“Please,” he said, setting the box on the floor, then gesturing around the room with his hands. “Feel free to look around at my work. Much to see, more to buy, as long as the price is right.”
All around the room were tables and low shelving laden with globes, clear glass jugs, and bottles, and in them floated miniature ships of various designs. Some appeared to be simple, traditional sailboats, but most were of a far more elaborate design, incorporating scrollworks and ornate carvings in the hulls. But what was most intriguing to the companions was that every ship bore a masthead that resembled an insect. Several had the aspect of a praying mantis, but most of the others were moths or butterflies with magnificent, delicate wings. As Uncas watched, some of the wings appeared to flutter with the gentle motion of the water in the bottles.
The shipbuilder was pleased to see them admiring his handiwork, and he smiled a lopsided grin. “For some reason,” he said matter-of-factly, “I seem to be skilled in merging creatures that fly with craft that float.”
“That’s why we’ve come seeking you,” Quixote ventured. “We understand you have had some experience with merging a ship and a larger creature—say, a dragon?”
“Hah!” The shipbuilder exclaimed. “You want someone to make you a Dragonship? Easier to ask for the Golden Apples of the Sun, or a sword made by Hattori Hanzo.”
Aristophanes snorted. “Hattori Hanzo doesn’t exist.”
“True,” the shipbuilder replied, “but that doesn’t stop people from seeking out his swords.”
Uncas slumped, dejected. “So it isn’t possible to make ships larger than these toys?”
“Oh, it is possible, but I seldom have,” Argus replied, sitting. “And not for a very long time. You don’t want me, anyway. You’d be better off with my master, Utnapishtim. He’s the true virtuoso for what you want.”
“Utnapishtim?” Quixote said, puzzled. “I don’t think I’ve heard . . .”
“Sorry, sorry,” Argus said, rolling his eyes. “I forgot he took a different name when he’d crossed over for good. You might know him better by his Greek name, Deucalion. Or perhaps as . . .”
“Ordo Maas,” Uncas finished for him. “All th’ Children of th’ Earth knows Ordo Maas.”
Argus reached out and scratched Uncas on top of the head, which Quixote thought would offend his little friend, but oddly, the badger didn’t seem to mind. “Yes, your kind would know of him, wouldn’t they, small one?” he said gently. “Ordo Maas—that’s who you want.”
“ ’Cept we can’t ask him,” Uncas replied. “He’s not findable. Not anymore.”
Argus frowned. “How is he not findable? The last I knew, he had his own island in the Archipelago.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” said Quixote. “The Archipelago is no more.”
The shipbuilder’s eyes narrowed. “You lie.”
“Knights never lie,” said Uncas. “What happened was this, see, there was a fire—”
“I don’t want to know,” Argus said flatly. “It’s none of my business. Not anymore.” He stood up as if to indicate that the discussion was over. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to find someone else to build you your Dragonship.”
“But, that’s just the thing,” Uncas protested. “We don’t want’cha t’ build a ship—we need ya t’ unbuild one.”
Argus turned and looked at the badger, who was all frizzy with earnestness, then up at Quixote. “I’m sorry—as I said, my master was the true creator of such things. I cannot help you.”
Quixote looked at Aristophanes, who had been quiet throughout the entire encounter. The Zen Detective shrugged. “You hired me to find him, not to compel him to do anything for you,” he said brusquely as he turned for the door. “If he doesn’t want to help you, that’s no business of mine.”
Quixote sighed heavily and put his arm around Uncas. “Come along, my squire. Let’s go explain to the Caretakers that their ship the Black Dragon is going to remain just that—a ship. And nothing more.”
The sound of a glass jug shattering against the stone floor stopped the companions in their tracks. They turned back to see Argus kneeling amid the shards of glass and spilled water, gently trying to lift a Monarch ship out of the mess without damaging the wings.
“The Black Dragon,” the shipbuilder said as he delicately installed the tiny ship in another jug. “You told me a ship—you didn’t say which.”