“I can,” I said. My voice was barely a whisper.
She noticed my attitude. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” I said, snapping back to the moment. “I can read it,” I repeated.
“What language is it, then?”
“Arentian,” I said.
“You’re from Arentia?” Suhonen said in surprise.
“Originally. And not for a long time.”
“Do you think it’ll tell us what really happened to his ship?” Clift asked.
“I’m absolutely certain it will.”
“How do you know?”
I tapped the lettering on the cover. “Because the title is The Wreck of the Bloody Angel and What Really Happened. ”
The same title as the official book back in Watchorn Harbor. The irony was as sharp as Clift’s sword.
Chapter Thirty
I wanted to read it. They wanted me to read it to them, although they hadn’t said so. It was clear in the way their gazes flicked from me to the book and back. I tried desperately to think of a legitimate reason to avoid it, though. I wanted to read it first in private. Although we had the same name, nothing had prepared me for the realization that we also shared a nationality.
I lifted the cover. This was no government document; the handwriting was a bit sloppy, but it still showed the traces of Arentian school penmanship. The first sentence beckoned me, and I saw no way around it: All this treasure-
Then Duncan saved me by asking, “What’s that out there?” He nodded out the window toward the yard opposite the one we’d crossed. Most of it was shaded by the huge tree, which kept the weeds from growing too high. The terrain sloped slightly down toward a round hole about the size of a tavern table. Directly above this, hanging from a thick tree branch, was a block and tackle. Clearly something had been lowered into, or lifted out of, the opening.
“A well?” Jane suggested.
“Wouldn’t need a well with that stream going right by the house,” I said.
“Looks like just a hole in the ground to me,” Suhonen said.
“Yes,” Clift agreed. “And we all know why pirates put holes in the ground.”
I was grateful to have something other than the journal to think about, so I led us outside to the edge of the hole. I got as close as I dared and peered down; there was nothing but darkness.
“Hey!” Jane yelled down the hole. “Black Edward! Are you down there?” There was no response. She shrugged. “Well, sometimes it’s that easy.”
“Not this time,” Clift said. He looked up; the wind was starting to pick up, and on the other side of the mountain, we saw the first dark gray hints of storm clouds. “Weather looks touchy.”
“Too touchy for me to go down and have a look?” I said.
“I’m no weather wizard. I see gray skies, I get nervous. But they might go right past us with nary a sprinkle.”
Duncan picked up a chain that lay on the ground. One end was attached to a loop driven deep into the tree trunk. The other had a heavy-duty snap that might clip on to a particularly large collar. “This must have been where those big lizards spent their time before they got loose: guarding that hole.”
I examined the snap. It was solid and intact. “They didn’t get loose, they were turned loose.”
“Here’s the rope they must’ve used for the pit,” Suhonen called. He’d found a long coil of thick line hanging from the stub of another branch. “It’s pretty stiff. Hasn’t been used in a while, but it seems strong enough.” He paused. “That pulley’s heavy-duty, too. Whatever they lowered into that hole wasn’t a feather pillow.”
“Or pulled out of it,” Jane added.
“Yeah,” Suhonen agreed.
I stepped away from the hole and examined the ground. There had once been a worn path from the house to the hole, but grass had begun to overgrow it. I saw no sign of the bare footprints we’d seen earlier.
I looked at Jane. She said, “We have to know what’s down there.”
“Or what was down there,” I added.
“Yeah,” she said. “The pile of unanswered questions just gets bigger and bigger, doesn’t it?”
“I’m the smallest,” Duncan said. “I’ll go down.”
“No, it’s not your place,” I said, and when he started to protest added, “This is my case, not yours.”
“Is your shoulder up to it?” he challenged.
“It works just fine.” I left out the part about it hurting like a bastard.
“And if there is treasure down there?” Clift said.
“Eddie will tell us,” Jane said with the kind of certainty that brooked no further questions. “And then we’ll decide what to do next.”
Duncan proved to be useful, though. He shimmied out onto the branch and threaded the rope through the block and tackle. I tied a loop in one end for my foot, and some knots to give me handholds. After the lizard fight and the climb up the steps, I didn’t want to rely on just my fading strength to keep me safe. Finally, I sat on the edge of the hole, arranged the rope, and looked back.
“Two tugs means pull me up now,” I said. “Three means I’ve hit bottom. Depending on what I find, I might tie something to the bottom of the rope and send it up first. If I do, I’ll tug four times.”
Suhonen nodded. He’d wrapped the rope around the tree’s trunk, then around himself; he would be in charge of playing it out as I needed it. “How long do we give you before we send someone else down?”
I looked at Jane. “Captain Argo will determine that. If you lose contact, she takes over for me.” I turned to Clift. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Seems my opinion and three gold pieces will buy you a nice dinner,” he snorted.
The sky was turning darker behind the mountain. The storm could pass us by as Clift said, but I didn’t have that kind of luck. I took a deep breath, peered down into the blackness, and yelled, “Anyone down there, don’t panic. I’m coming down, and I just want to talk.”
“Would you believe that if you were down there?” Clift asked Duncan.
Duncan, self-conscious at being so casually addressed by the captain, merely shrugged.
I kicked off the lip, then braced my feet against the edge of the shaft. If I straightened my knees, my back pressed against the opposite wall, which made stopping very easy.
The sides of the shaft had once been shored up with wooden planks. Many had fallen, and roots poked through the dirt. Insects and other vermin clung to the walls near the surface, but as I descended into the darkness, they grew fewer and fewer.
“See anything?” Jane called down.
“Bugs and tree roots,” I answered. “If I run across Miles, I’ll give him your regards.”
Her laugh echoed in the shaft.
Close spaces didn’t typically bother me, but something about this one did. The tropical heat and humidity had me sweating, but some of the perspiration was ice cold. It wasn’t just the physical narrowness, it was the same dread I’d experienced going in the opposite direction to question Rody Hawk. I’d had just enough contact with the supposedly unreal to let my imagination conjure all sorts of things below. After all, I’d encountered ghosts within the safety of the Red Cow; anything could be at the bottom of this hole.
The bugs didn’t help. I couldn’t see them, but I felt them as my hands brushed the sides of the shaft. There was no wooden shoring here, and whatever lived this deep crawled with impunity until I shook them off. Ordinarily bugs didn’t bother me either, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation, and I kept anticipating painful bites that thankfully never came.
As the circle of light above grew smaller, I saw a dim pinpoint far beneath me. And when I was equidistant between the two, I felt a light breeze rising through the shaft. It grew stronger as I descended, until it was
