Here, There Be Dragons

“He’s certainly been no end of trouble,” said Jack, as Aven agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “When you think about it, he’s been a pivotal point for every bad event that’s happened: the theft of the kettle; the death of Archibald; the murder of the professor; the sham Council at Paralon. In fact, if it weren’t for him, the Winter King wouldn’t have been chasing us at all—because he wouldn’t know about the Geographica.”

Suddenly, the White Dragon jerked violently, as if struck. Then again. “What the hell?” said Aven. “That shouldn’t be happening.”

Rising, she bolted for the wheel, which was lurching back and forth as if the ship itself wanted to change course.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jack yelled.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Aven shouted back as she wrestled with the wheel. “The ship is fighting our course, as if she wants us to turn around.”
Jack ran to the foredeck and quickly scanned the sea with Aven’s spyglass. “I can’t see anything—no ships, no islands. Not even any debris in the water.”
“Could we have lost something?” said Bert. “Maybe someone fell overboard.”
John did a quick head count, and a terrible realization came over him.
“Jack,” he said, his voice low, “where is Artus?”
The others understood immediately.
Charles rose, glowering. “Where is he?” he said, anger rising in his voice. “Where’s Magwich?”
“Worse than that,” Jack yelled from the port side. “Where’s the rowboat?”

John found his squire in the galley, where Artus lay unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
“He knew,” John said, gesturing at Charles. “He knew—and I refused to listen. Forgive me, Artus.”
The boy king-in-waiting blinked and slowly sat up. “He hit me—I’m so sorry….”
“Not your fault,” said Aven. “It’s ours. We should have killed him. I said as much.”
“At least we’re rid of him,” said Charles. “Did he take anything?”
“Not much, as far as I can tell,” said Aven. “The rowboat, a few food stores, some water.”
“It was planned, then,” said Bert. “He knew what he planned to do the minute we set foot on the White Dragon, and he saw that rowboat. He planned to escape all along.”
“To what end?” said John. “Everyone in the Archipelago hates him.”
“The ring!” Jack exclaimed, looking at Artus’ hands. “The ring is gone!”
John closed his eyes, and his head dropped. “Oh. Oh, no.”
He moved quickly out of the galley and returned a few minutes later, empty-handed. “It’s gone,” he said. “He took the Imaginarium Geographica as well.”
“That’s why the ship was fighting our course,” said Aven. “She knew what he’d done and was trying to warn us.”
A quick assessment of the nearby seas bore no trace of Magwich’s passage. Whichever direction he had taken the boat, it was impossible to tell. There would be no pursuit.
“Now what?” said Charles. “Should we return to Paralon to consult with Samaranth?”
Aven shook her head. “He already told us all he could,” she said. “He made that clear.”
“But without the Geographica,” said Jack, “is there any reason to seek the Cartographer?”
“No one knows more about it than he,” said Charles. “Even without it in our possession, he may still be able to tell us something we can use to destroy it. If—when—we find it again.”
“It seems,” Bert said, “that we have no choice. We must continue forward.”
Part Four

In the Keep of Time

“Look,” Artus said, pointing. “On the island. That tower…”

Chapter Thirteen

The Tower

The course had been determined well enough that no further corrections or navigation were necessary—but once again, John felt as if he’d failed them all utterly. Aven was furious and not speaking to anyone, and even Artus was keeping a protracted distance. Only Charles and Bert were conciliatory—to a degree.

“We couldn’t have known,” said Bert. “We had all the cards, and we thought the game was over—we didn’t expect that the Steward was still playing.”

“I can’t believe I saved him,” said Charles.
“What I don’t understand,” said John, “is why take the Geographica, too? He had the Ring of Power. If he planned to take it to the Winter King, or try to sell it, or even try using it himself, then what did he need the Geographica for?”
“The summoning,” Jack said from the foredeck, keeping his back to them. “He needed it for the summoning of the dragons. The ring alone is not enough—the words must also be spoken. And now he has them both.”

Dawn eventually came, passing into morning then afternoon as the companions slept, ate, and generally stayed out of one another’s way.

Finally, the White Dragon approached a great circular chain of islands just as the sun had begun to set. The islands were gray granite and rose prominently out of the sea like sentinels—which in a fashion they were.

There were no slopes, no low rises to the islands of Chamenos Liber—it was as if columns of stone had dropped from the sky and impaled themselves upon the glassine surface of the ocean.

In the distance the largest of them could be seen faintly through the mists. Aven tipped her head at John, and he nodded. That would be their goal. She had started to turn the ship to steer between the columns when Jack grabbed the wheel and gave it a vicious turn. The White Dragon came about, narrowly missing an impact with the