He was home.
Tom had hoped to slip back to his dorm room unnoticed. But the moment he stepped off the Purgatory’s gangway and onto the dock, a tall, lanky figure dressed in an old-fashion suit emerged from the shadows near the boathouse.
“Mr. Hawkins,” Professor Lost said, “you have returned.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I trust everything went smoothly?”
Smoothly? Not exactly. Not sure how many details Lost wanted to hear, Tom simply replied, “We destroyed the Black Book of Pernicus. There are no more scavengers.”
“Very good. And your voyage? I trust that was satisfactory as well.”
“The Purgatory sailed up a waterfall to return here. I would have sworn that was impossible.”
Professor Lost sent him a disapproving scowl. “Rarely is anything impossible, Mr. Hawkins. Some things are simply more difficult than others.”
As Lost seemed to have a destination in mind, Tom fell into step beside him. They walked in silence until they reached the beach clearing.
“You were a sea captain,” Tom said haltingly. “I never knew that.”
Professor Lost paused, looked at him, then gave a haughty sniff. “I have no doubt the world is full of facts of which you are blissfully ignorant.”
“I brought something back for you. From Salvador Zaputo. He says his debt is paid.”
He passed Zaputo’s necklace to Professor Lost and watched as he opened it.
“Remarkable,” Lost muttered. “A mana seed. I never would have dreamed.”
“Do you miss the sea?” Tom asked.
Lost gave a beleaguered sigh. “We cannot predict where the tides of life will carry us, Mr. Hawkins. For now, it is my thankless task to try to impart tiny bits of knowledge into your thick skull. I do enjoy a challenge.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever been lost, Mr. Hawkins?”
“Lost, sir?”
“It is a simple question. One that is fully within your capabilities to answer.” Professor Lost slowly repeated it. “Have you ever been lost?”
Tom thought about it. “No. Never.”
“Show me the southeast.”
Tom pointed it out immediately.
Lost nodded. “Just as I suspected. An internal compass. A genetic gift given to you by virtue of being the mapmaker’s son. I would venture to guess your brother shares the same trait, should you one day care to ask him. Of some use, I suppose. There are several dim-witted fellows among our population here at the academy who would be quite impressed by such gifts.”
Tom smiled.
“I, however, am not one of them. Any more than I would be impressed by a man’s height or the color of his eyes.”
Tom’s smile faded.
Lost gave a curt nod. “That which is truly of value rests within each of us. A moral compass. An ability not only to discern right from wrong, but to act upon it—always and without hesitation. Once you truly understand that, then I will have taught you what your father wanted you to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now then.” Lost looked around for a moment, then he selected a shovel left by the groundskeepers and passed it to Tom. He pointed to the ground. “Right there should be fine.”
“Sir?”
“A hole, Mr. Hawkins.”
Professor Lost watched Tom dig. When he’d finished, he dropped the mana seed inside. Tom covered it up with dirt.
“You think it will bear fruit?” Tom asked.
Professor Lost straightened, locking his hands behind his back. He stared down at Tom. “It’s a wonderful and wicked world, Mr. Hawkins. Our actions, our words, our wishes, all have repercussions. Just like the ripples on that lake. We may not know at the time what they are, but we must believe.”
“Believe what?”
“One day there will be mana.”
Umbrey’s voice carried out to them. “Here’s the boat you wanted, Morty!” he said, tugging a wooden rowboat along the edge of the lake.
Lost’s brows snapped together. “Do not call me Morty. And that vessel is not for me. It’s for Mr. Hawkins.”
Tom frowned. “Me, sir?”
“It appears your ill-conceived actions have set off a chain of events, as well. Apparently Fred has been launched again. You will retrieve him at once, then report to my office and we will discuss the appropriate penance for your demerits.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And while we’re there,” Umbrey put in, “we might as well take a peek inside that map room of yours, Morty.”
“Do not call me—wait. My map room? What business could you possibly have in my map room?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering if there might be another way to Terrum that didn’t involve the Bloody Passage. Gets a little messy taking that route, you know.”
Lost glared down his nose at Umbrey. “And why would you need to go to Terrum?”
“I’m afraid that’s a long story.”
“I thought you told me not to worry about it,” Tom said.
“Aye, I did. Worrying about it won’t help. But preparing for the journey there? Now that’s something else.” Umbrey gestured toward the boat, then brought his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “But first, the Professor gave you a job to do.”
“Yes.” Tom climbed in the boat and took a seat.
“Hurry back, lad. We’ve work to do!”
“Got it.” Tom dipped his oars in the water. As he did, his gaze locked on Lost and Umbrey. A look of silent understanding passed between them.
Umbrey smiled. “Just watch you don’t row out too far,” he called. “That first drop’s a doozy.”
Salamaine's Curse Page 17
