The First Dragon(31)

“You seem to know a great deal about who I am,” the angel said, giving them a look of appraisal, “and I still know nothing of you. Where did you say you hailed from?”

“There is only so much we can share,” Rose began in answer to Samaranth’s question, “without risking terrible damage to our own future. And yours,” she added quickly. “I can only ask that you trust us, and that you try to believe that our intentions are good.”

The angel considered her words and pursed his lips. “I don’t have to try,” he said finally. “Your countenance bears out your intentions, and I can read you like a book.

“My concern now, and the concern of all those who are eldest within the City of Jade, is in continuing the Naming of all that has already been made, so that all those who reside here may continue to live here in peace. One world should be sufficient enough to share, even among the principalities.”

“There are some who disagree?” asked Charles.

“This is the reason for the summit,” Samaranth said as he put away his tablet and began to tidy up his workspace—which, Rose noted, was already almost unspeakably tidy. “The principalities have fashioned a proposal to appeal to the Word to make the Un-Made World, and to Name it, so that they may claim it for their own. They wish to leave this world, which they have long been neglecting, to the peoples who have spread across it.”

“Hmm,” said Charles. “That doesn’t sound too unfair.”

“It would not be, had the principalities not used this world up in the process. They have benefited from it, and prospered, and now that it seems to be dying, they wish to go elsewhere. But,” he added, “unless the Un-Made World is connected once more and fully to this one, it will perish as well.”

“You keep saying ‘principalities,’ ” said Edmund. “Forgive my ignorance, but what does that mean?”

“Gods,” Samaranth said simply. “This summit is a gathering of all the gods of the earth, large and small. Some are gods who began as men, and rose to the calling out of will; and some are those who fell to earth and were worshipped for the talents they carried with them, and so were declared to be gods. And if what they have proposed is not opposed . . .

“. . . then both this world and the next shall fall into utter ruin, and perish.”

♦ ♦ ♦

It was a more difficult trek to the city than Kipling had anticipated. He was actually tired. That hadn’t happened often in the years following his death, but, he reasoned, it was still bound to happen sooner or later. That wasn’t important, though, because he had a bigger problem. Getting past the giants was one thing. Gaining entry into the City of Jade itself was another kettle of fish entirely.

There were two bridges on the northern side, and both of them were lined with watchtowers manned by guards who were giving at least a cursory glance to every personage who crossed them. Kipling wasn’t certain that he wanted to try an end run, which might attract attention, so he decided to sit and observe for a while.

After an hour, something significant sparked his attention. A number of people who had crossed the bridge with virtually no attention from the guards at all had one thing in common: They all had some kind of unusual markings on their foreheads. The most common was a circle surrounded by four diamonds.

Kipling considered his options a bit more, then shrugged in resignation. “When in Rome,” he said, taking a pen from his jacket. He leaned over a shallow section of the estuary some distance from the bridge to use the water as a mirror, and drew what looked like a fair approximation of the tattoos he’d observed.

Thus prepared, he walked straight toward one of the watchtowers—and, to his delight, the guard did nothing more than glance at his forehead and wave him on.

“This may be the easiest espionage job I’ve ever taken,” Kipling murmured to himself.

“Or,” a shockingly familiar voice said from too close behind him for comfort, “at least, the last one you ever take.”

He whirled around to face the speaker. It was John Dee.

“Greetings and salutations, Dr. Dee,” Kipling said.

“Say good night, Kipling,” said Dr. Dee. And suddenly the Caretaker was plunged into pain, and darkness, and as he fell into unconsciousness, he realized that Dee was very probably right.

♦ ♦ ♦

“I want to ask,” Laura Glue said, once they had eaten from the food provided by Deucalion’s family, “why did you decide to build this giant boat out here in the desert, where there’s no water at all?”

“Actually,” Uncas said, correcting her, “it’s a ship.”