“It looks like a map,” Charlie said. His fingers traced the winding paths marked on the ancient page. “What are all these holes for?”

August smiled. “Place it over the illuminations,” he said.

Charlie did, marveling as the illuminations lined up with the empty compartments of the map.

“I think we’ve solved the puzzle,” August said, “but not the riddle. We have a map, but for where? And for what?”

April joined the group to study the page. “Follow the lines leading away from each illumination. Most of them lead to dead ends. But the one from Sigismund leads directly toward . . . what is that?”

At the center of the map were two circles with faint markings inside.

“Charlie, rub your fingers over the circles. Do you feel anything?”

The boy placed his fingers delicately on the page and moved them over the marks as carefully as if he were petting a tarantula. “Yeah. Just barely. I can feel ridges.”

“These images are rubbings of a coin. And I bet there’s more of them,” August said. He backtracked from the image of the coin to the image of the king. “I thought this was a picture of Emperor Sigismund. But I might be wrong. There’s something I missed. Look at his eyes.”

“One of them is missing!” they said together.

“This isn’t Emperor Sigismund,” August said. “This is John the One-Eyed—Jan —the greatest general of the Hussite army. means ‘one eye.’ He was so famous that after he died, they stretched his skin over a drum and beat it during their battles.”

“Cool,” Charlie said.

August continued. “He was Emperor Sigismund’s most hated enemy, but in the illumination, sits on his throne. I’d say that implies that he now controls the power Sigismund once held.”

“That would make sense if the Orphans stole the Order of the Dragon’s treasure,” April said. “No wonder they want it back so badly.”

“But where is the treasure now?” August closed his eyes, tumbling the fragments of information in his mind. “The map needs a location to make sense.”

“It has to be within the boundaries of the Holy Roman Empire,” April said. “And if it has anything to do with , then there’s really only one place it could be . . .”

“Tábor!” August said.

The door swung open. Two armed agents entered, looking dangerously alert. Xandria slithered in behind them. April glared.

“Tábor,” she said, circling the table and looking down at the illuminated map. “Amazing. You’ve done an excellent job!” She clapped—a slow, mocking clap, a rhythm that matched a dirge, a death march.

“But what’s hidden there?” August asked. “A few gold coins?”

“Think bigger,” Xandria said. “What treasure would be worth spending centuries to find?”

August knew immediately. “The Templar treasure is just a myth.”