In the centre of the ancient room stood an enormous stone throne, supported by a pedestal with seven steps. The throne appeared to be carved from a single piece of white marble. Its high back was decorated with an engraved border of leaves, swirling around a crown. Two carved bananas served as armrests and the four legs of the throne resembled the limbs and paws of a giant ape.
Horace sat perched on the edge of the throne, waving his hook through the air like he was the pint-sized ruler of his own green universe.
‘Bow before my majesty,’ he proclaimed flamboyantly. ‘And I will grant thee wishes three.’
Ruby shot Horace a look of exasperation . ‘Kings don’t grant three wishes, you marble-headed midget! Genies grant three wishes.’
‘My majesty can do whatever my majesty wishes,’ Horace replied indignantly.
‘Your majesty can get his royal rear end off that throne and help us find the key,’ the Captain snapped.
‘Aye aye, Captain,’ Horace squealed, falling off the throne.
The Captain reached the top step of the plinth and laid the Forgotten Map on the marble seat. The rest of the crew gathered around him.
The Captain read:
‘Here is our throne,’ he stated, tapping a banana armrest. ‘And above us is the air.’
Six heads looked heavenwards to the distant roof of the tower, barely visible above them. One blowfly ascended into the lofty green void to explore.
‘Smudge will tell us if there’s anything up there,’ the Captain said confidently. ‘It’s a long way to climb on a wild key-chase.’
‘At least we have stairs,’ Ruby pointed out.
‘Crumbling stairs with no handrail,’ Mr Tribble added sceptically.
‘There are plenty of vines to grip on to,’ the Captain noted. ‘It’s the lack of light I’m worried about.’
Eaton passed his lantern to the Captain.
The Captain smiled. ‘Thank you, Eaton. That should solve our problem.’
Smudge quickly returned from his aerial exploration.
‘And?’ Horace asked in anticipation.
Smudge used three arms to form a circle in the air. He thrust his fourth arm through the centre of the circle and gave it a sharp twist to the right.
‘A key in a key hole,’ Horace exclaimed. ‘The key must be here.’
Smudge nodded and stuck four arms into the air.
‘At the very top of the tower,’ the Captain interpreted.
‘Good,’ Ruby said, removing a candy cane from her backpack. ‘The walls slope inwards. The higher the key is, the easier it will be to reach.’
The Captain put his paw on Whisker’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps we should let our master climber retrieve the key?’
‘We’re a team,’ Ruby said bluntly, clearly not wanting to miss out. ‘Aren’t we, Whisker?’
‘Sure, Ruby,’ Whisker replied, trying not to upset her.
‘And I’m the third musketeer,’ Horace piped. ‘It’s all for one and one of these tasty candy canes for me.’ He grabbed a second candy cane from Ruby’s backpack.
‘You lick it, you lose it!’ Ruby snapped.
Horace moved the candy cane away from his mouth and Ruby handed the third candy cane to Whisker.
‘Take the string, too,’ the Captain advised. ‘There are no safety nets this time.’
Ruby pulled out the ball of string and hooked it on her belt.
‘You’re the lantern boy, Horace,’ she ordered. ‘Make sure we have enough light at all times. Widen the beam if you have to – and make sure you keep up.’
Mr Tribble pointed to the key-shaped hole on the map. ‘Now remember what you’re looking for. A three-toothed key, presumably made from a dense metal.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Horace mumbled, fiddling with the mirrors on the lantern. ‘We’ve all seen keys before.’
Ruby didn’t respond. She was already halfway to the stairs. Whisker took one last look at the map and scampered after her.
The three rats ascended the stairs at a brisk pace. Ruby led the way. Whisker stayed a safe distance behind her and Horace trailed at the rear, counting steps in a sing-song whisper. Smudge buzzed around the three rats, occasionally pointing out a cracked stair or a potential tripping hazard.
As Whisker climbed higher, he felt his chest pounding with excitement. It wasn’t the key that set his heart racing, and it wasn’t the treasure. It was the thought of his parents and sister. With every step he felt himself drawing closer to them. He imagined he was a pilgrim climbing to the top of a sacred mountain where the answer to one question awaited him – Where are they? He struggled to remain focused.
Get a grip, he told himself. There is no sacred mountain. There’s only a tower and a key. The key leads to a treasure. The treasure leads to … something. All he could do was hope. He thought about the engraving on the palace step. Wisdom and wealth … What if wisdom and wealth were the secret treasures? Could wisdom find his family? Could wealth buy his answer? What if he had to choose …?
A loud shout from Ruby interrupted Whisker’s thoughts.
‘LOOK!’ she cried, raising her candy cane into the air. ‘Up there.’
Whisker stopped and stared. High above him, and dangling from the end of a rusty chain, hung a golden key. It shimmered like a distant star in the light of the lantern.
The rats hurried higher, eager to reach their prize. The walls sloped inwards as the roof of the tower came into view. The Captain and the mice were now distant specks far below.
Whisker drew level with the key. It hovered silently in the air, begging to be touched.
‘The King’s Key,’ he marvelled.
Ruby tried to reach the key with the end of the candy cane. Even with her arm fully extended, the key was well beyond reach.
‘We need to go higher,’ Horace puffed, reaching the two rats. ‘We can reel in the chain from a step closer to the roof.’
‘We can’t,’ Ruby said in frustration. ‘The stairs end here.’
‘Oh,’ Horace said, looking up at the stair-less wall. ‘It’s good we have a grappling hook.’
Ruby gave him a rare smile. ‘Good thinking, Horace. I knew there was a reason we brought you along.’
Horace and Whisker handed Ruby their candy canes and she began tying them together with the string. While he waited, Whisker examined the chain more closely. It was fastened to a round keystone in the centre of the roof. The bottom of the chain joined a gold ring, looping through a small hole in the handle of the key. Whisker saw no visible joins in any of the links.
‘The key and the chain are fused together,’ he said, perplexed.
‘Nothing a few hard tugs won’t fix,’ Ruby muttered, unconcerned. ‘One of those rusty links is sure to give way.’ She held up the grappling hook. ‘I’ve plaited the string so it’s triple strength. Once I’ve hooked the key, I’ll need you boys to pull as hard as you can without falling down the stairs.’
‘Alright,’ Whisker agreed. ‘But we’d better warn the Captain and the mice first. No one wants a rusty chain falling on their head.’
Smudge disappeared below to give the warning, Horace lowered his lantern and Whisker braced himself against the wall.
‘Here goes,’ Ruby cried, swinging the grappling hook behind her back.
She projected it forward, releasing her grip. The grappling hook curved in a wide arc across the tower, striking the key with a CLINK. Whisker saw the four golden teeth of the key flash in the lantern light as the key swung backwards.
The grappling hook slipped from its hold and tumbled down. There was a faint grinding sound followed by a CRACK as the grappling hook hit the wall. The three rats sighed with disappointment and pulled the hook onto the top step.
Ruby prepared for a second throw and swung the hook behind her.
‘Wait for the key to stop moving,’ Horace squeaked.
Ruby let out an impatient groan and lowered the rope.
Mesmerised, Whisker watched the key swing back and forth,
slowing down with every pass. He heard the faint grinding sound again.
It must be the chain, he told himself.
Ruby grew restless and raised the grappling hook. Whisker continued to stare at the key, hypnotised by its rhythm. His whole body began to sway – back and forth, side to side. His eyes fixed on the golden teeth of the key. As they moved in front of him, he saw them transform into ancient symbols … letters … numbers – Numbers!
‘WAIT!’ Whisker yelled.
But it was too late. Ruby had thrown.
Keys to thy Throne
The grappling hook hurtled through the air, speeding towards the golden key. Whisker clawed desperately at the string, unable to get a hold – he had to stop it.
As the hook neared its target, Whisker felt the lumpy shape of a knot. With rough fibres tearing at his skin, he closed his fists and pulled. The grappling hook jerked to a halt in midair and fell. The key continued to sway peacefully at the end of the chain.
Whisker felt his tail tingle with relief. Ruby gave him a furious scowl.
‘What on earth were you thinking?’ she yelled. ‘I would have hooked it.’
‘I – know –’ Whisker panted, trying to catch his breath.
‘What?’ Ruby fumed. ‘You deliberately tried to stop me. What kind of arrogant, worm-ridden, glory-hungry apprentice do you think you are?’
Whisker was too shocked to respond.
‘He’s the worm-ridden type that just saved your life,’ Horace said in Whisker’s defence.
‘Saved my life?’ Ruby exclaimed. ‘From what?’
Horace pointed his hook at the ceiling. ‘Have you looked up lately, Ruby?’
Ruby raised her eye. The ceiling appeared the same as it had two minutes ago, with one big exception. The keystone supporting the chain had dislodged from the roof and was precariously balanced between the surrounding stones. One small tug on the chain would send the keystone plummeting to the ground.
‘That explains the grinding sound,’ Ruby gasped.
‘I’m no stonemason,’ Horace said. ‘But my other uncle, who’s not a dodgy cart maker, is. And I know for a fact that removing a keystone from any dome or archway is a guaranteed way to bring down the roof quicker than it takes to say shiver me timbers, the sky is falling.’
Ruby gulped. ‘I-I’m sorry, Whisker, I shouldn’t have …’
‘Forget it, Ruby,’ Whisker said, cutting her off. ‘I didn’t give you much warning.’
‘But how did you know it was a trap?’ she asked.
Whisker pointed to the golden key.
‘I counted the teeth,’ he said. ‘The key from the map has three teeth. This key has four.’
Ruby gave Horace a sideways glance.
‘I know, I know,’ he muttered. ‘We should have listened to Tribble.’
‘So where’s the real key?’ Ruby asked, peering around the tower.
Whisker shrugged. ‘Who knows? But I’m not waiting here for an answer to fall from the sky.’
Without further discussion, Horace picked up the lantern, Ruby slung the grappling hook over her shoulder and Whisker led the way down the stairs – as gently as possible. He listened for further grinding sounds with every step, but all he heard was Horace counting backwards.
After an anxious descent, the three rats reached the bottom of the stairs to find the throne room deserted and their companions nowhere in sight.
‘Psst, Over here,’ Mr Tribble hissed.
‘Where?’ Horace said, baffled. ‘I can’t see anyone.’
‘We’re under the throne,’ the Captain whispered, poking his head between two marble legs. ‘Is it safe to come out?’
‘Not exactly,’ Horace replied. ‘But the last place you want to be is under that throne.’
‘Why?’ Mr Tribble asked, refusing to budge.
Whisker heard a faint grinding sound far above him.
‘RUN!’ he yelled. ‘NOW!’
Mr Tribble didn’t wait for an explanation. He scurried out of his hiding spot and hurtled down the side of the plinth, dragging Eaton by his collar. The Captain scampered closely behind them. Smudge was gone in a flash.
Ruby, Horace and Whisker grabbed their backpacks and ran towards the waiting room as the grinding sound continued. One by one, they dashed through the doorway and headed for the hole in the floor.
Whisker was directly under the arch when he heard the Captain cry out, ‘The map! The map! The map is still on the throne.’
Whisker was typically a cautious character, but in the heat of the moment his caution was overwhelmed by a more powerful emotion – desperation. The map was his one hope. Without it, he had no chance of finding his family.
With a rush of blood to his tail, he tossed his backpack through the doorway and sprinted back into the throne room. Empty and eerie, it felt more like a burial tomb than a royal seat of kings. Whisker raced across the floor and leapt up the seven steps to the great white throne. The Forgotten Map lay unrolled on its marble seat.
As he scooped up the map in his arms, the ghostly green light of the chamber suddenly grew warmer.
Sunlight!
Whisker didn’t look up. He didn’t have time. He dived headfirst down the stairs – flying, tumbling, crashing over the steps as the entire ceiling of the tower tumbled onto the throne.
There was a deafening CRACK as the chair splintered into a thousand marble pieces. Rocks rained down, bouncing over the sides of the plinth. Whisker dragged himself along the floor, hoping and praying the next stone wasn’t headed in his direction. He kept his head down and followed the sounds of voices crying out to him.
The voices grew louder.
He felt arms grab hold of his shirt and drag him through the doorway into the room beyond.
The rumbling stopped.
‘What were you thinking?’ the Captain roared. ‘You could have been buried alive.’
Whisker raised his head. Ruby, Horace and the Captain stood over him.
‘Sorry,’ he said, letting his cautious side take over. ‘I know it was reckless.’
‘Reckless,’ Horace exclaimed. ‘That’s an understatement if ever I heard one. If a cat has nine lives, you must have at least ninety – and you just used up half of them.’
‘Don’t expect us to attend your funeral, Whisker,’ Ruby snapped, unable to hide her trembling voice. ‘I – we all like you better alive. Do you hear?’
‘Yes, Ruby,’ Whisker said sheepishly. He extended the crumpled map to her. ‘Peace offering?’
Ruby let out a long sigh and passed the map to the Captain. The Captain handed it straight back to Whisker.
‘This is the second time you’ve rescued this map, Whisker,’ he said, composing himself. ‘So I’m entrusting you to look after it. Wherever you go, the map goes.’
Whisker nodded.
The Captain turned to Ruby and Horace. ‘I take it one of you has the key hidden in a deep pocket?’
Ruby and Horace both looked at Whisker for an answer.
‘Err, here’s the thing, Captain …’ Whisker began.
It took Whisker some time to explain the events of the tower. By the time he had finished, the dust had settled and the midday sun streamed majestically through the open roof of the throne room.
‘So the golden key is under those stones?’ Mr Tribble said, pointing to the pile of debris.
‘Correct,’ Whisker answered.
‘And you said the key had four teeth?’ Mr Tribble said. ‘Not three teeth.’
‘That’s right,’ Whisker said, unsure where Mr Tribble was headed.
‘Four plus three equals seven.’ Mr Tribble muttered. ‘The plinth leading to the throne had seven steps …’ He shrugged. ‘Coincidence?’
‘Maybe not,’ Whisker said, straightening out the crumpled map. ‘The riddle describes the key as a treasure for a rich king’s throne. A golden key would normally be classed as treasure …’
‘But it’s the wrong key,’ Horace groaned.
‘So
what else would a rich king consider as treasure?’ Whisker asked.
Mr Tribble read from his notebook: ‘Wisdom and wealth be the keys to thy throne. If we take the inscription literally, there are two keys – one is wisdom, one is wealth. A rich king already has wealth, symbolised by the golden key …’
‘Which means the treasure mentioned in the riddle on the map must be the three-toothed key known as wisdom,’ Whisker exclaimed.
There was a nod of heads from the Pie Rats.
‘According to the riddle,’ Whisker continued, ‘Wisdom is found in the shadows behind. The true key isn’t hanging in the glorious tower. It’s hiding in the shadows waiting to be uncovered.’
‘What shadows?’ Horace asked. ‘There are shadows everywhere. This place is one gloomy death-trap.’
‘The shadows are behind something,’ Whisker said. ‘That could mean behind the tower, behind the palace or behind the throne …’
All eyes looked to where the throne had once stood.
‘None of us thought to examine the back of the throne,’ Mr Tribble sighed. ‘I guess it’s a bit late for that now.’
Eaton raised his paw.
‘I err, had a look,’ he said timidly, ‘when we were hiding under the throne. I peeked out to see what was happening in the tower.’
‘And did you see anything?’ the Captain asked.
‘Only carved leaves,’ Eaton replied.
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ the Captain said, relieved. ‘The throne is far too obvious a hiding spot. The maker of the map has gone to extraordinary lengths to conceal the key. I suggest we split up and search the citadel.’
‘Where do we start?’ Ruby asked eagerly.
‘Mr Tribble and Eaton can join me on a hunt through the palace,’ the Captain replied. ‘The symbols above the doorways may provide us with a clue. Ruby, Whisker and Horace would be wise to examine the courtyard, and Smudge can do a flyover of the outer walls. Whistle if you see anything.’
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