The King's Key (15 page)

It was dusk when Whisker finally reached the opposite side of the ravine. He was the last Pie Rat to cross. The strong wind, steep incline, and afternoon drizzle meant crossing the expanse with one rope was a slow and tedious process. The safety harness saved him from falling at least twice.

‘Welcome to the ritzy side of the ravine,' Horace said, handing Whisker a strawberry guava.

‘Thanks,' Whisker puffed. ‘I'm starving. My stomach wouldn't stop rumbling the whole way over.'

He plonked himself down on a wet rock and bit into the juicy fruit. His mouth filled with the sweet taste of passionfruit and strawberries.

‘Divine,' he marvelled.

‘There are plenty more if you're hungry,' Horace said, helping himself to another guava. ‘I found a tree near the ruined guardhouse.'

‘Guardhouse?' the Captain enquired.

‘Yes,' Horace said. ‘It's just up the mountain.'

‘Which means the citadel must be close,' Mr Tribble thought aloud.

‘The citadel is an adventure for tomorrow,' the Captain said wearily. ‘For now, I suggest we find a suitable place to set up camp. Can you direct us to the guardhouse, Horace?'

‘Err, Smudge can,' Horace answered coyly. ‘I got a little lost …'

The Captain rose to his feet. ‘Lead the way, Smudge.'

‘What about the rope?' Mr Tribble fretted. ‘Don't we need it to get the key down?'

‘We'll have to make do with Ruby's string,' the Captain said, regretfully. ‘The rope can stay here for our return journey.'

Ruby looked wary. ‘I'd prefer if the rope hung unseen among the vines, just in case we're being followed …'

‘Monkeys?' Horace gasped.

‘I don't know,' Ruby said, lowering her voice. ‘But I did hear something on the other side, and it wasn't Whisker's stomach.'

Whisker gulped and tried not to choke on his guava.

As drizzle turned to rain, Ruby released the tension on the rope until it dangled low into the ravine. Stealing one last anxious glance across the expanse, Whisker plunged into the jungle after his companions.

Leaves and Stone

Exhausted and wet, the Pie Rats arrived at the small guardhouse high up the mountainside. A large guava tree stood near the entrance, its fruit-filled branches dangling over the threshold. Wearily, the seven travellers piled inside.

The guardhouse was a single, modest sized room with no windows and a cobblestone floor. Its four high walls were mostly intact, though its wooden roof had long since perished. A stone archway stood at the entrance, providing sufficient shelter from the evening rain.

The Pie Rats set up a cosy camp under the archway and lit a fire on the doorstep. They were comforted to know they had four strong walls and a roaring fire between themselves and the creatures of the jungle.

Dinner was a second round of strawberry guavas. The Captain thought it best if they kept their second pie for a far more dire occasion. Horace decided to char-grill his guavas for a little variety.

‘Cooked to
pie
fection!' he exclaimed, removing a blackened guava from the end of a toasting stick. He speared the guava with his hook and began chomping away at its singed flesh.

‘Do you want some?' he said offering Whisker a bite.

‘No thanks,' Whisker said firmly. ‘I prefer my guavas medium rare.'

Horace shrugged and continued munching.

The soft shuffle of paper drew Whisker's attention from the fire. He looked over his shoulder to see the Captain examining the Forgotten Map in the flickering light.

‘It's a little soggy,' the Captain commented. ‘But the heat should dry it out in no time. It's lucky we have a map canister, or the map would have turned to pulp by now.'

Whisker looked down at the small metal tube lying next to the Captain. A cork stopper was wedged in one end and the canister was covered in a waterproof tar coating.

‘It's not puddle-proof,' the Captain joked. ‘But at least the ink hasn't run on the map.'

Whisker looked back at the map and stared closely at the words of the riddle. The Captain was right. None of the letters had run or smudged. He was about to make a comment about waterproof ink his father had bought for outdoor circus posters when he noticed something odd about several words in the second verse. He wondered how he could have missed them before.

‘Captain,' he said, intrigued. ‘Take a look at this.'

He read the first two lines of the second verse:

‘You'd think a cartographer would be good at grammar,' Whisker remarked.

‘Cart makers?' Horace said, joining the conversation. ‘They don't know anything about grammar. All they know is where to stick the wheels.'

Ruby snorted loudly.

‘What?' Horace said defensively. ‘My dodgy uncle makes carts. I know all about them.'

‘Cartographers don't make carts,' Mr Tribble explained. ‘Cartographers make maps.'

‘Oh,' Horace murmured. ‘I knew that …'

Mr Tribble stood up and peered over the Captain's shoulder. ‘What are we looking at?'

‘A few misplaced capitals,' Whisker replied. ‘Look at the words
Treacherous, Hope
and
Sea
.'

Mr Tribble adjusted his glasses. ‘Are you sure they're misplaced? Cartographers are usually very thorough.'

The rest of the Pie Rats gathered around with interest. Eaton pointed to the rocky lagoon on the Island of Destiny.

‘The
Treacherous Sea
,' the Captain read. ‘Of course. It's a place name. Hence the capitals. The riddle is warning us about the dangers of the voyage through the Treacherous Sea.'

‘I thought the danger was obvious,' Horace argued. ‘Just look at all those rocks.'

‘Maybe,' Whisker pondered. ‘But there's more to it than that …' He thought back to the evening he'd run into Rat Bait, the former guardian of the map, and recalled the discussion that took place. ‘Rat Bait mentioned a mysterious sea creature patrolling the island. The riddle says to
keep Hope in our sights.
Hope has a capital
H
so it could be a place name like the Treacherous Sea.'

‘A safe place to anchor to avoid the creature,' the Captain suggested, ‘though I can't see
Hope
written anywhere on the map.'

‘We're missing part of the map,' Ruby stated. ‘And I'll bet a bunch of gold bananas that
Hope
has something to do with the key … what do you say Horace?'

Horace shook his head. ‘I'm done making bets for the week, especially when it comes to food.'

None of the others had any better theories and decided it was unwise to bet against Ruby.

‘I suspect we'll find
Hope
written on the bottom of the key,' the Captain yawned. ‘But for now, I suggest we all get some sleep. We leave for the citadel at first light.'

With their thoughts focused on the mysterious key, the Pie Rats curled up around the fire and drifted off to sleep. Smudge kept watch at the entrance, just in case the marmosets were crazy enough to catapult themselves over the ravine.

The sun hovered low in a hazy sky. Smoke from the smouldering fire merged with the early morning mist.

Refreshed but achy from his rope bridge adventure, Whisker pulled himself to his feet. Horace stood nearby, surveying a pile of guavas.

‘Another beautiful day in paradise,' he said cheerfully. ‘What's it to be? Strawberry guavas covered in dew or strawberry guavas covered in ash?'

‘Dew,' Whisker grunted.

‘Good choice,' Horace agreed. ‘That will be seven servings of dew-covered guavas coming up.'

‘Oh, how I miss Fred's cooking,' Ruby muttered. ‘What I'd give for a slice of Red Berry Combo pie right now.'

She glanced down at Mr Tribble's open backpack where the second pie sat, covered in long, stringy roots. Smudge attempted to sneak his way inside.

‘Shoo fly,' Mr Tribble squeaked, hurriedly closing the bag. ‘There is to be no sniffing, nibbling or gnawing the pie until we have located the key – Captain's orders.'

‘Speaking of the Captain,' Whisker said looking around, ‘has anyone seen him this morning?'

Smudge pointed up the mountain.

‘No way!' Ruby exploded. ‘He left without us?'

‘He did say first light,' Whisker said.

Smudge shook his head.

‘Kidnapped by drop bears?' Horace gasped.

Smudge threw his arms in the air as if to say
enough with the drop bears.

‘Well, where is he?' Ruby asked, with growing concern.

Smudge rubbed his stomach with one arm and pretended he was feeding himself with another.

‘Eating?' Horace said puzzled.

‘Not eating,' the Captain laughed, stepping out of the mist. ‘Finding something other than guavas for breakfast.' Under each arm he carried an oblong yellow fruit.

‘Mountain paw paws,' Whisker said, recognising them immediately. ‘Nutritious.'

‘Oooh nutritious,' Horace repeated. ‘Too good for strawberry guavas are we, Whisker?'

‘Uh, no,' Whisker said, taken aback. ‘Mountain paw paws are a little sour on their own, but if we scoop out the seeds and stuff them with strawberry guavas they'll taste nearly as good as a berry pie.'

Horace twirled his hook in the air. ‘Well aren't you the fancy pants chef. Fred had better watch his back.'

‘I take it you're happy with your ash-covered guava, Horace?' the Captain said gruffly.

‘Oh no,' Horace babbled. ‘On the contrary, I would love one of Whisker's paw paw pie … thingies.'

‘Of course you would,' the Captain said with a bemused chuckle. ‘You're never one to miss out.' He cut one of the paw paws in half with his sword. ‘I had intended to bring back some jungle berries but the bush had been freshly raided.'

‘Raided?' Horace gasped. ‘By who? Monkeys?'

‘I'm not sure,' the Captain said quietly. ‘But the paw paw tree was left untouched …'