“Yes,” said Jack, whose eyes had not left Aven since they’d stepped onto the ship. “And, ah, perhaps an introduction is in order.” “Of course,” said Bert. “Lads, may I present the captain of the Indigo Dragon—my daughter, Aven.” Charles stepped forward, bowing slightly. “A pleasure. I’m Charles.” She nodded, eyebrow still arched. “I’m Jack,” said Jack, pushing past his companion and offering his hand. “If there’s anything you need a hand with, please don’t hesitate to ask.” “Do you know how to work aboard a ship?” “Ah, well, no, not exactly,” admitted Jack. “I’m a scholar.” Aven rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Another scholar. Heaven spare us from fools and their books.” She looked at John. “And you?” “I’m John. Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t respond, but held his gaze a long moment before turning abruptly and saying something just softly enough for him to hear. “You had better be worth this.” For the first time, the companions got to have a direct look at their pursuers, who were amassing on the dock, howling and flailing their weapons about in a rage. The Wendigo were not unlike men. Only those that crouched, showing their disfigured, animalian hindquarters, were obviously something more. They were hairy; rough at the edges. Indistinct, as if they were part of an improperly processed photograph. The cloaks they wore to disguise their bodies and to conceal weapons were now being flung aside to reveal strange dress from a dozen cultures. “How unusual,” said John. “I count several different costumes among them—Egyptian, Indian…Is that one Norse?” “Not costumes,” said Aven. “Did you think a man who turns evil and eats the flesh of his friends had to have a Cockney accent?” John and the others shuddered and were turning away when he caught sight of another figure on the dock, passing among the furious Wendigo. He was not certain, but the man looked like one of the passengers who had been on the train with him earlier that day. If he was, it was further proof of Bert’s claim that John was more deeply involved in the events of the evening than he had realized. The Indigo Dragon continued to accelerate, and in moments the dock and their pursuers had receded into the dark behind them. Given time to catch their breath, the companions now turned their attention to the strange vessel they had boarded. It was indeed a galleon, but of a most unusual design. It was a bit dirty, a bit creaky, but there was no question—it was a ship crafted for grand adventure. At the fore of the ship was the masthead, a great head and torso of a dragon. It had eyes of gold and was colored a deep, rich purple. “Indigo,” Bert corrected, hearing Jack suggest the color. “We don’t want to offend her.” John thought, but couldn’t be certain, that he saw the dragon breathe. There was a cabin in the aft of the ship, and cargo holds below with a most unusual feature: They were much larger on the inside than they appeared to be on the outside. Around them the ship’s complement of some twenty sailors, all thickly clothed against the moist night air, busied themselves at their tasks under Aven’s orders. “Have you noticed,” Jack ventured to the others, “that we’re each and all a good two feet taller than every member of the crew?” John had processed all of the goings-on in the background as the usual ship’s business, but now that it was pointed out, he realized Jack was right. Not a single crewman stood taller than four feet, and the bulk of them were smaller than that. “I say,” said Jack to one of the passing crew, “would you happen to—” He froze, eyes wide. “Jack?” said Charles. “What is it?” The crewman, eyes glittering, ignored him and went about his task. But Jack managed to lift his arm and point at the departing sailor’s feet, which were not feet at all. They were cloven hooves. The crewmen gave no notice that they even cared if they were being observed, and Aven and Bert were deep in discussion over the Imaginarium Geographica. Charles, John, and Jack drew closer together and moved to the opposite side of the cabin. “Did you see that?” said Jack, finally able to speak. “Did you see…?” “Quiet,” said Charles. “I did. There is something strange about all of this, and I for one am about to be done with the whole matter.” “Agreed,” said John. “We’ve gone a good distance from that row with the—whatever it was hunting us. We should be able to stop here along the river somewhere and contact the authorities—perhaps inspector Clowes can deal with all this. Anyroad, it’s not our job.” “Right,” said Jack, shivering. “We’re just about to pass the bridge. They’ll have to slow up at the shallows, and we can ask them to let us off at the docks just beyond.” “We have a plan, then,” said Charles. “I’ll speak to them.” In moments the Indigo Dragon had passed beneath the bridge, but instead of slowing as Jack had predicted, it began to fly across the water with an even greater velocity. The ever-present fog of the river began to coalesce and draw close to the ship. Even the rain had ceased. Something more was beginning to happen. In the distance behind them, from beneath the shadows of London Bridge, a second ship, dark-masted and black as a nightmare, lifted anchor and silently began to follow. Charles hastened to make his point. “We seem to have lost our pursuers,” he said to Aven. “And I for one am most grateful for your assistance and intervention. Now that the danger is past, can you tell me at what part of the city you intend to leave us?” “Yes,” Jack agreed, looking askew at the ship’s crewmen. “We’d like to get off, please.” Aven gave her father a knowing look before answering. “I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible.” “Why not?” asked John. In answer, Aven gestured at the glowing city lights on the not-distant shore, now dim and hazy through the fog. As they watched, the mists drew closer, thickening around the ship, until in mere moments the lights of London had vanished. When the fog began to clear, the city was gone, and the storm had stopped. Above a thousand stars were shining, unfettered by the clouds that had blanketed them just minutes before. And around them, open ocean, no sign of shore in sight. “B-but that can’t possibly be!” Charles said, stammering in disbelief and no small amount of fear. “We haven’t been at sail for more than a few minutes! There is no possible way we could be in open waters!” “Right,” said Jack. “I’ve been down the river plenty of times. We still have—had—at least twenty miles to go before reaching the Channel.” “Oh, I see,” said Bert. “You misunderstand—we left England the minute the ship pulled away from the dock. We’re nowhere near the Channel, or London, or even Europe, for that matter. In fact, we are not even sailing in the same ocean any longer.” “Then where are we?” said Charles. “Where are you taking us?” Aven tilted her head at John. “Ask him. He knows.” John stood at the railing, looking out into the darkness as they let the question hang in the air, shimmering with the promise they all knew would be fulfilled if he would just speak the words. Finally, he answered. “The Archipelago,” John said, his voice muted with a mix of disbelief and wonder. “That’s where we’re
