Stolen Magic(40)

“Who was the thief back then?” Master Robbie asked.

Deeter-bee cleared his throat. “His name is unimportant. People think only a poor person would be tempted to steal, but he was a prosperous fisherman in Zee.”

Expectation misleads, Elodie thought, remembering the puppet’s words.

Master Robbie frowned. “Zee?”

Deeter-bee looked him up and down. “You live in Zee?”

He touched the beads. “I used to.”

“Zee isn’t proud of him. He was prosperous and angry, a dangerous combination.”

Elodie thought, Master Tuomo is prosperous and furious. My masteress says Mistress Sirka may be angry, but she’s poor. Master Uwald is rich but not angry.

“Why was he angry?” Master Robbie asked.

“He asked the high brunka for a loan to buy a third boat, but the high brunka—not Marya back then—said two boats were enough for anyone.”

Albin was also refused money by the high brunka, Elodie remembered.

“The last thief didn’t want anyone killed. History will be kinder to him after this theft. He kept the Replica only a day before confessing, so that no one would suffer. He died in the earl’s prison.” He paused. “I will venture an opinion: This thief has a stony heart and will not confess.”

Elodie wondered about the hardness of the historian’s heart. Did he have a reason to be angry? Had the high brunka denied him anything? “Do you know where the Replica was kept?”

He closed his eyes. “Certainly I do.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR



All seven chambers of Masteress Meenore’s heart expanded as IT took in Zertrum’s beauty: peak of striated rock; mountain bones thrusting up through silver ice; snow-dusted evergreen slopes; cascading streams; the brown dot of a dwelling here and there.

Suddenly, as if a huge, invisible hand were at work, the entire mountain trembled and then became motionless again. The volcano showing its power.

IT flew close to the ground, enjoying the sight of ITs own shadow, passing over people fleeing their homes, who looked up with terrified faces.

Many drove their beasts before them. Fools! IT thought. They should have abandoned their herds and made as much haste as they could.

IT overflew a forest interrupted by a half-frozen stream. Below, but not in ITs shadow, and so having no reason to look up, a woman and a brood of children crossed the water on the back of an enormous horse, which was followed by an unburdened donkey. IT thought, How fortunate these people are to have such a powerful and obliging mount.

Your Lordship, where have you gone? Did you shape-shift? What beast are you now?

IT continued winging ITs way north.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE



After they left Deeter-bee, Elodie whispered to Master Robbie, “Master Tuomo is angry and prosperous.”

“He whipped his horse.”

And he’d been her masteress’s favorite suspect, if not for his sons.

Without further discussion, they went to him. Side by side, they sat on the floor and began going through the lower shelf of the same open cabinet that he was investigating.

Mistress Sirka merely stood at Master Tuomo’s elbow, watching Dror-bee. Elodie followed her gaze. Dror-bee seemed completely absorbed in his task, absurdly so. If he picked up a box, it wasn’t sufficient to peer inside; he had to turn it upside down as well. If everyone else were as slow as he, Zertrum would spew before much searching had been done.

And yet he appeared one of the most distressed, which might be a clue that he was mansioning his suffering. Or it might just be his character: a silly man, who heedlessly threw himself into every endeavor.

In contrast to Dror-bee, Master Tuomo’s movements were quick and determined as he pulled thick tomes out of a shelf of chained books, each volume big enough to conceal the Replica if the pages had been hollowed out. Accordingly, he opened every one and thumbed through it. Before returning each book, he peered into the darkness of the shelf behind it.

Elodie said, “If the Replica had been chained, it might not have been stolen, don’t you think, Master Tuomo?”

He just grunted.

Together, Elodie and Master Robbie moved relics off the bottom shelf onto the floor, so they couldn’t miss anything: a heavy granite rock, sanded smooth; a wooden carving of a deer; a cottage made of clay, too small to hold the Replica; a bowl full of glass baubles.

The last relic was a wooden box, also not big enough for the Replica but certainly large enough for—

Elodie and Master Robbie looked at each other. She nodded at him, and he lifted the lid.

Gray feathers, not the handkerchief that wept. She touched the heap, half expecting it to turn into a bird, but nothing happened.

Masteress, Elodie thought, I have no more idea of who the thieves are than you did when you left, no more idea, really, than if we’d never come to the Oase.

Master Robbie ran his hand along the shelf. “Nothing.”

Elodie pointed up at Master Tuomo and shrugged, meaning they hadn’t learned anything about him.

Master Robbie nodded, picking up an ancient-looking clay crock. He said, louder than if he had been speaking to just her, “I once stole a jar of honey from the inn where Grandmother worked.”

Elodie felt a new stillness from Master Tuomo.