The Mapmaker's Sons (23 page)

He caught Tom from behind, knocking him to the ground. Instinct took over. Tom rolled hard and twisted right, barely avoiding Keegan's dagger. He brought up the sword, intending to go for Keegan's throat. Keegan caught the blade with one hand, blood pouring from his palm, while he thrust his dagger at Tom's cheek.

Suddenly Porter was there. With one fierce kick, he struck Keegan, knocking loose the man's grip on the sword. The sword skidded across the floor, sliding between the legs of Umbrey's men, The Watch, and the Djembe, who were all embroiled in battles of their own.

Tom and Porter lunged for the blade.

Keegan lunged, too.

Mudge got there first. He lifted the blade in his scrawny arms and swung it toward Keegan with all his might. The blast of pure white light emitted from the sword knocked Keegan across the room, sending him crashing against the wall.

The beams supporting the wall collapsed in a pile of rubble, and the remaining members of The Watch and Keegan tumbled into the pile of smoldering ruins. The battle abruptly ended.

Stark silence fell over them all.

The entire room stared at Mudge in disbelief, but no one looked more stunned than Mudge himself. He stared at the glowing white sword in his hand with an expression of utter amazement.

A memory flashed through Tom's mind. He and Porter standing in the lake, calling the sword. Vivienne's words:
Marrick's chosen is not here.
He hadn't been. Not at first. It wasn't until Mudge had entered the lake and whispered for the sword that it had emerged from the depths of the lake.

Porter looked hard at Mudge, recalling something else. “Your oval,” he said. “The metal your father gave you.”

Mudge frowned, then fished in his pocket and handed the oval to Porter. Porter stared at it for a long moment, then gave a shout of laughter.
“STH.
Your father was right. That is who you are. But those aren't your initials,” he said. “They're Marrick's mark. You've been carrying it the whole time.
STH.
Salamaine's true heir.”

“Mudge?” Willa breathed, her eyes round. “Salamaine's true heir?”

A grandfather clock in the corner of the room began to chime. Tom glanced at the clock's face. Midnight.

Umbrey smiled. “Well done, lads. Well done, all of you.”

T
he ceremony began promptly at noon. Standing on a platform before the crowd, Mudge—looking embarrassed, proud, anxious, and happy, all at once—was presented with both the Sword of Five Kingdoms and a black leather book containing a code of laws dating back to Salamaine's day. A coronation of sorts, Tom supposed, though there was no crown for Mudge. No velvet robes, no regal throne, no jeweled scepter. It was a ceremony completely devoid of pomp and circumstance.

Mudge did wear decent shoes, along with clean pants and a shirt of fine blue cloth. The only noteworthy item of attire, however, was the clasp that held his plain linen cloak in place. Instead of an all-seeing red eye, Mudge wore the oval piece of metal with the initials
STH
engraved in the center, directly over his heart.

The townspeople who'd assembled to witness the event were similarly dressed. Clean and simple. No formal gowns or displays of riches. No one had any to display even if they had wanted to. But Tom did notice something. Just as Mudge wore his small metal plate, dozens within the crowd had pinned ancient family crests to their clothing. A lion or a boar, a
fleur-de-lis,
a star and sickle. Family crests that had been hidden away,
passed down for centuries since the time of Salamaine's reign, were once again worn openly and proudly.

Tom was amazed at how quickly it had all unfolded, given that Keegan had only been defeated in the minutes before midnight. Then he reconsidered. The townspeople had had more than hours to prepare. They'd been waiting for this moment their entire lives.

The swearing-in complete, musicians struck up a lively tune, and tables were brought out, upon which was stacked a feast unlike any Tom had ever seen. The food and wine was courtesy of Keegan's private larder. That had been one of the first things the townspeople had raided.

Mudge stepped down from the platform. He appeared lost for a moment, overwhelmed by the size of the crowd and the enormity of the role that had been thrust upon him. He scanned the mass of people and, upon seeing Tom, smiled in relief. He moved to stand before him.

“Majesty,” Tom said, giving a low bow. “I almost didn't recognize you.”

“I'm already different?” Mild panic crossed his face.

“Absolutely. You bathed.”

Mudge smiled. His hand went to his belt. “And I've been given a sword.”

“So I see. One that's nearly as large as you are. I hope you don't intend to wear it everywhere you go.”

It had been meant as a light, teasing comment, but Mudge considered it at some length. “I think I will, at least for now,” he said. He ran his fingers lightly over the hilt. “Something about it … I don't know. It feels like it's guiding me. Leading me in the direction I'm meant to go.”

Just as the map had done. “Then you should trust it,” Tom said. He looked harder at Mudge and noted that a change had already begun to occur. Mudge's face was watchful, attentive—older somehow than the boy Tom had met in Bromley Market. “Let's see what kind of king you become, Mudge,” he said, then stopped. “Mudge? That's not a very proper name for a king.”

“My father's name was John.”

“King John,” Willa said, coming to stand beside them. “A kingly name that is.” She looked at Mudge. “Your people are waiting for you to begin the feast.” A group of men and women stood near the banquet tables, watching Mudge intently. They looked kind and well-meaning, but a bit uncertain, as though they too had roles they were unfamiliar with. It was a fresh start for them all.

Mudge looked at Tom. “You'll come back?”

Tom could feel Willa's gaze upon him as well. “If I can.”

Mudge didn't like the answer, but he seemed to accept it. He threw his arms around Tom in a brief hug, then released him and walked toward the tables and the waiting feast.

“You think he'll be all right?” Tom asked.

Willa nodded, her eyes on Mudge. “He'll grow into it. He'll learn.” She smiled. “Marrick's known to be a pretty good judge of character.”

“And you'll stick around to help.”

“I will.”

It wouldn't be easy. There was an entire government to rebuild. An army to lead. Tom's gaze moved to the Djembe warriors standing off to one side, warily observing the festivities. Though the warriors and the people of Divino had been united through battle, the blending of two cultures was never a simple task. Then there was Keegan, his trial to be endured. And The Watch, men who'd been willing to carry out Keegan's dark orders. Men to be gone after and arrested. But Tom pushed those darker matters aside. For now, they would simply enjoy how far they'd come.

So there it was. Mudge had a council in place to help him set up a new structure of order; Willa and Porter were there to protect him; and the Sword of Five Kingdoms was at his side to lead him in the right direction. It was a good beginning. As good as Tom could have hoped for.

He turned to look at Willa. She looked very pretty in a dress of simple cream linen, with delicate braids woven through her hair. He told her so.

She blushed. “And you finally look like one of us,” she returned.

Like the other men gathered there, Tom wore a belted tunic that reached to his thighs and dark brown linen pants, all procured by Porter. His own clothing, having made it through a night sleeping with goats, the Dismal Swamp, and a swim in an underground lake, had been beyond repair.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She glanced at the long tables groaning with food and shook her head. Her eyes went instead to the group of people their age who'd gathered near the musicians and were whirling about in a happy procession.

“Care to join me for a dance?” she asked him.

Panic shot through him. That had been the last thing he thought she'd suggest. He gave his head a wild shake. “No. I can't. I don't know how.”

She laughed at his obvious horror. “You looked less frightened when we faced the swamp dogs.” Taking his hand, she pulled him toward the other twirling couples. “I'll teach you.”

“Looks like you made a new friend,” Tom said, moving to stand beside Porter. His gaze fell on a beautiful girl with long dark hair who'd been sending Porter shy smiles since the dancing began.

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” Porter replied, nodding toward Willa. He turned to face Tom directly. “You won't stay.” It was more a statement than a question.

“I can't.” Too many people would be hurt if he simply disappeared and never came back.

Porter gave a tight nod, accepting the decision.

Silence fell between them. There was one item Tom had carried on his person from the moment he'd crossed over. One
thing he hadn't let go of, that he carried still. The map. He removed it from its worn skin case and passed it to Porter.

“Here. Something to remember me by.”

Porter made no move to accept it. “I'll remember you.”

Tom looked at him and nodded. “You should keep it anyway. For posterity, I guess. Maybe it should go in the king's chamber or something.”

A small smile crept across Porter's face. “You mean Mudge's room.”

Tom smiled as well. “Right. Mudge's room.”

Porter took the map.

Tom was suddenly aware of someone watching them. Umbrey stood a short distance away, waiting for him. It was time to go. He sent Umbrey a nod and turned back to Porter. A heavy silence hung between them.

“How does the passage between the worlds work?” Porter asked.

“I don't know yet. Umbrey said he'd teach me.” Apparently the details were in Lost's journal. It had to do with time and tides and storms—something about the electrical charge in the air during violent storms. As a sharp breeze blew around them, Tom scanned the sky. A bank of dark thunderclouds was heading their way.

Porter looked at him. “So you'll come back?”

He repeated the promise he'd made to Willa and Mudge. “If I can.”

Tom searched for words. It was harder than he thought.
Good-bye
seemed too permanent.
Nice meeting you
or
Catch you later,
too casual. Nothing adequately summed up who they were or what they'd done. Then the band struck up a celebratory tune, and Tom remembered what day it was. He smiled.

“Hey,” he said, “happy birthday.”

Porter smiled back. “To you as well.”

Tom turned and followed Umbrey away from the festivities, leaving Willa, Mudge, and Porter to their new kingdom.