The First Dragon(25)
The angel snorted. “Of course I do. Am I not Samaranth?” He stood and stepped down from the dais to approach them. He was barely as tall as Rose, and several inches shorter than Edmund. “I am the fifth assistant Namer from the nine hundred and second Guild of Namers, of the fifty-first Host of Angels of the City of Jade.”
“Nix said he was one of the oldest of them,” Rose whispered to Charles, “but he doesn’t appear to be any older than I am, if that.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Charles whispered back, “but as I recall, you’re fairly advanced in years yourself, even though you don’t look it.”
“Oh, I am one of the eldest of the Host,” said Samaranth, who apparently could hear just fine. “At least, among those assigned to this world. And,” he added thoughtfully, “I might actually be younger than you, ah, what did you say you are called?”
“I’m Rose,” she said, “and this is Charles, and Edmund. Just how old are you?”
Samaranth answered without hesitation. “According to the Chronos time established by Sol when this world was set into motion, I am approximately two billion, three hundred seventy-nine million, one hundred fifty-two thousand, four hundred and ninety-seven years old, give or take.”
“Give or take?” asked Edmund.
Samaranth nodded. “It’s difficult to figure precisely, because of a few things that have already been Named and Placed, like the ‘Mayan conundrum’ and something called a ‘leap year.’ It makes the calculations especially difficult, because we don’t even have a name for the process of, ah, figuring yet. It involves numbers, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
Charles sighed in sympathy. “I can relate. Trouble with math is one reason I became a writer.”
“Hmm. Math,” said Samaranth. “I like that. That could work.” He jotted down a note on his tablet. “Math. Yes. Very good. You could be a Namer yourself, you know. If you weren’t a Seraphim, that is.”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Charles began before Edmund elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don’t say it,” the Cartographer hissed. “If you can Name yourself, who’s to say you can’t Un-Name yourself just as easily?”
Hearing this, Samaranth turned his full attention to them for the first time, and his expression was dark.
“That is not something to be spoken of in the City of Jade,” he said softly. “Things that are made may be Named, and sometimes, may also be Renamed, when they must choose a different path. But to be . . . to be Un-Named is something entirely different.”
He set aside his work and stepped closer to Charles. “You are not Seraphim, are you? You bear the countenance, but I sense you are also Other.”
“He is a Caretaker,” Rose said quickly. “That is the most important job there is.”
Samaranth considered this as he walked back to the dais. “A Caretaker, you say? Hmm. Someone who Takes Care. Yes, I understand. That is good.” He made some notations on a tablet. “I shall remember that, thank you.”
A chime sounded in the air somewhere above them, and the angel’s expression suddenly changed. “Oh, by the Host—it is nearly time. I must prepare to finish here so I might attend the summit.” He looked at the three of them as if they’d just walked in. “Have you been fed?”
“Please, Samaranth,” Rose asked, “can you tell us what this summit is about? Everyone in the city seems to be involved somehow.”
“Everyone is involved,” he replied. “There is nothing more important than what will be determined here today, after debating for so many years. The younger principalities believe that almost everything that can be created in this world has been created, and in this, they are quite nearly correct. However, they also think that now there will no longer be a great need for Makers, there will also be no need for Namers either.”
“Namers like yourself,” Charles noted drolly. “Just saying.”
“I speak to be understood, not out of vanity,” said Samaranth, “and they believe they will have little need of me, even though there is still a tremendous amount of work to be done. There will always be some need for Makers—but Naming is far more valuable, because to Name something is to give it meaning. Simply being created is not enough.”
“Everything has been made?” Edmund said, gesturing out the window. “Even there?”
He was looking to the west, toward the Archipelago—or at least, where the Archipelago should have been. But there was nothing except darkness there. And not the storm-cloud darkness of the Frontier, but the darkness that Rose had seen only once before, when she and her friends sailed past the waterfall at the Edge of the World and into the darkness beyond, to find her father.