Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi by Andrew Symon Read Free Book Online

tailoring caused Gilmore to stamp his feet in frustration. Freya kept shooting Jack quizzical looks, trying to identify what was wrong. The only one who seemed to be enjoying things was Fenrig. He sneered as Jack dropped pieces of cloth and laughed openly as he fumbled his stitching. Doxer, as ever, was impassive.
    At lunchtime, a sniggering Fenrig made his usual quick exit. As Doxer sat and silently ate his sandwiches, Freya tried to get Jack to talk about what was wrong, but Jack just shook his head.
    “Can’t say. Everyone’s just upset because of the Kildashie.”
    Freya’s eyebrow arched. “You’re planning something, aren’t you? If you won’t tell me, I bet Rana and Lizzie will. They’re bound to know.”
    Jack was glad when finishing time came. Without pausing to speak to Freya, he ran out of the workshop.
    Rana and Lizzie were sitting outside the house, with a small overnight bag between them.
    “Mum’s been crying again,” stated Lizzie flatly. “She doesn’t want us to go. She hasn’t said so, but I can tell.”
    “She’ll be all right,” said Rana, now evidently used to the idea of leaving Edinburgh for a while. “But why are we going to see Tamlina?”
    “Because if there’s problems with the Kildashie, she’ll know about it,” said Ossian.
    “She may know what happens in Keldy, but the Kildashie are not from there. Why would she know about them?” queried Rana.
    “Because they passed through Keldy to get here,” explained Ossian. “Anyway, are you all ready to go?”
    “We’re just waiting for Grandpa. He said he’d be along soon.” Rana poured herself a cup of juice.
    “I can take you on ahead,” said Ossian impatiently.
    “The last time you took us on ahead we ended up in France,” stated Jack.
    “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” smiled Ossian.
    “Yeah, but we got into trouble. Let’s just wait for Grandpa.”
    Their grandfather, however, was some time in coming. “Too many things to do,” he’d said when he arrived. Following brief goodbyes, they all set off for the low road. As they climbed up onto the small mound and joined hands, Jack saw Fenrig appear as if out of nowhere. He hadn’t time to say anything to his grandfather before they were all enveloped in his large cloak and his grandfather had chanted, “Wind-flock Keldy.”
    Jack was used to the sensation now, having travelled this way many times. The spinning, the drone that rose to a whine and the keening sound. But this time it was different: the moaning and wailing were much louder. Jack thought back to the times when there’d been a funeral in Rangie. As the corpse was carried along, most of the village would line the road, offering sympathetic cries to the bereaved family. On every other low road trip, Jack had been briefly reminded of this, but now he was hit by a torrent of despair. The air felt colder too, and the low road seemed darker.
    What’s going on?
    After several minutes, the spinning and the droning slowed down, and they all came to rest. Jack looked around. Lizzie’s mouth and eyes were still clamped tightly shut. Ossian had already started to walk along the track to his house, but Grandpa remained on the small mound that marked the low road entrance.
    “You felt it too, Jack?”
    If Jack didn’t know better, he would have said his grandfather was worried.
    “It didn’t feel right,” said Jack. “The wailing was louder, and it was colder.”
    “I know. Let’s get up to the house; we can warm up there.”
    The track was wet, and they were muddy by the time they reached the house.
    “We’ll need an early night,” stated Grandpa as he stood by the fire Ossian had kindled. “So, after supper, it’s up to bed. Ossian, can you send a grig and find out if Tamlina’s nearby? Wherever she is, we’ll have to find her.”
    “Sure,” said Ossian. “Have you got somethin’ to pay her?”
    Grandpa silently handed over a small silver coin, eyeing Ossian carefully as he did so. Then he