The Mapmaker's Sons Read Free

The pirate tugged him up, pulling him onto the relative safety of the tower ledge. He beamed at Tom in approval. “There’s a good lad. Well done.”
    â€œHow’d you get up here?” It wasn’t the most important question, of course, just the first one that tumbled from Tom’s lips.
    The man lifted a rope of his own, from the end of which dangled a heavy, spear-tipped grappling hook. “Useful for climbing and whaling. I’ve also just discovered it’s not a bad weapon if you find yourself in a bit of a pinch.” His gaze traveled over Tom. “You’re not hurt, then?”
    â€œUh, no.”
    The man nodded. “Good. At least there’s that.” He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, rubbing them back and forth as though to warm himself. “Well,” he said. “We don’t have much time. Might as well finish what you came here to do, eh?” Without another word, he picked up a two-by-four and, with a quick thrust, shoved it in the central cog. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he turned back to Tom and winked. “Between you and me, lad, I always hated Mortimer’s bells, too.”
    Tom looked at the jammed cog. He turned and studied the one-legged pirate. Then he did the only sensible thing he could think to do.
    He jumped.

CHAPTER TWO
I NHERITANCE
    T om threw himself out of the arched recess in the tower wall, scrambled pell-mell down the chapel roof, and flung himself into the waiting branches of the sugar maple. He dove out of the tree and hit the grass hard, rolling to break his fall. Before he could stand up and dash back to the safety of his dorm room, a black boot slammed down on the hood of his sweatshirt, pinning him to the ground.
    â€œThomas Arturius Hawkins.”
    Icy dread coursed through him. That voice belonged to only one man. Tom braced himself as best he could and peered over his shoulder, gazing up into the ancient, scowling face of Mortimer Lost.
    The headmaster glared down at Tom, his razor-thin mouth pinched in a tight frown. His right eye twitched furiously. “Mr. Hawkins,” he said, Tom’s name rolling off his tongue in an icy hiss, “you will stand up this instant and give a full account of this deplorable episode.”
    Tom rose slowly to his feet. Before he could utter a word, however, Professor Hubert, Lost’s second-in-command, steamed across the lawn. Unlike Professor Lost, whose long, lean frame was attired in his customary gray three-piece suit despitethe lateness of the hour, Hubert’s squat form was clothed in an almost comical ensemble of fuzzy purple robe and matching slippers, with some sort of net slipped over the helmet of tight curls that was her hair.
    â€œWhat is the meaning of this, Professor?” she demanded. “I was awakened from a sound sleep. Is there an emergency? A fire? A robbery?”
    â€œHardly,” Lost said. “It appears that Mr. Hawkins has chosen this evening to better acquaint himself with the inner working of the bells.”
    â€œI can explain—” Tom began, but stopped abruptly as the one-legged man joined their circle.
    Professor Hubert’s flabby jaw dropped in shock. That was expected. It was Lost’s response to the man that fascinated Tom. A flicker of unhappy surprise flashed across the old man’s face, followed by a look of sour distaste.
    â€œUmbrey,” Lost said flatly. “If there was trouble afoot, I should have guessed you’d have something to do with it.”
    The pirate—Umbrey, apparently—arched a single dark brow, a smile of mocking amusement playing on his lips. “My, my, Mortimer. Was that an actual attempt at humor? A pun? Trouble
afoot?”
    Professor Lost’s face darkened. “It was a simple statement of fact. Leave it to you to twist my meaning for your own nefarious purposes.”
    A sharp gust of wind whipped around them as lightning flashed. Umbrey glanced at