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could see daylight over the top of the rubble. I turned back to see if Jackaby was behind me when booming shots rang out from the second tower. The doorway above me buckled, and I leapt back into the room just as the entire entry was engulfed in a cascade of masonry. A hand grabbed my wrist and hauled me swiftly under the sturdy desk. Jackaby and I were a tight fit, but we sat out the barrage as rocks and beams thudded above us.
    When the shuddering explosions subsided, we pushed our way out into what was left of the keep. My ears rang. Jackaby ’ s satchel was pinned under a wide chunk of a broken column, and pulling it free loosed a small rockslide. We had to shove past boulders and splintered scraps of wood, but we soon reached daylight. Where once a three-story structure had towered above us, now the tallest surviving wall reached scarcely higher than my shoulders.
    “What sort of cretin points his cannons at his own keep?” Jackaby demanded, shaking bits of brick out of his knit cap.
    “You were right,” I said, trying to catch my breath in the dusty haze.
    “Generally true.” He glanced back as we picked our way up and out of the wreckage slowly. “About what, in this particular instance?”
    “The water was important. We skipped a step. In the song, the Bold Deceiver is undone because a woman fills his charges with water, rendering his pistol harmless. We were meant to do the same to the cannons.”
    “Oh, yes. Of course! Good connection, Rook.”
    “Not much help now, though, is it? I doubt we ’ ll be salvaging anything from this rubble.”
    “Well, that ’ s not completely accurate,” he said. “I did manage to snag the glasses before the building capsized on us. I ’ ve got them tucked safely away, right here.” He patted his satchel happily.
    “A pair of glasses—oh, for pity ’ s sake, that ’ s what the spectacles on the map were about. They were glasses. Do you realize, sir, that you have them safely tucked away in a bag that was recently crushed under a building?
    Jackaby nodded, unfazed. “Remarkable craftsmanship, this. It was bequeathed to me by a fellow who believed that it once belonged to Rhiannon herself. Have you read the Mabinogion? No? Marvelous stuff. Welsh. I’ve never been entirely convinced of the artifact’s authenticity, but all the same . . .” He tossed back the flap and withdrew the two glasses, complete and unharmed, with a clink. “It is excellent for storage.”

* * *
The Cliff
    A cheerful orange tube split with another world-scrambling crackle, and this time I was able to actually enjoy the sensation. It was still disorienting, but as our penultimate destination materialized around us, I didn ’ t mind the familiar dizziness, which was something like the spin of a childhood carousel .
    We were near the shore, and the salty ocean air was a welcome and bracing change from the cloying dust of the now-ruined castle. We stood only a few paces from an abrupt edge, below which stretched forty feet of cliff and a frothy surf. Behind us lay a hilly forest spotted with rocky outcroppings. Jackaby gestured ahead, and I followed his gaze to where a strange patch of feathers and bones had been bundled together and strapped by a leather cord to a scraggly tree. Beyond it a dirt path seemed to lead right off the cliff’s edge.
    “What on earth is that?”
    Jackaby smiled at the discovery. “It ’ s a ward. They use that sort of cluster for marking entrances or passageways. It ’ s meant to bring some small degree of protection to the area.”
    “They?” I asked.
    “What does the map tell you?” he responded with an impish grin.
    I pulled the thing out again. It had several new rips and one of the corners was missing entirely, but I found the seventh point. Along the shoreline was a drawing of three little figures with pointy ears and sharp teeth.
    “It looks like some sort of goblins,” I said. “Which could mean anything, I suppose. A play on the word
gob
,