“It’s supposed to continue to exist here, in the same way that the keep had duration, wasn’t it, Will?” Dumas asked. “So how can a stationary object like that have simply disappeared?”
“I really cannot say,” a bewildered Shakespeare answered. “The only way it could have disappeared is if it had been completely disassembled, but I don’t know why anyone would even consider doing that, especially if it was their only means of coming home!”
“That’s it, then,” Verne said to himself quietly. “It’s time to go.”
As the other Caretakers debated what to do with the Cabal, and wondered what had happened to the Zanzibar Gate, none of them had noticed Verne slip away into the house—none, that is, except for one. Verne made his way to the lower stairs that led down to the basement and closed the door firmly behind him.
“What in heaven’s name is he doing?” Bert murmured to himself. “There’s no way out of that basement, and there’s nothing down there except for”—he slapped himself on the forehead—“time-travel devices.”
Bert dashed for the stairs and threw open the door. “Curse you, Jules,” he muttered under his breath. “What are you up to now?”
Bert got his answer when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Verne was sitting in the time machine Bert had used himself so long ago to travel into the far future.
“Are you mad?” Bert exclaimed, rushing over to stop his colleague. “I can’t believe you’re just running away from this! You’ve never avoided a fight, Jules! And besides, this is not the way! You’ve used this machine before, so you can’t use it again!”
“Oh, but I can,” Verne said as he flipped the switches to line them up with the dials on his watch. “There’s just a price to pay for doing so, and my bill is long, long overdue.”
“It’s suicide!” Bert cried, backing away as the wheel behind the plush chair on the device began to spin.
“No,” said Verne, “it’s the endgame, at least for me. And that means it is redemption.”
“What do you mean?”
“The watches have all been reset,” Verne replied, “but the keep has not yet reappeared, nor has the Archipelago been restored. Something is amiss. I think I know what is lacking—and none of our friends should have to sacrifice themselves. Not after all they have been through.”
Bert stared at him, puzzled, and then he realized—somehow, this had been in Verne’s plans all along.
“Yes, old friend,” Verne said, nodding as tears began to well in his eyes. “I always knew. They have found the true zero point, and at long last, I get to be the hero of the story instead of . . . well, whatever I’ve been. Tell John . . .” He paused. The lights were spinning faster and faster now, and the edges of the machine were beginning to blur. “Tell him I said I’m very proud of him. It may not mean much now. But someday . . .” He flipped the last switch, adjusted the last dial. “That’s it, then,” he said with finality. “Time to go.”
“Jules!” Bert cried, shielding his eyes from the light.
“Be seeing you,” said Verne. And then, in a trice, he and the time machine were gone.
♦ ♦ ♦
“All right,” Madoc said, dusting off his hands. “I think we have it.”
There, constructed around the stone circle and the stone table, were the first two levels of the Keep of Time. There had been just enough stones in the Zanzibar Gate for a structure that was tall enough to permit a doorway to be included, as well as the first floor of interlocking stairs, and a landing and framework for the first door up above.
“I’m afraid I don’t know enough about how it functions,” Madoc admitted. “Is there something we have to do to turn it on?”
“One last thing,” Telemachus replied. “One last stone. That, and that alone, is what makes the tower a living thing.”
Madoc looked around, puzzled. “We’ve used all the stones from the gate,” he said, “and I don’t see any more cavorite around.”
The old man shook his head. “Not cavorite. The keystone of the keep must be a living heart, willingly given. Only then can the tower come to life, and grow. Only then will time be restored.”
“Oh, fewmets,” said Fred. “I knew there was going to be a catch in all this.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“If I must,” said Madoc, before any of the others could speak. “It seems, dear Rose, that I am always sacrificing something for you. My younger self would never have believed it possible to love another person as I do you. But it’s true.”