"I don't think it matters, little Caretaker," Burton said as he shouldered his pack. "He's not in there."

"It matters to me," said John, turning away, his fists clenched in helplessness. "It matters."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The Little Prince

Silence ruled in the streets of the city on Paralon. The broad, stone-lined thoroughfares were still there, but empty save for weeds and dust. The canals had gone dry, and most of the lower structures were too crumbled and broken down to even safely explore. The only structure that bore a resemblance to what had stood there before was the great citadel-the seat of the Silver Throne.

"I'll say this for him," John said, whistling in admiration. "Artigel built things to last."

Laura Glue was taking the destruction in stride. After the discovery of Eledir and the Blue Dragon, everything else seemed to be revealing itself in a natural, terrible progression. Still, John noted that she remained aloft on her wings as much as possible, and she spoke only to Archimedes. She might be feeling the impact of all this more than she was revealing.

As for Fred, he was putting up a brave front. John could tell by the nervous twitching of his whiskers that the badger was highly agitated-but he kept his composure, mostly by stroking his watch.

Ah, Charles, John thought. You chose better than you knew, when you picked this little fellow to be your apprentice. He knows instinctively that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act in spite of it.

There were high walls erected in concentric circles all around the main towers of the citadel. They were massively solid but seemed also to have been hastily constructed, with some of them built over, on top of, and through the surrounding structures. The patchwork construction of some of them attested to the fact that they were built while Paralon was under siege-they were made of the materials that were readily at hand. That meant roads, castles, hovels-whatever could be broken down and used again to reinforce the battlements.

"Those wars George mentioned," Jack said, drawing his finger through the dust on a rampart. "I think I believe him now."

"They were trying to protect something," said Burton. "These are battlements, and well-built ones."

"Something, or someone?" asked John. "And the more important question: Were they successful?"

"I don't think the citadel would still be standing if they weren't," offered Doyle.

"I can't believe we haven't found anyone else here," said Laura Glue. "There were thousands of people living on Paralon."

"There is probably no one left around except for the animals," Burton said as he pushed aside a fallen pillar. "They're usually what remain when the people have gone."

"Talking, or the other kind?" asked Houdini. "I wouldn't really mind meeting more animals that can talk."

"What does it matter?" answered Burton. "If they talk, they're just servants and chattel. If they don't, they're dinner tonight and food storage for tomorrow."

"Ahem-hem," Fred interrupted as politely as he could manage. "I know some animals who would say exactly the same things about you."

"That matters less to me," said Burton. "I don't believe in making friends with something I ought to be eating."

"Don't take that personally, Fred," said Jack. "He's eaten a lot of his friends, too."

"If there is anyone still left here," Fred went on, undeterred by Burton's disdain, "it's sure t' be the animals, precisely because we're a servant class race."

"So you admit you're inferior?" asked Burton.

"I said nothing of the kind," Fred retorted. "We do it because it's a calling humans can only aspire to."

"Hah!" Burton barked. "How do you figure that?"

"Animal logic," answered Fred. "We figure we're here in this life to help others, to be happy, and to try not to eat our neighbors. And not necessarily in that order," he added.

"Those are three qualities that Burton will never understand," said John, "including the part about eating his neighbors."

"Only when it was necessary," said Burton.

The last of the great walls was the stoutest, and tallest, and least damaged.

"I don't even think it's just a wall," Jack said, shading his eyes to look skyward. "It looks like they were trying to enclose the palace completely and never finished the job."

The massive doors resembled those that guarded the ancient library known as the Great Whatsit, or those of Samaranth's own cavern. There were Elven runes carved throughout the metalwork and stone.

"That may have been why Eledir was here," Jack suggested. "He closed them in and sealed the door."

"Possibly," said John, "but someone was expecting us to open them again." He pointed to the locks. "See here? Alpha, the mark of the House of Arthur. And here," he indicated the other side. "Pi. The Caretaker's mark. We were meant to come here together, Rose, to find this place."

John and Rose each placed their hands over their respective marks, and there was a faint glow and warmth as the magic engaged. But the doors did not open.

"Come here, Burton, Theo," said Jack. "Let's give it a push."

"Rusted shut," Jack declared after a minute of straining at the doors. He wiped his hands on his trousers and looked at the Magician. "I don't suppose you can do anything about this?"

"Me?" said Houdini. "Locks aren't a problem. Rusted twenty-foot-high doors ... that's a different kettle of fish."

"Archimedes ...," John began.

"I know, I know," the bird grumbled. "You want me to go fetch Bacon. Your wish is my command, O master."

Archie wheeled around and flew toward the beach, grumbling as he went. "Servant class my feathered rear," he muttered. "I'm a teacher."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Jack called out, "but in my experience, that's about the same thing."

"We're not going to wait," Laura Glue declared suddenly, as she caught up Rose under the arms and soared up the face of the wall.

"Laura Glue!" John shouted. "Oh, for cat's sake," he grumbled. "There's not much we can do, I suppose, if she won't listen to us."

"And why should she, Caretaker?" asked Burton. "In her world she's a trusted soldier. But you still see a frightened child. Is it her obedience or your vision that is too small?"

Archie arrived with the Tin Man in tow, and once more they put their shoulders to the doors. But again, even with the Tin Man's amazing strength, they could not move the doors an inch.

"Now what?" Jack panted. "We can't exactly have Laura Glue fly all of us over the top, can we?"

"You don't need to," Rose said as the mighty doors swung open-toward the companions. "All the pushing in the world won't do you any good if you're pushing in the wrong direction."

All the men looked around sheepishly at one another as the young women and the animals laughed and trooped inside. "Did you even try pulling on them?" John asked.

"Didn't even occur to me," said Jack. "If it was up to us, we'd have ended up sitting on the beach with Eledir."

"I was going to mention the huge silver rings on the outside," said Houdini.

"Oh, shut up," said Burton.

Inside the great wall, which they could now see was really a half dome, stood the palace of Paralon. Its defenders had been trying to erect a great protective shell around it, to better preserve whatever it was that remained inside. But of everything the companions had witnessed, the castle was the one thing that resembled their memories, and Laura Glue teared up at the sight of it.

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Fred, thumping a fist into his paw. "As long as there sits a descendant of Arthur on the Silver Throne, then the Archipelago is not alone."

John looked askance at Jack, who remained placid. After all these years, any mention of the Silver Throne pushed Jack into an emotional reserve of coolness. The last King they knew, Stephen, was the son of Jack's first great love-and he had never truly gotten over that feeling.

"Let's go see what there is to see," Jack said brusquely, pushing ahead of the others. He strode through the familiar corridors as quickly as he could until he finally reached the great hall where the Silver Throne of Arthur had stood.

Jack pulled open the doors-pulled, not pushed, John noted with amusement-and entered the hall.

Immediately he was surrounded by dozens of animals bearing a strange assortment of weapons. They were all chittering and howling and creating a terrible racket. Some were foxes, and others were smaller creatures he couldn't identify in all the melee.

They were pointing crude spears and long knives at Jack and the others who had come up quickly behind him-but some among the animals had weapons that resembled those of Nemo's time. That meant they were deadly, if not accurate.

"Stop!" Fred shouted, throwing himself in front of the companions. "We mean you no harm!"

At the appearance of another animal, all the rest stopped and grew silent. They seemed slightly confused, as if they'd been ready to go to war, and the appearance of this little badger had changed their minds.

"Who be you?" one of the foxes asked. "Be you friend, or be you foe?"

"I be ... I mean, I am Fred, son of Uncas, son of Tummeler," said the little Caretaker, "and we mean you no harm."

"Caretaker?" the fox exclaimed. "Are the rest of you also Caretakers?"

"Some of us," said Jack. "I'm Jack, and this is John."

At this, all the animals, which they now saw were foxes and hedgehogs, dropped their weapons and sank to their knees. "Scowler John and Scowler Jack," the fox said reverently, "I am Myrret, and I am your humble servant. We have cared for him the best we could until you could arrive."

"Him?" asked Jack. "Him who?"

"The prince," Myrret replied with some surprise. "The last prince of the Silver Throne."

The animals led the companions through the great hall, and for the first time, they could see how it had been transformed. Far from being a place of government, it had been made over to resemble a giant nursery. There was a theater to one side, with half-completed sets from what appeared to be a Brothers Grimm story. There were books scattered everywhere, and stained-glass friezes that depicted a plethora of fables and fairy tales. There was even a miniature planet, large enough to climb on, that hovered above a silver base. It was every child's dream-or would have been, had it not been locked inside a fortress.

"Where is he?" John asked Myrret. "Is he here?"

In reply, the fox pointed to the fore of the room, to the Silver Throne itself.

There, peeking from behind the timeworn throne, was a child. A boy, dark-haired, bright-eyed, and all of six years old, if that, thought Jack-although the curious expression on his face and the absence of fear made him appear to be older.

He hesitated-these strangers were the first people he might have seen in a long time, if ever. Rose read his fear and approached the throne slowly.

"Hello," she said softly. "I'm your cousin Rose. Who are you?"

"I am the son of Radamand, who was the son of Homer, who was the son of Karal," he said, "who was the son of ..." He paused and scratched his head. "I forget who else. But I am the last king of the Silver Throne."

Burton laughed, a short, sharp bark. "Hah! King? You're barely old enough to dress yourself."

"Richard, shut up," Jack hissed.

"You are a prince, and may be king someday," said Rose. "When you are older."

"I read about the king in the stories," said the boy. "The king of rocks. You know-Old King Coal was a merry old soul."

"You can read?" asked Rose.

"The animals tell me stories," he said. "They've also taught me how to read, so that if they are busy, I can read them myself," he said with no small pride.

"C-O-L-E, not C-O-A-L," Fred corrected, trying to be helpful.

"The animals call me Coal," the boy said. "I never got a real name. When I was born, there was no one left to name me. So I decided I came from a story instead."

No one left? John thought. Had they come too late? Just in time to witness the end of the Silver Throne?

"Knew you'd come," said Coal. "The stories all said you would. And now we can listen to the last story together!"

"What is the last story?" asked Rose. "Is it a book?"

"No," Myrret answered. "It's in the Whatsit."

"The Great Whatsit!" Jack exclaimed. "It still exists?"

"Not the Great Whatsit," Myrret corrected, "just the Whatsit. The Great Whatsit was destroyed by the Trolls in the Second War of the Races, and the last of the crows and the hedgehogs moved what they could save here, to the new Whatsit that a badger built underneath the palace."

"Badger?" said Fred, perking up. "What badger?"

"Charles Montgolfier something something," said Myrret. "I could look it up if you like."

"No need," Fred said as Jack squeezed his shoulder. "Attaboy, Pop."

"The prince's own ancestress left the last story for you," said a small hedgehog, "and she has guarded it herself all these centuries."

"She's still alive?" asked Rose.

"She sleeps forever in the crystal," the hedgehog said reverently, "never to be awakened. Come with me, and I'll take you to her."