On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (10 page)

19

Pain and Woe and Sorrow

T
ink and Janner spun around to see Slarb in the shadows, his black eyes like two empty wells. They cried out and backed away into the street as he emerged from the darkness, teeth bared.

“It's time to finish what I started yesterday, boysss.” Slarb clacked his teeth together hungrily. He cocked his head sideways and considered Janner and Tink for a long moment.

Janner thought he looked just like the snout-snake he'd once seen in the pasture. It had reared its neck back and cocked its head sideways just before striking dead an unfortunate field mouse.
So this is the end,
Janner thought.

Commander Gnorm or no, Slarb was going to kill them right then and there.

“Slarb! Are those the Igiby woman's boys?” called another Fang from the jail porch. “Gnorm will stew you alive, if you come between him and his maggotloaf!”

Slarb sneered at the Fang on the porch and hesitated. Then he spat at Janner's feet. Little tendrils of smoke rose from the toe of one boot where the venom landed.

Janner resisted the urge to scream and rip off his boot.

Slarb snarled and seemed about to spring but, with a sullen look at the other Fangs, instead slunk back into the shadows behind The Only Inn.

Janner and Tink turned and raced home.

Oskar's mysterious map seemed of little importance. Living in a land crawling with Fangs was bad enough; now they had an enemy of one—and the only thing keeping Slarb from killing them now was the hope that Gnorm would find their mother's maggotloaf agreeable.

Janner and Tink each felt their spirits lift when they arrived at the cottage, however. The fire was burning, the lanterns were lit and the smell of a pot roast filled the air. Podo was napping on the couch beside the hearth, snoring so loud the windows rattled.

Tink slipped quietly to his room and hid the map under his pillow just as Nia called for supper.

When Janner and Tink sat down at the food-laden table they realized how tired they were. They told about their day, the crate from Dang, and the Annieran journal. Janner thought it odd that Nia and Podo were very interested in everything the boys had to say until they mentioned the journal. Janner saw them exchange glances, then his mother abruptly changed the subject.

What could that mean?
Janner wondered whether his mother and grandfather were suddenly keeping secrets from them, or if he was just now beginning to notice something that had always happened.

Leeli interrupted his thoughts. “Have you seen any music books hidden away at Books and Crannies? I'd very much like to see one.”

Janner laughed. “If Oskar doesn't have a hundred music books, I'll eat a worm.”

When they talked about their encounter with Slarb, Podo made several promises to kill the Fang in several different ways.

Nia reminded them that every few months the Fang regiments were replaced. “It won't be this way forever. We just need to lie low and hope that my maggotloaf is truly horrendous.”

“Maybe you should let grandpa cook it then,” Tink said, spooning more roast onto his plate. “His totato porridge turns my insides to woodchips.”

Everyone but Podo burst into laughter.

“What's the matter with my totato porridge? Scrumptious!” His eyebrows were raised so high they blended in with the rest of his hair. “A pinch of wortroot, a dash of cornpepper—
WOODCHIPS
, you say!” The more Podo protested, the harder the rest of his family laughed.

“Scrumptious!” Podo said again with indignation. He folded his arms across his barrel chest and thrust out his chin. But even Podo couldn't keep from laughing. His lips quivered like jelly, then a grin spread across his face, and soon he was slapping his knee and roaring with the rest of them.

Janner couldn't remember the last time they had laughed so hard, and he knew, as they all did, that they weren't laughing at Tink's comment so much as they were laughing because their fear-weary spirits needed it like medicine.

Finally, like a fit of rain that comes and goes and leaves everything damp and shining, the laughter stopped.

“Did you bring home anything interesting from Books and Crannies?” Nia asked, wiping the corners of her eyes.

Tink's smile vanished. He gave Janner a hard, pleading look that begged him not to tell about the stolen map.

“Tink,” Janner said, looking innocently at his brother. “Is there something you want to say?” Tink glared at Janner, shaking his head as subtly as he could manage. When he didn't answer, everyone looked up from their plates. All eyes were on him.

“Tink, what is it?” Nia said. Tink's cheeks flushed and he glowered at Janner.

“Speak up, lad! Your meat's gettin' cold,” Podo said.

“Well, see, I found…I found…” he stammered and hung his head so low that his hair nearly dipped into his plate of roast.

“He found an itchy rash,” Janner said, grinning as he filled his cup from the water pitcher. “Has it spread to your armpits yet?”

Tink's head whipped up. “What? No. Not yet.”

Janner winked at him, but Tink wasn't laughing.

Podo demanded to have a look at Tink's rash right there at the dinner table, and to Janner's enjoyment, the interrogation regarding the rash lasted the rest of their meal.

Convinced that Tink was fine, that the rash was probably just his imagination—something brought on by stress, Podo allowed Tink to go to his room.

“It's just a little stressful to know your fingers might be cut off,” Tink muttered to himself once safe on his bunk.

“Maybe one of those could go in the maggotloaf,” Janner said, laughing. “You know, your grubby fingers might make an excellent addition to the recipe.”

“That's
not
funny,” Tink said.

A melody from Leeli's whistleharp came from the main room, where she was playing a rousing sailors' tune at Podo's request.

Janner and Tink climbed up to the top bunk and spread out the map. They read and reread the inscription beside the building labeled A
NKLEJELLY
M
ANOR
, trying to imagine what might be hidden there that would make Oskar keep a secret map.

Tink shuddered at the line in the poem about the ghost of Brimney Stupe. “I don't like ghosts,” he said.

“Come on, Tink. Ghosts aren't real.”

“That's what you say. Podo says he's seen ghosts.”

“Well, he told us he saw an abandoned ship on the Dark Sea of Darkness with a crew of ghost pirates,” Janner said, “and he also said that he'd been awake for three days straight. You see strange things when you don't sleep.” He shook his head. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“What do you think all these little pinholes are all over the map?” Tink asked.

“I dunno.” Janner shrugged. “Probably from mice. Or bugs. Look!” Janner pointed at an image of a dragon in the bottom, right corner of the map. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Tink shook his head.

“Remember the Annieran journal in the crate from Dang? That looks like the same dragon.”

Tink pointed to an inscription above the dragon. “The Jewels of Anniera,” he read, his face puzzled. “What are the Jewels of Anniera?”

Janner shrugged.

“I don't know, but I'm sure Mister Reteep has a good reason for keeping the map hidden. And for hiding the Jewels of Anniera or whatever's in Anklejelly Manor. One thing is for certain. I don't mean to find out. It's too close to the forest, and even
before
the war that place was creepy. It's been abandoned for years.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I read about it in a book on the history of Glipwood,
¹
and Podo said the place was haunted, that people heard noises coming from inside. It's been avoided for so long that no one remembers who built it, or even who Anklejelly was. I've never even seen the place. According to the map it's a ways north of town, right at the edge of the forest.”

Tink stared out the window into the night. “If we left right after lunch tomorrow, we'd have time to—”

“Are you
crazy
?” Janner interrupted.

Tink stared blankly at his brother, who looked at the door and lowered his voice.

“No way.” Janner shook his head.

Tink's eyes twinkled. “You're the crazy one. How can you find a treasure map and not want to find the treasure?”

“It doesn't say ‘treasure' anywhere on this map! In two days we've been in fights with two Fangs, thrown in jail, and almost taken for a ride in the Black Carriage. You've stolen a map, and Slarb's informed us that he means to kill us all! And now you want to follow a map to a haunted house near the forest because of a riddle that says that it leads to pain, woe, and sorrow?”

Tink grinned. “Yes.”

Janner let out a wail.

“Shh!” Tink grimaced. “I'm just saying there's a lot more to this little town than we thought. Our mother has a hidden stash of jewels that we didn't know about. Mister Reteep gets an Annieran journal in a crate from Dang. He has a hidden map. And some mysterious person with perfect aim saved our lives yesterday.”

Janner cocked his head. “You're right,” he admitted. “I heard Podo and Ma say they think they know who saved our lives too.”

Tink's brow creased.

Janner looked hard into Tink's eyes. “And there's something else. Something about our father.”

Tink was silent.

“His name was Esben.”

“Who told you that?” Tink asked softly.

“I heard Mama say it yesterday. I don't think she meant to.”

“Esben,” Tink said to himself.

The brothers sat on the bed with the weight of their father's absence heavy on them until Leeli opened the door. “What are you both doing on the top bunk?” she asked, smiling and climbing into her own bed, Nugget right beside her.

“Nothing,” Janner and Tink said in unison—and a little too quickly.

But Leeli didn't take notice, and soon she and Nugget were asleep.

Janner climbed down to his bunk where he lay awake long into the night, his head swirling with questions and his heart full of worry. The look of hatred in Slarb's eyes had burned itself into his mind. He could hear the Fang's hissing voice, smell the rotten breath, and feel all over again the sting of the venom dripping onto his neck; he was all too aware of the responsibility he had to keep watch over his brother and sister.

Tink's head appeared, dangling down from the top bunk.

“You awake?” Tink whispered.

“Yeah.”

“We leave right after lunch,” Tink said, and disappeared again.

“No!” Janner whispered, but Tink was snoring loudly, pretending to be asleep.

20

Into the Manor

E
ven as they treaded north toward the Blaggus Estate for a brief game of Zibzy, Janner knew they would be visiting Anklejelly Manor that afternoon. He had argued with his stubborn brother in heated whispers during their chores that morning, but it soon became clear that for Tink, fear and common sense were no match for his curiosity.

They were no match for Janner's either. He had been unable to stop thinking about that mysterious warning on the map, right next to the alluring X. Besides, he told himself, Tink was going with or without him. Who else would protect his little brother?

So in the hot early afternoon, the Blaggus boys won the game as usual, and Janner and Tink bade them farewell. When they were sure they weren't being watched, they struck out running through the high weeds of the old lane, around a bend, and up a hill until they were well out of sight of the estate.

The lane north of the Blaggus Estate was overgrown. Few had traveled it since the homesteads beyond the Blaggus family's estate had been burned and abandoned in the war. It wasn't long before Janner doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Tink had outrun him and was waiting several yards ahead, looking at the countryside, trying not to look winded himself. The oaks that shaded the road had grown scarce, and the grassy land sloped upward, away from the town and the cliffs, and toward the dark edge of Glipwood Forest.

Janner stood up with great effort and wiped his forehead with the front of his shirt. Tink pointed down the slopes at the roof of the Blaggus home peeking from the trees below them. Beyond was the Glipwood Township, a tiny strand of buildings in the distance. The Only Inn could be made out easily since it stood a story higher than the other buildings, but eastward the land dropped away into gray expanse. The Dark Sea of Darkness.

Somewhere, each brother thought to himself, at the edge of the sea, beneath the shade of those glipwood trees, sat the Igiby cottage.

For an hour Janner and Tink followed the ancient lane as best they could. Each time the road began to blend into tall stretches of heather and disappear, they would search anew for the faint depression of the path in the swaying grass. The line of the forest loomed ever closer, and soon Janner was pointing to the shape of what must be the ruined structure of Anklejelly Manor.

Tink picked up his pace and soon they stood before the manor, its craggy back to the forest. The two gaping second-floor windows made Janner think of the eye sockets of a skull watching their approach. He stopped in front of a rusty iron gate that hung sad and crooked on ancient hinges. Neither brother spoke, unwilling to admit they were afraid and wondering what foolishness had made coming here seem sensible.

It was clear that the manor had once been a beautiful place. Several tall and mildewed statues of people in various poses dotted the courtyard. One was of a fat man eating a lamb chop (the sight of which caused Tink's stomach to growl loudly, the sound of which made Janner jump an inch off the ground). Another statue nearer the house depicted a laughing woman swinging a terrified cat by its hind leg. Another statue, covered in vines, was of a weeping man scratching his large belly with a rake. Dangling from the rake handle was a cluster of stone grapes.

The roof of the mansion had long ago collapsed, and everywhere weeds and vines had begun the slow work of pulling the stones and aged timbers back to the earth.

Janner turned and looked back down the long slope at the distant town.

“We came this far, didn't we?” he said uncertainly. He took a deep breath and passed through the gate.

The air was quiet as a grave. No bird sang. No wind blew.

Janner shuddered at the thought of the many beasts that roamed the forest. He wondered how often those beasts ventured beyond the trees and into places like Anklejelly Manor. Or were the animals afraid of ghosts too?

Tink followed his older brother past an old stone bench in what appeared to have been a flower garden lined with stones, now overgrown in a tangle of budding weeds. The front of the bench bore an inscription.

Janner pulled the vines away and read: B
RIMNEY
S
TUPE
E
NJOYS
H
IS
S
OUP.

Tink's stomach roared. “Did we bring anything to eat?” he asked, knowing they hadn't.

Janner ignored him. “Let's have another look at the map,” he said.

They sat on the bench and Janner examined it, trying hard to ignore the dire warning about entering the place they were about to enter.

The edge of the forest behind the house was a tangled green wall, silent and grim, and as Tink stared into it, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was staring back.

“Is there anything on here that tells us exactly where to go?” Janner said. “It says, ‘In the catacombs below is hidden in the hollow.' I guess that means we need to find a way down.” He pointed to the foundation of the manor. “Under there.”

Tink looked long at the skull-like stare of the manor and shivered. “Why are we here again?”

“Because you talked me into it, that's why.”

“You know, a snack would be good about now,” Tink said. “Maybe we should head back and—”

“Nope,” Janner said firmly. “We came this far, and you're not backing out.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Tink said, forcing a chuckle. The sound of his laugh was unnatural there in the ruins.

Janner told himself there were no ghosts in the manor, and the warnings on the map were only there in case it fell into the wrong hands. Never mind that it had, he argued with himself. But if that were really the case, Oskar hadn't bargained on two young boys finding it. He must have forgotten that in the mind of a boy, a warning isn't much different from an invitation.

“Come on,” Janner said with resolve, and Tink followed.

They crunched through the thick brambles that surrounded the stone manor, looking for any sign of a cellar entrance. Janner smelled the musty scent of old things, and inside every window passed, he saw tumbled stones and fallen rafters in the dim light. From the rear of the manor, he and Tink peered through a back door that led to what must have been the kitchen. Vines covered a long, cracked counter with stone-cut wash basins. The ceiling of the first floor had caved in above the kitchen, allowing shafts of sunlight to cross a tangle of old wood, pots, and fallen stones on the floor.

They moved on through the brush around the mansion and passed a dry fountain that housed a prickly rosebush on the rear lawn. Beyond the fountain, the forest glared at them.

Janner's skin crawled. “Let's go back around to the front,” he whispered.

Tink nodded gravely and followed his brother back around the house. Neither brother would admit it, but they each felt better with something between them and the trees.

That is, until they rounded the corner. The two brothers stood at the main entrance to the house, peering into shadows. The air was still and heavy with the afternoon heat.

“A lantern would be nice,” Janner said, eyeing the dark entrance.

Then they each took a deep breath and walked side by side over the threshold, into the ruins of Anklejelly Manor.