The King's Key (18 page)

Keys to thy Throne

The grappling hook hurtled through the air, speeding towards the golden key. Whisker clawed desperately at the string, unable to get a hold – he had to stop it.

As the hook neared its target, Whisker felt the lumpy shape of a knot. With rough fibres tearing at his skin, he closed his fists and pulled. The grappling hook jerked to a halt in midair and fell. The key continued to sway peacefully at the end of the chain.

Whisker felt his tail tingle with relief. Ruby gave him a furious scowl.

‘What on earth were you thinking?' she yelled. ‘I would have hooked it.'

‘I – know –' Whisker panted, trying to catch his breath.

‘What?' Ruby fumed. ‘You deliberately tried to stop me. What kind of arrogant, worm-ridden, glory-hungry apprentice do you think you are?'

Whisker was too shocked to respond.

‘He's the worm-ridden type that just saved your life,' Horace said in Whisker's defence.

‘Saved my life?' Ruby exclaimed. ‘From what?'

Horace pointed his hook at the ceiling. ‘Have you looked up lately, Ruby?'

Ruby raised her eye. The ceiling appeared the same as it had two minutes ago, with one big exception. The keystone supporting the chain had dislodged from the roof and was precariously balanced between the surrounding stones. One small tug on the chain would send the keystone plummeting to the ground.

‘That explains the grinding sound,' Ruby gasped.

‘I'm no stonemason,' Horace said. ‘But my other uncle, who's not a dodgy cart maker, is. And I know for a fact that removing a keystone from any dome or archway is a guaranteed way to bring down the roof quicker than it takes to say
shiver me timbers, the sky is falling.'

Ruby gulped. ‘I-I'm sorry, Whisker, I shouldn't have …'

‘Forget it, Ruby,' Whisker said, cutting her off. ‘I didn't give you much warning.'

‘But how did you know it was a trap?' she asked.

Whisker pointed to the golden key.

‘I counted the teeth,' he said. ‘The key from the map has three teeth. This key has four.'

Ruby gave Horace a sideways glance.

‘I know, I know,' he muttered. ‘We should have listened to Tribble.'

‘So where's the real key?' Ruby asked, peering around the tower.

Whisker shrugged. ‘Who knows? But I'm not waiting here for an answer to fall from the sky.'

Without further discussion, Horace picked up the lantern, Ruby slung the grappling hook over her shoulder and Whisker led the way down the stairs – as gently as possible. He listened for further grinding sounds with every step, but all he heard was Horace counting backwards.

After an anxious descent, the three rats reached the bottom of the stairs to find the throne room deserted and their companions nowhere in sight.

‘Psst, Over here,' Mr Tribble hissed.

‘Where?' Horace said, baffled. ‘I can't see anyone.'

‘We're under the throne,' the Captain whispered, poking his head between two marble legs. ‘Is it safe to come out?'

‘Not exactly,' Horace replied. ‘But the last place you want to be is under that throne.'

‘Why?' Mr Tribble asked, refusing to budge.

Whisker heard a faint grinding sound far above him.

‘RUN!' he yelled. ‘NOW!'

Mr Tribble didn't wait for an explanation. He scurried out of his hiding spot and hurtled down the side of the plinth, dragging Eaton by his collar. The Captain scampered closely behind them. Smudge was gone in a flash.

Ruby, Horace and Whisker grabbed their backpacks and ran towards the waiting room as the grinding sound continued. One by one, they dashed through the doorway and headed for the hole in the floor.

Whisker was directly under the arch when he heard the Captain cry out, ‘The map! The map! The map is still on the throne.'

Whisker was typically a cautious character, but in the heat of the moment his caution was overwhelmed by a more powerful emotion – desperation. The map was his one hope. Without it, he had no chance of finding his family.

With a rush of blood to his tail, he tossed his backpack through the doorway and sprinted back into the throne room. Empty and eerie, it felt more like a burial tomb than a royal seat of kings. Whisker raced across the floor and leapt up the seven steps to the great white throne. The Forgotten Map lay unrolled on its marble seat.

As he scooped up the map in his arms, the ghostly green light of the chamber suddenly grew warmer.

Sunlight!

Whisker didn't look up. He didn't have time. He dived headfirst down the stairs – flying, tumbling, crashing over the steps as the entire ceiling of the tower tumbled onto the throne.

There was a deafening
CRACK
as the chair splintered into a thousand marble pieces. Rocks rained down, bouncing over the sides of the plinth. Whisker dragged himself along the floor, hoping and praying the next stone wasn't headed in his direction. He kept his head down and followed the sounds of voices crying out to him.

The voices grew louder.

He felt arms grab hold of his shirt and drag him through the doorway into the room beyond.

The rumbling stopped.

‘What were you thinking?' the Captain roared. ‘You could have been buried alive.'

Whisker raised his head. Ruby, Horace and the Captain stood over him.

‘Sorry,' he said, letting his cautious side take over. ‘I know it was reckless.'

‘Reckless,' Horace exclaimed. ‘That's an understatement if ever I heard one. If a cat has nine lives, you must have at least ninety – and you just used up half of them.'

‘Don't expect us to attend your funeral, Whisker,' Ruby snapped, unable to hide her trembling voice. ‘I – we all like you better alive. Do you hear?'

‘Yes, Ruby,' Whisker said sheepishly. He extended the crumpled map to her. ‘Peace offering?'

Ruby let out a long sigh and passed the map to the Captain. The Captain handed it straight back to Whisker.

‘This is the second time you've rescued this map, Whisker,' he said, composing himself. ‘So I'm entrusting you to look after it. Wherever you go, the map goes.'

Whisker nodded.

The Captain turned to Ruby and Horace. ‘I take it one of you has the key hidden in a deep pocket?'

Ruby and Horace both looked at Whisker for an answer.

‘Err, here's the thing, Captain …' Whisker began.

It took Whisker some time to explain the events of the tower. By the time he had finished, the dust had settled and the midday sun streamed majestically through the open roof of the throne room.

‘So the golden key is under those stones?' Mr Tribble said, pointing to the pile of debris.

‘Correct,' Whisker answered.

‘And you said the key had four teeth?' Mr Tribble said. ‘Not three teeth.'

‘That's right,' Whisker said, unsure where Mr Tribble was headed.

‘Four plus three equals seven.' Mr Tribble muttered. ‘The plinth leading to the throne had seven steps …' He shrugged. ‘Coincidence?'

‘Maybe not,' Whisker said, straightening out the crumpled map. ‘The riddle describes the key as
a treasure for a rich king's throne.
A golden key would normally be classed as treasure …'

‘But it's the wrong key,' Horace groaned.

‘So what else would a rich king consider as treasure?' Whisker asked.

Mr Tribble read from his notebook: ‘
Wisdom and wealth be the keys to thy throne.
If we take the inscription literally, there are two keys – one is wisdom, one is wealth. A rich king already has wealth, symbolised by the golden key …'

‘Which means the treasure mentioned in the riddle on the map must be the three-toothed key known as wisdom,' Whisker exclaimed.

There was a nod of heads from the Pie Rats.

‘According to the riddle,' Whisker continued,
‘Wisdom is found in the shadows behind.
The true key isn't hanging in the glorious tower. It's hiding in the shadows waiting to be
uncovered
.'

‘What shadows?' Horace asked. ‘There are shadows everywhere. This place is one gloomy death-trap.'

‘The shadows are behind something,' Whisker said. ‘That could mean behind the tower, behind the palace or behind the throne …'

All eyes looked to where the throne had once stood.

‘None of us thought to examine the back of the throne,' Mr Tribble sighed. ‘I guess it's a bit late for that now.'

Eaton raised his paw.

‘I err, had a look,' he said timidly, ‘when we were hiding under the throne. I peeked out to see what was happening in the tower.'

‘And did you see anything?' the Captain asked.

‘Only carved leaves,' Eaton replied.

‘That doesn't surprise me,' the Captain said, relieved. ‘The throne is far too obvious a hiding spot. The maker of the map has gone to extraordinary lengths to conceal the key. I suggest we split up and search the citadel.'

‘Where do we start?' Ruby asked eagerly.

‘Mr Tribble and Eaton can join me on a hunt through the palace,' the Captain replied. ‘The symbols above the doorways may provide us with a clue. Ruby, Whisker and Horace would be wise to examine the courtyard, and Smudge can do a flyover of the outer walls. Whistle if you see anything.'

‘Aye aye, Captain,' Ruby and Whisker chanted in unison.

‘Booby traps, here we come,' Horace added, with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Several hours later, three frustrated rats finished triple-checking the courtyard buildings.

‘No key, no lunch, no afternoon siesta,' Horace groaned. ‘Only stones, stones and more stones.'

Ruby wiped the water from her brow. ‘Don't forget thorny vines and afternoon drizzle. My swords will rust before nightfall.'

‘At least we've avoided the booby traps,' Whisker pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.

There was a faint whistle from inside the palace.

‘That sounds more promising,' Horace exclaimed, taking off up the stairs.

Whisker and Ruby sprinted after him, following the main passage until they reached the three arched doorways.

‘Which way?' Horace asked.

‘Listen,' Ruby hissed.

A whistling sound echoed from the left doorway.

‘Down,' Whisker said.

The rats descended the left staircase, fumbling their way through the darkness and tripping over loose stones. They came to two doorways and stopped.

‘I can't hear the whistling,' Horace whispered, ‘and it's too dark to see the symbols.'

‘UNCLE,' Ruby shouted at the top of her lungs. ‘CAN YOU HEAR ME?'

A faint reply drifted from the right doorway. Ruby chuckled to herself. ‘Problem solved.'

The adventurers stumbled down a flight of worn, uneven steps, the air growing mustier as they continued.

‘We should have brought a second lantern,' Horace grumbled, kicking something soft and squishy. ‘I hope that was a mushroom and not a giant leech …'

‘It's getting lighter,' Ruby said from further down the stairs. ‘They must be close.'

The stairs spiralled to the left and stopped at the base of a small rusty gate. The gate was padlocked shut, but several of the bars had crumbled away and the rats easily squeezed through. Whisker looked up at the symbol above the gate. It was another paw – a left paw.