Page 23 of Tattered Huntress
I smiled. The back of my neck itched as everyone behind me stared in what I imagined was disgust. I couldn’t figure out why they cared; I was only living up to their expectations. In any case, I’d learned a lot from what Sir Nigel had said about the one and only rule of the hunt – do not physically harm any other team. It meant he was already expecting under-handed shenanigans and sly double-dealing. I had no doubt that eachand every one of them was prepared to cheat to win. It was just as well I wasn’t there to make friends.
I scurried off to a quiet corner and sat down cross-legged on the floor to open the zip-locked bag. Some others did the same, but I noted that Hugo Pemberville and his Primes made a beeline for the exit. So did the men in black, who marched out with their walkie-talkies jiggling at their sides.
I gazed at the bag’s contents. As promised, there was a satellite phone that was heavier and chunkier than expected and a map of the British Isles. There was also a sheet of paper with a note clipped to the corner explaining that it was a transcribed version of an old letter found at the British Museum. It had been translated from its original Gaelic.
I skimmed through it to find the relevant information.
We have pressed farinto England but the retreat has been called. I am in two minds whether to retrieve the item from Doctor Talbot or leave it in situ. I suspect the latter is the safest option for now.
Seriously?Was this it? I turned the piece of paper over to see if there was anything written on the other side then I checked the bag in case I’d missed something. It was definitely empty.
Frowning harder, I stood up and went over to Samuel, who was preparing to leave. ‘My packet has some missing information.’
‘Everyone has everything they need to locate the first part of the key.’
I waved the letter at him. ‘But this is all I received.’
He bowed stiffly. ‘As I said, everyone has everything they need. And everyone has the same information.’
‘This doesn’t tell me anything! Only something about a doctor who must have been dead for three hundred years!’
Samuel gave me a patient smile.
‘This can’t be it,’ I protested.
‘Sir Nigel is confident that it will lead to the location. The rest is up to you.’
I ground my teeth. I hadn’t expected the treasure hunt to be easy – but I hadn’t thought it would be impossible. ‘Can’t you give me a hint about where to go?’
He bowed again. ‘Good luck, ma’am.’
I cursed. ‘Nobody’s looking,’ Hester said in my ear. ‘You could smack him over the head and drag him outside, then beat him up until he tells you everything he knows.’
I couldn’t tell whether she was being serious; I sincerely hoped not.
Fortunately, Eleanor and Humphrey took that moment to pass by and waved in a friendly manner as they strolled towards the doorway. I smiled in return.
‘My throat is parched!’ Eleanor complained. ‘Why don’t we head for that little pub we passed on the way here?’
‘A champagne cocktail would be delicious,’ Humphrey agreed. He glanced at me. ‘Would you like to join us, Daisy? You’d be very welcome.’
While the pair of them were kind to think of me, especially given the wide berth I’d received from the others, I didn’t want a drink. I wanted to find the damned treasure before anyone else did. And I seriously doubted that a Northumbrian village pub sold champagne cocktails. ‘Uh, maybe another time.’
Humphrey smiled genially. ‘Your loss.’
As I watched them go, I saw that two of the other teams were also heading out the door. From their optimistic expressions, they had a good idea where to go.
I read the letter again. What was I missing? My brain wasn’tcomputing the information clearly enough. I felt my fingers tremble and I reluctantly delved into my pocket for a spider’s silk pill. Most of the money I’d received from Sir Nigel had gone on replenishing my supply, but I’d still need to be careful and ration what I had. All the same, the thrill of pleasure that shivered through my veins as I swallowed the pill was enough to stop me worrying and start focusing.
My eyes strayed to the top of the paper. The letter was dated December 6th, 1745. I sucked on my bottom lip. ‘How old are you?’ I asked the brownies.
Hester flicked her wings towards me in horror. ‘How old am I? You should never ask a lady her age!’ She raised her tiny fist and shook it. ‘Take another one of those magic pills and stop being rude!’
Otis flapped towards her until his tiny body was also facing me. Ignoring his sister, he hovered in the air. ‘It depends if you mean lived years or you want to include necklace years,’ he said.
I knew next to nothing about brownies or their lifespan. ‘Specifically, I want to know if you were alive in the eighteenth century.’
Hester shook her fist again. ‘How old do you think I am?’ she screeched.
