Stolen Magic(51)

Master Uwald said, “Oh?” and blinked. After a pause—for a moment too long—he added, “Excellent news.”

Mmm.

But Master Uwald couldn’t be the thief. He owned Nockess Farm on Zertrum.

“Not excellent news for the thieves.” Mistress Sirka sounded amused.

What if the outside bees had found it, Elodie thought, and run off with it? Even bees might be tempted.

“Never mind,” Master Uwald said. “Poldie will bring more bees to help inside and out. Tuomo, I’ll go to Zertrum and see how bad it is at the farm. When I find your boys, I’ll send them here.”

“Just send one. As soon as the mountain dies down, the others can get to work. But Johan-bee, I’m better suited to the task than Uwald.”

“Only Master Uwald.” Johan-bee stepped away from the door.





CHAPTER FIFTY



Beating ITs wings frantically, IT managed to do what had to be done: keep ITs cargo on ITs back; not plummet; and gain altitude, although Master Erick felt as heavy as a boulder. When ITs flight steadied, IT flapped wearily south. Night had fallen—a charcoal, cloudy night. IT smelled more snow on the way.

Goodman Hame was silent except for an occasional groan, but Master Erick complained with every breath: The air was foul. ITs flight was uneven. He had a delicate stomach. His bottom was too hot, his head too cold.

IT was astonished he’d voice discontent to his bearer, who had only to tip a wing to drop him—which grew more tempting by the moment.

“Where are you taking us?” Master Erick demanded.

To the closest haven I can find in the dark, IT thought. But IT saved ITs breath and didn’t answer.

Master Erick said he’d always heard dragons were rude.

Goodman Hame said, “There are caves on Svye.”

“Nearby?” IT asked.

“Yes. I’ve been there. Fly low, along the river.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE



His Lordship couldn’t judge time here. After a half hour or an hour or ten minutes, the cries ahead became more distinct, a man’s voice and a woman’s, grunts and a few words: “Here.” “Push.” “I’m trying.”

He saw a mound of stones with a few wooden posts protruding—a collapsed cottage. How could anyone be alive under there?

In a frenzy, His Lordship burrowed in, his hands like shovels, heaving rubble behind him.

Lower on the mountain, a gash—a chasm too broad for His Lordship to leap across—opened in the earth.





CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO



Master Uwald transferred both satchels to one hand and lifted a torch from a sconce beside the door.

“Wait!” Elodie cried.

Courteous as ever, he said, “What is it, young Mistress Elodie?”

“Er . . . travel is hazardous at night. Why not wait until morning?” When High Brunka Marya may have awakened and can stop you. “You won’t get to Zertrum in time anyway.”

“No, but I’ll reach a cottager who can start for Bisselberg. Johan-bee, please.”

Johan-bee pulled open the heavy door.

“Tuomo, watch over my boy. There’s danger here. Don’t let him be hurt.”

“I won’t.”

Elodie sent Master Robbie an imploring look.

“Mast—um . . . Grand . . .”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” Master Robbie, apparently a mansioner, too, twisted his mourning beads.

Master Uwald’s smile melted. “Oh, my boy, my boy.” He returned the torch to its holder, went to Master Robbie, and hugged him to his chest.

After a pause, Master Robbie’s arms circled Master Uwald’s waist.

Johan-bee stood awkwardly with the door open. The cold night air rolled in.

Ludda-bee entered from the kitchen, ringing her bell. After a minute she held the clapper to announce, “I made a light repast. I expect it to be eaten.” She put her bell on the floor. “How is Marya?”

“The same.” Mistress Sirka rubbed more ointment on her bumps.

“Too bad we don’t have a real physician.” Ludda-bee went to the corner where the tabletop and trestles were stowed. “Someone, help me.”


It was best to do Ludda-bee’s bidding. Goodman Dror, Ursa-bee, and the bees who were searching the great hall hurried to her. They began to assemble the table in its usual spot, not far from where the high brunka lay and near Master Uwald and Master Robbie, who had just dropped their arms from their hug.

“Son . . .” Master Uwald coughed wetly, a tearful cough. “It’s right that I go. Tuomo suffers from not knowing his sons’ fate. Our laborers need me. Nockess Farm needs me.”

“Master Uwald’s the proper one to go.” Ludda-bee set a trestle in place. “But he should eat something first. Johan, put down those weapons. You look ridiculous. You can help with the table if you don’t trip over yourself.”

Johan-bee smiled or bared his teeth, Elodie wasn’t sure which. In one smooth movement, he nocked his longbow and aimed it at Ludda-bee.

Lambs and calves!

In a mock frightened voice Ludda-bee cried, “Oh, don’t shoot me.” She shook the trestle and made it rattle. “See how afraid I am.”