Stolen Magic(28)

“Robbie, do you want to—”

“Yes!”

“Go then. Wrap your cloak tight around you.”

A late-afternoon sun hung low in the cloudless sky. The air sparkled with cold. Followed by Masteress Meenore, Master Robbie and Elodie walked down the dragon-wide pathway IT had forged earlier. But the stairway, which IT must have hopped over, was still heaped with snow.

“Move aside.” IT thrust out ITs snout and flamed. The snow vanished; the steps steamed; Master Robbie held the mourning beads and grinned.

Another of the surprising comforts his grandmother had predicted, Elodie thought, and was glad.

IT spread ITs wings and skimmed over the steps, landing lightly below.

Elodie ran down. “Masteress, let Master Robbie stand under your wings. Please!”

“We may not dally, Lodie.”

IT set off at ITs slow pace, wings out. Elodie knew ITs wings were ITs only vanity—and all IT had to be vain about. She waved for Master Robbie to hurry.

He caught up and ran under, craning his neck to see. “Whales and porpoises!”

ITs wings were crisscrossed with sinews, like the stitch lines in a quilt, between which stretched skin that was utterly different from the wrinkled brown of ITs belly. This skin was thin as a butterfly’s wing and tinted the tones inside a seashell. The blue sky blended through, turning pink skin to violet, yellow to green, and pale blue to deep. From above, when Elodie was on ITs back, the hues changed constantly, depending on what they flew over.

“I wish Grandmother could see.”

They continued toward the stable. Elodie hoped for a sign that His Lordship had returned, but she saw nothing and heard only Nesspa barking. As soon as they entered, he greeted her joyously and Master Robbie almost as happily. He gave IT a wide berth. The other beasts moved uneasily in their stalls.

IT settled on ITs belly in the space near the door. “Lodie . . .”

Elodie noticed IT wasn’t pretending to hardly know her. She sat on the stool she’d occupied earlier. “Yes, Masteress. Masteress, shouldn’t His Lordship be back by now?” Nesspa curled up on the floor at her feet.

“When he arrives, he will be here.”

Master Robbie took the other stool.

“Masteress! Tell Master Robbie I’m your assistant.”

“Indeed. I pay her a salary, which I will curtail if she does not begin to earn it by deducing and inducing and using her common sense. I expect you to do the same, Master Robbie, although I will not remunerate you.” Enh enh enh.

Elodie deduced that IT didn’t suspect Master Robbie of the theft.

He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “What are deducing and inducing, Masteress?”

“Lodie?”

These were the foundations of detecting. “To deduce is to reason from something you already know or from a principle.”

IT nodded ITs huge head.

“To induce is to pull the truth from facts, from what you saw or heard or smelled.”

“Pull is inelegant, Lodie. Now, describe where the Replica was concealed. I have had an account from Ursa-bee and I must compare.”

She did, hoping she was including more details than the bee had.

“Ah. Ursa-bee neglected to mention a storage room. Repeat, Lodie: the door to it from the corridor was kept locked?”

“Yes. High Brunka Marya said she has the only key.”

“The lock is locked on both sides of the door?”

“No, Masteress. Only on the corridor side.”

“Careless! Of a piece with everything else. So the storage room door in her chamber entirely lacks a lock?”

Elodie nodded.

“Master Robbie, earlier you alluded to a handkerchief that weeps. Pray tell, what is this?”

He wet his lips. “Masteress . . .” He repeated, clearly enjoying the word, “Masteress, it’s one of four enchanted things, but the handkerchief is the only one that’s missing.” He described the others, ending with “Mistress Elodie can make a person laugh as well as the flower can.”

“It is a shame Lodie could not hear the handkerchief and model it. You were told this weeping can insinuate itself inside one’s mind?”

Master Robbie nodded. “Yes, Masteress.”

Elodie wondered if she could mansion the handkerchief even without having heard it. She closed her eyes, summoning sadness. The flower had started laughing slowly, and the nightingale had chirped before it sang. She sighed deeply, looking at the stable floor, and thought of the people who might die on Zertrum. Her eyes filled. She looked at her masteress and brought His Lordship to mind. A sob bubbled up. She looked at Master Robbie. He’d lost one home and might soon lose another. A tear trickled down her cheek.

The sadness took her. She wiped her streaming eyes and nose with her sleeve and sobbed and wept.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



“Mistress Elodie, don’t . . .”

Even IT touched her arm. “Lodie . . .”

Now she had to make her sadness anyone’s sorrow, so it would enter their minds, too. She raised the pitch of her wailing until it became a knife tip of misery, as inescapable as loss and disappointment and sickness and death.

Master Robbie held his hands over his ears and turned away from them, his shoulders shaking. ITs smoke darkened to gray-black, the darkest Elodie had ever seen it. ITs emerald eyes glittered, and a drop of clear liquid fell from one of ITs overhanging fangs.