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down below. He whipped his legs out behind him and dodged the spear, swinging away to the next rope as the spear hit the wall. Heswooped and swirled along the wall, up and down like an acrobat.
    Beverly’s head moved from side to side as she watched. Celia called out to him as he raced along.
    â€œDuck down … swing left … now to the right … no, your
other
right … now leap!” she called. If it weren’t for her, Oliver would have been shish kebab.
    Oliver caught another spear stuck in the wall just above Celia. He was out of breath and soaked with sweat, but happy he was still alive. The wall of colored strings looked like a pincushion.
    â€œOkay,” Oliver said. “Peggo.”
    â€œGreat job,” Celia said. “Now we’ve got to climb.”
    His arms felt like floppy noodles at that point. “If this were TV,” Oliver said, “there would be some heroic music and they’d cut away and we’d be safe already.”
    â€œWell, it’s not TV, so we have to climb.” Celia started climbing. Oliver groaned and followed.
    High above the blank stares of the long-dead mummies with glistening spears, Oliver and Celia climbed from spear to spear, all the way up to the ceiling. When they reached the top, Oliver balancedhimself on two spears and took a big leap to the giant key. He caught on and his legs dangled in the air. For a moment he thought he might fall, but he pulled himself up. His sister jumped after him, and he caught her arms and pulled her onto the stairs. She was very happy she had a younger (by three minutes and forty-two seconds) brother.
    â€œI don’t think Sir Edmund’s going to be happy with us,” Oliver said. “I don’t think we found what he was looking for.”
    â€œI think somebody else beat us to it,” Celia said. “That was no ancient trap.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œ
Fashion Force Five
,” Celia explained, as if it were obvious how a fashion reality TV show explained it all. “I’ll tell you later,” she added.
    Beverly climbed onto Oliver’s back and the twins started up the winding stairs, side by side.

8
WE BORROW A LLAMA

    SIR EDMUND WAS STANDING on a pile of rubble, scolding the small girl as she packed up the llamas.
    â€œHurry up! Put that in the bag … here … here …
aquí
…
sí
? You don’t even speak Spanish, do you?” He was muttering and stomping in frustration, although he didn’t offer to help the girl. “Useless! Useless!” he shouted. “Why am I always stuck with children? If they aren’t dumb TV-addled brats, they are mute jungle people with no sense at all!”
    The girl just kept packing bags onto the llamas, but her eyes glowed angry under her long dark hair. If he’d been paying attention, Sir Edmund would have noticed that she could understand every word he said.
    Oliver and Celia came out from underground onto a terrace above them. They were sweaty and dirty and tired. The sky was growing brighter in the east. Tourists would be arriving soon with their fanny packs and their digital cameras. Sir Edmund wanted to be out of there before anyone spotted him.
    â€œLousy, lazy kids … too much TV! … I should have known … couldn’t even find their way through an Inca ossuary,” Sir Edmund was muttering.
    â€œWhat’s an ossuary?” Oliver whispered to Celia.
    â€œIt’s a final resting place for human bones,” Celia said.
    Oliver stared at her.
    â€œ
Wally Worm’s Word World.
”
    â€œBut how do you remember it?”
    â€œYou make a rhyme, like
Bones are scary, lock ’em in the ossuary.
”
    â€œ
Ossuary
’s a strange word to be on a kids’ show.”
    â€œDon’t blame me,” Celia said. “I didn’t write it.”
    One of the rented llamas tilted its perky ears toward Oliver and Celia. It was copper