Dan looked so much like him.
So he never … he never did anything bad.
I knew your father. He was a good man.
Amy realized something: Erasmus had not really answered her question. Could good men do bad things? A question asked by a good girl … who had stolen, lied.
Amy threw back the covers. She hurried into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She dressed quickly, pulling on her jeans and the same T-shirt she’d worn the day before. She smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could. Sooner or later, they’d have to find a Laundromat.
By the time she came out of the bathroom, Dan was awake and staring out at the city. He walked past her without saying good morning. She knew he wasn’t angry at her. She knew he was thinking.
She just didn’t know what he was thinking about.
She checked her e-mail accounts. A short e-mail from Ian.
Found UK professor (Lucian branch) willing to send evidence of your scholarly credentials to library. Stay tuned.
That was good news. Considering the time difference, she might have heard something already. She checked the separate, secure account and saw the e-mail. Holding her breath, she clicked on it.
Dear Miss Teague,
Your authorization to study at the library came through. You may come this morning at 10.
Katja Mavel
Amy felt relief flow through her. Not just because they’d gained access to the library. But because she wouldn’t have to think about her father anymore.
“Dan! Hurry up! We’re in!”
They hurried through the steel doors of the library. In the vestibule, along with the single polished-steel umbrella stand, two boys were waiting.
Amy and Dan stopped short. It was Atticus and Jake Rosenbloom. Atticus wore a hat with earflaps. Jake wore a scowl. Dan stood on one foot, poised to run.
Amy remembered the last time she’d seen Jake. She’d just kicked him in the ribs, hard enough to take his breath away. She remembered his look of surprise and outrage as he fell over backward onto the hard stones of the Colosseum. That had been one satisfying kick.
“Wait!” Atticus said excitedly. “We just want to talk to you! Please!”
The pleading in his voice made Dan pause. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Don’t try to stop us,” Amy said, looking at Jake. But it was an empty threat, and she knew it. She glanced around, looking for the Interpol agents.
“We came alone,” Atticus quickly said. “This isn’t a trap.”
“Why should we believe you?” Amy countered. Her gaze flicked to Jake. “You turned us in.”
“Of course we did!” Jake exclaimed. “You stole a priceless historical document!”
“And you went running right to security, didn’t you?” Amy said scornfully.
“You bet I did. Because it was the right thing to do!”
“Are you going to do it again, right now?” Amy asked furiously. “Or would you like another kick in the ribs?”
She adjusted her pack as though ready to strike. She wanted to. He deserved it.
“Look, the only reason I’m here is to protect my father. You’re using his name to get something. Steal something.” Suddenly, Jake reached out and grabbed her pack. “Is it in here?”
She went after him, grabbing at the pack. “Hey!”
Jake already had it open. Amy’s crumpled T-shirts fell out, along with her research materials. One sheet of paper drifted down and landed at Atticus’s feet.
The face of Jane Sperling at nineteen stared up at them. The photo had been pulled off the Internet, and it was grainy and dark. Laughing eyes, black hair to her shoulders, dressed in a belted gray coat, standing by a bare tree. The wind must have been blowing, because a filmy scarf almost obliterated her smile.
Atticus picked up the paper. He stared down at it, then up at them. “What are you doing with a picture of my great-grandmother?”
Nobody spoke as they walked down a narrow alley that opened into a small, empty square. Atticus clutched the picture against his chest.
“Why do you have this?” he asked again.
Instead of answering, Amy posed a question. “What do you know about your great-grandmother?”
“Not much,” Atticus said. “She lived in Maine. She was Jewish, but she married an African American soldier, back when you just didn’t do stuff like that.”
“Why do you have the photo?” Jake demanded. “We should be the ones asking questions, not you.”
“Before the war, Jane Sperling was a student in Germany,” Amy said.
Atticus nodded. “She was a medieval scholar.”
“She spent the war years in London. She was an American spy.”
Jake let out a surprised bark of a laugh. “Now I know you’re crazy. A spy?”
But Atticus looked interested. Amy saw the flash of curiosity in his eyes. “Why do you think that?”
“Never mind why. Her code name was Sparrow.”
“Sparrow!” Atticus gave a start. He looked down at the picture again. “Follow the sparrow to the Mad King …” he murmured.
“The Mad King?” Amy asked insistently. “Why did you say that?”
“It’s something my mother said … the night she died. She was trying to tell me something. She’d been unconscious for days, and then she came to and talked to me.”
“You never told us that.” Jake looked at his brother in surprise.
“She said that I had to follow the sparrow to the Mad King’s castle. I mean, what would you think?”
“I’d think she was delirious.”
Amy gripped the notebook deep in her pocket. “Did she say anything else?”
“Oh, crazy stuff,” Atticus said. “She kept talking about vespers and grace. She said she needed grace. Which is funny, because she wasn’t religious at all.”
“Grace?” Amy questioned sharply. “What if it was the name Grace? Like she was talking about a person?”
“She didn’t know anyone named Grace,” Jake broke in. “Atticus, why didn’t you tell me this, or tell Dad?”
“Because it didn’t make sense. And because …” Atticus hesitated. “Because I couldn’t talk about it somehow. It was like a dream. She talked about this story she told me when I was really little. A bedtime story. I can barely remember it. There was this brave family in it who protected a ring… . I don’t remember the name. Something to do with music. Or a poem.”
“Madrigal,” Amy said.
“Yes! That’s it! There was a ring, and the Madrigals had to protect it. There was a dragon named …” Atticus looked up as knowledge lit his face. “Vesper! The dragon was named Vesper. That’s all I can remember. She just kept saying ‘the ring, the ring.’”
Amy had to stop herself from touching her watch. She had trained herself not to keep checking it was there. The ring wasn’t a fantasy story. It was real, and resting against her skin.
“Would somebody please explain to me what’s going on?” Jake cried in frustration. “Because I feel like I’m in some sort of cracked fairy tale.”
Amy took out the notebook. “We found this in Neuschwanstein Castle, hidden in a drain. It belonged to Jane Sperling.” She handed the book to Atticus.
“In the castle? So maybe I was meant to find it!” He opened the flap reverently.
To G: dV528.112K
Stolen by Hummel
repatriated w V. Kepler
resting w/ teacher amp; victim
together with the spellbound wanderer will point the way
Atticus looked up at them. “What does it mean?”
“We think ‘dV’ refers to the de Virga world map,” Amy said. “We know for sure that Jane was interested in it.”
Jake frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a medieval world map that went missing in 1932. Your great-grandmother was at the auction when it was stolen.” Amy quickly related their theory about what happened to the map. “Hummel stole it, and Jane got it back. Then she led us here.”
“I see!” Atticus exclaimed. “So the numbers are a library collection number. And of course ‘spellbound wanderer’ is a no-brainer.”