Stolen Magic(29)

She fought for composure. Her weeping diminished gradually, as the flower’s laughter had. The unhappy thoughts receded. She could breathe deeply again and look around.

“Astonishing, Elodie. An accomplishment.”

“You did it on purpose?” Master Robbie’s question was half accusation.

She nodded. It was a performance she didn’t want to repeat.

“You proved the truth of Ursa-bee’s account. A harder heart than hers would have found that weeping irresistible. Even I, a dry and leathery creature, could not resist reaching out to comfort you. And if you had not been visible before us, I would have been hard put to locate the source of the sound.”

“Really?”

Master Robbie seemed to have recovered. “You’re truly a mansioner.”

Of course she was. But she savored the praise.

IT, however, never lingered on others’ achievements. “What else did you discover?”

“Master Robbie told me about the guests and the barber and the bees. He said Mistress Sirka—”

“Permit him to speak for himself.”

Master Robbie retold his information with relish. Under ITs questioning, he divulged more than he had to Elodie. He recalled details about several other bees. One hummed constantly under his breath. Another always smelled of mint. He reported which was the Oase’s spinner, which the weaver, which ones made soap. He ended by saying, “Deeter-bee is the historian, and he can tell you anything about Lahnt.”

“You are Master Uwald’s ward, are you not?”

Master Robbie looked startled, but he nodded.

“And this arrangement is not of long standing?”

Master Robbie’s hands found the mourning beads. “Just since my grandmother died two weeks ago.” He paused. “But I always knew he would come. If he died before she did, Master Tuomo was to be my guardian. As soon as I was old enough to understand, Grandmother told me I was going to inherit Nockess Farm.”

Elodie clenched her teeth to keep her jaw from falling open. Yet he’d lived in poverty! How strange! He’d been poor with a cloud of wealth hanging over his head, and only tragedy would bring the rain of coins. Couldn’t they have arranged it better?

ITs eyebrow ridges furrowed. “Your parents and your grandfather are all dead?”

Master Robbie let the mourning beads go. “Mother and Father died of fever when I was three. Grandfather was a fisherman. Grandmother said he wanted to be rich like Master Uwald, but he died before I was born.”

Elodie’s throat tightened in pity.

Masteress Meenore showed no sympathy. “Had you encountered either Master Uwald or Master Tuomo before your grandmother’s demise?”

Master Robbie looked confused. “Her death, Masteress?”

“So I said.”

“No, Masteress. I never met them before.”

Likely that’s why he has the knife, Elodie thought. To protect himself from these strangers. She had a sudden idea. “Has High Brunka Marya offered you asylum?”

Master Robbie said yes.

“Are you going to stay?” Elodie leaned forward. “Do you want to be a bee?”

He shook his head sharply. “I won’t be a bee.”

Elodie felt relief. Bees led limited lives, as she saw it.

And they couldn’t marry, although that thought came and went so quickly, she hardly noticed it.

“But I may stay. I haven’t decided.”

“Master Robbie, is Master Uwald aware of this offer of refuge?”

“I don’t think so, Masteress.”

“High Brunka Marya is a veritable pied piper to lure away a child. It is pernicious, this brunka habit of deciding what is best for everyone.” IT blew a puff of pink smoke. “Lodie, did you think to ask Master Robbie about asylum because the same had been proposed to you?”

She nodded. “From my parents and you.”

The pink darkened to an outraged red. “She would deprive you of me?”

Master Robbie blinked in surprise, then smiled.

Elodie seized the opportunity. “She must have noticed that you often mistreat me by calling me Lodie, though my name is Elodie.” Nervously, she added, “Enh enh enh.”

ITs smoke whitened. Enh enh enh. “And why refuge from your parents?”

She explained.

“Mmm.” IT returned to Master Robbie. “Do you suppose Nockess Farm would still be yours should you remain here?” IT was thinking aloud. “Who would own the farm if you became a bee?”

“I’m not going to be—”

“Answer my question.”

“Maybe the brunkas. Maybe Master Tuomo.”

“Presumably Master Tuomo has known for years that he will not inherit Nockess Farm. Can you confirm that, Master Robbie?”

“No one said.”

“Is he pleasant to you?”

“He doesn’t seem angry. He was often angry at his horse on our way here. He kicked it and used the whip, but he was kind to me in a gruff way.”

“Mmm. He may not have made his true ire known. Expecting events to happen—your grandmother’s death, your becoming Master Uwald’s ward—and the events’ occurrence differ vastly. One may think oneself reconciled and find oneself enraged instead. If it were not that Master Tuomo’s sons are on Zertrum, he would be my favorite suspect.”