A Tale of Two Castles(21)

Or soon IT would find another assistant.

Outside, the morning was as bright and cold as yesterday. I filled myself with enthusiasm and began proclaiming at the top of Lair Lane. “Today,” I cried in a burst of awe, “in Two Castles and nowhere else, the Great . . .” A man hurried by, face turned away.

I rushed to the man’s other side. “IT is available to solve riddles, find lost”—I wailed lost piteously—“objects and—”

The man pressed his cap tight over his ears. “Hush! I know Meenore.”

“Sir, but do you know all IT can do? Unriddle riddles, answer—”

“I know what IT does. Every week IT heats water for my household. I pay IT fourteen tins.”

“Oh,” I said weakly, then rallied. “IT can perform many other wondrous feats.” I skipped sideways along with him. “Find anything. Anything.”

“If I lose anything and cannot find it,” he said, stopping to retie his cap strings, “I will seek out Masteress Meenore.” He started off again. “Do not pursue me, girl, or I’ll call the constable.”

I waited until he turned a corner before proclaiming again. I proclaimed on Lair Lane, Roo Street, Daycart Way, and Mare Street along the harbor, but wherever I went, everyone already knew Masteress Meenore. A baker told me that for ten tins, IT started his oven fires when they went out. Weekly, for two coppers, IT boiled the water in the town’s wells to purify them.

The midmorning bells were ringing when a smith told me, “IT makes my fire the hottest in Two Castles.” He took my forearm in his grimy hand. “IT could be a fine smith if IT didn’t have to be Unfathomable. Tell IT Master Bonay says so.”

At her place in Romply Alley, the scribe told me that IT had once deduced that her box of quills was hidden under a rock in her garden. “How did IT know?”

I announced loudly, “IT has ITs mysterious meth—”

“Make way! Ogre coming. Dog coming.”

The scribe pulled me between her table and one of the cheese seller’s stalls.

Count Jonty Um’s shadow darkened the alley. His shoulder brushed an awning. He stopped three stalls from me, by a cobbler. “Sit, Sheeyen. A girl turned in here, shouting about Meenore. Where is she?”

My heart rose into my throat as the scribe pushed me forward. I lurched into the street, almost fell, caught myself, and found my face an inch from a fold in the ogre’s cloak.





Chapter Twelve

I wheezed, “Today, in Two Castles”—I swallowed and forced my voice out—“and only in Two Castles, the Great, the Unfathomable—”

Count Jonty Um boomed, “I wish to speak with IT.”

“Masteress Meenore is in the square, um . . . Count Um.”

“Count Jonty Um. We will go together.” He placed a heavy hand over the crown of my capless head. A finger touched each of my ears. If he pushed down, I’d sink into the street up to my nose.

“Make way,” he cried. “Ogre passing. Girl passing.”

Everyone stared. The scribe mouthed words at me: Take care. How could I take care? The ogre could squeeze my head like a lemon.

Count Jonty Um edged along to avoid upsetting tables and bringing down displays. He’d captured me, but he took care with the townspeople’s stalls. Today’s dog, a brown shepherd on a short chain, managed not to knock over anything, either. Gradually my heart slowed to a gallop. Because of the ogre’s hand, I feared to turn my head, but I moved my eyes from side to side.

Everywhere, people froze to watch us. I saw pity for me on many faces, but no one challenged him. Cats stared, too, from between their owners’ legs, from stall tabletops, from windowsills. I heard hisses.

In the market square Count Jonty Um cried, “Ogre and girl going to the dragon. Make way.”

By the time we reached Masteress Meenore, ITs customers had fled. IT swept one wing in front of ITself, then to the side, and lowered ITs head in a definite, almost graceful bow.

Did bowing, rather than curtsying, make IT a he?

I ducked out from under the ogre’s hand, and he let me go. IT raised both wings at the elbow, put one back foot behind the other, and dipped, in a definite curtsy.

A bow and a curtsy. He-she-IT.

IT said, “Your Lordship . . .”

Count Jonty Um bowed, too, a quick bend at the waist that meant I am a count, you a mere masteress.

“Your lordship has not come for skewers. We will consult at my lair. Lodie will lead you.”

“Elodie, if you please, Masteress.” I wanted the count to know my proper name.

IT took the basket of coins in a claw, leaped into the air, and flew, barely clearing Count Jonty Um’s head. IT circled low, twice, three times. Why was IT lingering?

I deduced and proclaimed, “See, one and all, how Masteress Meenore is sought by nobility. IT will answer your questions, too. Schedule your own meeting with the nimble-witted, farseeing Masteress Meenore.”

IT flew off in the direction of the lair. I picked up the basket of skewers. “This way, Count Jonty Um.”

“Make way!” he cried. He put his hand on my shoulder.

I gathered my courage. “You can let go, Count Jonty Um. I won’t run away.”

His hand dropped. We left the square, watched by everyone. When we reached a less crowded street, he boomed, “Thank you for telling me to let go. You told me to wait in line, too. I like truthful people, Elodie.”