Salamaine's Curse by V. L. Burgess Page B

rumor devised to rid his kingdom of dark-haired boys? The gold does exist?” Mudge pressed.
    â€œI assume so.” Umbrey pursed his lips in thought. “But—”
    â€œBut it doesn’t matter,” Porter broke in. “We’re after the book, not gold.” He looked at Umbrey. “What about your rowboats? Those would fit through the channel, right?”
    â€œA rowboat?” Umbrey let out a grim bark of laughter. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes. The sea’s too rough. It’d swallow you whole.”
    â€œYou’re saying there’s no way through?” Porter pressed.
    â€œI’m saying, show me another way and I’ll get you there. Just not that way.”

    Heavy silence fell over the room as they stared at the map, as though expecting it to yield an answer to their dilemma.
    Tom shifted slightly, and as he did his hand brushed his jeans pocket. The warmth of the folly’s rattle heated his fingertips.
Anything.
He could wish for anything … but only once. He froze, wracked by indecision. They needed it, but so did he. His stomach churned as he tried to rationalize away all the reasons he should just keep quiet and hang onto the rattle. After all, they’d never know he even had the thing if he didn’t tell them.
    But he would know.
    And if they failed, Keegan would remain on the loose and scavengers would take over the Five Kingdoms. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. He heaved a sigh (goodbye NBA team, lifetime snowboarding passes, and million dollar lotto ticket), and said, “I think I might have a way for us to get through that canyon.”
    He set the folly’s rattle on top of the map.
    Willa drew in a sharp breath and staggered backward. Porter jerked back as well, then swung around to glare at Tom. Only Mudge moved toward the folly’s rattle. He leaned forward, examining it closely. “Is that real?”
    â€œYeah. It is.”

    Tom heard the note of pride in his voice, but figured he could be forgiven a little swagger. After all, he had single-handedly fought the vicious folly to which the rattle once belonged. He
earned
it. He had every right to keep it for himself. Instead, in a gesture of selfless generosity—extreme selfless generosity— he was willing to give up his own dreams and use it to get the
Purgatory
through the Coral Crater.
    He fixed a small smile on his face and looked around the room, waiting to receive their effusive showers of admiration and gratitude.
    â€œAre you crazy? What’s wrong with you? What are you thinking, hanging on to something like that?” This, from Porter.
    â€œDon’t touch it, Mudge!” shouted Willa as she yanked back the boy’s hand.
    â€œI thought I told you to get rid of that blasted thing!” roared Umbrey.
    Tom blinked.
“Get rid of it?
Are you kidding me?” He stared at them. He gestured to the folly’s rattle. “That’s it, that’s our answer! All I have to do is wish—”“NO!” they shouted in unison, lunging toward him as though they were going to slam their hands over his mouth. “Don’t say it!”
    Tom looked around the room, then narrowed his gaze at Umbrey. “What is this? You told me I could wish for anything and it would be granted.”
    â€œAye, but at a cost,” Umbrey reminded him. “Always at a cost. Wishes are dangerous things. I told you that, too.”
    â€œYou wish us through that channel,” Porter said, “and there’s a good chance we’ll end up sinking to the bottom of it.”
    Tom shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Either my wish is granted, or it’s not.”
    â€œIt’s not that simple,” Willa said. Willa studied the rattle with a look of stark revulsion. “You see, follies are tricky creatures. They have an uncanny sense of knowing what their opponent is going to do next. That’s