“I wish I could, more than anything,” Jack said, his eyes heavy with honest regret. “But I cannot. With John having taken the role of Prime Caretaker, I am essentially the new Caveo Principia, and there are too many responsibilities here than I can leave at present—not the least of which is trying to talk some sense into my erstwhile colleague. I want nothing more than to be of help to you, and go along—but fortunately, I’m not the only one who knows about your plan.”
On cue, another face peered around the door. “What’s all the racket?” Kipling asked. “I thought this was supposed to be a secret mission.”
His face still bore the burns and scars from the evacuation of the Hotel d’Ailleurs two months earlier, and he moved slowly, his limbs still stiff from his injuries. He was a tulpa, and he would recover, but it would take time.
“How did you know?” Laura Glue exclaimed.
“I’m head of Caretaker espionage, remember?” said Kipling. “Plus, the secret missions are always the most fun.”
“Fun?” said Fred.
“Yes.” Kipling nodded. “I’m going with you. I’m a tulpa, and so I can actually be away from Tamerlane as long as is necessary. Plus, you’ll need some kind of adult supervision.”
“I beg your pardon!” said Quixote.
“Ah, that’s right,” Kipling said. “Sorry, Uncas.”
He turned to Shakespeare. “You realize your helping us is going to really, really tick off the Prime Caretaker, right?”
“It can’t be helped,” Shakespeare admitted. “Not trying the gate is the wrong decision. This is our Hail Mary, to borrow one of the old Cartographer’s favorite expressions. Our last play. You are going to be our emissaries into the eternities, to find a needle in an endless ocean of hay, and I cannot in good conscience send you out without having equipped you with every advantage I can.”
“When you put it that way,” said Kipling, “I don’t know if I want to go anymore myself.”
“He’s kidding,” Jack assured them. “I think.”
“Well, that’s everyone,” Laura Glue began before she was interrupted by a clattering of hooves in the hallway.
“Not quite,” Jack said. He opened the door and Argus filed in, followed by two goats.
“These are Verne’s two best goats, Coraline and Elly Mae,” Jack said, scratching the goats’ heads. “They’re also going with you.”
“His war leader!” Laura Glue exclaimed. “And the one who bites. We be in some deep trouble, we takes them with, Jack.”
“I’ll explain it to Jules later,” Jack said soothingly. “He might be irritated, but he’ll be happy that you have some extra protection for your journey.”
“If it helps you feel better,” Argus said, raising his hand, “I’m not going with you. I just helped with your transportation.”
Laura Glue groaned. “This was supposed to be a secret mission,” she complained, “but it seems like everyone at Tamerlane House already knows about it!”
Uncas patted her consolingly on the arm. “That’s how these sooper-sekrit things tend t’ go, in my experience.”
“Don’t worry, young Valkyrie,” Shakespeare said. “Argus knows how to keep a confidence. And more than that, telling him was necessary,” he added, pulling back the curtain at the end of the room, “so we could do this.”
Through the window they could see the flickering lights scattered across the decks of a ship—the Indigo Dragon. But this was not the Indigo Dragon that the Caretakers had used—it had been altered by Shakespeare and Argus to be used for this specific mission.
It was shortened, bore a smaller sail that could be converted into the balloon used for flight, and now had wheels. And it had been outfitted with a harness that was just the right size for two goats.
“It’s essentially an all-terrain vehicle,” said Argus, “even if there’s no terrain at all.”
“Are the goats supposed to just sit in the crow’s nest when we fly?” asked Fred. “It is primarily an airship now, after all.”
“No,” Kipling replied. “They’re here to work.
“I once had the opportunity to visit the Saint of the Northern Isles, back when I first became a Caretaker,” he said as he reached into his coat pocket, “and he gave me these. I’ve been saving them all these years for just the right occasion to use them.”
The others looked at his outstretched hand. There in the palm were a dozen kernels of corn.
“How long was he in th’ fire?” Uncas whispered to Quixote.