The Thief Queen's Daughter (5 page)

“Well,
I
mind,” Mrs. Snodgrass said. “The hinges are on my bed, and I’m going to sleep. Don’t forget to take care of your plates.”

“Maybe one of the inn’s guests has been inside the city,” Char suggested.

“Maybe,” said Ven. He popped the last piece of bread into his mouth.

“Oh, right,” said Murphy. “Don’t bother to ask the
cat.
The cat knows
nothing
.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ven. “Do you know anything about the Gated City, Murphy?”

The cat yawned and extended his front claws.

“Let’s see. Walled city, near the harbor, weekly festival.” He hunched his shoulders and stretched out lazily before the fire. “Lots of rats, I would say. Thankfully, I’m retired.”

Mrs. Snodgrass leaned over and scratched him behind the ears.

“You are such a lazy little beggar,” she said fondly. “’Tis a good thing I take pity and feed you. You’d starve. Famous ratter, indeed.”

The cat rolled over onto his back and looked up at her. “You love me, and you know it.”

“Hmmph.” Mrs. Snodgrass gave his belly a brisk rub, then went back to the kitchen. “Good night, boys. See you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Char and Ven called after her.

Ven stood up and gathered his dishes. He glanced around the inn. Everyone had gone to bed except McLean, and Ven wasn’t certain that McLean ever slept.

“Any thoughts about the market of thieves in the Gated City, McLean?” he asked the Singer, who was putting away his stringed instrument and picking up a tiny silver flute. “Have you heard any tales of it?”

The Singer paused, lost in thought for a moment.

“No tales to tell of,” he said finally. “I imagine it’s a spectacular place, full of bright colors and sweet smells and glorious music. That’s why you must be especially careful, Ven. Outside the Gated City, those things serve to delight the heart. Within its walls, their purpose is to distract the eye. And the mind. Remember that. Don’t be too free with your names, either. Keep your names closely guarded; your name is what makes you what you are, and I suspect there may be people within that place who could steal your name if they knew it. Finally, remember what I said about the things Singers can do. If there’s one in the market of thieves and you need help, at least you know the Singer will not lie to you.”

“That’s good advice,” Ven said. “Thank you, McLean. Good night.”

He and Char washed their dishes, then went out the back door of the inn to Hare Warren, where the hall light was still burning.

They were too busy laughing and talking to notice the five black birds sitting on the roof of the inn, watching them until the door closed.

Then the five flew off into the night, a night now as dark as they were.

W
ELL, GOOD MORNING,” THE INNKEEPER SAID, SMILING. “YOUR
curiosity must be well and healthy today.”

“As ever,” Ven agreed. “Why do you mention it?”

“I just wonder how early you would have gotten up if I hadn’t told you that you were going to be working in my bedroom.”

Ven laughed. “Well, I have to admit I was intrigued,” he said. “I’ve seen very little of the actual inn. Each time I get to see a new room it’s something magical. This should be an interesting job.”

Mrs. Snodgrass turned and beckoned for him to follow her.

“I don’t know about that,” she said as she walked away down the hall. “But it’s an important one.”

Ven followed her all the way down the corridor that led north, out toward Hare Warren and Mouse Lodge, the girls’ house in back of the inn. The door at the end of the hall had a small window in it that looked very much like a porthole. Mrs. Snodgrass took a long brass key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Then she stepped aside, allowing Ven to enter the room first.

His mouth dropped open as he did.

Mrs. Snodgrass’s bedroom, not surprisingly, was fashioned to look like the captain’s cabin in the stern of a sailing ship. It had long slanted windows that resembled those in the room belowdecks of the
Serelinda
that Oliver had occupied when Ven was sailing with him. The door directly across opened onto a curved patio garden that gave the impression one was standing on the rear deck of the ship.

Inside the room, everything was as neat as a pin. The open closet revealed a series of shelves and cubbyholes in which all the linens and clothes were folded perfectly, everything inside it shipshape. The windows in the room were round like portholes as well.

But the most remarkable thing in the room was the bed.

Built of four tall, round timbers that looked like smaller versions of a mast, the bed was strung with ropes like the shrouds on a ship, with crisp white bed curtains draped from the top of the ceiling above the headboard to the posters of the bed itself. The rugs on the floor were woven in multiple shades of blue and white, making it resemble a frothy sea.

One of those rugs, however, was rolled up and stashed to the side of the room. The bed was off-kilter, standing at an odd angle in the middle of the room. And beneath the bed was a large round wooden opening, attached with hinges below the bed-frame.

Mrs. Snodgrass walked over to the large wooden opening.

“The inn’s safe is down below here,” she said, pointing to the wooden circle above the opening. “It’s triggered by a mechanism here in the bedpost.” She took hold of the round spindle at the top of the bedpost on the right of the headboard and twisted it three times clockwise, two times counterclockwise, and once more clockwise. A clicking sound was heard in the floor. “But the hinge is broken. Do you think you can fix it?”

Ven knelt down and examined the wooden circle. It was an extremely clever device, one that his brother Alton, the Polypheme family’s chief model maker, would have been very impressed by. He followed the curves and turns of the mechanism, finally discovering where the hinge was broken.

“Yes indeed, Mrs. Snodgrass,” he said. “I think I can have this ready in an hour or so.”

“Good,” said the innkeeper, looking relieved. “Several of our guests have valuables stored in the safe, and I’m sure they want to take them with them when they leave this morning.”

“I’ll get right to it,” Ven promised. He set to work, and in a short time the hinge was repaired, oiled, and working again. The giant bed moved out of the way so that the safe could be opened. Then it slid easily back into place above the hidden circle door.

“Many thanks, Ven,” Mrs. Snodgrass said. “There will be a large plate of pancakes with your name on it when you get cleaned up.”

“Is Char going to make them?” Ven asked jokingly.

Mrs. Snodgrass shuddered. “No, I’m trying to reward you, not punish you,” she said. “I’ll have Felitza make them.”

“Maybe Char can watch her do it,” Ven suggested. “He watches everything she does anyway.”

Ven went out to the pump in the garden to wash, then came back into the inn to the dining table. By then, most of his friends had arrived for breakfast.

The first one there was Nicholas Cholby, the inn’s messenger, and his roommate in Hare Warren, Albert Hio. Jonathan Conroy and Lewis Craig, who had the room next door to Ven and Char, were just finishing up and waved as they carried their dishes to the kitchen. Clemency was there as well, talking with the invisible Spice Folk, along with Lucinda, Ciara, Emma, and Bridgette, the girls of Mouse Lodge who were chatting among themselves and ignoring the boys.

At the end of the table sat Saeli, the only nonhuman besides Ven in the children’s dormitories. She looked up from her breakfast as Ven came in, waved to him, and returned to her pancakes. But the vaseful of rosebuds on the table in front of her stretched, and bloomed open in hues of soft pink and white, matching the blush in her tiny cheeks.

When everyone had cleared out except for Nick, Saeli, Clemency, and Char, Ven leaned over the table and spoke in a low, excited voice. “Who wants to go with me to Gated City today?”

The four children stared at him as if he were daft.

“Who suddenly has nothin’ left to live for in this world?” Char asked sarcastically. “I still can’t believe you want to do this, Ven. The king fired you. Why do you wanna do
anything
for him, let alone something this risky? Are you crazy?”

Ven took out the stone the king had given him and laid it on the table.

“His Majesty will pay our way to go shopping for the day,” he said. “While we’re there, I’m going to see if I can find out something about this weird stone. You don’t have to bring anything of your own into the Market. If we stay together, and keep our eyes open, we should have a wonderful time.”

“I repeat,” said Char, “why do you want to do this?”

“If you’re not comfortable going, I understand completely,” said Ven. “I’m only offering you the opportunity to see what’s inside those gates. It’s something I’ve wondered since I’ve been here. If your curiosity is not tickled by the thought, by all means stay home and do chores. I’m going this morning, and I have to be leaving shortly. Anyone else who wants to come, leave your stuff in your room and meet me out front. I’m going to get Cadwalder to hitch up the small cart with a horse so we don’t have to walk. Who’s in?”

“I’ll go,” said Clemency. “Sounds like fun to me.”

“Me too,” added Nicholas. “I finished my route already today. And by the way, Ven, I’ve got another letter for you.” He opened his leather pouch and pulled out a piece of oilcloth sealed with wax.

“How about you, Saeli?” Ven asked the small girl as he took the letter from Nick. Saeli nodded quickly, then rose from the table and scurried into the kitchen with her plate.

“All right, then,” Ven said excitedly. “We have a fivesome.”

The peace of the empty dining area was shattered by a belch that rattled the windows. The five turned to see Ida leaning against the wall, staring at them. They looked at each other, then back to Ida, whose gaze had not wavered.

Ven sighed. “What about you, Ida?” he asked. “Wanna come?”

“Now I
know
you’re daft,” muttered Char. “You must
want
to lose everything you have, including your underwear.”

Ida’s insolent stare became more of a smiling sneer.

“Naw,” she said. “The Gated City is boring. Been in there a bajillion times. But I’ll go to town. I got lots of stuff I can do there.”

“No stealing,” Clemency cautioned. “I don’t want to have to bail you out again this week. It’s been twice already.”

“You’re such a liar, Ida,” Char said, annoyed. “It costs
ten gold crowns
to get into the Market. You don’t even own your own
name,
let alone ten gold crowns.”

Ida just smirked.

“All right then,” Ven interrupted. “I’m going to read my letter. Then, anyone going to the Market, or to town, meet me at the crossroads in ten minutes.”

He looked down at the folded piece of oilcloth in his hands. It was sealed with a blob of blue wax and stamped with a coat of arms, the Polypheme family crest. He turned it over.

Written across the front was his name and that of the innkeeper. Ven’s hands shook as he recognized the clear, simple handwriting.

It was his mother’s.

“Oh boy,” he muttered.