“I think I understand,” said John. “The Dragon eyes were sufficient enough talismans to permit us to cross between worlds . . .”
“But to traverse time, to activate the mechanism, requires a living Dragon,” Shakespeare finished. “It’s a conundrum, to be sure. That’s why this new development is so thrilling—the Black Dragon still has within it a living, breathing Dragon . . . and that may be sufficient to activate the Zanzibar Gate.”
“In other words,” Jack said, grinning from ear to ear, “the Caretakers are back in the game.”
“Bangarang!” said Fred.
♦ ♦ ♦
Under Shakespeare’s direction, Houdini and John piloted the Black Dragon off the beach and around to the small island where the Zanzibar Gate had been constructed. But proximity was not enough.
“It has to go through the gate,” Shakespeare said glumly. “The Dragon has to go through first, or else it can’t be activated properly.” He turned to Jules Verne, who had typically taken charge of situations like the discovery of the ship—but who had instead chosen to stand back in deference to John. “Is there any way to . . . separate the Dragon from the ship? To perhaps remove the masthead?”
Verne glanced at John and Twain, then shook his head. “No method that I know of,” he answered. “As far as I know, no one’s ever tried. No one except Ordo Maas knew the process for making a Dragonship—and when the Archipelago was lost, we lost him as well.”
“That’s not entirely true,” offered John. “He admitted that the Black Dragon wasn’t one of his, remember? Someone else must know the secret, because someone had to create the Black Dragon.”
Verne looked at John, eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he said. “You might have something at that.” He turned and tilted his head at Bert. “Someone one of us may have already met.”
Bert moved quickly to Verne’s side, eyes glittering. “Surely he can’t still be alive?” he said, his voice trembling with excitement. “I mean, it could only be . . . He’d be the only one . . . But to still be alive, after all these centuries . . .”
“Maybe,” Verne said, pulling at his beard. “It is possible, Bert.”
“Who are we talking about?” asked Jack.
“A possibility,” Verne said enigmatically. “Ordo Maas was not the only shipbuilder to construct living vessels—and the only other one we know of in history made an ancient promise that may have been fulfilled with the creation of the Black Dragon. And if that is so, then he may be the one who can reverse the process too.”
John looked at the others, and a bit of the starch seemed to have gone out of him. “I’d forgotten,” he said, slightly crestfallen. “That fellow they saved in the past. The one who owed Edmund a boon.”
“And may have fulfilled it,” said Verne.
Bert frowned. “We’re wasting time, Jules,” he said testily. “If he has actually survived since Jason’s time . . .”
Verne held a finger to his lips and turned to the rest of the gathering. “I agree, time is of the essence now,” he said, almost contritely. “But it is no longer my call. John? What do you say?”
The Prime Caretaker drew a sharp breath. It was the first time in the two months since their friends had been lost that Verne had actually deferred to him in front of the others, all of whom were now watching expectantly.
“First things first,” he said firmly. “Let’s secure the ship in the boathouse where it ought to be. Then we must attend to other matters, such as the security of Tamerlane House. And then,” he added with a tight smile at Bert and Verne, “we’ll make our battle plan.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Once the ship was safely ensconced in the boathouse, John, Jack, and Bert retreated to the main house to set another part of their newly minted plans in motion.
Bert had been largely absent from the activities of Tamerlane House for the last two months, for reasons both good and shoddy. The good reason was that upon finding out he had died and was now a portrait, he also discovered that Verne had rescued his love, Weena, from the far future, and made her over into a portrait as well. The love he thought lost to the mists of time was now, here, present, and in his new life. John couldn’t begrudge his old mentor that.
However, Bert had also been complicit in many of Verne’s plans, including keeping the truth of many things from his protégés simply because Verne had deemed it necessary. And so when John had enough of Verne’s games and declared himself to be the new Prime Caretaker, Bert also bore some of that judgment. So when an opportunity emerged for Bert to actively contribute to the plan of action, he jumped on it with relish—and possibly out of hope of a small measure of forgiveness from the Caretakers whom he had come to love like his own sons.