removed the Geographica from the house for safekeeping. The professor insisted on remaining there to wait for you. We were to reconvene in his library, this evening.”“This is the Geographica, then?” asked Jack, gesturing at the parcel.“It is.”“What is it?” John asked.The little man blinked and arched an eyebrow. “It is the world, my boy,” he said. “All the world, in ink and blood, vellum and parchment, leather and hide. It is the world, and it is yours to save or lose.”Without waiting for a further response, the man carefully hefted the large parcel onto a table and began to unwrap the layers of oilcloth.“It looks like a book,” said Jack.“I can see you’re the smart one of the group,” said the little man.“Thanks,” said Jack, beaming. “I’m Jack.”“Pleased to meet you, Jack,” said the little man. “Call me Bert.”“Okay, Bert,” Jack said, stepping forward to help uncover the parcel.Under the oilcloth lay a largish leatherbound volume, worn smooth with use—or great age. It was tied at the open edge with cloth straps, and debossed on the front, its letters still bearing glittering traces of golden embellishments, were the words Imaginarium Geographica.“Hmm. ‘Geography of the Imagination,’ is it?” said Charles. “Interesting.”“Close,” said Bert. “A better translation would be less literal: ‘Imaginary Geography.’”“Imaginary?” said John, peering at the large book. “Of what use is an atlas of imaginary geographies?”The quick smile almost hid the shadow that passed over Bert’s features before he answered. “Why, you are of course having a game at our expense, young John. It serves exactly the use one would think: to guide one to, from, and across imaginary lands.“All the lands that have ever existed in myth and legend, fable and fairy tale, can be found within,” continued Bert. “Ouroboros, Schlaraffenland and Poictesme, Lilliput and Mongo and Islandia and Thule, Pellucidar and Prydain; they are all there.“Collectively, the place where these lands exist is called the Archipelago of Dreams—and it was for this book, this guide to the Archipelago, that the professor was killed.”“This looks like Greek,” said Jack, his nose an inch from the open spread of the first map.“Smart lad, Jack,” said Bert. “There are a number of such maps at the beginning, but as you can see, several have been annotated in other languages, including English—although most of them are still untranslated,” he finished, elbowing John. “Lucky we have you here, eh, my lad?”“Wait a moment, just wait,” said John, backing away. “I don’t understand what this has to do with me, or how you even knew who I was, for that matter.”“I knew who you were, John, because I was the one who read your writings first. I was the one who sought you out and advised the professor that you were the ideal man to become his successor. I was the one who saw within you the potential to become the greatest Caretaker of them all.“I had assumed that your companions were in turn your apprentices—no offense, Charles—but only because there have always been three.”“Three? Three what?” asked Jack.“Caretakers of the Geographica,” said Bert. “Now, we don’t have time to dawdle,” he continued. “The race has already begun.”“What race?” asked Charles.“The race,” said Bert, “to avoid catastrophe, my boy—with the whole of human history as the stakes. We can only hope the education you have had thus far has been enough.”“My education?” John said, incredulous. “But why is—”Before he could continue, the night air was split with the long howl of a hound. It rang deeply and loud, finally fading into profound silence. Then the howl came again, joined by another, and another.And another.But this time, it was closer. Much closer.Behind the horrible harmonies of the howling was a faint staccato—the shouts of men, angry, seeking. The sounds of a mob.For the first time since he had entered 221B Baker Street, Bert’s face became drawn and somber, and tinged with fear.“That’s it then, lads. We have to go.”“We?” sputtered Charles. “I’m not going out in this! Especially with some kind of…of beasts running amok in the streets!”“You have no choice, I’m afraid,” said Bert. “They’re coming for John and me, so we must leave—but if they come here to find we’ve gone, you would fare the worse for it.”“Coming for me?” said John. “Why?”“Did you think they would stop with the professor?” asked Bert. “They can’t—won’t. They haven’t gotten what they’re seeking—this,” he said, slapping his hand on the Imaginarium Geographica. “And as it is now yours, I’m sure they’ll have no problem cutting you down as easily as they did him.”Bert began to wrap the atlas in the oilcloth, and Jack stepped in to help him. “Quickly, now,” he said to the three young men. “We must fly!”“Fly where?” said Charles.“To the harbor, of course,” said Bert. “To my ship. My crew is waiting for us now, and they are beginning to worry, no doubt.”Charles began to protest, but Bert cut him short.“These are not rioters coming for us. They are not soldiers. They are not even, in point of fact, men as you know them. But whether or not you believe my warnings, or that I have a ship awaiting us in the harbor, or that anything I have told you tonight is true, believe this: If we stay here a minute longer, we shall all be dead.”If Bert’s appeal was not convincing enough, the shadows that appeared on the opposite street corner pushed the companions’ motivation to the fore.The band hunting them brandished swords and spears of an unusual make. But stranger still was the fact that they appeared to walk on all fours, claws clicking on the cobblestones, only occasionally standing upright to sniff at the air before rending the night with more earsplitting howls.“Wendigo,” Bert murmured to himself. “He’s pulling out all the stops—and it can only get worse. Charles,” he asked, turning quickly, “did Sir Arthur have a back exit to this place?”“Yes,” said Charles. “This way. Hurry.”Bert, Jack, and John followed Charles through a warren of small rooms to a door at the end of the apartment. “Here,” said Charles. “They expanded into the adjacent flat, and it has a door that opens onto an alleyway.”As they entered the hallway, there was a crash and a splintering of wood from the foyer behind them.“Hurry, lads!” said Bert. “Hurry!”Finding the exit, the four companions moved quickly but cautiously into the alley, which was empty. Heading for the intersecting street, their steps became more and more hurried, realizing that it would only be a matter of time….When they were a block distant, the angry howls of their pursuers told them their path away from the club had been discovered. The hunt had ended. It was now a race.In moments the companions were running at full speed toward the harbor.Chapter Three
