Read Online Empire of Bones by N. D. Wilson - Free Book Online Page A

yours—allies and artefacts, weapons and wealth, enough hidden paths and hidden doors to last you through lifetimes of running. The keys I gave you will open every door. Do not use the keys to steal, or they will turn against you. When more is needed than keys, consult my ink bones. I’ve made notes of which bones will help you. Look closely. Trust no one but the caretakers named here. They are all staunch outlaws, haters of Phoenix as well as doubters of the Order. Tell them nothing about what you carry. Horace will serve you faithfully. Rupert Greeves is honest, but a fool who still believes the Order will stand for the good when blood begins to spill. I have left another globe for him—every little bit I learned about the holdings of that devil, Phoenix. He must be hunted now and put down before he grows .
    Be good. Be brave. I wasn’t .
    Billy B
    Antigone sighed as she finished.
    “That would have been nice to have sooner,” said Cyrus. “We’ve already lost the tooth, and to the worst guy possible.”
    “I know,” Antigone said. “And we would have had this right away if the Order hadn’t shoved us down in the Polygon instead of letting us move right into Skelton’s rooms.” She shifted the paper, searching for something. “But it could still help. Look.”
    A projected image of a large boat wobbled on the wall. Skelton had labeled it:
    S.S. FAT BETTY
    LIBRARY, ARMORY, FUEL
MS. LEMON CHAUNCEY, SAGE
    14.713791, 160.587158 (AUG.–NOV.)
    Cyrus stared at the numbers. Latitude and longitude. Cartography, darn it.
    “Where is that?” Cyrus asked.
    “South Pacific,” Antigone said. She was already moving on.
    “And Lemon Chauncey?” Cyrus asked.
    “No idea who she is,” Antigone said. “Apparently, a Sage on a boat. But check this one out.”
    The flashlight sprayed up a drawing of a house on a mountain. It was oversize and cartoony, like a detail on a medieval map, but labeled with tight little rows of writing. Cyrus didn’t even try to process the noted latitude and longitude. He only saw “150lbs Gold, Boat, Quiet,” and then Antigone had moved on.
    A cave mouth.
    “This one is in Mexico,” Antigone said.
    CHICOMOZTOC
    RELICS, PLANE (SMALL), WEAPONS (ORDER
BANNED), JEEP, FUEL
    LEOPOLD MONTOYA, SAGE (EXPELLED)
    “That’s nice,” Cyrus said. “Everyone needs relics and banned weapons.”
    “We might,” said Antigone. She slid up a picture of something like a lighthouse. “This one is weird. It’s in Istanbul.”
    LEANDROS
    60LBS. GOLD, 500LBS. SILVER, DRACUL GIN, DEATH
THREAD, CURSES, FORBIDDEN. LEFT CLAVICLE.
CRYPTKEEPER NEEDED
    MONASTERBOICE, IRELAND. RIGHT CLAVICLE .
    Antigone lowered the globe and faced her brother. Cyrus looked from the blank dim wall to the paper in his sister’s hands, and up into her face. Her brows were high and her eyes wide. Cryptkeeper? Monasterboice? They were weird words, and he knew that he had just heard them somewhere. Yesterday. From Niffy, that crazy Irish monk with the Mohawk.
    “Niffy said he’s a Cryptkeeper,” Cyrus said. “And that he was from Monasterboice. Wherever that is. And I don’t understand the clavicle thing.”
    “I think we should tell Rupe,” Antigone said.
    The outhouse door swung open and Rupert leaned his arm above the low jamb.
    “What should you tell me, Antigone Smith?” Rupert asked. “Maybe why you two are plotting like a pair of villains in this dodgy loo?” He examined the tight space with his lip curled. “I should lock the door and leave you for the skunks.”
    “Skunks?” Cyrus asked. He glanced down at the wooden toilet bench.
    Antigone faced Rupert and squared her shoulders. “I wanted to show you, but I had to show Cyrus first.”
    Rupert’s eyes settled on the globe still in Antigone’s hand.
    “You’ve sorted it?”
    Antigone and Cyrus were silent.
    Rupert straightened. “Of course. Secrets, secrets. Why else would you dart off? I’ll pry it out of you later. I’ve left that tetchy little mob