The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,31
get to Montreal as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you to find Ryan.”
“Unfortunately, we lost everything in the coffin, except a little bit of money and a letter I had stored in my pocket.”
“Why are you taking the boy with you to Montreal?”
Jamie looked towards the longhouse. “Actually, he was never part of my original plan. I witnessed his entire family die on the ship. He was healthy, but the doctor still placed him in quarantine. I couldn’t leave him alone in that cesspool of disease over on Grosse Isle. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought him along.”
“And you didn’t know him before the voyage?”
“I had never seen him before in my life.”
She stared at him. “You look like the other settlers, but there is something about you that is very different.”
He smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You are wrong about your young friend. He is not healthy. He is sick.”
“He is?” asked Jamie, alarmed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He is sick, but not with the pestilence that is sweeping through our two peoples. He has the ailment your people contract when they do not eat properly on a long voyage across the sea. Your people call it scurvy. I brought something to help him regain his strength.”
She held up a small earthenware jug and led him into the longhouse. She reached over to a table, took a cup, and poured out a small amount of sticky brown liquid. She passed the cup to Jamie.
“You should have some as well.”
He looked at the drink, took a sniff, then sipped it. It was thick, but it was possibly the sweetest, most delicious liquid to ever cross the tip of his tongue.
“It’s wonderful! What is it?”
“It’s a syrup my people make from the sap of the maple tree. When the boy drinks this, his spirit will once again grow strong.”
He held out a hand towards the doorway of the longhouse. “Then I think it’s time to wake up Colin.”
They strode down the corridor of the longhouse and upon reaching the young boy, Jamie sat down next to him.
“Hey, lad. It’s time to wake up.”
“Jamie?” asked Colin, rubbing his eyes. “Where are we?”
“With a friend, and she has a special drink for you. It tastes like candy.”
Colin had only had candy once before in his life, on a Christmas Day long ago. “Really? Candy?”
Jamie then noticed his gums were inflamed and a small sore was forming in his mouth. Tutuyak was right. He did have scurvy.
“Yes, delicious candy. Now sit up. Our friend Tutuyak has made it for you.”
Tutuyak sat down on the other side of the boy and poured some more of the brown syrup into the cup. She passed it to Colin and he took a small sip. They both grinned when the boy’s face lit up.
“Can I have more, please?”
Tutuyak nodded. Jamie rustled his hair. “Sure you can. But finish what you have first.”
Colin happily sipped away on the syrup, using his tongue to get at every last drop.
“Thank you,” he said as he passed the cup back to Tutuyak.
“De rien,” she replied.
Colin looked to Jamie in confusion.
“She speaks only French,” he explained.
Colin looked around at the strange building, then back to Tutuyak, noticing her dark complexion. “Where are we?”
“This is a building of Tutuyak’s ancestors. She is Wendat, a Native person of this land.”
Colin was staring at the pretty dark-haired woman next to him and was about to ask another question, but he hesitated, looked down at his delicious drink, and then back to his friends. His face scrunched up.
“Did we die and go to heaven?”
Jamie looked at Tutuyak, translated, and they laughed as Colin took another sip of syrup.
Chapter 8
Jamie luxuriated in his cozy cocoon of warm animal skins, but he simply couldn’t fall asleep. Colin was curled up at his feet and covered as well in warm skins to help keep away the cool night air. Jamie was no longer worried about the young boy’s health. Colin was already showing more curiosity and energy earlier in the evening as he explored the interior of the longhouse. Tutuyak’s delicious syrup had done its job and brought Colin back to good health.
It was Ryan who weighed heavily on his racing thoughts. Was his brother hurt or sick? Did he still have the text? Had he died in the crossing? All the answers lay far away in a town named Montreal. He still had no clue as to