Stolen Magic (8 page)

E
lodie couldn't imagine what the hint meant, and being commanded in ITs voice didn't help.

They let the puppet return to its worn-out state.

She looked at the empty table. “Did High Brunka Marya say what was in the missing box?”

“The handkerchief that weeps, like the flower that laughs.”

“How long has it been gone?”

He shook his head. “High Brunka Marya was surprised it wasn't there, but she didn't say the last time she'd seen it.”

“We can ask her. We should go back.” Maybe Masteress Meenore had found the Replica. Perhaps His Lordship had returned.

He pulled open the door and held it for her.

She walked slowly. “Can I trust you with a secret? You can't tell anyone.”

“What secret?”

“Promise?”

He nodded.

“I'm helping IT find the Replica.” Why did this feel like boasting when it was true?

Master Robbie's voice was gentle. “We're all helping IT, aren't we?”

He doesn't believe me, she thought. “Yes, of course.” She resisted the impulse to tell him she was ITs paid assistant, but she couldn't help adding, “In Two Castles I helped IT find the ogre when he'd turned himself into a mouse and we thought a cat had eaten him.”

“Where was he?”

“In the king's menagerie. He'd shifted into a monkey.” There was much more to the story than that.

“You've seen him shape-shift?”

She described it. “It looks painful. Um . . .” She stopped walking.

He stopped, too.

“If we're all trying to find the Replica”—she couldn't think of a way to say it except straight out—“would you tell me about the people here and your opinion of them? You don't need to accuse anyone.”

“Grandmother says”—his chest expanded in a deep
breath—“
used to say
. . .” He smiled at the memory. “She said that gossip is the pepper of conversation, and we don't have to be rich to enjoy it.”

Only the wealthy could afford pepper for their food.

“My mother says that, too.” Elodie took a chance and pried. “Goodwife Lilli wasn't wealthy?”

“Poor as an empty fishhook. She also said she'd forgo gossip pepper and take gold.”

“Your grandmother must have been merry company.”

“She disliked gloom.” He looked down at his tunic and cloak. “Master Uwald got all this for me in Zee.” He changed the subject. “Ask me your questions.”

“What do you make of . . .” Which one should she start with? She wanted to know about Master Uwald, but that was mere curiosity, since he was too rich to need the Replica. “Ludda-bee?”

“The cook. She can cut steel with her tongue, but she prepares the best pottage I've ever tasted.”

“Do you think she took the Replica?”

“Only if she could make someone else seem foolish, particularly Johan-bee.”

“What about him? I think High Brunka Marya should stop the teasing.”

“They're unkind, but he can't take a step without a misstep. Grandmother would call him ‘a temptation to cruelty.'”

“Could he have taken it?”

“He'd bungle it, drop it, and everyone would hear, or he'd hide it where it would be easily found.”

“Ursa-bee?”

He started walking again without answering. After a few steps he said, “If somebody can be too sweet, she's the one. She pats my shoulder every time she comes near me. I wish she'd hover over someone else. She wouldn't take the Replica, though. She wouldn't let other people suffer.”

Unless she was mansioning her pity.

A bell clanged, making the glowworms flicker.

“Breakfast,” Master Robbie said, walking faster.

Elodie's appetite woke up, roared, and sped her feet. In a minute they'd be back in the great hall, and maybe His Lordship would be there.

But she and Master Robbie wouldn't be able to speak openly. “What about the youngest bee, the one who was more distressed than anyone but Master Tuomo? The barber-surgeon put her arm around his shoulders.”

“Dror-bee? He comes from Zertrum.”

Three from Zertrum. Was that odd?

Master Robbie added, “He's excitable. When he stands, he's on his toes; when he sits at the table, he tilts into it. He talks to guests more than most bees do.”

“You notice as much as a mansioner.”

He looked pleased. “Mistress Sirka is sweet on him.”

“Sweet on a bee?” Bees couldn't marry unless they stopped being bees.

“He's new. Maybe she knew him before.”

Barber-surgeons traveled to do their work. They cut hair, pulled teeth, set bones, dosed people with herbs, and stitched up cuts.

Master Robbie continued. “I don't know how long she's been here. I imagine she gave Johan-bee his toothache remedy. Yesterday she trimmed Master Tuomo's beard and Deeter-bee's beard and toenails.”

“Deeter-bee?” She remembered the bee with the beard trimmed straight across the bottom. “Is he the oldest bee?”

Master Robbie nodded. “The historian of Lahnt.”

Elodie wondered if the details of the first theft might help them.

The door to the great hall was only a few yards away. “Is Dror-bee sweet on Mistress Sirka?”

“I see her watching him, but he doesn't watch her.”

From inside the great hall a nasal voice sang another ditty.

There was no time now, but Elodie wished she'd had the time to ask about Master Tuomo and the courage to ask about Master Uwald. She thought, Are you safe with him, Master Robbie?

They entered.

H
is Lordship surfaced from deep sleep and opened his eyes.

Fee fi! A net had been draped over the boulders. Six men stood outside, arrows nocked and aimed at him. Fo fum! A dead mink lay over the shoulder of one of them.

The hunter who'd shot the swift cried, “Ready!”

Before they could shoot, His Lordship bellowed, “Brunka Arnulf!”

The mountains carried the echo:
Brunka Arnulf
.

No one released an arrow. No one lowered his bow.

His Lordship spoke as softly as he could, explaining why he'd come to Zertrum and why Brunka Arnulf had been convinced he meant no harm. No one answered, as if he were speaking a foreign tongue, as if he were a talking
bear, but a man was dispatched on horseback to find the brunka or Canute-bee.

More delay. The morning was half over.

The weak November sun failed to penetrate His Lordship's shelter, and the hunter had reclaimed his cloak.

“I need a fire or I'll be useless,” Count Jonty Um said. Nesspa, he thought, I miss you. Meenore, Elodie, if the mountain spews, you'll never know what happened to me or why I didn't return.

H
is Lordship wasn't in the great hall. Disappointment made Elodie more tired than before.

IT was eating—and singing again.

“There once was a dragon called Aidan

who ceased dining on maiden,

preferring cabbage and beets,

ITs new delectable treats,

Deep-fried so they tasted like bacon.

“Ah, Mistress Elodie and the young squire have returned to breakfast with us.”

Calling her
Mistress Elodie
hid their connection—clever, but now, she realized, Master Robbie wouldn't believe she was assisting IT in any extraordinary way.

A long board had been set on trestles near the front door so Masteress Meenore could partake. IT filled the head of the table, facing into the chamber, and High Brunka Marya perched on a tall stool at the foot. Bees and guests sat on benches on either side, all apparently having lost their fear of IT.

Albin's face brightened when he saw Elodie. “The heroine returns.” He slid to make room for her in the middle of a bench, and she sat close enough to him that Master Robbie could squeeze in, too.

Master Uwald's expression also lightened. “You've made a friend, Robbie?”

Master Robbie shrugged, his eyes on IT, his expression rapt.

Albin filled a bowl for Elodie, and Master Uwald, across the table, heaped one for Master Robbie.

“We may as well eat.” Master Tuomo cut himself a chunk of bread. “My sons will soon die, but we may as well eat. The land we've devoted our lives to will vanish, but we may as well eat.” He bit into the bread. “Everything tastes like sawdust.”

“Like sawdust?” Ludda-bee said. “What a thing to say!”

Elodie ate hungrily, passing food to diners nearby and accepting tidbits in return, as was the custom. The meal was a feast: fresh beets in cream sauce, pickled cabbage, pottage with lentils, goat cheese, and bread.

As a defense against the charge of sawdust, Ludda-bee recounted every step in her cooking: repeatedly brining the cabbage, skimming the cream for the beets, peeling each lentil.

When she drew breath, Master Robbie said, with his eyes still on IT (Elodie wondered how his spoon found his mouth), “The handkerchief that weeps still has not been returned.”

“Mmm. A handkerchief that weeps?” ITs eyes touched Ursa-bee and lingered on Master Robbie. “How useless for wiping tears.” IT ate the same meal everyone else shared, as well as a branch of a pine tree, which IT must have brought in. Habitually, IT dined on human food as well as wood, although IT detested oak. When IT felt light, IT downed pebbles. On occasion, knives became irresistible, though they made IT queasy.

Elodie watched everyone, remembering what Master Robbie had told her. The barber, Mistress Sirka, sat next to Dror-bee and passed him the best in her bowl. Without a doubt, she doted on him.

He seemed lost in misery, eyes down, tears streaming, hardly eating, merely pushing his spoon through his pottage. Too much sadness? Elodie wondered.

Unlike Dror-bee, Ursa-bee (the bee Master Robbie called
too sweet
) seemed to have recovered her composure. “Ludda, these are the best beets I've ever tasted.”

Deeter-bee, the historian, ate at a slow, steady pace. Crumbs and flecks of food dropped into his beard and onto his cloak. “Fascinating times.”

“Deeter, dear!”

“I didn't wish it to happen, Marya. But since it has, I'm glad to be a witness.”

“A pox on you then.” Master Tuomo stood. “I've eaten my fill, and I can't be idle. Mistress Sirka, will you search with me again?”

“I'm still eating.” She spooned cabbage into Dror-bee's bowl.

Master Tuomo sat again and put his head in his hands.

IT turned to the high brunka. “The girl slept not at all last night. Goodman Albin, you are in charge of her now, but I suggest she rest an hour or two.”

At this, Elodie couldn't hold back a yawn.

IT continued. “Afterward, I request her attendance in the stable. There is a dog for whom we are jointly responsible who needs exercise I cannot provide. Do you acquiesce?”

Albin nodded. “As you wish.” If he realized that more lay behind the stable visit than a dog, he didn't show it. “Lady El, may your slumber be sweet.”

The high brunka told Ursa-bee to take Elodie to a room. “Give the lamb the Donkey.”

IT insisted that another bee go along. “Pairs, High
Brunka Marya, will spare us wondering what Ursa-bee did alone on her return.”

Ursa-bee protested. “I'd come right back!”

“Apologies.” The high brunka assigned Johan-bee to accompany them.

Ludda-bee's voice followed them out. “Don't fall over your feet, Johan.”

Elodie followed the bees through the archway on the north wall, which led into the kitchen. She formed a quick notion of the chamber: two fireplaces, sundry shelves and cabinets (possible hiding places for the Replica), pots and pans hanging on hooks from the ceiling beams, a long oak worktable upon which rested a brass handbell, a loaf of bread, a bowl of unpeeled beets, and a pitcher—a wealthy kitchen, almost as fine as His Lordship's.

Johan-bee's hip bumped the table and made the wooden legs stutter on the stone floor.

“Johan, Johan,” Ursa-bee said in a sugary voice that annoyed Elodie and must have infuriated him.

They exited through a door on the east wall. Outside, they followed a short corridor straight ahead and then turned left, the opposite direction from the high brunka's chamber, into a region of the Oase Elodie hadn't yet penetrated. As they walked, she hatched a plan to search the other guests' rooms. She probably wouldn't find the Replica, since bees had already looked, but doubtless
she'd find clues. IT would be pleased.

They progressed down a corridor lit by glowworms: unbroken wall on the left, a series of closed doors on the right.

“What are these rooms for?”

Ursa-bee answered. “They hold relics and books.”

“Are all the walls in the Oase made of stone?”

Ursa-bee stopped to think. Johan-bee continued for a few steps, then waited.

“All,” Ursa-bee said, “except the one in the great hall that faces out of the mountain.”

“The floors and ceilings are carved out of rock, too,” Johan-bee added.

Nothing could be hidden in solid stone. A little less to search.

They turned right and came upon a row of doors on the left.

“The guests are staying in these rooms. Here's the Donkey.” Ursa-bee pointed at the last door, on which an elegant donkey had been painted in yellow, with a garland of blue flowers around its neck.

When Johan-bee opened the door, Elodie thanked him twice, to make up a little for the bees' rudeness.

The room was tiny. If Johan-bee had spread his arms, his fingers would have touched each wall. The head of the bed abutted the wall next to the door and the foot touched
the one opposite. Still, a bed was a luxury compared to her pallet on the floor at her parents' Potluck Farm.

Next to the foot of the bed stood a three-legged stool. A wooden chest squatted against the adjacent wall. The chamber was warm and glowworm bright.

Ursa-bee lifted the pillow to reveal a dark-blue linen mask. “Tie this on to block the light.”

Elodie took off her boots. Ursa-bee and Johan-bee left. As soon as the bees had returned to the hall, she'd leave, too, and start her search.

While she waited, she'd lie down.

She was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.