The First Dragon(7)

The detective’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t answer. Instead he reached out a hand and pressed the bag back toward Quixote.

“All debts were paid,” he said softly, the gruffness gone from his voice. “Tell Verne that he was as good as his word, and I have rejoined the flow of the world.”

“So, do you think you can find Argus?” Quixote asked.

“Consider it done,” Aristophanes said brusquely, as if trying to regain his earlier gruff demeanor. “I can take you to him now if you like.”

“Really?” asked Uncas in astonishment. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“I’m actually very good at this,” the detective said as he cast a longing, heartfelt look at Beatrice, then grabbed his hat and coat. “Also, if I’m not actually charging you to find him, then there’s no point in dragging things out to drive up my expenses.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Together, the three unlikely companions crossed Shakespeare’s Bridge to the Kilns, where they kept the Duesenberg. It was no ordinary vehicle—it had been modified with a special spatial projector that could transport them instantly to any number of places that were depicted on an assortment of special slides. It made missions like these a great deal easier to manage.

“Is that a new hat?” Uncas asked as they clambered into the car.

“It is,” Aristophanes said, trying and failing to hold back a wistful smile. “A gift from Bea. I’m no longer poison to the touch, but I’m apparently still a unicorn,” he went on, fingering his fedora, “so I still need a hat if we’re going to go mingle with civilized society—or whatever passes for that where we’re going.”

“You’re the guide,” said Quixote as he started up the car. “Where to, Steve?”

“Here,” the detective said, holding up a slide. “Thousands of years in obscurity, and the Caretakers have a portal that leads almost right to his door. Amazing.”

Aristophanes inserted the slide, and the Duesenberg roared forward just as the portal opened up on the side of a building a few hundred yards from the Kilns. The car slid to a stop atop a grassy hill, in the bright afternoon sunlight of Greece.

“Welcome to Lemnos,” Uncas said, flipping off the projector. “Where to now?”

Aristophanes pointed ahead to a fork in the road, indicating that they should drive to the right. Then, consulting a small notepad he pulled from his coat, he told Uncas they’d be looking for a seaside cottage about three miles farther along.

“This seems like a nice little hamlet,” Quixote observed as they passed a number of small but tidy houses. “Hardly where you’d think an ancient shipbuilder could find peaceful refuge away from prying eyes.”

“It’s the standing stones,” the detective said, pointing them out as the car passed between two sizable rocks that stood alongside the road. “They act as a sort of screen, keeping out the looky-loos and troublemakers. They’re as good as hiding in plain sight, because someone living within the boundaries of the stones can’t be found—not by the methods the Caretakers use, anyway.”

“And what method do you use?” asked Quixote.

“That,” Aristophanes said, pointing at the small red book he carried in his breast pocket. “With that and a stub of graphite, I can keep track of anyone I like. I just write it down.”

He frowned at the look of incredulity on the old knight’s face. “What?” said the detective. “Like everything has to be done with magic?”

“It’s like our Little Whatsits,” Uncas said, nodding in approval. “Very wise.”

“Thank you, badger,” said Aristophanes.

“Don’t mention it,” Uncas said, pointing at a small cottage. “Look—I think we’ve arrived.”





“Please,” he said. . . . “Feel free to look around . . .”





Chapter THREE


The Shipbuilder



The cottage was a traditional whitewashed stone structure common to the Greek isles, save for the windows, which were stained glass that depicted ancient Greek myths in spectacular bursts of color. There were chimes outside the doorway that swayed gently in the breeze of their passing and announced the companions’ presence to the occupant inside.

The shipbuilder’s shop at the rear of the cottage was bright and airy and had tall, whitewashed walls that curved up into ceilings. At the center of the room, the proprietor was descending a staircase carrying a box of supplies. He paused when he saw the three visitors, then smiled and continued down the stairs.