The Mapmaker's Sons Read Free Page A

the sky. “It appears the storm is almost upon us. Perhaps we should discuss this evening’s events inside.” He turned to Professor Hubert. “And I should hate for so lovely and delicate a lady to be caught in such awful weather.”
    Professor Hubert, whom Tom considered about as lovely and delicate as a prize pig, went pink with pleasure. She giggled. “Why, I don’t believe we’ve met—”
    Lost gave an impatient snort. “Thank you, Professor Hubert. That will do. I suggest you return to the dormitories and checkfor damp footwear. I highly doubt Mr. Hawkins was alone in this little escapade.”
    The threat of his friends being punished for something that had been his idea jolted Tom back to the events in the belfry. “It was all my fault,” he rushed out. “You can’t blame anyone else. It was my idea to climb the tower. But it wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. There were two men—”
    â€œLater, lad.”
    Tom’s gaze shot to Umbrey. The man studied him with a look of quiet solemnity, sending him a silent message to curb his words.
    Lost didn’t miss the signal. He drew himself up to his full height. “It is I who will determine who should be made to answer for their part in this ill-conceived adventure, Mr. Hawkins, not you,” he announced. “I trust that is perfectly clear?”
    â€œYes, sir,” said Tom.
    â€œVery well.” Lost gave a tight nod. “Come with me.” He hesitated a moment, his lips pursed unhappily as he looked at Umbrey. “Both of you.”
    As Professor Hubert strode off toward the dormitories, Tom trailed Umbrey and Professor Lost across the manicured grounds and into the school’s administrative offices. The building was familiar to Tom but seemed eerie at night, lit only by low-wattage security lights. The steady hum of powered-down computers and fax machines surrounded them as they moved past rows of stark beige cubicles; sterile and anonymous, they belonged to the various nurses, secretaries, recruiters, accounting personnel, cooks, and custodial staff employed by the school.
    Mortimer Lost unlocked the door to his office, flipped on a light switch, and ushered them in. For an instant, Tom’s tension over the trouble he was in was replaced by curiosity. He had never been inside Lost’s office before.
    Floor-to-ceiling bookcases loomed over them, covering every inch of wall space. Volumes of every size and shape were crammed onto the shelves, crowded together with ancienturns, statues of Greek and Roman gods, and a variety of miscellaneous plaques, photographs, and potted cacti. Brown drapes sagged listlessly over the one window. Tom suspected that the room was perpetually gloomy, even on the sunniest of days. An enormous desk, dark and ornate, squatted upon a threadbare Oriental rug. Lost’s chair sat on one side of the desk; two additional chairs were arranged on the opposite side.
    A globe rested on the desk—a globe so bright and shiny, it was undoubtedly a recent purchase. Spying it, Umbrey gave a shout of laughter. “I always suspected you had a sense of humor, Morty, old boy. I guess this proves it.”
    Embarrassment flooded Lost’s cheeks. “It means nothing,” he snapped. “Just a silly trifle. Don’t call me Morty. And put that down before you shatter the blasted thing!” He waited for Umbrey to return the globe to its stand, and then continued speaking. “I will deal with you in a moment, Umbrey. First, there is the matter of Mr. Hawkins’s deplorable conduct this evening.”
    â€œOnly just this evening?” Umbrey asked. “What about the other times?”
    â€œWhat other times?”
    â€œI’d wager the lad’s been prowling about your rooftops for at least a year. Isn’t that right, Tom?”
    Tom sucked in a sharp breath, an odd sense of betrayal battling with utter