One
Finch
The golden doors of the Mapmakers’ Monastery loomed over me. How long would I have to wait for the entrance to open? I’d only been here a few minutes, and that already felt too long.
All right, Erebus, you’ve had your fun. Come back now and tell me what the heck I’m doing here.
I stood entranced by the glowing gemstones lodged in the building’s spires. Beyond the cliff’s edge, the sea crashed against the rocks.
“You’ll catch flies if you leave your mouth hangin’ open, son.” The old Southern lady broke me out of my frustrated reverie.
“Sorry… I’ve been zoning out, haven’t I?” I felt like a schoolboy who’d been caught napping.
“You have. Come sit beside this old girl, keep her company awhile.” The old woman patted the seat beside her.
It would’ve been rude to refuse, and older ladies tended to dig me. Even tough old boots could be softened up into doling out some answers, if I played my cards right.
“What’s your name?” I cast her my most debonair smile. “Sorry for not asking before—I think the wind stole away my manners.”
She chuckled. “Blanche Dunham. Pleased to meet you.” She extended a wrinkled hand. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to kiss it or shake it.
“I’m Finch.” I left out my last name and opted for a shake. Both “Merlin” and “Shipton” tended to raise eyebrows, and I wasn’t about to give up my state secrets until I knew Ms. Dunham a little better.
“Unusual name.”
I shrugged. “Unusual parents.”
She laughed like someone who’d smoked twenty-a-day since she was twelve, but it was oddly soothing. “There’s a sayin’, ain’t there, that your parents mess you up, and you mess your kids up, and the cycle goes on. I never had any young’uns, myself, so at least I was spared the weight of naming them. Always thought I’d have gone for somethin’ simple, though—a Mark or a Jenny. I suppose you’d be too young to have little ‘uns?”
“Way too young.” My heart almost fled for its life at the thought. “But you’re right about parents. Anyway, I hate to ask again, but where are we? Like, specifically? Pretend I’m clueless.” Because I am…
“The Mapmakers’ Monastery,” she replied.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And where is that exactly?”
“Arkoudi, Greece—Asteris, in the ancient days. Right in the middle of the Ionian Sea. If you look, you can see Ithaca. Odysseus’s old stompin’ grounds.” She pointed to a larger island in the distance, partially hidden by the haze that drifted up from the water.
“Greece?” I gaped at her. “Why’s it so friggin’ chilly?”
“Language.”
“Sorry. Why’s it so chilly if we’re in Greece?”
She smiled. “The monastery. It attracts the winds.”
“Very Odyssean, if that’s even a word. He used a bunch of winds for something, right? I’m a bit rusty on my ancient Greek knowledge.”
“You need to take a look at your ancient literature.” Blanche looked across the horizon. “King Aeolos, the Keeper of the Winds, gave Odysseus a bag containing the strongest of winds for his voyage home. They’d almost reached Ithaca when Odysseus decided to have himself a little nap. His men opened the bag, wantin’ to know what was inside, set all them winds loose, and it pushed them right back to where they started. Then he got into all that trouble with monsters and witches and cyclops and the like.”
I smirked. “An actual, real-life windbag? I know a couple of those.” Davin… here’s looking at you, asshole.
“It’s a moral tale, son—it ain’t a jest to be taken lightly. There’s truth in stories, if you know how to read them. Homer uses Odysseus’s error to tell us not to lose sight of our goals till we’re over the finish line, else you’ll end up beginnin’ again.”
“Hmm… interesting takeaway. Is this your finish line? Learning to make maps? I mean, that’s why we’re both here, right?” If she thought we were in this together, she might be more forthcoming.
“Oh yes, son. It’s taken me many a year to locate this here monastery, and I ain’t leavin’ until I’ve discovered how to draw myself a magical map to reveal hidden places.”
“To where, if that’s not a rude question?” I asked, keeping it casual.
She sighed wistfully. “El Dorado.”
“Great soundtrack. Elton John, I believe. Totally underrated movie.”
Blanche frowned. “Eh?”
“Nothing. I babble when I’m nervous.” I cleared my throat. “What’s in El Dorado for you? Looking for a snazzy pair of gold earrings, or a big chunk of the yellow stuff to take home?”
“Believe it or not, I’m descended from Sir Walter Raleigh. I found out a while ago, and it put me on this path. I’d like to finish what he wasn’t able to, all those years ago, when he set out to find that lost city. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any magic to help him along, so he never made it.” She chuckled wryly. “A bit of gold wouldn’t hurt, either, to pay off the mortgage and see myself comfortable for the rest of my days.”
“Sounds like a good life plan.”
Blanche nodded. “As a young girl, I always thought I’d be some grand explorer, but I found myself in magical administration instead. Not too inspirin’, let me tell you. And now that I’m in the winter of my life, I thought it high time I lived out those dreams. They been waitin’ on me too long. If not now, then it’ll be never, and I ain’t willin’ to go to the grave without tryin’.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s so cool.”
Blanche looked elegant in that way older Southern women often did, not a silvered hair out of place and wearing a full face of makeup. She seemed friendly in a maternal sense, even if she didn’t have the kiddos to go with it. I didn’t imagine she suffered fools, given how quick she was to call me out on my language. I liked her vibe. To find out that she was a badass granny, using her retirement years to go trekking after the lost city of El Dorado, just made her more awesome.
What am I looking for? El Dorado sounded ace, but gold didn’t seem like Erebus’s flavor of choice. It was too ordinary, too human. Riches beyond one’s wildest dreams—that probably didn’t feature for someone like him, even if he had given himself a physical body to get all snug inside, by draining the Fountain of Youth. It had to be something else. Something more… cosmic. Something befitting a Child of Chaos.
My thoughts flitted toward Saskia and Garrett. They’d be going crazy, worrying about me. Did they think I was dead, crushed under all that rock in the collapsed Jubilee mine? I felt for my pendant—the one Tatyana had given us in case of trouble—but it had vanished. You slippery-fingered frogspawn! Erebus must have swiped it without me noticing.
I had to let them know I was safe, and I wanted to make sure they were okay. Erebus had promised he’d rescued Garrett and Saskia, but that smoky thorn in my side clearly couldn’t be trusted.