Free We Sled With Dragons by C. Alexander London Page A

others around the table chuckled behind their hands. Sir Edmund clenched his fists and seethed at them in silence until they were finished. He was their leader, but he knew they were losing patience with him. His power was brought into question at every turn, and if he did not produce results soon he might lose control of the Council for good.
    â€œYou!” He pointed down the table at the frightened explorer. “I demand that you answer me now.”
    â€œBut I don’t remember the question,” the explorer said.
    Sir Edmund’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in anger.
    â€œMy question is this,” he said, trying to keep from shouting again. “Where, in your expert opinion as a scholar of the lost civilization of Atlantis, do you suspect is its true and final location, based on the evidence presented on this map we have placed in front of you?”
    The scholar looked nervously at the old map in front of him, with its strangely shaped continents and mysterious ancient Greek writing.
    â€œWell . . . you see . . . I . . . ,” he stammered.
    â€œEnough of this, Edmund.” The man in the baseball cap stood. “He clearly can’t read the map! We’ll never find Atlantis this way. This so-called scholar is just as useless as all the others.”
    â€œI am not useless!” the scholar objected. “I am an expert on Ice Age archaeology.”
    â€œWhatever that means,” grumbled the man in the baseball cap.
    The scholar’s face flushed with anger. “It means I have dug up the bones of the saber-toothed tiger and the ancient pliosaur! I have discovered the rune stones of Viking kings and I have had papers published in
Weird Science Magazine
!
”
    â€œI’m sure your parents are very proud of you,” Sir Edmund said, cutting him off.
    â€œI demand to be returned to my research station in Svalbard!”
    â€œOf course,” said Sir Edmund. “Just tell us how to read Plato’s map.”
    â€œYou know,” the man with the baseball hat said, “
The Daytime Doctor
describes insanity as repeating the same action over and over and expecting a different result.”
    â€œDon’t tell me about
The Daytime Doctor.
Television is for lazy minds,” grumbled Sir Edmund.
    â€œWell.” The man stood. “I am not waiting around here any longer. I have important business to attend to.”
    â€œWe’ll text you if anything important happens,” Sir Edmund sneered sarcastically.
    â€œSee that you do.” The man in the baseball cap turned to leave. He stopped in front of the door and turned back to Sir Edmund. “By the way, I heard that the Navels just staged a daring rescue in Djibouti and escaped on a private plane with Corey Brandt. Looks like they’ve gotten ahead of you . . . again.” He smirked and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
    Sir Edmund looked back to the explorer. “Tell me what Plato’s map says.”
    â€œHow could I possibly read this map?” the explorer whined. “I know nothing about Plato!”
    â€œHe was an ancient Greek philosopher,” said Sir Edmund. “He wrote the earliest descriptions we have of the lost city of Atlantis. Surely you must know something about him!”
    â€œNo.” The scholar crossed his arms. “Nothing.”
    â€œSo you cannot read this map?” One of the well-dressed men leaned forward.
    â€œNo one can!” the scholar cried. “There is no key on it! Without a key, we don’t know which way is north, or how far these places are supposed to be from each other, or what is a city and what is a mountain. The only thing I recognize is the picture of a dragon on the side.”
    â€œSo there are dragons?” Sir Edmund leaned forward.
    â€œNo,” said the scholar. “Dragons were often used to decorate maps. They don’t mean anything. Or maybe they