The Map by William Ritter

Author:William Ritter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781616205843
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2015-06-15T07:00:00+00:00

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The Curtain Wall

Budging the heavy turnip out of the way proved as daunting an obstacle as the hare had been, and in the end we employed the pink party cracker after all. The fifth step on the map brought us into the towers bordering the castle. We were inside what Jackaby called the “curtain wall,” the castle’s first line of defense. It was stark and utilitarian, but the architect had tucked occasional accents into the brickwork. Little cherubs with chipped wings hung about here and there, and accents of stone leaves carved along the interior walls echoed the living ivy of the exterior. In the chamber before us, three iron cannons had been bricked into place with heavy mason stones. The base of each cannon was completely encased, blocking access to the gunpowder chambers, rendering them essentially useless. They stood immobile, aimed out of three openings only slightly larger than the weapons’ muzzles.

“Jackaby,” I said, “how much do you know about Patrick Fleming?”

“Not a great deal,” he admitted, running a finger along a groove in the masonry. “Just the basic story. Shibboletta’s Songs, Sagas, and Survivals includes a short chapter on the man. Why?”

“He was human, right? Just a highwayman?”

“That’s the general consensus.”

“Then how did he do all this? The enchanted garden, the cursed hare—an entire castle erected on the far side of the Atlantic? Quite a feat for a mortal man to pull off on his way to the gallows.”

Jackaby frowned. “That’s an excellent question, Miss Rook.”

We walked along the top of the wall to the next tower, which was identical to the first. I pulled out the map and examined the miniature version of the castle. Each tower surrounding the central keep was marked with the same simple symbol: a teardrop.

“What do you suppose we’re meant to do here?” I asked. “Cry?”

Jackaby frowned. “The bucket,” he said. “Back at the lake, we were meant to fill the bucket and bring it with us.” He pointed to a pair of chubby stone cherubs who held a basket aloft near the doorway. I stood tiptoe to peer into the basket, and sure enough, it opened into a hole in the wall, inviting water to be poured in, like rain-spout gargoyles in reverse.

We paced around the towers, searching for hidden mechanisms or any significance to the water-trough sculptures, but their function, if any, was inscrutable. At length we descended the stairway to the sixth step, but our failure to carry out another one of the Bold Deceiver’s tasks left Jackaby unsettled.

I reassured him that if we met with difficulty, we could always head back to the towers and try again. The next destination on the map would not even require the use of a party cracker. We were headed for the castle keep.

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