Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(52)

“If you count falling down on the bunny slope,” Amy said with a grin. She’d been skiing in Massachusetts, but she was no expert. She frowned. “So the ring must be there.”

This was the part of the Clue hunt that she’d liked — figuring out puzzles. She could do without the near-escapes.

They thought over it for a while, but the slight sway of the train and the lack of sleep from the night before acted on all of them. Amy saw Fiske place her jacket gently over her as she drifted off into sleep.

They woke up in time to change trains and then boarded a smaller, red railcar with big observation windows. They climbed through the mountains, through meadows deep with snow and storybook houses that looked like the Von Trapp family was inside singing “My Favorite Things.”

As they chugged the last miles toward Zermatt, they couldn’t help but gasp when the Matterhorn came into view, looming sharp and clear against the blue sky.

“It’s amazing,” Amy said.

“It’s over fourteen thousand feet high,” Fiske said.

“Fourteen thousand, six hundred and ninety-two, actually,” Amy said.

“It’s not as hard to climb as it used to be,” Fiske said, “but the cemetery has quite a few graves of climbers. Two students from Cambridge University were lost on the mountain back in the fifties. They found their bodies thirty years later.”

Dan shuddered. “That’s pretty harsh.”

“It’s a harsh mountain. It also has the highest cable car station in Europe,” Fiske went on. “But I think we’ll stay closer to the ground. As soon as we, uh, collect the package, we should think about moving on. We can pretty much bet that Casper Wyoming isn’t working alone.”

The train glided into the station. They filed out with the other passengers, who were searching for ski equipment and luggage.

“There are no cars in Zermatt,” Fiske explained. “They have electric taxis, funicular railways, and a tram. And, of course, all the cable cars. I e-mailed Frau Weiser, and she said the place will be ready for us.”

The resort town of Zermatt was bustling with skiers and shoppers. Many of the pedestrians clomped around in ski boots, some carrying their skis. The main street, the Bahnhofstrasse, was lined with exclusive shops filled with designer ski clothes, jewelry stores with thick, heavy gold watches, and bakery windows stuffed with pastries.

“We can take the funicular railway up to the chalet,” Fiske said. “It’s a short walk from the stop.”

The railway dropped them off at the entrance to a trail leading upward. Fiske pointed to the left. “You see over there? You can ski out of the chalet right to the cable car stop that takes you up the mountain.”

They trudged through the snow, glad they’d all worn their winterized boots. A small chalet lay ahead, surrounded by snowy pines. They stamped their boots on the front walk to remove the snow and walked inside.

The interior was cold and still. “Guess the heat hasn’t had a chance to warm up the place,” Fiske said. “It’s been empty a long time.”

A massive fireplace took up most of one wall. The furniture was worn and comfortable, and the view was spectacular. Below were the rooftops of Zermatt, and the mountains rose up all around them.

“Props to Frau Weiser!” Dan called from the kitchen. “She left us chocolate!”

Fiske and Amy stood by the fireplace. Dan joined them, munching on chocolate. They stared at the blackened bricks as though they would give up their secret.

“Birthdays,” Amy murmured. She stripped off her gloves and stuck them in her pocket, but she kept her parka on. “Grace’s birthday, your birthday.” She knelt down by the fireplace. “If we were roasting potatoes, we’d have to be right here … look!” she said excitedly. “There’s a scratch on this brick — it looks like an M!”

Fiske and Dan bent down to look. “Madrigals,” Fiske said.

Dan nodded. “So, birthdays …”

“That’s it! Grace said up, then down,” Amy said. “We take the numbers of your birthdays, and count the bricks. Grace was born on December twenty-fourth, so that’s month twelve, on the twenty-fourth, so we count twelve up, and then twenty-four down. We leave out the birth year because we’d be all the way up the chimney.” Amy went up the bricks, counting as she went. “Now we go down, for your birthday, August ninth, so that’s eight up and then nine down….”

Amy stopped at a brick. She tapped it with a fingernail, then pulled at it. “It’s really stuck. Do we have tools?”

Dan took the key off the table where Fiske had left it. He knelt next to Amy and pried at the brick. “We need something sharper. We have to scrape away all the mortar.”

Fiske shook his head. “I don’t know about this. It seems to me that the brick should be loose, so that it would be relatively easy to pry out.”

“Unless we’re totally wrong about everything,” Dan said.

Amy rocked back on her heels. “Wait a second. Didn’t Grace say ‘our birthdays in Europe’ or something like that?”

“She said ‘our European birthdays,’ ” Dan corrected.

“People write dates in Europe differently,” Amy said. “They put the day first, then the month. We do the month first in the US. So …”