The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,36

water going all the way around it! I think an island is a very silly place to build a city if you ask me. If I were to build a city, I would—”

Jamie interrupted. “Beth Fitzgerald. How would you like to come to Montreal with us? I’ve lost all of my maps and I think a knowledgeable guide might come in handy.”

Her eyes lit up. “Montreal? Really? With you? But that’s where the orphanage is. Someone might recognize me.”

“Well, if you know the city so well, you should be able to stay far away from the orphanage.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “And I think the further away I get from my adopted family, the less likely it will be for them to ever find me again. Montreal is so much bigger than Quebec. It has lots of stores and roads as well as places to hide. Did you know that Montreal is as far as you can sail down the St. Lawrence River, because just after the city there is a large set of rapids and …”

This time Jamie didn’t try and stop her ramblings for his mind was already swimming in thought. Jamie started to feel more positive about what he first imagined to be an impossible task. He finally felt that he might have a shot at finding his brother and the lost text.

Chapter 9

They reined in the horses at the top of a steep decline that wound down to the northern bank of the St. Lawrence River. Below, the mighty river was constricted to a narrow channel and several large ships lay anchored in its glistening waters. In a large dry dock directly below them, Jamie recognized the streamlined hull of the Independence, lying naked in the afternoon sun. The punctured section of hull that Jamie had helped repair during their crossing had been stripped right down to the ribbing. To the right of the dry dock lay a large town. In the centre of a collection of buildings stood a tall, thin, silver spire shining among the mishmash of shingled roofs. On the far side of town, a huge military fort stood prominently on top of a cliff, guarding the area from attack by either water or land.

Tutuyak stared down at the European settlement. “That is Quebec.”

Jamie dismounted Falcon and then helped Beth to the ground. “Thank you for your help, Tutuyak.”

“Thank you,” added Colin, giving Tutuyak a squeeze around her waist.

Jamie took Colin in his arms and lifted him off the back of her horse. Tutuyak smiled at the three young Irish travellers, her long, black hair flowing freely in the breeze.

“You have a strong spirit, Jamie Galway. You have chosen a difficult path to follow. I saw it in a dream last night.”

“You’ve been dreaming about me?” asked Jamie, with a wry smile.

“Dreams help us make sense of things we don’t understand,” Tutuyak replied. “And you are an interesting man.”

Just then, a falcon screeched from above and winged its way past them on the warm summer breeze. Jamie’s horse whinnied in response, and Jamie laughed.

“Falcon thinks he’s a bird.”

“Their spirits are intertwined,” she explained. “And it is also a sign for you. The falcon will help lead you to where you need to go.”

“As will my faith,” he added.

“Be true to yourself.”

“I’ll miss you,” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along with us?”

“Are you two in love?” asked Beth. “I mean, you kind of remind me of my older sister and her bonny lad just before they kissed. Now that was really disgusting! If you’re going to kiss, warn me, please, because I had to run inside when they did, so I didn’t have to look at it, but then I tripped over a bucket and fell on my face. My sister yelled at me and said I wrecked the moment, which I really didn’t mean to.…”

Jamie wrapped a hand around her mouth and shook his head. “Can you take this one back with you?”

“I’m afraid your paths are intertwined as well.” She laughed. “As you say, bonne chance.”

She gave the horse a kick and trotted away, leading Falcon along behind her. Jamie led Beth and Colin down the steep hill and into the heart of Quebec. It was not as big as Cork or Dublin, but it still had the rhythm of a bustling community. There were bakers and tailors, blacksmiths and printers, all selling their wares behind the seemingly endless clapboard or stone facades. The children hungrily eyed the