The Unmapper took a step closer to Goldpaw. ‘Deepglint is in the Bonelands, you said; he’ll find Iggy and bring him home. Won’t he?’
Goldpaw hung her head. ‘There has been no word from Deepglint for a month now.’
The Unmapper’s face paled.
‘But that does not mean that he is lost to us,’ Goldpaw added hastily. ‘Deepglint might have found Morg’s stronghold and be making plans to seize it. It could be too risky to make contact.’
It was the first time that Fox had detected fear, and unease, in the Lofty Husk’s voice and it made her shuffle a little closer to her brother.
‘I’ll send word via the fireflies to Spark in the Elderwood and ask him to patrol Fool’s Leap. We must get Iggy back before Morg’s Midnights cross over that ravine into the Bonelands.’
Goldpaw turned to the twins. ‘I will stay here and conjure the strongest spells I know to make the boundary safe for the Unmappers again. You should leave immediately. If Morg’s power is nearing its peak, she may be very close to finding the fern. You must find it before she does and plant the pearl so Morg will never be able to harm Jungledrop again. If she swallows that pearl and takes the fern’s immortality for herself, the Faraway will die and so will the Unmapped Kingdoms as we know them. Then Morg will steal all the Unmapped magic and create a new world with the power of the elements on her side.’
‘Yes, yes, all very tragic,’ Fox replied. ‘Now, where will I find shoes and a change of clothes for this quest? My blazer is in quite a state.’
Goldpaw shook her head in disbelief, but it was clear that she didn’t have time to discipline rude children. ‘You will find shoes, clothes and flasks of fresh water in the Bustling Giant.’ She bounded off towards the tunnel with the Unmapper hot on her heels. ‘Now, go!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘There is not a moment to lose!’
The twins made their way round the lagoon towards the Bustling Giant and, once inside the great hollowed hallway of the tree, which was lit by dozens of raindrop-shaped lanterns, they got changed into the clothes hanging up on the hooks there. Fibber put on a pair of patchwork-leaf shorts and a feather waistcoat. Fox chose a short feather tunic, but kept her tie because it made her feel more strategic and businesslike. (It was a strange look, especially when coupled with the moccasin boots the twins found.) They glanced briefly into a few of the rooms leading off from the hallway which were filled with vast cauldrons, twisting pipes and staircases that wound higher and higher up the tree, then they grabbed two flasks of water and made their way outside again.
Fox laid the flickertug map down beside the lagoon and knelt before it. The waterfall roared on, the parchment glimmered silver beneath the candletrees and even Fibber, whose gaze had kept wandering to the temple in the middle of the lagoon earlier, watched the map eagerly.
‘Where is the Forever Fern?’ Fox whispered to the parchment.
At first nothing happened. The map simply carried on glistening in the night.
‘I knew we shouldn’t have bothered listening to that crackpot panther,’ Fox muttered.
She wondered whether the time was coming for her to see if the phoenix tear could somehow lead her to the fern. But then the map’s magic flickered into life and silver words curled out onto the parchment:
Seek the Constant Whinge
Fibber frowned. ‘Who or what is the Constant Whinge? What kind of map doesn’t even show locations!’
Fox gave the map a short, sharp jab with her finger in case showing it who was boss prompted more information. But no new words, or indeed places, appeared. It was only when Fox lifted the map up again that she realised the flickertug’s magic wasn’t finished with them yet.
‘Argh!’ she cried as she stumbled forward. ‘The map’s alive! It’s – it’s dragging me along!’
Fibber shook his head in disbelief. ‘Flickertug,’ he murmured, running a hand over the parchment. ‘Maybe the map will tug us in the right direction!’
Instinctively, Fibber reached out to grab the map. Years of trying to keep one step ahead of his sister were hard to shake, even though he knew that none of that mattered any more. Fox grabbed back and Fibber took a deep breath. He thought of Goldpaw’s words about working with his sister and reluctantly let Fox yank the map away from him.
‘I’ll lead the way,’ she snapped. And, with that, she hefted the satchel onto her shoulder with her spare arm and allowed herself to be pulled towards the waterfall spilling into the lagoon.
Fibber followed close behind, still clutching his briefcase.
‘Do you really want to cart that briefcase through the jungle with you?’ Fox called over her shoulder.
Fibber glanced at the Doodlers’ temple again and Fox followed his gaze. What was it about the building that intrigued her brother so much?
‘The briefcase is coming with me whether you like it or not,’ Fibber panted. ‘I’ve spent too long working on what’s inside to abandon it altogether.’
Fox didn’t have time to remain curious because the map was pulling her through a gap between the rock face and the thundering water. Then she and Fibber were both running behind the waterfall itself, the sound of it pounding in their ears.
Fox had expected it to be dark behind the waterfall, but there was a strange glow coming from the shelf of rock above them that the water careered off. Fox squinted. Hundreds of tiny bats were clinging to it. She had seen bats before – black ones with jagged wings and grating screeches that tore out of cathedral ruins – but these ones were bright white, like light bulbs, and they hung silently, watchfully, from the rock above the twins as the flickertug map led them on.
The sight was so utterly magical
