The day of the great Treasury heist finally arrived.
On the eve of the robbery, Bard and Bumble had visited Myth and me at the tavern where we were staying. Despite their vow never to speak with us again, those fools had begged us to help them. We had refused.
Still, neither Myth nor I wanted to pass on a chance to see those twits humiliate themselves yet again. So we woke up early the next morning, packed up our gear, and headed to the Treasury. We halted beside the entrance to Boyle’s Garden and waited, expecting to witness a comical spectacle.
We were not disappointed.
Bard, dressed like a doxy, bolted out of the Treasury with Barnaby clinging to the hemline of his dress. In his haste, Bard crashed into one of the pillars in front of the building and fell down. Barnaby let go of the dress and flew into the street, skipping several times across the cobblestones.
As Bard picked himself up, Bumble made an appearance, whizzing out of the Treasury as fast as his wings allowed. The two of them dashed down the street towards Myth and me. As they rushed past us, Bard cried out, “New plan—leg it!”
Four burly guards of the City Watch darted out of the treasury all at once and chased after Bard and Bumble. When they reached us, Myth and I stepped to the side so as not to hinder their pursuit of the fleeing criminals.
Barnaby, meanwhile, had recovered from his unfortunate encounter with the street. He scurried past us, desperately trying to catch up with Bard.
“Ah, how nice,” said Myth as the high-speed chase passed out of sight. “Bard and Bumble have made some new friends. They’re going to have so much fun together.”
“Maybe their new friends will be a good influence and teach those fools some manners,” I said.
“You’re asking for a miracle, Iz,” replied Myth.
She took hold of my hand and led me into Boyle’s Garden. We were the only people in the garden; not even Branwen was there so early in the morning.
“Okay,” said Myth. “Are you ready to find the next clue?”
“In the garden?” I replied, not bothering the keep the skepticism out of my voice.
Myth nodded her head. “If I’m right about Black Bart, then yes.”
“So,” I said, “what is your theory about that pirate?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Izzy?”
I shook my head, “No.”
“Well…” Myth began and then paused, shaking her head. “You know what, Iz? Let’s wait, just in case I’m wrong. If we find the treasure, then I’ll explain it to you.”
She turned slowly around in a circle, studying the garden. “Right now, you are going to find the next clue.”
“Me?” I said, pointing at myself.
“Uh-huh,” said Myth. “You possess a playful spirit, Izzy—finding joy in sunshine and rainbows and simply having fun. That’s the outlook on life we need just now. I can’t find the next clue, but you can.”
I didn’t understand how my sunshine and rainbows view on life would help us. Shaking my head, I said, “Myth, I don’t know where to look for it.”
Myth walked up behind me and began to massage my shoulders. Speaking softly, she said, “Pretend you’re hiding something—a toy or a note, maybe—from me in this garden. You don’t want me to find it too easily, but you do want me to find it eventually. Now, where would you hide it?”
I closed my eyes and thought about what I would do: Okay, I’m hiding something from Myth. That actually sounds like fun! We should definitely play this game for real some time. Or we could play hide-and-seek. I’m an expert at hiding, Myth would nev—no. Focus, Izzy. You’re supposed to be hiding something from Myth. Hey, wait a minute! What am I hiding from her? Hmm… Oh, I know! I’m hiding one of those bawdy romance novels that she reads. That would really aggravate her.
Imagining I was holding one of Myth’s bawdy romance novels, I opened my eyes. Giggling, I walked about the garden in search of the perfect hiding spot. As I wandered around, I narrated my thoughts to Myth.
“I wouldn’t hide it up high,” I said, hugging Myth’s imaginary book against my chest. “You’re a lot taller than I am, so you’d have an easy time finding your book if I hid it somewhere up high.”
“My book?” said Myth.
Scowling at Myth, I tutted. “Don’t interrupt me, Missy. I’m thinking.”
Myth sewed her lips shut with an imaginary needle and some equally imaginary thread. Then she bowed to me as if to apologize.
“So...” I said, resuming my stroll through the garden. “Maybe I’d hide it near the ground…” I shook my head. “No, that’s what you’d expect me to do.”
I glared at Myth. “It’s really unfair that you’re so smart, Missy.”
Myth bowed to me again.
Glancing around the garden, I shifted Myth’s imaginary book to my other hand. “I need a place that’s easy for me to reach. But one that you might overlook because you’re so tall. So, I’m looking for a place that’s not too high and not too low—somewhere right in the middle. Hmm.”
I spotted the birdhouse in the middle of the garden—the birdhouse that looked like the Treasury. Smiling, I said, “I’d hide your book practically in plain sight. That way, I could giggle at you as you searched high and low in vain. Oh! That would be so much fun—watching you become frustrated, never guessing that your book was right in front of you.”
Pointing at the birdhouse, I declared, “I’d hide it inside the Treasury.”
“Well done, Izzy,” said Myth as we walked over to the birdhouse. “I never would’ve thought to look in there.”
“Don’t feel bad, Myth. When it comes to hiding things, I’m an expert.”
“Since you thought of the birdhouse, you should have the honor of retrieving the clue.”
I shook my head from side to side. “That’s okay, Myth. You can get the clue.”
“Rats,” said Myth. “There’s probably lots of bird poo in there.”
“I know,” I replied. “You’re not as clever as you think, Missy.”
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t think of the bird poo.” Myth grasped the birdhouse’s roof and swung it to the side. Then she put her hand inside the birdhouse and felt around.
“Bird poo?” I asked her.
“Lots of it,” replied Myth. Her face brightened suddenly. “Ah! Here we go.”
Myth lifted a wooden keepsake box—identical to the one we had found at Braddock’s Statue—out of the birdhouse. After she opened the box, Myth handed it to me. “You read the clue, Iz. I need to wipe off my hands.”
I took the scroll, unrolled it, and read its message aloud—in my best pirate voice, of course:
“Yargh! A jolly congratulation to ye, me hearty. Ye’ve found me next clue. Yar-har-har! Yer a clever one, ye scurvy dog. But ye still have not found me bountiful booty. Get yerself to Braddock’s tomb. And don’t forget to bring him some flowers. Yargh!”
Myth closed the birdhouse’s roof and said, “Looks like we’re off to Braddock’s tomb.”
I nodded my head. “Yes, but we don’t know where it is.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to find someone who can give us directions to the tomb,” said Myth. “It seems like everyone in Bramble remembers the Boyles.”
She was right. A kind woman inside the Treasury gave me directions to Braddock’s tomb while Myth waited outside.
“Got it!” I exclaimed when I rejoined her. “Ol’ Braddock is buried in the Boyle family’s private cemetery near their old country estate. It’s quite a ways south of here, though; it’ll take us several days to reach it.”
“That’s okay, Iz,” said Myth. “The journey will be a lot more enjoyable without Bard and Bumble around.”
Sadly, Bard and Bumble did join us on that journey. Not long after Myth and I had left the City Proper, those fools tumbled out of a hedge and into the road just ahead of us.
Barnaby was with them, by the way. Waving a paw at us, he said, “Squeak.”
“So, did it work?” said Bard as he brushed the dirt off his tunic. He looked awful. Those guards had done a fine job of turning his face into a bloody mass of bruises.
Bumble looked just as bad. Fortunately, he did not greet us; he was too busy attempting to put his teeth back into his mouth.
“Did what work?” said Myth.
“Our diversion,” replied Bard.
“What diversion?” I said.
“The diversion that Bumble and I provided you by bravely distracting those ruffians who were posing as guards,” said Bard. “Thus allowing you fair damsels to break into the Treasury and abscond with the next clue.”
“You bravely distracted the guards by running away?” said Myth.
“Yes,” replied Bard.
Myth pointed at his face. “I suppose your broken face was part of that distraction, too?”
“Of course,” said Bard.
He really was a delusional imbecile.
Myth sighed. “It looks like we have to put up with these idiots for a while longer, Iz. They’d probably follow us even if we didn’t have the next clue.”
“It’s a pity the guards only beat them up,” I moaned. “Why couldn’t they have arrested them, too?”