The End of Time looked at Burton. "The child must stay," he said impassively. "He must."

Burton's jaw dropped open in amazement. Of all of them, the End of Time was the one man he had expected to back him in his arguments.

"Why?"

Theo refused to answer, and merely stared at Burton, who dropped his eyes.

"All right," Burton finally agreed, still reluctant. "The boy stays here, God curse you all."

It took some intense discussions and the direct involvement of both Fred and Archimedes to convince Myrret and the other animals that it would be best for Coal to remain on Paralon. By that point, even John was wavering-but Jack took both Aven's request and Theo's warning very seriously and persuaded the others that it really was for the best.

As Myrret distracted Coal up in the Great Hall, the companions began to examine the door. It was framed in stone, and despite all its travels, looked none the worse for wear.

"I'll give this to the Dragons," said Burton. "They could build a door."

Jack reached out and touched the door. It swung open slightly and vibrated. Peering through the crack, he could see some kind of street, and the sounds of horses and street vendors wafted through, along with an assortment of odors. There was no question-the door still worked.

Suddenly a stone fell from the arch and landed with a dull thump in the sand. "Uh-oh," said Houdini. "That's not a good sign."

"It's thousands of years old," said Fred, "and it's no longer being supported by the energies of the keep."

"We'd better go through quickly," said John. "It may not last for another trip."

But before the companions could open the door farther, an earth-rattling tremor threw them to the floor.

"What the hell?" said Burton. "Is it another discontinuity?"

"No," Theo said, looking up the stairwell. "That was something else. Something living."

There was another tremor, and then a deep, malevolent voice rang through the entire palace. "Little things," the reverberating voice said, "why have you come here?"

Rose's eyes widened in recognition. She had heard that voice before, not all that long ago. "It's the star!" she exclaimed. "The star, Rao, from one of the islands past the Edge of the World!"

"It is a dark star," the ferret said. "It is a creature of Shadow now."

"A Lloigor," said Theo, "with the power of a living star. We must go. We must go now."

Somewhere up above the palace, the star called Rao roared, and the earth shook. Two more stones fell from the frame around the door.

"It's not going to hold!" Fred cried as he pushed open the door. "The frame is breaking up!"

A huge figure lumbered around behind the door and grasped the stones, and Fred pushed it open all the way.

The Tin Man braced himself around the crumbling archway and held the stones together as, one by one, the companions passed through the vortex of energies that was the doorway into time.

Rao continued to rage, and now the roaring was closer-the star had entered the palace itself.

"Good-bye, Great Caretakers," the ferret said sadly. "Remember us."

"Ah, me," said John, closing his eyes. "How can I leave them like this?"

Suddenly a cry rang out-a plea. It was a child's voice, calling to them from the far chamber, and he was begging not to be left behind.

Coal.

"We can't!" John shouted, steeling his resolve. "I'm sorry, we can't!"

"We understand," Myrret called out as he barred Coal from entering the chamber. "Go! Go!"

"How stony is your heart, Caretaker?" Burton argued from the world beyond the door. "You'll leave him here, to face this, alone?"

John looked back and forth between Burton and the terrified boy, then dropped his head in resignation. Jack knew the expression on his old friend's face. He was thinking about his own son, Christopher, who was in the Royal Air Force back in England. One young man against a war was too much for a father to carry-and it was too much here, in the face of the dark star, the Lloigor Rao. "All right!" John said to Burton. "Go! Grab him! We'll keep the door open!"

Burton dashed back through the door and took the terrified boy from the fox just as a dark, living mist began to descend the staircase. "Little things," the booming voice called out, "come to me. Come to Rao."

"Scowler John," Fred said, trying to keep the pleading out of his own voice, "what would Charles do?"

"All for one and one for all, then," John said under his breath. "Myrret!" He shouted. "Come on through! Bring everyone!"

Burton, carrying the little prince, passed through the door just before a rush of animals nearly bowled him off his feet. A dozen foxes, as many hedgehogs, and the ferret raced though between John's legs.

The outer chamber of the Whatsit was full of the black mist now, and the entire palace seemed to be falling to pieces. The rumbling was constant now, and the angry voice of Rao filled the room.

"What about Aven?" Jack shouted over the rumbling. "And Eledir?"

"Aven's already gone," John shouted back, "and Eledir's too far away to help. We're done here, Jack."

John was the last to pass through, and for a brief instant he considered suggesting that the Tin Man try to step around and through the door-but the great behemoth saw the thought pass fleetingly over John's face, and shook its head no.

There was no time left. The Tin Man was here, now, for this purpose-to ensure that the last efforts of Aven and Stephen had not been in vain.

"Little things," Rao boomed, "I see you!"

A great tendril of darkness shot out from the formless Lloigor, past John and through the open door, where it wrapped itself around Rose and began pulling her back.

"No!" John shouted, clutching at the darkness. "Burton! Jack! Hold on to her!"

The men grabbed Rose by the arms, and she screamed. For a moment it seemed as if Rao was going to pull her apart-then suddenly the tendril loosed and pulled away. It had gotten what it wanted.

"My shadow!" Rose exclaimed in horrified wonder. "It's taking my shadow!"

"Close the door!" John yelled up at the Tin Man. "Do it now, before it's too late!"

Something shoved John hard in the chest, and he fell backward through the door. The tendril had released Rose's shadow, which followed him through the door, writhing on the ground at his feet as Rao rose up to confront the Tin Man.

The companions despaired. The machine man was powerful and had a great will-but he would not last long against the power of the dark star.

As the door closed behind him, John heard the voice of the Tin Man speaking to him through the din. "Fix this," it said, in the softly accented continental English of Roger Bacon. "Fix this, Caveo Principia."

Then the door slammed shut and exploded with a violent burst of light and splinters and the shards of time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Craven Street

The companions found themselves standing in an alley off a busy street in London. It was dark, and narrow, and smelly, but it was concealed enough that they weren't going to immediately attract too much attention for the fact that they were accompanied by dozens of animals that walked on their hind legs, were dressed in human clothes, and spoke in accented English.

It took several minutes for the companions to gather their wits about them after the narrow escape from the dark star Rao. John's last act of compassion had brought them not only the little prince, but also an entourage. It also cost them precious seconds during which they'd nearly lost Rose to the Lloigor.

"She'd never have been at risk if you'd just allowed the boy to come with us from the start," Burton said to John, glowering. "You are a stupid man, Caretaker."

"It's all right," said Rose soothingly, her voice still a bit shaky from the fear and the adrenaline. "Because of the Tin Man, we all came through fine, with no harm done. That's all that matters."

"Not completely," Jack said, pointing at the ground. "Something's come loose, Rose."

He was right. Her shadow lay on the ground at their feet, completely disconnected from her-and pointing toward the light from the street.

Rose's eyes widened, and she leaned down to touch it, but it darted away and up a nearby wall.

"What does this mean?" she asked the Caretakers. "How can my shadow move on its own?"

"People have lost their shadows before," said John, "but usually they have to be given up willingly, or in the cases of the Shadow-Born, taken. But this is an entirely new dilemma."

"Does that make her a Shadow-Born, then?" asked Fred. "That would be terrible for you, Rose."

"She didn't lose her shadow," said Jack. "It's right up there. It just isn't attached to her anymore."

"To give up a shadow means choosing a dark path," said Burton. "Be wary, girl."

"I don't want to give it up!" Rose exclaimed, almost petulantly. "I haven't chosen a dark path! I'm the Grail Child."

"Well, it doesn't appear to be leaving you," John remarked, noting that the shadow was now dancing among the shadows cast by the other companions. "I don't think you have to worry about becoming a Shadow-Born, Rose."

"Not permanently, anyway," Jack said with a grin. "But if you wanted, you could get up to all sorts of mischief now, and just blame it on your shadow."

Rose's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Shame on you!" Archie squawked. "You of all people should know better than to joke about that, Caretaker."

"He isn't too bright either," said Burton.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, chagrined. "Forgive me, Rose. We'll figure out how to reattach it somehow."

"There's nothing to forgive," Rose answered. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"First things first," said John. "We've definitely returned to the Summer Country-but when?"

Burton checked his watch. "Hmm," he mused. "1768. That's not too shabby. And at least we're in the right hemisphere."

"1768?" Houdini repeated. "Are you certain?"

Burton simply scowled in response.

"Drat," said Houdini. "I've missed him by more than a dozen years."

"Missed who?" asked Doyle.

"Katterfelto," the magician replied. "The Prince of Puff, one of the great performers of the age. He doesn't arrive in London until 1782, blast it." He paused and rubbed at his chin in thought. "Then again," he said, his countenance brightening, "there was an influenza epidemic that year too, so I suppose it's not all bad."

"Not all bad!" John exclaimed. "We're in the eighteenth century! And worse, the entire Archipelago is all but destroyed! Are you out of your bloody minds?"

"Calm down, little Caretaker," said Burton. "They've traveled in time more often than you have and adjust more quickly to the novelty of it."

"If we're home," said Rose, "shouldn't there be someone who can help us? Another Caretaker, maybe?"

"Who is the Caretaker in this time?" Jack asked. "I can't recall offhand."

John removed the Imaginarium Geographica from Fred's pack and unwrapped it. He turned to the endpapers, where all the Caretakers had inscribed their names, and ran his finger down the list. "It was after the point when they chose to enlist three Caretakers at a time," he said as he read the names, "so it's possible we could meet up with more than one."

He frowned. "Goethe, from what I can tell. But he may still be too young to have been recruited, and he'll be in Germany, not London. And Swift, although he would be at Tamerlane House by this point, having died already."

"William Blake?" Jack suggested, peering over John's shoulder. "I know he later went renegade with some of the others, but he was a Caretaker around this time."

"Not yet," Burton said, ignoring the remark about renegade Caretakers. "He's only about ten years old here. He won't be approached by the Caretakers for another decade, and he won't start painting the portraits for years after that, so Swift is right out too."

"Then who?" asked Jack.

"I can't tell," said John. "There's a gap here. No one is minding the store, so to speak, until Blake comes of age, and then Schubert after him."

At this Houdini, Doyle, and Burton exchanged surreptitious glances, but said nothing.

"Then we're on our own," Burton said as he snapped shut his watch. "Brilliant, young Caretaker."

"You have one of the watches?" Fred exclaimed, as his face wrinkled up in an expression that was a mix of both shock and distaste. "Aren't they s'pposed t' vanish when you become a traitor?"

Jack tried to hush the little badger, but Burton brushed off the implied insult. "It depends on what you've become a traitor to," he said, fingering the watch. "I've always remained true to my own code, and I'm guessing the watch would recognize that-if," he added with a dark smile, "it was one of your cheap Caretaker watches."