Stolen Magic(25)

“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.