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The First Dragon(33)

By:James A. Owen.txt

“What does yours say, Fred?” Laura Glue asked as he broke the seal and removed the note. It read:

You are a Caretaker, and thus, also a Namer.

Name Madoc as a Nephilim, and you may pass through to the city. Look for your friends in the center, under the great celestial dome. Good luck.

“Nephilim?” Deucalion said with a start. He looked askance at Madoc. “Are you Nephilim? I would not have thought one such as yourself would care to keep company with Children of the Earth.”

“Why?” asked Madoc. “What is a Nephilim?”

“One of the Host,” Hap replied, stepping closer to his father, “but one who sees Shadow as being equal to the Light, who serves the Void while still claiming to serve the Word.”

“Ah,” said Madoc. “I see. I will never fully lose who I once was, it seems.”

Deucalion put a hand of support on Madoc’s shoulder. “Naming is not Being,” the old shipbuilder said, “and anything that is Named may still be Renamed. The choice as to whom you serve is always yours.”

“I just want to find my daughter,” said Madoc.

“Yes,” Quixote said, “that is why we came, but I’m afraid we now have a clock on it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Madoc.

“This,” Quixote said. He was holding the note that had been addressed to Uncas. “It’s hard to make the message any more clear.”

The companions crowded around the knight to read the small note, which bore only a few words:

The flood is coming.

Leave. Now.





Chapter TEN


Order and Chaos



Kipling came to consciousness and found he had been bound hand and foot to a very uncomfortable chair that was sitting in a very uncomfortable room. It had the appearance of a glass conservatory that aspired to be a skyscraper, and stood along a glass-and-stone corridor that appeared to be lined with similar rooms.

“It’s the same room, actually,” an ornately dressed man said from his seat on another of the uncomfortable chairs, which sat in the opposite corner. “We’ve been having some issues with duration, and every so often it gets stuck.”

Kipling didn’t reply, but simply focused his attention on waking fully. He remembered being struck from behind, but other than that, what had happened after he saw Dr. Dee was a total loss.

The man was sitting facing an immense glass case, slotted with narrow vertical shelves. He was sliding thin slabs of marble that had some kind of writing on them in and out of the slots.

“Proximity matters,” the man explained without looking away from his task. “Some of the scripts change others, so I have to make sure that those in close proximity are compatible; otherwise some significant meanings might be lost completely.”





Enkidu was . . . staring directly at the Prime Caretaker . . .



“What are they?” asked Kipling.

“I suppose you could call them Histories,” the man said, “but since some of them haven’t and may never happen, that may be erroneous.”

“Who are you?”

“Hermes Trismegistus,” the man replied, again without turning to look at his captive companion. “I suppose you could say I am your friend’s teacher.”

Kipling scowled. “Who, Dee?” he snorted. “He is not my friend.”

“He’s very intelligent,” Hermes replied. “Almost like a god, but without any followers.”

“Only fools would follow someone like him.”

Hermes looked at him like he was a child. “You’d be surprised at how effective appearing to be a god really is.”

“He’s evil,” said Kipling. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Hmm,” Hermes said, rubbing his chin. “I think that’s one of the more recent concepts. I don’t know if it has even been recorded in the book yet.”

“Why are you keeping me here, Hermes?”

“Hermes Trismegistus, please. And I’m not keeping you here,” he said pointedly, “he is.”

Kipling turned and saw Dr. Dee enter the room, then kick the door closed behind him, which seemed to annoy Hermes. Dee was carrying several of the tablets, which he placed on a table next to the shelves. “Those are the last of them,” he said. “That should be sufficient, at least for . . .” Dee turned and saw for the first time that his unwilling guest was awake.

“What are you doing, Dee?”

“I am a scholar, on a scholar’s quest,” Dee answered, “and as much as it pained me to inconvenience you, I cannot have you interfering.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “How did you get here, anyroad? You were not traveling with the Grail Child and her cohorts.”