
“Madoc,” John began, realizing as he said it that it sounded rather stupid to call the Black Dragon by his human name, “what will you do now?”
“What I have already done,” he said as he prepared to take flight. “I’m going to go where all Dragons go until I am summoned. And when that time comes, I will give myself to the making of a ship, so that the events that have played out will play out.”
In a flash of imagery, John saw the future of this great beast—he would become the very vessel that the Winter King would use to sail into the Archipelago. “But why?” he called out as the Dragon lifted itself into the air. “Why, when you can still choose and change everything?”
“Because,” the Dragon replied, “every choice I’ve made, good or ill, has made me what I am now. And what I am is a father who has given his heart to his daughter, and who I think has finally earned hers. What more would I wish?”
And with that, he wheeled away and disappeared into the night sky.
“Well, that’s going to change one thing in the future,” said Fred.
Jack frowned. “What’s that?’
“We’re going to have to stop referring to the Black Dragon as a ‘she.’”
As one, all the watches belonging to the Caretakers Emeritis began to hum, then just as quickly, fell silent.
By reflex, all of them checked the watches, and one by one expressed relief, or joy, or both.
“A new zero point,” Verne murmured, waving Bert to his side so they could compare readings. “It’s a new zero point at last.”
Several other Caretakers were shaking hands and nodding, while voicing various platitudes of congratulation.
“It isn’t over yet!” Bert barked at them. “We know when they are now, but they still have to find a way to come home.”
“Can’t they just use the watches?” asked Shakespeare. “It should be simple now, shouldn’t it?”
“In the past, the zero points were located behind the doors of the keep, and the tower itself connected them,” said Bert. “The zero points exist, but nothing has connected them yet. And until they find a way to connect those points, the only way to return is the way Hank Morgan did.”
He looked at his watch and frowned. “This isn’t over.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Revolution
It took the better part of the night for the fire to burn itself out. When the companions returned to Craven Street, there was little left of Ernest’s house except for a stone and brick skeleton and ashes.
“I’m so sorry, Father,” said Edmund. “We can rebuild it, if you want.”
“No,” Ernest said, shaking his head. “I think I’m done here. I have you, and I have the maps. That’s all that matters.”
They walked the short distance to Franklin’s house, arriving there just as the sun was rising. Myrret met them at the door.
“The magistrate was here looking for you,” Myrret said. “He’d like to ask if you know anything about the fire down the street.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Franklin.
“I said you’d be back soon, and I’d have you contact him,” the fox said. “And then he told me I’m very articulate for my species.”
“Oh dear,” said Jack.
The companions all went to their separate corners of Franklin’s house to better come to grips with the events of the night. The Doctor graciously opened another spare room for Ernest to use, with the promise that breakfast would soon be ready.
When Doyle had dressed in clean clothes, he found Houdini in the kitchen with Franklin.
“You’re obviously a man of learning,” the Magician was saying, “so let me ask you. His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you were to have a box about yea big, and say, for the sake of argument, it was a magic box—”
“Harry!” Doyle said sharply. “Nix, brother.”
Houdini scowled at Doyle, then switched to a charming smile for Franklin. “Another time, perhaps.”
A few moments later John and Jack came in. They had questions for Doctor Franklin—which he’d already anticipated.
“Here,” said the doctor, handing a cream-colored multipage letter to John. “That should answer many of your questions.”
“It’s a letter from Jules,” John said to Jack. “This is why Franklin helped us.”
“I’d have helped you anyway,” said Franklin. “As much as I could have. But this letter made it easy. Verne delivered it to me himself years ago and told me who he was, and why he needed my help. I thought it was some sort of prank—but when you showed up at my door, I knew it was all real.”
“So the Mystorians …,” John began.
“All I know is what he told me, and what’s in that letter,” Franklin said with a shrug. “I knew enough to anticipate certain events, and to assist you as best I could. And that’s all I was asked to do. And he gave me this,” he added, holding up the watch, “so that you would trust me. And it seems you did. Although mine doesn’t allow me to travel in time.”
“That’s all right,” said Jack. “Neither do ours at the moment.”
“The watch would have been more help,” said John, “if you’d shown it—and the letter—to us when we got here. We trusted you when we had to, but we wasted a lot of time thinking you might be …”
“Echthroi?” Franklin finished, nodding. “That’s the very reason I could not confirm who I was, nor whom I worked for. I knew I could trust you Caretakers, as Verne told me I could. But you came with an entourage—including an Echthros. I couldn’t reveal more until events had played themselves out. Other than mentoring the boy, assisting you was all that Verne asked of me.”
“So a Mystorian is sort of a single-mission Caretaker,” said John, “at least in your case, Doctor. I don’t know whether to be grateful to Verne or if I want to beat him within an inch of his life.”
“Let’s get you home first,” said Franklin with a wink, “and then I’m sure you’ll be able to decide.”
After breakfast, the companions reconvened in the study. “There’s something that needs doing,” Burton announced somberly, “and I’d rather do it quickly.”
The companions all nodded in understanding, especially John and Jack. To them, it was not so long ago that they had lain their friend to rest. Now Burton wanted to do the same for his.
Theo’s funeral was a small, private affair—only Burton, Houdini, and Doyle, and John, Jack, Fred, and Franklin attended. The body had been wrapped in the style of Theo’s culture and placed in a shallow boat on the river.
With no platitudes, and little ceremony, Burton and John set the boat aflame and pushed it out onto the water.
“In broad daylight?” Franklin whispered to Jack. “Isn’t this quite risky?”
“Not really,” Doyle whispered back, pointing.
There on the dock behind them, Houdini stood with his back to them, hands outstretched. His fingers made delicate tracings in the air, but the muscles on his neck and the beads of sweat soaking his shirt showed the obvious strain he was under. They could hear
him whispering arcane words of magic under his breath as he worked the illusion.
“No one will see us, or the funeral barge,” Doyle explained. “Burton considered the End of Time to be his friend—perhaps his only friend. And he deserves the chance to do this in peace.”
Burton stood on the dock, watching the small craft as it was consumed by the flames. Finally it drifted too far to see clearly. He spun about and cleared his throat.
“All right,” Burton said gruffly. “Let’s get back to work.”
Back at Franklin’s house, they found Rose already poring over the maps in Johnson’s book.
“What are you looking for?” Ernest offered helpfully. “Perhaps I could give you a hand?”
Rose looked up at him as a flash of fear and worry crossed her features. She’d basically confessed to trying to destroy the work of his entire family—that would not be easily forgiven. But there was no guile or malice in the man’s face—the offer was sincere.
“Hank Morgan traveled back to our time with a map your grandfather made him,” Rose replied. “I was hoping to find something similar that we might use to duplicate his efforts.”
“What are you thinking, Rose?” Jack asked as he and the others came into the room.
“Mother Night told me that I had all the things I needed to connect the threads of time,” Rose replied, “and the Watchmaker told us we needed someone who was able to map time. Doctor Franklin told us that he was instructed by Verne to help Edmund become a mapmaker. I think,” she finished, “that together, Edmund and I may be able to get us home.”
“When we first met,” Ernest said to John, “I told you that I did not have the skills of my father and grandfather. That is still true. But,” he added with no small pride, “there is a member of the family McGee who does. My son Edmund can make the kind of map you need.”
“I have the extra pages,” Jack said as he removed a large folder from Fred’s pack. “The ones Bert and the Cartographer took out of the Geographica for safekeeping.”
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