Foxheart (15 page)

Fox, still invisible, ran across a row of pianos shoved against a wall. The discordant notes plinked out an eerie song, and the Rompus tore off after the noise.

“This way, Pig Face!” he bellowed.

Quicksilver ran in the other direction.
Fox, can you tell where the bones are?

A little busy at the moment,
Fox panted.
This fellow's faster than he looks.

Just stay invisible and you'll be fine.

But even as Quicksilver said that, she felt the Rompus's paw
swipe right by Fox, barely missing him and smashing into one of the pianos instead.

“My song maker!” wailed the Rompus.

Behind you,
Fox gasped,
and hurry.

Quicksilver felt it now too—a gigantic mess of old monster bones. They crackled in the distance like a warm fire in a cold house.

She dashed through another room, and then another.

To your left—can you feel them? They're down that hallway.

I think so. Are you all right?

A roar and a crash sounded—followed by an eerie wail from Fox and a shriek of terror from the Rompus.

Oh, just lovely,
answered Fox.
He's whacking at everything he can find with that stupid mannequin. As if that could hurt a ghost.

I'll hurry!

No need. I could do this for years—wait, stop! There they are!

Quicksilver froze at the entrance to the largest room yet.
Where? Which way?

Right in front of you.
It's big
.

Quicksilver looked up—and up, and up. For the only thing right in front of her was an enormous chest of drawers. It took up the entire wall, as tall as a house, and had as many drawers as
there were stars in the sky—all of them tiny and unmarked, with little brass knobs. There was only one label, nailed to the ground in front of the chest:

TO BE SORTED
, it read, in the Rompus's handwriting.
EVENTUALLY.

“You have
got
to be joking,” Quicksilver muttered to the empty room.

She felt Fox darting beneath the Rompus's paw. The creature's clawed fist hit a mirror, sending glass flying everywhere.
Why?
said Fox, panting.
Have you encountered some trouble?

It's a chest of drawers, none of them labeled.

So open them and find the right skeleton, then!

“I've almost got him, Pig Face!” roared the Rompus, his booming voice echoing through the caves.

But there have to be a thousand drawers!

Well, just start looking!

Quicksilver flung open every drawer she could reach. All of them were stuffed full—buttons and socks, wooden whistles and tiny silver bells. One drawer held playing cards that had been enchanted to sing winter carols. Quicksilver slammed the drawer shut on them, though their cheery voices didn't stop singing.

It's higher up,
came Fox's gasping voice.
Concentrate!

I'm trying!
Quicksilver closed her eyes, tried to find the skeleton's pull once more, but her mind was too scattered to focus, and all the bones collected in this chest were too loud for her to pick them apart.
This is too hard—

Fox wailed a ghostly wail.
Does this fellow
never
get tired?

The crashing noises were getting closer, Fox leading the Rompus on a wild chase through room after room.

“Bad ghost!” roared the Rompus. “You're making a mess!”

Quicksilver wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and climbed the drawers, using the tiny knobs to pull herself up. She followed Fox's directions—
To the left! No, the
other
left! No, wait, it's much higher than that! Climb higher!—
and opened drawer after drawer. A buzzing warmth tingled just past her fingers, always out of reach. Just when she thought she had gotten close to its source, there was a jolt, a
whoosh
like something flying past her, and then the feeling of something very small but very powerful jumping to another drawer, and then another—on the other side of the chest, in the top row of drawers, in the bottom row.

Fox, I think it's running away from me!

Anastazia did say the skeletons liked to do that—

She flung open drawer after drawer, chasing the skeleton through the chest—there! A drawer rattled and hissed. There, to
the right! Another drawer flew open and slammed shut.

But each drawer she opened revealed yet more of the Rompus's treasure: Pocket watches and hairbrushes, silver coins and bags of marbles, matchbooks and silk gloves—and bones. Monster bones—brightly colored, whispering to one another, laughing quietly at Quicksilver's distress. But none of them were
the
monster. None of them felt quite right.

She felt ready to scream in frustration—until one of the drawers she touched stung her hand.

She yanked her arm back with a cry.
Something bit me!

That's it, that's it! That's the one!
Fox's relief and excitement flooded through her.

She pulled open the stinging drawer and peeked inside. . . .

Bones. Tiny, delicate ones, glowing light brown like a sandy beach blazing bright at midday. The power emanating from them made her feel as though she was turning headfirst into a gusting hot wind.

Quicksilver's heart pounded as she stared at them. All the other noise in the world faded away. She heard a faint voice—no words, just gibberish. Were the bones
speaking?

Grab them!
yelled Fox.

Quicksilver scooped up every last bone and shoved them
into her pockets, clinging to the drawers with one clammy hand. Last of all, she reached for the skull—only a couple of inches long, with those wicked-looking hare's teeth at the end.

Master, look out!

She turned, skull in hand, just in time to see the Rompus crash into the room, the broken mannequin dangling from his claws.

He stared at her—first in confusion, and then, his face darkening, in rage.

“You're
stealing from me?” he growled, black smoke puffing from his nostrils. One of his hind feet pawed the ground. He raised himself to his full height, his horns brushing against the ceiling.

Jump, master!
yelled Fox.

She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of Fox, held her breath, and jumped—and right before she hit the hard ground, Fox darted below her, invisible, and cushioned her fall. She landed in softness—warm fur and itchy whiskers and a cold nose kissing her face.

I've got you,
said Fox.
You're all right.

The Rompus gaped. “How did you do that?”

“It was the ghost,” said Quicksilver, jumping to her feet. “He works for me!”

As she spoke, she shifted Fox into an enormous, lion-sized spider, ghostly and gray. He lurched at the Rompus with a rattling roar, and the Rompus's eyes rolled back into his head.

He's fainting!
yelped Fox, as Quicksilver shifted him into a dog once more.
Run!

Quicksilver raced from the room just as the Rompus crashed to the floor. She and Fox darted back through the caves, the bones of the First Monster hot and sizzling in her pockets. The skull sent out little waves of magic that nipped at her skin like teeth.

They reached the portrait gallery, where sunlight poured in through the mouth of the cave—and froze.

The net holding Anastazia, Sly Boots, and the witches had nearly reached the flames.

We forgot about them,
whispered Fox, and a heavy, hot shame settled between them.
How could we have forgotten about them? What if we hadn't been in time?

Quicksilver shoved down the awful guilt tightening her throat and ran toward the fire.
Doesn't matter now. We're here, aren't we?

“Fox, can you bite through that net?” she shouted out loud.

“I can try,” said Fox.

Fly
, instructed Quicksilver, shifting him into a golden
eagle. He alighted on the net and started slicing through it with his shining beak. Meanwhile, Quicksilver ran back and forth between the fire and the Rompus's table, dousing the flames with water and tea. When that wasn't enough, she kicked up dirt from the cave floor.

A despairing howl rang out through the cavern:
“PIG FACE!”

Olli and his monster dropped to the floor. Before he could say anything, Quicksilver shouted, “Go! Run! I'll hold him off!”

Olli didn't question her. As Fox cut the net, the others jumped free, and Olli hurried them out of the cave, his owl monster leading the way.

The Rompus burst into the room, flinging treasure at Quicksilver. She dodged fistfuls of coins, soaring dolls in lacy white gowns. A goblet hit her hard on the top of the head, and she swayed. Fox swooped in to cloak her.

Hold on, master,
Fox whispered, warm all around her.
Don't fade on me, or we're both dead.

Quicksilver gritted her teeth against a wave of dizziness, grabbed her pack from where the Rompus had tossed it beside the tea table, and ran. She wove in and out of the Rompus's legs as he chased them through the room, grabbing at the air in search of them.

“But you was my friend!” he cried, dripping ropes of snot and tears.

Everyone's safe,
came Fox's steady voice,
and you've got the bones. Keep running. You're almost there.

Quicksilver did not stop running until she was out in the woods, huddling beneath a felled tree with Fox wrapped tightly around her. The Rompus's wails of grief rang through the night.

It's biting me,
Quicksilver informed Fox as the snowy hare skeleton squirmed and hissed in her pockets,
and I think I'm about to faint.

Then, without further warning, she did.

Q
uicksilver awoke to the sound of cheers.

“You're awake!” cried Olli, smacking a kiss onto her cheek. “She's awake, everyone!”

Quicksilver blinked and looked around. She was surrounded by the smiling coven. They seemed to be in the tavern of an inn. She sat on a cushioned high-backed chair that had been draped with an only slightly stained tablecloth, and on her head, she wore a crown made out of butcher paper. Anastazia and Sly Boots sat at a table to the side. Anastazia looked amused; Sly Boots looked incensed.

Quicksilver blushed and stifled an assortment of garbled words.

“Quix, we don't know how to thank you,” gushed Lukaas, his bright green lizard monster curled happily about his neck. “You saved us!”

“I . . . I did?”

“So modest, you are. Without you and Fox outwitting that beast, we'd never have escaped!” Lukaas raised his arms and conducted Freja and Olli in an enthusiastic, if more than slightly out of tune, rendition of “The Jolly Old Queen of Greenhart,” substituting Quicksilver's name for Queen Lemvala's.

Quicksilver squeezed her way through the singing, dancing witches to Anastazia. By the time she reached her, Quicksilver's cheeks were wet from sloshed drinks and sloppy kisses. Irritably, she wiped her face on Anastazia's robe.

“Where are we?”

“Farrowtown,” said Anastazia. “Olli's monster, Pulka, found you and Fox, and we brought you here straightaway. Six of the others left after escaping the cave, which is right smart of them, if you ask me. Seven stayed—including Lukaas and Freja. I'm not entirely convinced Olli hasn't bewitched them into following him around like puppies. No offense, Fox. The inn's called the
Laughing Farmer.” Anastazia toyed with the speckled meat on her plate. “Their supper menu leaves something to be desired.”

Quicksilver's head felt heavy. She didn't even protest when Sly Boots started fussing over her many cuts and bruises, treating them with an ointment he'd scraped together somewhere. The paper crown kept sliding down to her nose, and she knocked it off in a fit of frustration, abruptly ending Sly Boots's nursing.

“Fox and I found one of the skeletons,” she said.

“The snowy hare,” mumbled Fox as a mouse, tucked beneath Quicksilver's collar. “At least, we think it's one of them.”

Anastazia's face lit up. “All of it? Please tell me you have the whole skeleton.”

“Every last bone.” Quicksilver made a nest out of her paper crown and gently settled a snoring Fox onto it. Then she fished the hare skull out of her pockets. When Anastazia touched it, a set of ghostly white teeth chomped down on her fingers. She yanked her hand away with a hiss. The teeth disappeared, cackling to themselves.

“That's one of them, all right,” grumbled Anastazia, though she couldn't hide her relieved smile. “Good work, Quicksilver.”

“It really doesn't like you,” Quicksilver observed.

“We're both nasty pieces of work.”

“Why don't we just hide the bones in different places while we look for the other skeletons?” Fox mumbled from his nest. “They'd be much harder to find that way, much safer than keeping them all in one bag.”

“I only wish we could do such a thing,” said Anastazia. “But do you remember how I told you that the First Ones and their monsters were all born of the same pool of magic, the same ancient star? The bones of each skeleton
want
to be together. You can separate a skeleton for a time, but its bones will always find their way back to one another.” She scowled at the skull in Quicksilver's hand. “The little fiends. Put it away before it makes any trouble.”

Quicksilver rearranged the contents of her pack, filling one of its pouches with all their food and coin, and carefully transferring the snowy hare skeleton into the other pouch. As she handled the bones, she felt as though something very small and very angry was biting her. By the time she tied the pouches shut, her fingers were red and throbbing.

“What if the bones disappear while I'm carrying them?” asked Quicksilver, dunking her fingers into a cup of water.

“Hey, that's my cup!” said Sly Boots.

Anastazia nodded grimly. “They could disappear—or maybe
you'll get lucky. Remember, those two I lost just before I found you, I'd had in my possession for ten years. Others I only managed to hold on to for a matter of days. It's all a matter of luck. The First Monsters were vain creatures, and so are their remains. All you can do to try to keep these skeletons near is pamper them. I've found them to be particularly fond of singing.”

“I hate singing.”

“I'll sing!” said Sly Boots. “I'm good at it. My mother always said so. There's this one song about the thief Dagvendr. My father used to sing it to me when I was little, and it goes like this.” Sly Boots cleared his throat.
“Oh, the wise old thiever Dagvendr, he had a wicked plan, he—”

“Not just now, Boots,” groaned Quicksilver, as Olli, Freja, and Lukaas launched into the twelfth verse of “Queen Greenhart.” “I've had quite enough singing for one day.”

Sly Boots flung himself out of his creaky chair, scowling. “Fine. Just see if I sing for you next time you ask me.”

“There is absolutely no danger of that happening.”

Sly Boots's scowl deepened, and he stomped off to another table to sulk.

Anastazia snatched a plate of hot buttered rolls from the serving boy and tossed one to Quicksilver. “Something wrong?”

Quicksilver tore off a chunk of bread with her teeth. “I almost didn't save them,” she mumbled at last. “Or you and Sly Boots, either.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to get the bones. I was focusing on that, and I . . .” She paused. “I forgot about all of you, stuck in that net.”

Anastazia nodded. “You were thinking like a witch. Those bones are more important than any of us. Well done.”

“But they think I'm a hero!” she said through a mouthful of bread. “I'm not the heroic type. I would've let them get roasted, if I'd had to.”

If I
had
left them, maybe Fox and I could have gone off on our own, sold this stupid skeleton for a lifetime's worth of coin
. Quicksilver hunkered down in her seat, miserable and angry—at herself, or maybe at the world. She couldn't decide.

“They don't need to know that,” said Anastazia, shrugging. “Could have, would have. That's none of their business.”

“But . . .” Quicksilver swallowed and stared hard at the floor. “I would have left
you
. I mean . . . myself. I don't know what I mean.”

“And you should have, if it had come down to that,” said Anastazia briskly. “My life doesn't matter much, these days. I've
done my part, and now this is your fight. I'm only your shadow now, and I'll help you for as long as I can manage it.”

My fight,
Quicksilver thought.
But what if I don't want it? What if I just want to be a thief?

Anastazia squeezed Quicksilver's hand and went upstairs to bed, and Quicksilver was left alone with her thoughts, Fox the mouse sleeping on the table, and Sly Boots bumbling through a conversation with a pretty serving girl in blue braids. Olli's coven sang Quicksilver's praises long into the night, until the innkeeper came down in her robe and nightcap and told them they'd better make the singing stop, or she'd deny them hotcakes in the morning.