Bedtime Story (55 page)

“But those markings don’t resemble anything I can see,” the captain said. “There’s no territory I know near here that matches that map.”

Glancing at the sky, David nodded. “That depends how you look at it.” He lifted the map in front of them, pulling it wide, up to the landscape, blocking their view of the lake. “Here,” he said to the captain, shifting the map his way slightly. “Hold this.”

The captain took one end of the vellum, pulling it a little.

They could clearly see the fiery orb of the setting sun through the vellum. It penetrated the symbol of the Sunstone, the printed sun shining now with the force of the real sun behind it, glowing like a ruby.

“Almost,” David said, glancing to his left. In the waning light of the sunset, he could just make out the shape of the half-submerged rocks through the vellum.

“Here.” He reached out and moved the captain’s hand. “A little lower. A little farther your way.”

“Take care, Dafyd,” the magus said.

“That’s it,” he said, as the rocks at the lake’s edge fit, almost perfectly, into a jagged outline on the lower left side of the map.

“Now my end,” he said, shifting his end of the map a little lower. He felt a surge of triumph.

“There. Do you see it?”

It took them a moment, but then the magus gasped and the captain said, “By the Gods …”

David’s heart thrummed.

“Look,” David said. “The rocks are here.” He pointed to the jagged scrawl, and through the vellum at the rocks they outlined. “Which means this is the shoreline.” He traced a long, wavy line that ran the width of the map, one that roughly matched the line of the water’s edge that they could see in the sunset light through the vellum.

It’s a transparency!
Matt said, delighted.
Like for an overhead projector
.

“Now look.” He drew their attention to where the sun was perfectly centred on the Sunstone. “Everything has to line up for the map to work. You see? The rocks are here, to make sure the map is in the right position. You match the shoreline and the sun to make sure that everything is centred.”

“Which means this”—the magus pointed to the curving line, which everyone had assumed was an unknown river—“is the island.”

They could see the vague shape of the island through the vellum, its darkness outlined by the sunset behind it.

“Right,” David said. “Which means
this
is where we need to go.” He pointed at the spot where, in their original view of the map, the trail intersected with the lake’s shore, the two lines forming an X. That spot, on the new map clearly marked a location on the lower half of the island, at the bottom of the hill, close to the shoreline.

He couldn’t help smiling, especially when the magus broke into a grin himself. “That’s it, Dafyd! You did it!”

The captain, however, was silent. David watched him for some reaction as he traced the lines on the map with his eyes, finally staring at the X on the island’s shore.

Then he nodded, and stood.

David waited for the captain’s praise, some acknowledgement that he had been right.

The captain said only, “We’re going to need a boat.”

After breakfast at Denny’s, I drove us to the Barnes and Noble near the hotel. We spent most of our time in the Children’s Section, where I read David the backs and jackets of anything that looked interesting.

“We should pick out your next book,” I told him. “We’re just
about done what we’re reading now.”

Hoping that there would be a “next book.”

We spent a little time in the local interest section, and I ended up taking a still-wrapped road atlas of the Pacific Northwest off the shelf and tucking it under my arm.

“We should get going,” I said, glancing at my watch. “It might take us a while to find this place.”

Our slow trajectory toward the cash desks took us past the Fantasy–Science Fiction section.

“Hey,” I said, suddenly inspired. “Let’s go this way.”

As we walked down the row of shelves, I followed the alphabet with my eyes.

I picked a thick hardcover off one of the lower shelves, surprised by how heavy it was.

“How about this?” I asked David, holding the book up toward him. “
The Lord of the Rings?”
He didn’t react. “I think you’re probably ready for it now.”

The captain had sent his two fastest riders back to Osham’s Bridge, with uncomplicated orders: “Procure a boat. The King’s name has little currency in these parts, so buy, beg, borrow or steal, but don’t come back without one.”

The men had set off at full gallop into the dark. They returned at midday, two days later, at a more restrained pace, one of them towing a cart which carried a small rowboat.

“That looks almost watertight,” the captain said. His words were scornful, but it was clear from his tone that he was pleased: the men must have ridden hard to be back so soon.

He beckoned others over to untie the boat and take it down to the water’s edge.

I don’t like the look of this
, Matt said, as they dropped the boat into the water.

It isn’t sinking
, David thought, watching the boat.
It seems to be floating all right
.

No
, Matt said.
Look how big it is

Matt was right—it was tiny.

Barely big enough for two
.

The men spent several minutes checking the boat—tapping the hull with oars, climbing in and pushing off from shore, paddling a short distance down the lake. Even with only one person in it, the boat sat low in the water, but when the guardsmen pulled it back up to the beach the boards were mostly dry.

With a curt nod, the captain pronounced her seaworthy.

“All right,” he said, taking the oars from the guardsman and looking at David. “Are you ready?”

“Now?”

“Assuming you’d prefer to make it back before nightfall.”

David stepped warily toward the boat. One of the guardsmen eased it back into shallow water, holding it steady while David climbed in and struggled to balance as he stepped toward the small bench at the bow.

When he had settled, and pulled the blanket tight around his shoulders, he saw the magus approaching the beach. He had almost reached the boat when the captain stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “The boat will only carry two.”

The magus glanced at David. “I need to be there,” he protested. “What if—?”

“If the boat sinks?” the captain said. “I’m sure Dafyd will be able to manage. He’s done fine on his own so far.”

David winced at the words, and the magus backed away. He clearly had no hope of changing the captain’s mind.

“We’ll be back soon,” the captain said, stepping into the water. “And if we encounter a problem that’s truly insurmountable, I’ll row back and bring you over.”

It took us a couple of wrong turns, a couple of stops to consult the road atlas, but I eventually got us into Carol Corvin’s neighbourhood. It was a nest of winding streets and tree-lined cul-de-sacs built on the side of
a hill. The houses got bigger as we followed the street upward, the hedges taller, the cars nicer in the driveways.

“This,” I said to David, “would be how the other half lives.”

We were pretty close to the top when I turned into the Corvins’ crescent. As best I could tell, the address she had given me belonged to the biggest house on the block, near the end of the street. The house was concealed by a tall hedge trimmed into sharp right angles.

I checked the address a final time and tucked my notebook into my pocket. David had escaped breakfast largely unscathed, save for a dark drop of syrup that I figured no one would notice on the front of his shirt.

“We want you looking your best,” I said, wetting a tissue with my tongue and rubbing at the corners of his mouth.

I hadn’t told Carol that I was bringing David with me, but I needn’t have worried. As she opened the front door and I began to introduce myself, she looked past me and stepped toward David.

“And who do we have here?” She crouched slightly to bring herself down to David’s level. “My name is Carol,” she said, reaching out and taking his right hand. “What’s your name?”

“He doesn’t talk,” I said sheepishly. “His name is David. He’s my son.”

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, David.” She released his hand and it fell slowly back to his side as she turned to me. “And you must be Christopher Knox.”

“I am,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry …” I glanced at David. “I wasn’t planning to bring my son, but something came up.”

“That’s all right,” she said warmly, looking at David again. “Would you like to come in?”

The house was a reflection of her: there was money there, and an unmistakable style, but it was restrained, intimate. Human-scale. It put me at ease, despite everything.

She led us through the foyer and into a room with a couple of couches and a big-screen TV.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” she said. “I’m not surprised you brought your son, Mr. Knox.”

“Chris,” I said. She wasn’t sitting yet, so I remained standing. “Why?”

She waved to me to sit down. “I’ve found that some journalists become aware of the foundation and its work for personal reasons.” She looked at David again. “It doesn’t usually come up right away—” She smiled. “But eventually it comes out that they have a son or a daughter or a niece or a nephew or a family friend. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to David?”

I was surprised by her directness, but Carol had spent several decades confronting the hard reality.

“The doctors aren’t sure, actually.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Was there an accident?”

“No, it was …” I struggled for the word. “Spontaneous.”

She smiled, focused on David. “All right,” she said. And then, as if remembering, “Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?”

“Oh no, that’s not—”

“I’m going to get myself a glass of lemonade. It’s just as easy to carry three as it is to carry one.”

I smiled. “Lemonade would be very nice. Thank you.”

As she left the room, I put my hand on David’s leg, sighing heavily in relief. “I think she likes you, sport,” I said, squeezing gently.

I don’t know what I was hoping to get out of my conversation with Carol Corvin. Mostly, I think I was there to be in contact with someone whose life had been changed by the book, whether she was aware of it or not.

A minute later she swept back into the room with a tray of drinks. “I took the liberty,” she said, setting a tall sippy cup on the table in front of David.

“Thank you,” I said.

“It’s part of the routine.”

“You have a lovely home,” I said.

She looked around as if she hadn’t noticed until I had brought it to her attention. “The unanticipated trajectory of random numbers, Brent likes to call it.”

“I’m sorry?”

She laughed at my confusion. “Brent, my husband, is a mathematician.
When we bought this place, one of his first comments was that there would have been no way to anticipate us living like this, no matter what variables you put into the equation. Math geek humility, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I still don’t really get it.”