The Timekeeper’S Solution: Book Three in the Weaverworld Trilogy

By Julia K. Rohan

In this final book in the Weaverworld Trilogy, 14-year-old Jack Fisher is summoned back to Weaverworld on an urgent mission: he must help Rainbow Mudrake free her fatherthe famous Bowmakerfrom the dungeon at Stranglespit Labyrinth. Once there, however, he finds himself enmeshed in a life-or-death struggle of epic proportions.

Hungry for power beyond imagining, the evil Grimsnipe is planning to breach the barrier between Weaverworld and the Realworld, a feat he means to achieve with the help of Jacks best friend, Simon Goldberg. He creates a fantastical amusement park to lure gullible Realies into paying huge sums of money for the adventure of a lifetimetheir last.

Jack is not alone on this voyage. His younger sister Jillian, and their dog, Hairy Spotter, are along for the ride, and friendsold, new, and unexpectedbecome essential to their survival. Among them is an eccentric Timekeeper who helps Jack confront the hardest decision of his lifeand the greatest sacrificein order to save Weaverworld, and the girl he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781532006418

Julia K. Rohan

A self-confessed “late bloomer”, Julia K. Rohan earned an Honors English Literature degree in her mid-forties. Five years later, on a whim, she began writing what would eventually become the Weaverworld Fantasy Trilogy. The first book in the series, Weaverworld: Grimsnipe’s Revenge, was published in 2012, and the second, Quest for the Eagle-eye Amulet, in 2014. The Timekeeper’s Solution is the final book in the trilogy — though not, perhaps, the end of Weaverworld. When not writing, Julia may be found performing as a singer-songwriter, cooking dinner for her husband, talking movies with her son, or walking her dog, Mr. Bojangles.

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Copyright © 2016 JULIA ROHAN.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-0643-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0642-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0641-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016914722

iUniverse rev. date: 09/29/2016

TABLE OF CONTENTS

SECTION I AN UNEXPECTED REUNION

Chapter 1 A Special Delivery

Chapter 2 Rainbow’s Tale

Chapter 3 Prudence Crestfall Reveals All

SECTION II THE GATHERING STORM

Chapter 4 Simon Has a Visitor

Chapter 5 The Islanders

Chapter 6 Edwina Mudrake’s Plan

SECTION III AN ILL WIND

Chapter 7 Crestfall’s Bones

Chapter 8 A Night in Rowan Hollow

Chapter 9 A Nasty Snag at Blagney Slag

SECTION IV IN THE NICK OF TIME

Chapter 10 Jack Sees Ghosts

Chapter 11 The Comeback Inn

Chapter 12 The Reflecting Painting

SECTION V STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

Chapter 13 The Time Travelers Take a Wrong Turn

Chapter 14 Unlikely Alliances

Chapter 15 The Pickpocket

SECTION VI THE PLOT THICKENS

Chapter 16 The Raven’s Return

Chapter 17 A Light at the End of the Tunnel

Chapter 18 Simon is Set to Work

SECTION VII THE CRUX OF THE MATTER

Chapter 19 To the Future and Back

Chapter 20 Let the Morphing Begin!

Chapter 21 The Kitchen Resistance

SECTION VIII THE END BEGINS

Chapter 22 From the Frying Pan into the Fire

Chapter 23 Calamity at Weaverworld Wonderpark

Chapter 24 The Gathering of the Flock

SECTION IX THE GRIMWORLD CONUNDRUM

Chapter 25 The First Casualty

Chapter 26 Worst Case Scenario

Chapter 27 See You Downstream

Weaverworld%20Map%20image%20across%202%20pages.jpg

This book is

dedicated, with love, to the memory of my father—Robert Adam Fear—who read Winnie the Pooh to me when I was little, and gave voices to Pooh and Piglet.

I would also like to acknowledge my friend, Claude Mitchell, who, despite my insistence that I wasn’t into fantasy fiction, convinced me to read the Harry Potter series. If it hadn’t been for his certainty that it was the right thing for me to do, I never would have discovered Weaverworld. Thank you, Claude!

Believe you can, and you’re halfway there.

Theodore Roosevelt

Time and memory are true artists: they remould reality nearer to heart’s desire.

John Dewey

PART I

AN UNEXPECTED REUNION

CHAPTER 1

A Special Delivery

When the van pulled up in front of the Fisher residence at 88 Dunwoody Drive, Jack and his best friend Simon were in the garage rehearsing Purple Rain.

The rehearsal wasn’t going well. Jack was having trouble figuring out the chords for the Prince song on his electric guitar, and kept clanging on the strings hoping to eventually hit on the right combination of notes. He knew he could have looked up the chords on his computer, but he was stubborn that way. He preferred to work it out himself.

A study in concentration, he pushed his long, brown hair back behind his ears, revealing both the gold hoops in his lobes and the little rainbow tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. People said he was the spitting image of his mother, which he found funny since he was a sturdy, athletic fourteen-year-old, and she was a delicate, fine-boned, middle-aged beauty. Most people said the similarity lay in their indigo-blue eyes.

Jack had taken up guitar three years earlier, just after his Granny Rose died. That event had been more traumatic for him than anyone knew, except perhaps for his little sister, Jillian. She had witnessed most of it. But his parents had no idea what actually happened in that hospital room. They thought Granny had died of natural causes, and neither Jack nor Jillian wanted to be the one to tell them otherwise. So Jack took the small inheritance Granny left him and bought himself a guitar. Then he threw himself into learning how to play it, and began imagining a future for himself as a rock star.

For her part, Jillian—who was nine now—begged to be allowed to quit ballet lessons in order to take up karate. With her tangled mass of red hair, her freckles, and her vivid blue eyes, she made for an entertaining member of the dojo. Though their parents found the onset of these sudden extra-curricular interests somewhat mystifying, they were not the sort of people to discourage their children’s self-expression.

As Simon waited for Jack to sound things out, he started hammering on his drums at an increasingly fast—and to Jack, annoying— tempo. It wasn’t like Simon to get in Jack’s face. Ever since they were little kids, Jack had been the leader and Simon the follower. It was an understanding they had—an understanding that life, and high-school in particular, was a jungle, and only the fittest survived. And the friends of the fittest, if they were lucky.

So while Jack sailed through school, admired and respected by all—especially girls—Simon rode comfortably on his coattails. He had grown a foot in the past three years, but he hadn’t filled out any. He had lost his meagre baby fat, and was tall, thin, and gangly. However, his nerdy image had greatly improved since he took Jack’s suggestion and bought himself a drum kit with his savings. After that, his clothing became less Walmart and more thrift-store grunge, while his neatly-combed hair became a gelled scruff. Even with his glasses on, girls were starting to take notice.

All of this was not lost on Jack. He knew how much courage it had taken for Simon to hold firm against his parents’ disapproval. The orthodontists Goldberg were good people, he knew, but they firmly believed that the best way to survive the jungle was to remain as small and invisible as possible. They had been willing to accept that their son had aspirations of becoming a movie director like Steven Spielberg, but the thought of him choosing a life in rock music alarmed them to the extreme. Therefore, when Simon asked if he and Jack could use their basement for practices, the answer was a resounding ‘No’. It was Jack’s father who saved the day by suggesting they use the Fisher garage instead.

The delivery man heard the boys before he saw them. Frenetic drumbeats and discordant guitar notes filled the air as he got out of his van and slid open the side door with a bang! Reaching in, he pulled out a two-wheeled hand truck. Standing it on the ground next to him, he reached in again and dragged out a large, heavy box. Sliding it to the platform of the hand truck, he strapped it on and wheeled it up the driveway.

From under the partially open garage door, Jack saw the box rolling toward them and yelled at Simon to stop. He was relieved to have an excuse, since he was about to snap anyway. Stepping forward, he raised the door the rest of the way and looked at the stranger expectantly, letting him know by his slightly pained expression that artists were at work.

Does Penelope Fisher live here? asked the man, studying the wireless device in his hand.

Yeah. That’s my mom, said Jack. He eyed the box and felt a strange sensation in his gut—an inkling that something interesting was about to happen. Normally, he would have just told the man to go and ring the doorbell. But instead, he said, I’ll go get her. He switched off his amplifier, unstrapped his guitar, set it down, and said, Come on, Bug. With a shrug, Simon flipped his sticks in the air, caught them, stuck them in the holder, and followed his friend toward the front door.

As they entered the Fisher household, both nearly tripped over Hairy Spotter, who was scrabbling and barking at the front hall window, incensed by both the parked van and its driver.

Mom! Jack called. There’s someone here for you!

Hi, Hairy, said Simon, whereupon the dog changed focus and started leaping on him. Accustomed to these insane outbursts of affection from the Fisher family’s Jack Russell Terrier, Simon warded off blows from his jouncing paws when they came perilously close to sensitive areas of his anatomy.

Jack’s mother, Penny, appeared at the top of the stairs with a towel wrapped around her head. Who is it? she asked.

Jack shrugged. A delivery man. Did you order a bar fridge or something?

Penny looked perplexed. A bar fridge? No. Tell him to wait a minute.

She disappeared, and reappeared a few moments later. The towel was gone and she was hurriedly brushing out her damp, shoulder-length hair. At the bottom of the stairs she handed the brush to Jack.

Hold this for a minute, please, she said. She pulled open the door to find the delivery man staring at her. Looking down at the box, she asked, What is it?

The man looked at his device again. Delivery for Ms. Penelope Fisher. From Garrett DeWitte.

Garrett DeWitte? repeated Penny. She turned to Jack, who was watching the proceedings with interest. That’s Mrs. DeWitte’s son, she said. But why would he be sending me something?

Jack shrugged again. Mrs. DeWitte was his Granny Rose’s live-in housekeeper until Granny died. In her will, Granny left the house to Penny—her only offspring—with the understanding that Mrs. DeWitte be allowed to live there rent-free for the rest of her days.

Oops. Almost forgot! said the delivery man, slapping himself on the forehead. There’s a letter that goes with it. He walked briskly back to the van, retrieved the letter and returned. But before handing it to her, he looked again at his device.

So, you are Penelope Fisher then, right? he said.

Yes, nodded Penny. But I have no idea why Garrett DeWitte would be sending me something.

Me neither, ma’am, said the delivery man. I just deliver things. I don’t ask questions. He handed her the letter. If you’ll just sign here, I’ll be on my way.

He handed her the device and pointed at the plastic stick attached to it. Using it as a pen, she scribbled her signature in the blank space and handed it back. Satisfied, the man unstrapped the box and tipped it forward until it slid off the hand truck. Then, making an abrupt about-face, he whistled his way back to the van. Tossing the truck inside, he slid the door shut with another bang!, jumped into the driver’s seat and drove off.

Penny stood looking at the box. Then she reached out and gave it a push. It barely moved. Well, it looks like I’m going to need some help, she said. This thing’s heavy.

Maybe you should open it up out here, said Simon. I mean, you might want to see what’s in it before you bring it into the house. What if it’s a sleeping gorilla, or a dead body or something?

Penny looked at Simon in mock exasperation. Does that imagination of yours ever take a holiday? she asked.

Simon blushed. He knew she was joking. Mostly.

I think he’s right, said Jack. You never know. I’ll go get the scissors.

He went into the house and came back with a pair of kitchen shears. Handing them to his mother, he stood back to watch. She snipped off the two heavy plastic tape-like bands that encircled the box, and the cardboard surrounding its contents collapsed in a heap around it. Jack was the first to react. He gasped and took three giant steps backward.

It’s the trunk! he exclaimed. Granny’s trunk. From her attic.

Oh, my goodness! said Penny. You’re right! But why? She tore open the letter and was about to start reading when she glanced at her son. Jack, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?

Jack wasn’t all right. Not by a long shot. The last time he saw this trunk he was standing in Granny’s forbidden attic, doing his best to recover from the shock of having just been zapped back from a parallel universe. The trunk was a portal to another world, one his parents knew nothing about. It was called Weaverworld, and since his return from it three years earlier, he had been secretly reliving his experiences in both pleasant daydreams and frightening nightmares. The trunk had been his entrance to unimagined wonders, but it had also exposed him to extreme danger at the hands of Granny’s arch enemy—a fiend named Grimsnipe.

Yeah, he lied, pulling himself together long enough to answer his mother’s question. I’m fine.

Penny held her hand to his forehead. You’re sure you’re not getting sick? she asked. I think Jillian’s coming down with something, too.

No, really, Jack said. I’m good. What does the letter say?

Not convinced, but not wishing to embarrass him in front of Simon by being over-protective, Penny focused on the letter and read aloud:

Dear Penny. I hope you don’t mind me calling you Penny. I know we only met a few times, but I always thought of you as a sort of distant cousin. I hope this letter finds you and your family well. I’m afraid I have some sad news. My mother passed away two weeks ago. She had not been well for some time. As you know, she was devoted to your mother and was never really the same after she passed. In any event, she asked that no fuss be made, as she only had one real friend in this life and that was your grandmother. So I respected her wishes. There will be a reading of the will next week, but I can tell you that, as expected, she left Rose’s house to you and your family. She did make one fairly peculiar request, however. She asked me to send this trunk to you as soon as possible after her death. I admit I was busy with other things and didn’t get around to it until now, but here it is. I have no idea why she wanted you to have this right away, unless she feared you might decide to sell it with everything else. I believe it had some special significance to Rose, but my mother would never say what it was. Hopefully you’ll know. Your friend, Garrett DeWitte.

When she finished, Penny sat down on the front stoop. Oh, she said, her eyes filling with tears. Jack sat down next to her.

It’s okay, mom, he said, patting her on the back. He knew what she was feeling because he felt it too. Mrs. DeWitte had been a fixture in their lives for a very long time, and losing her felt like losing Granny all over again.

I know, she said, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. It’s just so sudden. I mean, she was old and could have gone anytime, but you never know how you’re going to feel until it happens. She seemed fine the last time I visited her. That was…let’s see…I think it was about a month ago. Too long, I guess.

Simon, meanwhile, began examining the trunk, running his hand over its burnished, golden-brown leather. Turning to Jack, he said, Is this the trunk that has the—?

Jack leapt to his feet and cut him off. No! he exclaimed. Then, thinking quickly, he added, I mean, yes, it’s a trunk. That’s what it’s called. A trunk. Sort of like a big suitcase, right mom?

Luckily, Penny was re-reading Garrett DeWitte’s letter and was only half-listening to the conversation. Mmm… she said.

Giving his friend the evil eye, Jack wordlessly warned him to say no more. It was then Simon realized he had very nearly made a bone-headed mistake. He had almost let slip the secret he had vowed never to reveal: that Jack had been sucked into another world through Granny’s trunk by an evil mastermind named Grimsnipe.

Penny sighed and stood up. Looking at the trunk again, she said, Well, I suppose we’d better get this thing in the house. We’ll take it down to the basement.

I don’t know, mom, said Jack. Maybe we should just put it in the backyard for now. It might be too hard to get it down the stairs. This is what he said, but what he really wanted to say was that the trunk might be dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed in the house. Of course he couldn’t say this to his mother. She’d think he was crazy.

Don’t be silly, said Penny. It’s supposed to rain tonight. The leather would be ruined. And it’s probably got some clothing and keepsakes in it that belonged to Granny. Otherwise, Mrs. DeWitte wouldn’t have had it sent over like this. She would have just left it in the house with all the other stuff.

Jack knew that further argument would appear suspicious. Ok, Bug, he said. You take that end with my mom, and I’ll take this end. It took the better part of half an hour, but eventually the trunk was deposited on the basement floor of the Fisher residence, next to the washing machine.

Whew! said Penny. That was a beast. Thank you, guys. Now come upstairs and I’ll make you a snack. Cookies and lemonade?

Later, Jack walked Simon back to his house, which wasn’t a far walk since he lived next door.

So that’s it, right? said Bug. That’s the famous trunk.

Yeah. That’s it, replied Jack. And you almost blew it back there. If she’d heard you, I’d still be trying to explain what the heck you were talking about.

I know, said Bug. Sorry about that.

You haven’t told anybody else, have you? asked Jack.

No! exclaimed Simon. Of course not. I wouldn’t. But why do you think Mrs. DeWitte wanted it to be in your house? Do you think she knew it has a portal in it?

Jack paused and said, "Had a portal. I don’t think it has one anymore. Dr. Neith closed it so he couldn’t use it anymore."

Simon knew the he Jack was referring to was the evil Grimsnipe. He was also aware that Dr. Neith was Weaverworld’s Minister for Realworld Affairs, and that she had been instrumental in helping Jack return home from her alternate dimension.

His first time through the portal, Jack had been lured by Grimsnipe. But the second time, he had gone of his own free will, with the intention of replacing his grandmother’s protective Eagle-eye amulet, and of retrieving her dog, Roosevelt, who had been left behind on the first trip. He had been successful on both counts, but sadly, Granny Rose did not survive long enough to need the amulet. Fearing he might require its protective powers himself someday, Jack hid the amulet from his parents, stashing it beneath a loose floorboard under his bed. Roosevelt, meanwhile, was adopted into the Fisher family, and died peacefully six months later. As Penny liked to say, He didn’t die of natural causes. He was loved to death.

So what are you going to do now? asked Simon.

Do about what? replied Jack.

I mean, are you going to open the trunk, just to check?

Jack remembered the first time he undid the trunk’s latches. In his mind’s eye, he saw again the jumbled confusion of Granny Rose’s old theatre costumes. Then there was the scrapbook with the pictures of her as a girl, winning public-speaking contests, and others of her as a young aspiring actress. Several of these were taken with the famous actor, Lester Grandiflore, before Rose broke off with him and he became obsessed with punishing her for the insult. His later transformation into the vengeful Grimsnipe helped him make good on his threat.

Also in the trunk were boots and a bomber jacket that had belonged to Dashing Jack Jenkins, Jack’s deceased grandfather. The thought of seeing them again gave him the butterflies. It was right after he tried them on that he was first violently whisked away through time and space into Weaverworld, and his life changed forever.

Earth to Jack, said Simon. Are you going to look inside it or not?

Jack looked at him and nodded. Probably, he said. Yeah, sure. I mean, I have to, right?

You’re not worried, are you? said Simon. You told me Grimsnipe was dead. That when you came back last time you made sure he fell through the portal in your book and then you closed it so he’d never be able to come back. That he was going to be stuck forever between Weaverworld and the Realworld.

Yeah, I know that’s what I said, said Jack, under his breath.

They had reached the side door to Simon’s house. The door suddenly swung open and Jillian, along with Simon’s younger sister, Rachel, appeared.

Hey, said Jillian.

Hey, said Jack. Mom says you’re supposed to go home now.

I’m already going, said Jillian. Turning to Rachel, she waved. Bye, Rache. Rachel waved back and then, ignoring the boys, slipped back into the house.

When she was gone, Jack turned to Simon. Lowering his voice, he said, I told you the plan was to trap him between the worlds, in a place called the Unworld. But I didn’t tell you everything.

Simon used his thumb to push his glasses up on his nose. What do you mean? he asked.

Jack looked around to make sure no-one was near. I was supposed to destroy it, he whispered.

Destroy what? The trunk?

No, said Jack. "The book. My book. I was supposed to destroy it."

Oh, said Simon. Why?

Because the Unworld is between here and Weaverworld. My book was the portal at this end, so I was supposed to destroy it while Dr. Neith closed the one at the other end. That’s how we were going to trap him—like a wasp in a bottle.

Ohhh, said Simon. So, did you?

Again, Jack glanced around before answering. No, he said. I couldn’t do it. I was afraid if I did, I’d never be able to go back to Weaverworld again.

"But why would you want to go back? asked Simon. I mean, you had that psychopath after you."

Jack hadn’t told Simon everything about Weaverworld. Specifically, he hadn’t told him about the Weaver girl named Rainbow Mudrake. Jack’s attraction to her was so strong he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again, and this was something he didn’t dare share. To Simon, the word romance was little more than a movie category. Jack had also avoided telling him that Jasper Mudrake—Rainbow’s father, the Master Bowmaker—had been captured and locked up with him in Grimsnipe’s fortress at Stranglespit Labyrinth. During his own escape, Jack had refused to leave until he was assured by his Weaverworld friends that Jasper would soon be rescued. But he always felt guilty about leaving Rainbow’s father behind. He wondered if the Bowmaker had regained his freedom and been able to return to his daughter, to protect her from their mutual Enemy.

Simon considered the implications of Jack’s confession. Wow, he said. That’s probably not good. That means your book is sort of like a wifi hot-spot, right? What if Grimsnipe uses it to come back here?

I know, said Jack. I was worried about that. So I hid it.

Hid it? Where? asked Simon.

Promise you won’t tell?

Do you really have to ask me that? replied Bug. Then, recalling his earlier slip-up, he shook his head. That thing with the trunk was a one-time mistake, he said. It won’t happen again.

I hid it in the drain in the basement floor, said Jack.

Simon’s eyes bugged out behind his glasses. And no-one found it in three years? he said. You’re lucky the washing machine never overflowed.

Jack shrugged. It’s wrapped in plastic, just in case.

Simon thought about it. Weird though, isn’t it? That the trunk is sitting less than a foot from that drain right now?

Jack’s father, Jonathan Fisher, arrived home from his job as the head librarian of Boxton Pond Public Library half an hour later, and before he could even remove his tie, Penny ushered him into the basement to see the trunk. Jack and Jillian followed, listening to their mother’s account of how it had found its way from Granny’s house to their own.

What are you going to do with it? asked Jonathan, first running his hand through his head of dark, graying hair and then pulling thoughtfully at the whiskers in his beard. It takes up a lot of room down here.

Penny sighed. I know, she said. I’ll go through it on the weekend and see what’s inside. If there’s anything worth keeping, I’ll find a place for it, and the rest will go to charity, along with the trunk.

When their parents went back upstairs, Jack and Jillian remained behind.

That’s the trunk that was in Granny’s attic, said Jillian. The one the tornado came out of that took you away.

I know, said Jack. But you can’t tell mom about that. We can never tell either of them about that.

But what if something’s still in there? said Jillian. What if she opens it and something comes out and takes her, too?

Don’t be crazy, said Jack. Nothing’s going to come out of it. He tried not to look at the drain where his book was hidden. Jillian was uncanny at detecting things he didn’t want her to see.

That night, after everyone else was asleep, Jack lay awake pondering what to do about the trunk. He thought perhaps he could mess around with the latches so they would be impossible to open. But if his mother really was intent on sorting through its contents, then no amount of tampering would stop her. He knew she would find a way, with his dad’s help, to get the latches off. By hook or by crook, she would say, though he never understood why.

Rejecting his first idea, he was searching for another when he heard a sound that made him stop breathing. He waited and listened. There it was again! A small thumping sound, very distant, yet very clear. Several little thumps, followed by a pause, followed by several more. He listened again and went to the window. It wasn’t coming from outside. His heart racing, he rushed to his bedside, got down on his knees, and lay flat on the floor so he could reach the loose board. Prying it up, he reached in and pulled out an old gym sock. Sitting up, he opened it and dumped the Eagle-eye amulet into the palm of his hand.

Rushing now, he looped the amulet over his head and hid it inside his t-shirt while he opened his bedroom door a crack. There was no-one else in the hallway, so he tiptoed out of his room and hurried down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, he realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sound was coming from the basement.

A shiver ran up his spine. He really didn’t want to go down there. If it was Grimsnipe returning through the portal, then there was no telling what might happen. If the fiend succeeded in breaking into the house, nothing would ever be the same again. All his secrets about Weaverworld—and about Granny’s arch enemy—would be revealed, leaving him and his family in serious danger. All his instincts screamed at him to flee, but he just couldn’t do it. If it was Grimsnipe down there, it was all his fault. He had failed to destroy the portal, as Dr. Neith had asked. And now, it seemed, he was about to face the consequences.

He opened the door to the basement and listened again. The thumping was louder and more insistent now. He stepped onto the top step, closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. Leaning forward, he held on to the hand-rail and craned his neck to see if he could see the trunk from where he stood. If the Enemy was already there, he didn’t want to get any closer.

A window centered in the wall above the washer-dryer set allowed a narrow ray of moonlight to enter the room. It fell on the trunk’s still-closed lid. Relieved, Jack sat down on the step. At least the latches are still fastened, he told himself. But if it really was Grimsnipe in there, why was he stuck inside? The fiend had powers enough to blow the lid off at will, so unless he was in a very weakened state, there would be no reason for him to be banging on the lid to get out. A weakened state, Jack repeated to himself, hopefully. That must be it. He’s been stuck in the Unworld for so long, he’s lost his power. If this were true, then this might be the only opportunity he would ever get to overpower him.

He stood and crept down the stairs. Looking to the right, he saw that the moonbeam was lighting up a jumble of tools scattered across his father’s workbench. Hanging on a nail in the wall behind the bench was an axe. At that moment, he had no particular notion of what