The Map Read Online Free

and people, particularly those with magical significance. I have the rather less unique ability to see the world the way it actually appears.
    “No?” Jackaby tilted his head in mock sympathy. “It must be so dismal being you.”
    “Only in present company,” I teased back. I tucked the map in the sash of my skirt and began looking for a branch or foothold. The tree was old, easily twenty feet around at the base, and the lowest limbs nearly as wide as I was, but I managed to hoist myself up onto the first branch and then the second.
    “So, finding things by aura isn ’ t cutting corners?” I asked. “If we ’ re supposed to be doing this thing properly, then I imagine we were meant to figure out the map ’ s riddles. ‘Pie ’ and ‘magpie ’ are pretty obvious, now that I think about it.” I had nearly reached the nest. The little bird hopped around ahead of me, chattering and squawking, but it kept its distance.
    “It isn ’ t cheating. It ’ s just using one ’ s eyes,” Jackaby called up. “But that ’ s rather good, about the pie. Fitting first task for the Bold Deceiver ’ s quest, the magpie.”
    “How ’ s that?” I called down, being careful not to shift the branches too much as I positioned myself closer. Already the messy cluster of sticks was beginning to look rather shaken.
    “Kleptoparasitism!” Jackaby hollered cheerfully. “Magpies are known for it. Other birds can be thieves as well, of course, but magpies have a reputation for admiring shiny trinkets. Not an unfit totem for a highwayman. If that ’ s our pie, what do you suppose the key signifies? The next clue? Perhaps a means to solve the subsequent clues, as in the key to the map?”
    “That makes sense,” I said. I felt inside the nest. At the center, thin twigs and bits of straw wove a finely knit bowl, and my fingers closed around cold metal. “Or,” I said, tossing it down, “it means a key.”

* * *
The Garden
    The next point on the map was eight or nine miles south, through forest. Jackaby conceded that as long as we touched on each essential point along the journey, it would be acceptable to use the party crackers in between. He slid out a glossy, blue-papered tube and we gave the ends a tug.
    The world at the other end of the disorienting crackle was still green countryside, but this time there were signs of habitation. An old wooden fence lay just ahead of us, and a soft, dirt path led toward its gate and away. I could see no houses or barns nearby, but within the fence the earth had been tilled, and leafy stems were sprouting in careful rows.
    “ I assume we ’ re here for the garden,” I said, and began toward it.
    “ Wait, ” Jackaby clasped my shoulder so quickly my feet nearly slid out from under me on the soft earth.
    “What is it?”
    “The vegetables,” Jackaby said, with intensity. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t eat them.”
    “I think I can manage to control myself.”
    We drew nearer and examined the garden from over the weathered beams of the fence. The crops looked exceedingly healthy, all the plants at least two or three times larger than average. A trellis of simple timbers had been erected to support tomato vines, the fruits of which were as large as a man ’ s head and brilliant red. Not far off, deep-purple eggplants grew with such heft that if I jabbed a few stocks into them, they could pass for bagpipes. Beyond were cucumbers you could fit a saddle over and pumpkins you could hollow out and sleep in.
    “What do you see?” I whispered.
    “Danger. Desperation.” He peered at the produce with uncertainty. “And . . . vegetation.”
    “Perhaps we should just move on to the next—,” I began.
    “No.” He cut me off. “Every step is recorded for a purpose. Tell me, what do
you
see?”
    I tried to look beyond the obvious. The plants were the glaring spectacle, so I pushed them to the back of my mind and saw . . . dirt. The soil was freshly watered and looked soft