Stolen Magic (16 page)

F
our herders surrounded the trapped man. One tipped a flask into his mouth so he might drink. Masteress Meenore flew lower, and all looked up, their mouths O's of astonishment. Surprise gave way to speed. Except for the trapped fellow, they fled, although the snow hindered them. They stumbled or fell entirely but were up again instantly, propelled by fear.

IT landed and tried to ignore the growling mountain.

The trapped herder shouted wordlessly, then coughed as ITs scent reached him. He choked out, “Don't . . . eat . . . me!”

ITs smoke went from blue to red, shame to anger. “That is what you fear at this juncture? You are hoping for one sort of death over another?” IT lumbered to the boulder and tried to lift it, but the boulder—squarish, taller than a
man, shot through with orange veins—weighed too much.

“You're saving me?” The man let out a moan of pain.

Panting, IT puffed out, “First I must slice off slabs to lighten your captor. You will have time to enjoy my perfume.”
Enh enh enh.

The task would take an hour or more. ITs tail twitched impatiently.

“I am about to flame at the boulder, not at you.”

Deep in ITs chest, ITs fire bellows expanded and contracted. A thick jet of white shot across a corner of the boulder.

Fire and smoke! This rock was dense. IT swallowed ITs flame to look. The line etched into the stone penetrated only about half a foot.

“We will be together for a while, Goodman . . .”

“Hame.” His voice sounded strained. The pain must have been intense.

“And I am Masteress Meenore.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Another moan.

Helping you at the expense of time I cannot spare. While IT flamed again, IT used ITs common sense. Goodman Hame's information about Master Tuomo and his sons would be firsthand, unlike Brunka Arnulf's.

When IT stopped flaming, the gash had more than doubled in depth.

“I must rest a moment.” A lie. Flaming didn't tire IT. “We may indulge in conversation. This is Nockess Farm, is it not?”

Goodman Hame nodded.

“Brunka Arnulf informed me that Master Tuomo's sons are gone from the estate. Is that so?”

He nodded again.

“I suppose Master Tuomo sent them on some errand.”

He shook his head.

Mmm. “No? Then why did they leave?”

Goodman Hame spoke with difficulty. “Master Uwald sent them to his cousin's wedding because he had to travel to Zee and couldn't go.”

“Do you know if Master Tuomo was present when the order was given?”

“Only Master Uwald.”

IT flamed again, ITs mind as afire as ITs snout. Uwald?

“He told us . . .” Goodman Hame forced the words out. “All of us herders and servants . . .”

“Yes?”

“. . . to take a holiday while he was away.” He paused for breath. “But Master Tuomo
was
there then, and he said the farm couldn't spare us. . . .” Another pause. “He may have killed me. . . . Curse him!”

Curses on the wrong man. It
was
Uwald! But why
destroy his own land? “You are not yet a corpse.”

“And now . . . someone has come who says he's our new master.”

Master Uwald sold his farm? And then decided to destroy it? No . . . Oho! Not sold. Master Uwald had lost Nockess Farm in a wager. His luck had failed him.

IT flamed again and sliced through the remaining stone. The chunk fell away, but the boulder remained too heavy.

“Goodman Hame, is the man with the limp the new owner?”

He nodded.

IT considered flying off and leaving Goodman Hame to the mountain's mercy. Better to reach the Oase and Uwald in time. But despite the reasonableness of sacrificing one to save many, IT found that IT couldn't leave the man.

Had affection for Elodie softened ITs resolve and soaked ITs heart in sentiment?

IT flamed again at the boulder. Master Uwald, old and frail as he was, couldn't have acted alone. Two thieves, without a doubt. Who was his accomplice?

When IT stopped to view ITs progress, Goodman Hame interrupted ITs thoughts.

“Beg pardon . . . Are you a boy dragon or a girl dragon? Boy, right?”

How quickly terror fades, IT thought regretfully. IT flamed again. If Master Uwald stole the Replica he'd still
be rich, but the winner would own the land after the mountain cooled. However, if the winner were on Zertrum when the volcano spewed, he would very likely perish. So Master Uwald must have promised to cede the property on a certain date.

Of course, the man might ride his horse off the mountain at the first tremor. However, Master Uwald knew the winner's character and predicted he'd stay on his new property as long as he believed he might, which would really be too long, and the evidence of the bet, presumably in the winner's possession, would be incinerated with him.

IT couldn't be sure if the fateful bet had occurred before or after Master Uwald knew Master Robbie would be his ward, but IT suspected that the game took place after.

Master Uwald's plan had been clever, even diabolical.

IT swore that in one respect, at least, the plot would fail.

P
eople rushed to High Brunka Marya. Elodie would have, too, but Albin held her in place. Master Uwald, who had a similar grip on Master Robbie, remained with them.

Elodie wondered what her masteress would expect her to do.

Think, Lodie!

She didn't know what to think.

Observe, Lodie!

That she could do.

The pairs of bees who guarded the interior exits had left their posts.

Lambs and calves! The rainbow colors over the entry door were gone. Was the high brunka dead?

No one else seemed to have noticed the door.

Mistress Sirka cried, “She's breathing!”

Elodie broke free of Albin and pushed into the crowd.

Mistress Sirka sat on the floor. Gently, she lifted High Brunka Marya's shoulders and head into her lap. “Someone, get my sack. Hurry!” She touched the violet bump that was rising on High Brunka Marya's forehead.

Two bees hurried out of the hall. The high brunka's mouth hung open. Her skin had a yellow cast, unlike its usual ruddy tone. Contrasted with her slack jaw, her eyes were squeezed shut. Her fingertips looked ordinary, without any sign of rainbows.

“Can I help?” Ursa-bee hovered behind Mistress Sirka's shoulder.

Standing near the high brunka's knees, Johan-bee rocked back and forth. He bit his knuckles, his eyes wide and confused.

Ludda-bee, next to him, slapped him across the face, reaching high to do so. Then, sobbing into her apron, she broke out of the crowd. Johan-bee seemed not to notice the slap or her departure.

Elodie discovered herself surrounded by Albin, Master Robbie, and Master Uwald, who had shoved their way in, too.

Master Tuomo, on the other side of the fallen high brunka, said, “They pushed him too far. These are circumstances that snap a man's control.”

Master Uwald patted Master Robbie's shoulder, then sidled to Johan-bee and led him away. Elodie twisted out of the crowd to see where they went, which was to the south fireplace. Master Uwald spoke to him there, while Johan-bee continued to rock, his hands over his face. How kind Master Uwald was to take pity on him, when half his own cloak was soaked with broth and, if the tureen had hit him a little higher, he might have been as injured as the high brunka.

After a minute or two, Master Tuomo started across the great hall toward the two of them.

Why? Elodie thought. If only she had a brunka's hearing. And now the high brunka didn't have it either. The thieves, if there were two after all, could plot without being overheard.

And they could leave.

Elodie returned to the middle of the knot of people.

Mistress Sirka murmured, “I've never dosed a brunka before.”

Elodie wondered if the high brunka's mind was alert. She said firmly, “I'm so glad we found”—louder—“the Replica.”

High Brunka Marya didn't stir. Everyone else looked at Elodie.

She shrugged. “I thought that might wake her.”

Albin said, “An excellent notion, Lady El.”

The bees returned with Mistress Sirka's satchel.

The barber-surgeon rummaged inside for a netted sack of little jars. She picked one, unstopped it, and spread an ointment over the lump on High Brunka Marya's forehead. She found another jar, which she opened and waved under the high brunka's nose.

“What will those do?” Ursa-bee asked.

“The one under her nose wakes people who've fainted. The salve brings down swelling in people and, I hope, brunkas.” Mistress Sirka took off High Brunka Marya's cap to explore her skull with her fingers. “Two more bumps.” She applied ointment to these bumps, too.

“Brunka skulls are thick,” Deeter-bee said. “We have a book on the anatomy of the brunka. There's granite in their bones.”

Good! Excellent!

But what if Mistress Sirka were really doing harm to the high brunka? Elodie thought. What if the barber-surgeon and Goodman Dror were the thieves, and the high brunka's injury would allow them to escape, as long as she didn't wake quickly?

Johan-bee and his companions returned.

He knelt by her, across from Ursa-bee. “I'm sorry, Marya. I didn't mean to hurt anyone.”

Several bees busied themselves putting the great hall back in order. Two piled dishes on Ludda-bee's tray. A bee
carried the cider pitcher into the kitchen, not bothering to leave paired with another bee.

“Look!” Master Tuomo cried. “The rainbow is gone.”

Elodie thought, It's all falling apart.

Using the tablecloth, a bee mopped up the pottage on the floor, leaving a circle cleared of rushes.

Albin whispered to Elodie, “I'm taking you home, Lady El.”

No!

A
s a monkey, His Lordship delivered the madman to his brother and started back to Zertrum. He didn't shape-shift into himself until he crossed the river. The ground had become unsteady: softening, hardening, shifting. Distant human cries flared up and died down. He followed the nearest voice.

“I
won't go.” Elodie took Albin's hand and tugged him toward the northwest corner of the great hall, the corner not far from the unguarded entrance. The windows high in the wall barely glistened. The day had almost ended.

When they reached the corner she—thoughtlessly—faced Albin with her back to the entrance. “We can't leave,” she whispered. “Zertrum will explode if I don't find the—”

“You, Lady El? A mansioner? We enact the great events after they—”

“I'm a detecting dragon's assistant
and
a mansioner.” She felt proud, declaring herself.

“Apologies, Lady El, but we must leave. Your parents would want you to, and I serve them.”

Doubtless they would. There was no answer to that, but she couldn't go.

Albin went on with his argument. “Your safety means more to them—and to me—than the life of anyone on Zertrum.”

“Listen . . .” An idea was coming. She felt its approach but couldn't grasp it. “Er . . . all the guests will leave . . . and if the thief—or thieves—is a bee, he or she will leave, too, with some excuse. The thief will go, if not tomorrow, then soon, because the Replica has to be sold or its worth doesn't matter. Right?”

“I suppose.” Albin folded his arms.

“Er . . . but the brunkas and the other bees won't stop looking for him or her or them. Um . . . it won't matter to them that Zertrum has already spewed.”

“We'll be safe at home, eating your mother's excellent pottage.”

She'd be herding geese, and by then Masteress Meenore or His Lordship or both might have died in the volcano.

The idea arrived, although she hadn't expected it to be so frightening. “The thieves will want to be safe, too. Because of them, we'll still be in danger.”

Albin wasn't used to deducing. “How do you come to that?”

“Because the thieves will plot to silence everyone who was here during the theft. Don't you see? There are clues
even if we don't recognize them yet. One may be that Mistress Sirka tried to dose Dror-bee—I mean, Goodman Dror—with what she says was a love potion, or that Master Robbie's grandfather was the last thief, or that Ludda-bee hates everyone and everything except cooking. Or something else.”

Albin's eyes were tight on her, concentrating as only a mansioner can.

“The innocent will go home. Some of us will try to forget, and some of us will try to remember. One morning, you or I or Master Robbie or another of us will sit up in bed with all the pieces fitted together.” Her heart began to gallop. “The thief will dread that morning, and he or she—who will have killed many on Zertrum—will have the wealth to kill us, too, not in person, but by using hirelings. You may not come back from fixing a fence. I may not return from herding. Master Uwald may be poisoned. Master Robbie may seem to have run away. Mistress—”

“Enough. I understand.”

“One more thing. If everyone stays here, that can't happen. We're safest here.”

He thought about it. “Lady El, Lady El. All right. We stay. For now.”

She took his hand and turned to go back to the others—and discovered her mistake. She had stopped observing.

The entrance, without the rainbow glow, remained
unguarded, and the great hall had half emptied.

Lambs and calves! Had the thieves escaped already? Escaped with the Replica?

Mistress Sirka continued to tend High Brunka Marya, who had been moved onto a pallet. Ursa-bee and Goodman Dror hovered nearby.

Several other bees, not in pairs, searched the shelves and cupboards. Deeter-bee watched from a bench by the fireplace outside the kitchen.

But Masters Robbie, Tuomo, and Uwald, as well as Johan-bee and Ludda-bee, were gone.

“Albin, did you see anyone leave the Oase?”

“My eyes were on you, Lady El.”

She called out, “Has anybody gone out?”

Ursa-bee answered, “No one, little mistress.”

Relief flooded her. “Oh, good. Thank you.” Trailed by Albin, she went to the entrance, leaned against the heavy door, and felt the cold of a November evening penetrate her shoulders.

Albin smiled fondly at her and said a mansioner's proverb: “‘A butterfly cannot portray a bear.' You can't be a guard, and I know only stage fighting.”

“We have to stop whoever comes.”

“Very well.” He bowed his most elaborate bow. “I hope the farmer's helper doesn't have to die for the heroine.”

From the door that led to the corridor, Johan-bee
entered the great hall carrying a longbow, with a quiver of arrows on his back. What's more, he'd strapped a sword around his waist. As awkward as ever, he strode stiffly toward the entrance.

Johan-bee was the thief?

Her masteress had never deduced or induced him as a villain.

Armed as he was, they'd have to let him go.