The Mapmaker and the Ghost (19 page)

Meriwether Lewis had always been a good student, even when alive, of course. He had an uncanny ability to know what bits of things to pay attention to in order to get the most out of the information being given him. This combined with his verve, instinct, and knack for improvisation were all the things that had made him a legendary explorer.

Now, they were helping him to be the scariest ghost he could possibly be. If there was one thing Meriwether liked, it was excelling at whatever it was he set his mind to.

After telling him her plan, Goldenrod had also given him some pointers so that now he stood before the gaping girl with ghostly shackles and chains around his arms and legs that he was rattling relentlessly. He had turned his spiffy maroon coat into a moth-ridden and bedraggled mess (luckily, ghostly fabric was much easier to mend than the real
kind, as Meriwether had never been much of a tailor to speak of). He had changed his voice to be a slippery, sinewy, and altogether creepy kind of whisper.

Then, he had taken some liberties of his own. Around his head, he had fashioned a sort of large and fiery wreath. It perfectly matched the two burning flames in his eyes that had taken the place of his blue pupils. His head itself was changing color from red to blue and back again, so that at one moment the wreath looked like burning fire, and the next like sharp daggers of ice. If it should prove necessary, he was prepared to set his head spinning along its neck.

He hadn't had this much fun in years.

The same probably couldn't be said for the girl, who was noticeably shaking as she stared up at him.

“The woods require the roses back. You must leave the jar at the small clearing at the edge of the woods. You must, you must, you must,” Meriwether hissed.

The girl continued to look scared, but a glimmer of something appeared in her eyes.

“The roses must be sacrificed to keep the spirits at bay. You cannot keep them. You must return the jar to the clearing at the edge of the woods. You must, you must, you must,” Meriwether continued.

“I…,” the girl started and then, after taking a deep breath, “and what if I don't?” she said in a rush of words, almost as if she were reading the lines of a kick-butt action star.

The glimmer of something Meriwether had seen in her was defiance, and certainly more than a little bravery. Despite his mission, whose sole purpose was to scare the living daylights out of her, the ghost was impressed. After all, those were two qualities that were near and dear to the heart of any explorer worth his weight in fantastic discoveries.

“Then,” Meriwether boomed, suddenly turning up the volume on his whisper so that his voice clattered against the cavern walls like a flock of jet-black ravens into a midnight sky, “I shall haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Despite his admiration, Meriwether Lewis was not someone to botch a mission.

The girl flinched and eyed the jar underneath the bed, although she did not move.

Meriwether started to chant, “The woods require the roses. You must give them back. You must. You must. You must.” He was able to multiply his roaring voice so that it now sounded like a chorus echoing from every corner of the stone walls. The sound was so loud and so otherworldly, that it almost became visible, like an eerie fog that had filled up the tiny room. This had been an idea of Goldenrod's, who had apparently seen something similar in a horror movie that she'd accidentally, and unbeknownst to her mother, caught on TV one night.

Meriwether had just hooked his thumb on to his right
ear, about to give his head a big push to send it spinning, when the girl finally became unfrozen from her spot.

In a flash, she grabbed the jar from underneath the bed and went flying out of the room.

Meriwether paused a moment, and then, with a satisfied and dignified little nod, disappeared. His work was done.

Brains was rubbing his elbow. Snotshot had hit it quite hard as she had jetted past him out of the cavern. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

He wondered what could have possibly set her off. Maybe going through with the plan was a bad idea. After all, who was really to say that the Morams hadn't told anyone about it?

Yesterday, when he'd discovered the two of them were gone, he had been furious with Lint. As usual, Lint took the abuse with a scowl, but silently. After Brains had calmed down a bit, Lint had eventually pointed out that the two kids would probably be too weak and too scared to ever reveal anything to anyone. To Brains's surprise, Snotshot had, for once, heartily agreed with him.

“I bet if they can find a way to give themselves amnesia, they're doing it,” Snotshot had said confidently. “We'll be fine.”

A little while later, No-Bone had come back and told them about his run-in with what turned out to be Toe Jam's grandmother, and the look of horror on the Morams' faces when they found out about their mother's garden. “They're probably still crying their eyes out,” he said, totally agreeing with the assessment that their plan was foolproof. “I don't think Toe Jam is going to be coming back tonight, though,” No-Bone had added.

Lint had waited a moment before saying almost cheerfully to No-Bone, “So you let them escape too!”

“What?” No-Bone had said indignantly. “I certainly did not! I was under attack!”

“By an old lady?” Snotshot had asked with raised eyebrows.

“Believe me, this was no ordinary old lady.”

By this morning, the rest of the gang had so boosted Brains's confidence, that he was the one calmly reassuring Spitbubble that they wouldn't need to change their plans despite the Morams' escape. Spitbubble had listened carefully and then quickly agreed with his assessment.

Now, though, Brains was again starting to have his doubts. He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he looked around the cavern. No one else seemed to have a care in the world. Lint was sitting in a corner fussing about with his belly button. No-Bone was doing some extremely impressive, though painful-looking, stretching exercises against a corner of the
wall, and Spitbubble was sitting on a tan leather armchair that he had brought in from god-knows-where sometime last week. He was rummaging through the green backpack that the Morams had left behind, unceremoniously tossing notebooks and papers aside.

So far, everything seemed perfectly normal. Except that Snotshot had just flown out of the cavern like she was being chased by rabid dogs. If nothing else, she was a part of the plan, and they needed her. Suddenly, Brains felt like he'd be remiss if he didn't at least mention something about his worries to Spitbubble.

He walked over to the armchair.

Spitbubble was throwing the final bits of paper out of the green backpack. They seemed to be filled with some interesting-looking diagrams. Brains tilted his head to get a closer look when Spitbubble crumpled up all the papers and stuffed them back into the bag. “Nothing interesting or useful here, except probably to that bratty girl,” Spitbubble said calmly. “No-Bone.”

No-Bone looked up (or would it be down?) from his headstand.

Spitbubble held the backpack away from him dismissively. “Throw this in the river. If that girl ever comes looking for it, I want to be sure that she never sees it again.”

No-Bone flipped onto his feet, grabbed the bag from Spitbubble, and walked out of the cavern.

“Serves her right,” Spitbubble said with a sneer. “Thinking she could outmaneuver me.”

Brains frowned. That was just the thing; Goldenrod Moram was actually pretty smart. “Spitbubble…,” Brains began.

Spitbubble leaned back into his armchair. “I know.”

“You do?” Brains said, somewhat relieved. He was starting to feel like maybe he was just being paranoid for no reason, but if Spitbubble was having some doubts too, then they could definitely convince the other kids …

“I'm not gonna lie, you do have some reason to ask for this,” Spitbubble said. “You sorta … deserve it.”

Huh?
Brains blinked in confusion.

“I know that without that crazy brain of yours, we wouldn't be able to come up with half the stuff we do. And I want you to know that I
am
grateful. And, yes, after this mission we can work on giving you a slightly higher position. A second-in-command sort of deal, officially.”

Brains was taken aback. It was the first time Spitbubble had so openly acknowledged his contributions.

“Now, I don't want you getting too full of yourself,” Spitbubble said with a smirk.

Brains shrugged. “It ain't bragging if you can back it up, right?” he said quietly.

Spitbubble gave a short, loud snort, which was as close as most of them ever got to hearing him laugh. He rose
from the chair and gave Brains a quick pat on the back. “We should get going soon, right?”

Brains nodded. It was stupid to doubt himself. No one else did. They all relied on him, even Spitbubble, so of course he could do this. They had thought about and rehearsed this plan for so long; everything was going to be completely fine. Morams or no Morams.

All he had to do now was find Snotshot.

When Goldenrod saw Meriwether next, he still had the ghostly manacles on his wrists and the wreath of flames around his head, but the fact that he was grinning from ear to ear somewhat ruined the effect.

“It worked?” she asked him.

“Indeed!” Meriwether said and pointed to a spot in the clearing that looked freshly dug up. “I made her bury it in case you were not the first person to come in here after her.”

“Good thinking,” Goldenrod said.

“I should say the same to you,” Meriwether said with a little bow.

Goldenrod grinned. “I have just enough time to get the roses out of here before this afternoon, and then tomorrow … What's wrong?” she asked as suddenly she saw Meriwether's expression go from elated to apologetic. He was kicking one of his ghostly chains with his toes.

“Er … right. About that,” Meriwether said. “The thing is, I may not have told you about the
entire
quest.”

“What do you mean?” Goldenrod asked.

“As it so happens, this blue rose is only the twin of another blue rose. And you need the second blue rose to get this one out.” Meriwether smiled at Goldenrod hopefully.

Goldenrod was not amused. “What?”

“This blue rose,” Meriwether said louder, “is a twin—”

“No, never mind. I heard you the first time. But what are you talking about? What do you mean twin blue roses?”

“Um. Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you that part,” Meriwether said sheepishly.

“You can't tell me?”

“It's part of the quest, you see. For you to figure out.”

Goldenrod stared at Meriwether. “You're saying, you knew this whole time that I wouldn't be able to take the blue rose out of the forest without this other blue rose.”

“Right,” Meriwether said.

“But you chose not to tell me?”

“Oh, no, no. I didn't
choose
not to tell you. I
couldn't
tell you. It's part of the quest—”