into the cabin moments before it was completely submerged. He reappeared moments later. “Got my coat,” he said, smiling broadly. “You really need to readjust your priorities,” said Charles. “Look who’s talking,” Jack said, pointing at the hapless Steward, who was beginning to awaken. “Point taken,” said Charles. Bert was faring the worst. He had more clothes on than the rest of them—clothes that had become immediately waterlogged. “I’ve got you,” said Bug, lending assistance to the older man. “Thank you,” said Bert. “How did you manage to free yourself, anyway?” Bug grinned. “Easy. Swimming lessons on Avalon. The Morgaine used to tie my hands behind my back every morning and make the Green Knight row me to the middle of the pond, where I’d have to free myself and swim back.” “That’s terrible,” said Bert, “Naw,” said Bug. “The only really hard part was getting out of the burlap bag.” “Jack!” Aven shouted. “John needs your help!” John was indeed in trouble. He was treading water, but he had his arms wrapped around his coat, which he’d folded into a bundle that he was clutching tightly to his chest. This position made it all but impossible to keep his face above water. With strong, sure strokes, Jack reached his companion in seconds and flipped him over into a dead man’s carry. John refused to relinquish his coat and continued swallowing water for his trouble. “I think he’s gone into some kind of shock again,” said Jack. “He’s not going to be much help, and I can’t carry us both for very long.” “I don’t think you’ll have to,” said Bert, pointing into the moonlit night sky. “Look.” High above them, circling, observing, were several immense birds, each with a wingspan as broad as the deck of the Indigo Dragon. “Are they birds?” said Charles. “I’ve never seen the like.” “Bloody big birds,” said Jack. “Steady on, lads,” said Bert. “They’re friends—I think,” he added quickly. Seven great crimson and silver cranes glided down at an angle crosscurrent to the breeze, and one by one picked up each of the companions in tapered claws that were enormously strong. The rescue complete, the great avians turned and flew swiftly toward the southern horizon, while below, the last remnants of what had been the Indigo Dragon sank beneath the waves. The companions awoke one by one to find themselves on a beach, both cooled and drying from a gentle breeze that blew from the south. There was no sign of the giant birds that had rescued them from the water. They were spread across some fifty yards of sand, well away from the high-water mark. Their rescuers had obviously intended for them to be safely up out of harm’s way, where they could sleep without fear of being pulled back in by the receding tide. John was lying outstretched, drowsing, his head resting on his jacket and his face pointed toward the rising sun. Bert was several yards to his right, snoring peacefully, and had even somehow managed to retain his hat. A bit farther on to the left, and much to Jack’s chagrin, Aven had fallen asleep with her head nestled in the crook of Bug’s arm, while in between, he and Charles were clustered with the Steward of Paralon, who was watching them from half-closed eyes. “All right, you git,” said Charles, sitting upright and grabbing the Steward by the lapels. “Awake is awake and asleep is asleep, but I’ll bash your head in with a coconut before I’ll let you spy on us for that king of yours.” At this the Steward set up such a mournful howling that everyone was soon awake, and even feeling a bit sympathetic. “You’ve put quite a scare into him, Charles,” said John, yawning, “but can’t you get him to shut up?” “What was it the Winter King called him?” said Jack. “Maggot?” “Magwich, if you please,” sniffed the Steward. “It’s Magwich. And I was his prisoner, just as you were.” Aven had awakened and blinked sleepily a few times before realizing what position she’d ended up in and with whom. Quickly she and Bug stood up and stretched, hoping the others wouldn’t notice that they were both blushing. “So, uh, how did you sleep?” asked Bug. “I’m wet,” said Aven. “I hate sleeping in wet clothes.” “You look good in wet clothes,” Bug offered. “Oh, shut up,” said Aven, unable to hide the quick grin as she spoke. She walked over to the loose circle that was forming around the Steward. “What is this idiot yammering about?” “He claims he was a prisoner of the Winter King,” said Charles. “Which doesn’t explain why he wasn’t tied up like the rest of us. Nor does it explain the comment about having been ‘useful.’” “What are you all looking at me for?” said Magwich. “I was his hostage, not his collaborator!” “Mmm-hmm,” said John. “As if we’re likely to believe you.” “He used me!” Magwich wailed. “I didn’t want to do it, but he made me!” “It is possible,” John admitted. “After all, Tummeler and the animals were used in just that way too.” Bert nodded. “There’s would be little point in hiding his allegiance to the Winter King now,” he said. “Whatever has gone before, it’s obvious he was intended to die along with the rest of us.” “Sure,” said Aven, “because the Winter King no longer needed him. He said as much. I say we just kill him and spare ourselves the trouble of watching our backs.” “Seconded,” said Charles. “Kind of bloodthirsty, don’t you think, Charles?” said John. “I’m an editor,” said Charles. “I have to make decisions like that all the time.” “You should be looking to that one, if you want to root out a traitor,” the Steward said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack. “The Winter King obviously had something particular to say to him.” “I don’t even understand what he whispered to me,” Jack retorted. “And you saw the rest—he asked me to join him, and I told him no.” “But you thought about it,” Magwich said. “I didn’t see you tied up,” Jack retorted. “Your hands were free. If it was so bad aboard the Black Dragon, why didn’t you just throw yourself overboard?” “I hate the water,” said Magwich. “Can’t swim. Hate all this business with ships. If the Winter King hadn’t needed me for that little deception at Paralon, he could just as well have left me in London—and believe me, I’d have been much better off.” “Speaking of Paralon, you seemed more like an advocate of his than a hostage,” said Charles. “And…wait. Did you say you were in London?” “I knew it!” John exclaimed, jostling Charles aside and coming nose-to-nose with Magwich. “I knew I’d seen you before.” He turned to his companions. “He was in London—and Staffordshire before that. He was on the train with me, and I saw him again at the docks, with the Wendigo.” Another puzzle piece fell into place. “You were the one who led the Wendigo to the club,” John said to the cowering Magwich. “We had to flee for our lives, and it was all your fault!” The terrified Steward stammered in protest. “Not to kill you! Just to find the book! That’s all! All he ever wanted was the book!” “Did you also lead him to the professor?” said Bert. “Did you help him murder my friend?” “Oh, no,” Magwich said with some relief. “I was only supposed to lead him to this one—John—but he didn’t have the Geographica either. You all managed to escape from him anyway, so what’s the problem?” John turned to Charles. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Go ahead and kill him.”
