Jim Morgan and the King of Thieves (30 page)

“Doomed!” Wyzcark wailed.

“Well,” Jim said with a shrug. “Good luck with that, and all.”

“Good luck?” The king smiled even wider, that wicked gleam still prowling behind his dark eyes. “Oh yes, you’ll need luck to break in and take the amulet for me.”

“Me?” Jim cried. “No way! I just told you where it is, so if you’ll please hand over my box and enough coin to spring my friends, I’ll be out of your hair forever – as we agreed. Besides, I don’t even know where in blazes this place is, I just know that’s where they took the amulet!”

“Oh no, Jim.” The king shook his head grimly. “We have a new deal. I will put your precious little locked box into your hand, along with a bag full of enough gold to bribe any band of scurvy-ridden pirates for ten prisoners.” The King leaned in close, peering deep into Jim’s face. “But only after you’ve put the amulet in mine.”

“But you just said so yourself!” Lacey all but screamed. “It’s nearly impossible, and lethal! And Jim already told you, we don’t even know how to get there!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lacey, my dear. Leave the details to me.” The king straightened back up, once more calmly tapped the tips of his long spider fingers together. “We’re all going together, and even I will lend my own thieving expertise to ensure our mission’s success.”

“All of us?” Red asked timidly.

“All.” The king folded his arms behind his back, and the suddenly much-relieved Wyzcark, seeing that there would be plenty of others to brave the traps of the vault before himself, swept around behind the children, cracking his own little grin.

“Come then, young ones,” he snarled. “Vaste not the hours given us!”

Jim sighed and marched along as Wyzcark herded the young pickpockets out of the courtyard. He had made a gamble coming here and getting the King involved. If he won, he could not only get back his box, but set his friends free as well. But if he lost…Jim gulped hard. Well, he didn’t even want to think about that.

TWENTY–EIGHT

he strange little party, made up of the King of Thieves, his henchman, Wyzcark, Jim, Lacey, and what remained of the Dragons, marched into the snowy streets.

“So what are we going to do?” Lacey pleaded with the King. “Walk around London until morning, asking everyone we meet if they wouldn’t mind pointing us to the Vault of Treasures? We’ll freeze to death before we find it, won’t we?”

“You really should quit nagging, young lady.” The king stopped in the middle of an empty intersection, looking about nonchalantly. “It really is most unbecoming of a young woman.”

“Oh, but if I were a boy, it would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

“Just be quiet please,” the king said without looking at her. He was looking at Jim. “What did you think Jim? That I had been searching
fruitlessly for magical artifacts all this time without success? Well, that wouldn’t have kept me going, now would it? My thieves have not always come back completely empty-handed.”

From around his neck the King withdrew a delicate chain, a silver object dangling from its links. He leaned down and showed Jim the small charm, a perfectly forged replica of a dragonfly.

“What’s that for?” Jim asked, staring at the metal bug. The detail was impossibly intricate, down to the maze of veins running the length of the wings, which, though silver, were somehow translucent in the moon’s light.

“This is a seeker. It finds places we know to be there, but not the where of the there,” the king whispered, the dragonfly reflected in his glowing eyes. Jim watched those eyes and came to the unmistakable conclusion that the King of Thieves was not exactly sane. “The only trick is, you must know for a fact, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the place you seek awaits you. And since you heard the pirate speak of the Vault with your own two ears, I think it would be best if you told the seeker where to fly.”

The king held the small, metal bug just beneath Jim’s lips, and from his chin to the tip of his nose, Jim thought he could sense the slightest bit of heat emanating from its silver skin. When he flicked a glance to Lacey and the Dragons, he found their eyes also fixed on the magical item, their mouths open in anticipation, and their faces nearly as white as their ghosty breaths.

“Don’t do it, Jim!” Lacey finally cried, but Jim knew he had no choice. He turned his eyes back to the silver seeker.

“Find the Vault of Treasures,” he said, and no sooner than the frosty breath from his lips touched the wings of the dragonfly, than it burst to life with a crackle of blue light. It zipped into the air, twittering to and fro just like a live dragonfly, until it blazed off down a street to Jim’s right, leaving a bright blue trail of light in its wake.

Lacey, Red, the Dragons, and even Wyzcark gasped in surprise, but the king, who was no stranger to magic and mystery, wasted no time. “Quickly!” the king commanded, pointing after the already dimming
trail of blue fire floating in the air. “We must not lose the path!” With Wyzcark pushing them madly from behind, the small band of thieves rushed down the streets and alleys of London, chasing after a sparkling streak of blue lightning.

After much pattering and stomping of feet down the cobblestone streets, the small cavalcade skidded to a halt in front of perhaps the plainest, most nondescript building in the entire city. The silver dragonfly floated in a bubble of blue light before a gray brick wall between a bank and tailor’s storefront. When the king approached the dragonfly, its glow dimmed and it dropped neatly into his palm, only a piece of metal once again.

Jim caught his breath in the cold air and was, in spite of the grim situation, still proud to see that Red and his lunks, and the king and his tubby little friend Wyzcark, were far more out of breath than he.

“This?” Wyzcark raised his hand toward the building with a face half-perplexed and half-gasping for air. “This is the Vault of Treasures? I vas expecting something a bit more…piratey.”

“Or maybe just a sign out front that says Pirate Treasure’s Here?” the king snapped.

“Pirate treasure here! That was a good one, sir!”

“Spot on the mark if I ever heard anything spot on before.”

“A sign out front! Pirate treasure hidden here? Hilarious!”

With a tired sigh, Red snapped his fingers to prevent his yes men from over yessing the King. It apparently wasn’t easy leading a gang of lunks, Jim imagined without the slightest bit of sympathy.

“So what now?” Jim asked, hands on his hips. “I suppose we could knock since we don’t even have a bleeding key to this place.”

“Tsk, tsk, Jim my boy,” the king said, analyzing the building with greedy eyes, once more tapping his long fingers together at the tips in excitement. “They don’t call me the King of Thieves for nothing. As it so happens I am somewhat familiar with the legend of the Vault of Treasures. And as with most pirate treasure, whether buried on a hidden island or tucked away in the dark places of the earth, the vault employs neither guards nor traditional locks to bar intruders.”

“No guards or locks?” Red asked breathlessly. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”

“He said no
traditional
locks,” said Lacey, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“What kind o’ locks then?” Red retorted, grinding his knuckles into his palm and glaring at Lacey.

“The same kind of locks buccaneers the world over have used for centuries, Red,” the King said. “Booby traps! Pirates are nothing if not overly romantic, aren’t they? They believe anyone with the skill to pass their barriers is worthy of the treasure they seek.”

“Booby traps?” Jim suddenly got a sinking feeling of what was about to happen. “What kind of booby traps?”

“Oh, only the most deadly,” the king said with a smile, as though he’d thought them up himself. “And according to the stories, there are three here, each one a unique challenge. As the ancient pirate poem that tells of this place sings:

To those children of the sea
,

Who under the black flag sail
,

In the Vault face trials three
,

Of magic, mystery, and travail
.

Ah, how I love pirate logic!” The king laughed gleefully, cruelly pointing his ever-so-dark eyes in Jim’s direction. “So Jim,” he said, unfurling one spidery hand in the direction of the plain building that was supposed to be the Vault of Treasures. “After you, if you please.”

“This wasn’t part of our deal!” Jim stomped his foot hard on the street, staring right into the black, greedy eyes of the King of Thieves.

“But it is now, Jim!” the king cried, nodding to Wyzcark. The King’s squat partner in crime snatched Lacey up in one arm, unsheathing a crooked little dagger, old and worn enough to have committed many a dirty deed, and held the gleaming point to Lacey’s throat.

“Just some incentive, to keep you honest and…on point,” Wyzcark said with a grin, the lunks laughing like hyenas at his pun.

“Well, Jim Morgan.” The king folded his skinny arms across his chest and stalked over to Jim, speaking in nearly a whisper. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? I thought you too soft when I first saw your fair face in my court. And from what I heard from the outset, I thought I was right. But now look where you are. The fate of all your friends lies in your hands; little Lacey here, and on some pirate ship, so soon to leave the docks I’m sure, the Brothers Ratt, quailing under their new master’s lashes. And let us not forget your precious box, cursed with gypsy magic, hiding the secrets you hold so dear. So much at stake, and all you have to do to fix it, is that which you’ve been doing for the past several months, my boy. Steal the amulet, share and share alike, and the King will make all things right for you.”

Jim looked passed the King to Lacey. He could tell she was trying to be brave, and he knew she was, but that prat, Wyzcark, held her tight, letting his crooked little blade gleam in the moonlight. Then Jim looked at Red and the Dragons, smirking at him, beside themselves with joy at Jim’s predicament. Finally he faced the King again, smugly tapping his foot, waiting for Jim to give him the only answer left to give.

“All right,” Jim said, swallowing hard. “I’ll get it for you. But you have to promise to do what you said.”

“Oh, Jim.” The king looked hurt. “I swear it on my honor.” But Jim didn’t miss that thief’s twinkle in his eyes.

Jim turned toward the building, which had a very plain door right in the middle of its very plain wall. He glanced back over his shoulder but once more at Lacey, still struggling in Wyzcark’s grasp. Then, as quickly as possible, before his courage abandoned him, Jim rushed toward the door, grabbed the handle, and stepped inside.

TWENTY–NINE

im half-expected a booby trap just inside the door. He closed his eyes tight, bracing for spikes to shoot up from the ground, or a cannon ball to drop on his head, but only silence and the cold night air greeted him on the other side of the door. As the door creaked shut behind him, Jim slowly opened his eyes, beholding the last sight he expected in a Pirate Vault of Treasures; a tree, standing in the center of a large open courtyard. This was no dried-up trunk with dead branches frozen in icicles, as were all the other trees in the English countryside just now, but this one rather thrived, pink and white blossoms bursting from every tip of every branch, as healthy and alive as if it were the middle of spring.