The First Dragon(18)

At this, Shakespeare stepped back from the other Caretakers and wrung his hands in frustration. “I’m not the Architect who built the keep,” he lamented. “I’m sorry, but as adept as I have proven myself to be, I simply don’t have the skills to re-create something with the . . . ah, duration of the keep.”

“What are you saying, Will?” John asked. “Will it work, or won’t it?”

“Oh, it shall, I’m certain of that,” Shakespeare replied, glancing over at Madoc, “now that we have a viable power source. But only thrice. That, and no more.”

“Thrice?” Jack exclaimed. “Three times? That’s not ideal, but it isn’t terrible, either. If we don’t find them the first go-round, we’ll have two more tries to get it right.”

The Bard shook his head and strode purposefully to the gate, where he motioned for Madoc to step away. Immediately the light from the gate dimmed.

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you,” Shakespeare said, wringing his hands in frustration. “The gate will allow three trips, in toto. Once out in any direction, past or future; once back; and then . . .”

“Once out, with no return trip,” Verne said heavily.

“Or two trips out, and then one home,” Jack offered, trying to be helpful. “If we find our friends—”

“Ahem-hem,” said Twain.

“Uh, that is, when we find our friends,” Jack corrected, blushing slightly, “if they haven’t yet found the Architect, we can pool our resources and try one more time before coming back.”

“No one is going anywhere,” a voice stern with authority rang out. “Not using the gate, anyroad. Not now, and maybe not ever.”

Almost by reflex, the Caretakers turned to look at Verne, but he was already looking at the man who had spoken . . .

. . . John.

“We can’t use it,” he said, stepping around Will to stand in front of the gate, as if to emphasize his point. “It’s a great idea, and may be the first step on the right road, but with a limited number of uses, it’s simply too dangerous. I don’t want to risk losing any among our number. One would be too great a loss.”

“How is it any more risky than anything else we’ve tried?” asked Jack.

“You’re forgetting one of the rules of time travel,” John said, casting a rueful glance at Bert and Verne. “Every trip into the past must be balanced by one into the future. There won’t be two trips out and then one home. At most, it would be one trip out and one back, because to go out again . . .” He let his voice trail off when he realized he couldn’t speak the words. But Madoc could.

“. . . means those travelers will not be returning,” the Dragon said simply. “Ever.”

“Yes,” John said, this time looking at Jack. “It’s too high a price to pay, when we don’t know how the story will end.”

“We tell stories for a living, John,” Jack said testily, “and I believe we write the endings we choose.”

“Not this time, Jack. I’m sorry.”

Madoc and the other Caretakers simply watched as Jack struggled to contain what he really wanted to say to his longtime friend. This was not merely an argument, but evidence of a deeper division, one that had perhaps been growing longer than any of them realized.

“We’ve made our lives here ones of risk taking,” Jack said, his fists clenched but his voice measured and even, “and I don’t see why this is any different.”

“It’s different,” John replied, “because every other decision was made by a different Prime Caretaker.” His eyes flickered over to Verne, who was standing resolute, watching. “I’m not so willing to be reckless with the lives of our friends.”

“And what about Rose and Edmund and Charles?” Jack replied, a bit less measured. “Who is looking out for them?”

“We will,” John replied. “Somehow we’ll find a way. But for now, we simply need to make certain the option we choose is the best one. And this one,” he added, glancing apologetically at Will, “is not that option. Yet.”

He started to say something to Jack, but his friend had already spun on his heel and was striding back to the ferryboat. A hand on John’s shoulder stopped him from following after.

“No,” Madoc said. “Not now. I’ll talk with him later, but don’t buckle. If you are indeed the Prime Caretaker now, you did exactly as you were supposed to do.”

“Betray my friends?” John said bitterly.

“No,” Madoc said again, looking at Verne. “Make the hard decisions—and then stand by them.”