Wick could feel his teacher's proud gaze, and he realized he understood what Twill had been saying. The other leshy relied on him.
It occurred to him that Twill wasn't just down the street anymore. Where had she gone? It seemed they had set up all the fireworks, and the fuses stretched in long sparkling rivulets down the street. But Twill and her friends were no longer anywhere to be seen.
“Excuse me.” He left the conversation with his teacher and walked toward the dark street. Fireworks littered the ground and the tops of the fence posts, but no one was there.
“Twill!” Wick called in a loud stage whisper. “Where did you go?”
“Want to light it?”
Wick jumped as Twill's voice whispered next to his ear. “What?”
“The fireworks.” Twill struck a match against the trunk of a tree, and it blazed to life. “I want you to do the honors.”
“No.”
“Come on, Wick, we're trying to see you off,” Twill said. The flickering of the flame bounced off her face. “I did this for you. I want you to make some memories before you go.”
Make some memories. Something stirred in Wick's heart. For all her criticism and how she insisted that he do things her way, he was going to miss Twill.
She held out the match.
He would never have another chance. He would never get to do this again. In the name of making one youthful memory, Wick snatched the match and lit the fuse.
The twine burned down toward the sparkling fuse of the first apple. Wick braced himself. The first firework exploded with a bang.
There was a disturbance under the canopy of lights, and several people turned to see what had made the sound. Then the next firework went off, and the whole crowd noticed. Down the street the explosions went, gaining momentum. Sparks sprayed into the air, gold and green and red and white. Bits of dried-out produce flew in every direction. The longer the explosions went on, the louder the cheers became.
Wick's heart hammered as the fuses burned closer to the museum. Twill had set up a dozen of the largest fireworks out front with all their fuses wound together so they would go off all at once. This would be the great explosion, the finale.
The end.
The last two pumpkins nearest to it went off, spraying pumpkin flesh and seeds in all directions, and the sparks on the twine burned down the snarl of fuses Twill had tied together.
“Wick!”
Wick turned around and found a messenger standing behind him wearing a grave expression.
Dread knifed into Wick's stomach. Something was wrong.
Rewin forced his usual friendly smile as the finale exploded behind them. “I've been trying to find you.”
“Sorry, I was–” Wick stopped himself. “Never mind. Is something wrong?”
“The fair folk have been robbed,” Rewin said. “Their piece of the Heather Stone was taken.”
All the anxiety Wick had been pushing away came rushing back. “When was it taken?”
“Two weeks ago. The fair folk are so scattered that most of them didn't even know until just a few days ago. And,” Rewin went on uncomfortably, “between the Satyr's Crown and now the fair folk's piece of the Heather Stone, the centaurs are assuming the worst.”
Wick had already guessed. “The thief is trying to collect all the pieces of the Heather Stone.”
“That's what the centaurs assume.”
Wick's mind was racing. “Why did they send you to me? I'm glad to be included, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Once I told the centaurs about it, they spotted the pattern in the thief's movements. The fair folk piece was the closest to where the Satyr's Crown was being kept. And since the thief was seen running southeast the last anyone saw him, and since he seems to be just collecting as he goes, going southeast would then logically take him–”
“Here,” Wick finished. The news was getting worse by the moment. Twill had caught on to what was happening by now, and she sidled up next to Wick to hear the rest of the conversation.
“He would be coming to get the leshy's piece next, yes.” Rewin's mouth tightened into a grim line. “They sent me a message to give to you.” He reached into his messenger's bag at his side and produced a heavy white envelope, which he handed to Wick.
Wick broke the wax seal and slid out the folded piece of paper inside. He lifted the top piece of the paper and saw only a few short lines of handwriting.
“Several of us have had visions of the leshy's piece of the Heather Stone being stolen. Take it and move it somewhere more secure. Leave without notice and tell no one where you are going. Notify us yourself when you have delivered it.”
There ended his instructions.
“I understand.” Wick slid the paper back inside the envelope. “They want me to take the message on and give it to someone else.”
“What?” Both Rewin and Twill looked confused.
“I thought the message was for you.” Rewin started to reach for the envelope, then stopped himself, remembering it was confidential. “I could have sworn– never mind. I'm sure they know what they're doing.”
Wick nodded absently. He would leave tonight, he decided. The thief could arrive any minute.
“Would you like to stay the night?” Wick's mother asked Rewin, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere while they were talking.
“I have another message, but it's not urgent, and I doubt I'll make it much further tonight,” Rewin admitted. “I'd love to stay if I may.”
“I'll prepare the guest room,” Wick's mother said, and Rewin's shoulders relaxed. Everyone went their separate ways, leaving Wick to figure out what he was going to do next.
WICK MADE HIS PLANS while the rest of the village cleaned up from the fireworks. As he made his way back home, he formed an idea of where he would go. He could take the piece to someone he trusted in the nixie territory. Since the thief could easily penetrate satyr security measures, satyr territory was out of the question, and sadly Wick couldn't be sure about the seraphs since the robber was one of them, but his nixie friend was discreet. If the leshy heather stone would be safe anywhere, it would be with Wick's friend.
As the festivities wound down for the evening, Wick made his move.
Rewin would be asleep, and all the leshy would be getting about their duties now that the party was over. With everyone distracted, now was the time to leave unnoticed. Wick gathered up his little messenger's bag and poked his head out of his bedroom doorway.
The house was empty. Wrapping his bag strap over his shoulder, he left the house and took the road winding through the middle of the village, heading for the museum. He kept his head down and stayed out of the torchlight to avoid notice.
The tall stone building looked worn. As he approached, Wick realized he didn't even know how old the museum was. He told himself to research it later as he sidestepped the fireworks debris in the dirt out front. A quick glance around proved that no one was looking his way, so he slipped through the empty doorway.
Inside, a huge dark room greeted Wick. He peered between the pieces of statuary lined up across the tiled floor. Lelo, the museum guard, was nowhere to be seen, and Wick remembered that the museum wasn't open yet for the evening. But for Wick's purposes, it was good that no one else would be around.
Wick took the sweeping set of stairs in the corner and disappeared deeper into the museum.
He knew the layout of the museum by heart. The first floor displayed art. The second, historical artifacts. On the floor above him, a series of smaller rooms held a mixture of natural history, portraiture, and personal items given to the museum over the years by the royal family. He wove through the candlelit rooms of historical artifacts and meticulous art without glancing around. Two floors up and one gallery of historic tree bark over, he entered the room where the leshy kept the most important pieces in the collection.
All the valuables and heirlooms were displayed on open shelves and p
edestals. Nothing was locked away. No one was kept out. Visitors from other territories were monitored while they viewed the collection, but it was believed that such valuables belonged to all and should be on display for all to see. Wick had always loved that.
Past candlelit displays of cut gemstones and behind open cases of valuable heirlooms, a shelf held possibly the most important thing the leshy had ever owned.
The Oak Leaf.
Centuries ago, after using the stones to avoid a great disaster, every race had been given a piece of the Heather Stone as a sign of trust and unity among the people of Aro. Many people, like the satyrs and the manghar, had set their pieces in objects of great importance. Others, like the leshy, had given their piece a setting that made it important in itself.
Even as a child visiting the museum with his family, Wick had always thought the stone's setting was stunning. The elegant leaf shape surrounding the stone was wrought of silvery gold and polished to glitter like a rock in a riverbed. Some clever artist had designed fine grooves across the surface to imitate the leaf's veins, and tiny topaz dewdrops shapes glittered across the face, cut to sparkle even in the faint lamplight. It was only about as big as Wick's hand, but it was easily the most stunning piece in the leshy's collection of valuables.
Since being placed in the tower, it had never left this shelf except to be cleaned and polished. This was its home.
Wick reached out and took the Oak Leaf off the shelf.
“What are you doing?”
Wick glanced back and saw Lelo standing in the doorway. Wick had known Lelo since childhood, ages before Wick had become a messenger and Lelo had become a museum guard. Lelo was stocky and often frightened the smaller children, but underneath all the pretense he had a heart of gold. Wick had meant to avoid everyone on his way out of the village, but he could reason with Lelo.
Wick twisted to put the Oak Leaf inside the bag at his side. “I'm on orders from the centaurs. The Oak Leaf isn't safe here.”
“Where is it going? Are the centaurs taking it?” Uncertainty crept into Lelo's voice.
“I can't tell you that. But it will be safe, I promise.” Wick flipped the flap of his bag shut over the Oak Leaf, then turned and looked Lelo in the eye. “You can't tell anyone that I took this with me, do you understand?”
“I understand.”
Lelo let Wick go without any more questions.
As Wick stepped out of the museum he saw a figure walking toward him that must have been Rewin, judging by the smaller build and dark hair. But Wick couldn't talk to anyone now. Now that he had the heather stone, he had to leave.
Wick ducked into the shadows and made for the edge of the village.
When he stepped out of the ring of lamplight and into the darkness at the edge of the forest, relief flooded his mind. He was out of the village, with the Oak Leaf in hand, in less than six hours from when he had received the message from the centaurs.
The first part of the journey was over.
Now with the village behind him, he started off at a sustainable walking pace with the moon shining down on his head. He didn't make it a quarter mile before the centaur guards fell in around him. Despite their large size, they were strangely stealthy.
“I didn't know they were sending a traveling party,” Wick said to the centaur on his right. “How serious was the vision?”
“Serious enough to have all of us concerned,” Ongel replied, appearing from the left. “I arranged to travel with you to the leshy border, and after that, I hope you'll be safe alone.”
“Thank you, Ongel,” Wick said.
Ongel reached out to squeeze Wick's shoulder. “Of course.”
They traveled in the dark for miles without speaking. The only sounds among them as they walked were the faint clank of the centaur's armor and the soft thudding of their footsteps. In all his years of working for and with the centaurs, Wick had never seen them in their armor. He had never even considered that they might still have armor, not after how long everyone in Aro had been at peace. Wick found himself looking at Ongel out of the corner of his eye, trying not to think about how he had never seen his mentor look so serious. Ongel's armor dimly reflected the moonlight onto the dark skin of his face, bringing out all the harsh angles and lines of his grim expression.
The stars rotated across the sky, towing the moon along its track from one side of the world to the other.
Wick watched the centaurs, curious if they would start to tire as the night wore on into early morning, but they showed no sign of exhaustion. Perhaps they had foreseen that they would have to travel all night and had known to prepare themselves ahead of time. Or perhaps they were just resilient travelers.
The sky turned grey, then pink, then orange, then the sun rose behind their backs, lighting the way before them and casting long shadows across the landscape. The birds slowly began twittering, then rose into a great chorus. Wick took it all in with admiration.
Another few hours later, when the sun had risen nearly into the center of the sky, the border of leshy territory came within view. The centaurs said nothing as their group passed with Wick over the line of red trees, but as soon as they were on the other side, they stopped.
Wick turned to face them. “I suppose this is where we part ways.”
“The thief could still track down the piece,” Ongel said, “but from what we've seen it's not likely he'll catch up with you. Watch your back going forward, but you should be safe now.”
Wick nodded. “Thank you, all of you, for your help. And thank the others for the warning about our piece of the Heather Stone.”
“It's just as much our concern as yours if it's stolen,” another centaur said. He adjusted his hoofs, as though one of his legs threatened to fall asleep. He offered a quick smile. “But we'll be sure to tell the others of your thanks.”
Ongel gave Wick a quick embrace, and then the centaurs left. Wick raised his hand in farewell as they passed out of sight.
Once they were gone, Wick set his face back to the southwest, where he could hear the rushing of the river leading down to the nixie kingdom. As he started walking again, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him. One could never be too careful.
It would take several days to reach the coast and his nixie friend. Anything could happen by then. And now that the centaurs were gone, he would have to go the rest of the journey alone.
Chapter four
The Thief with One Wing
WICK TRAVELED ANXIOUSLY. In all his years of carrying things around the country, he had always needed to be alert. On occasion, he had to watch his back when he passed through more dangerous regions. But never before had he needed to watch for someone following him.
True, there was no way of knowing if the thief was following him or even knew which way he had gone. But still, Wick remained on edge. Somewhere out there, the thief was looking for him. He wouldn't be safe until he reached nixie territory and the Oak Leaf was out of his hands.
He felt a temptation to stop at every small dwelling he passed like checkpoints, just so that someone would know he was still going unhindered, but that would be against the point of his journey. The few people that he encountered out in the wilderness he avoided or hid from, and he kept away from any roads he found.
Following the river was the easy part. Wick kept on high alert, checking over his shoulder, searching behind every tree and boulder for a seraph thief trying to take the Oak Leaf from him.
At noon on the second day, he finally stopped for a rest. He would much rather have had a drink of the setting sun, but the noonday sun would have to do for now. He would get another chance to have some of the setting sunlight when this was over. He sat in the middle of a clearing of trees with the messenger's bag tucked between his crossed legs and guarded by both his hands. He sat for a good long while, absorbing the light as much as he could. He wouldn't get another chance to get sun today, not if he was going
to the nixie territory, and he wanted to get as much of it as he could before moving on.
A while later, Wick opened his eyes and got up off the ground. Glancing behind him once more, he slung his bag back over his shoulder and started walking again.
The riverbank was getting steeper. He stayed on the edge of the woods to keep from slipping down into the water. The brambles thickened, too, and the bushes grew closer together. He had to skirt around things more often, and a few times he got so far off course he had to work to make his way back to the riverbank again. Wick reached where the river split off into the delta and glanced around before stopping to rest his stiff legs.
Stretching, he leaned away from the tree where he had been resting and took another look behind him.
This time there was someone there.
Leaning against a tree watching him was a dark-haired seraph boy with one bent and mangled wing.
In a moment of panic, Wick almost challenged the thief outright. But before he had even decided what to say, his more practical, guarded nature took over. If this seraph boy was the thief, which Wick was sure he was, he couldn't know that Wick had the piece. Only Lelo and Wick's centaur bodyguards had known that Wick had the piece. Few knew it had even left the tower.
For all the thief knew, the Oak Leaf was still in leshy territory, and Wick was just another messenger carrying a letter.
He had to act like one until he could get out of sight.
“Hello,” he said, polite enough to be someone greeting a stranger.
“Hey.” The seraph boy gave Wick a quick look up and down. “Where are you headed to?”
In every lie, there was a grain of truth. “The nixie kingdom,” Wick responded. “I was given a message to deliver to them.”
“The nixies,” the seraph boy repeated, sounding almost speculating. His bright blue eyes watched Wick's face like he was looking for something.
“What about yourself?” Wick asked, acutely aware of the descending silence. “Where are you headed?”
“Not sure,” the seraph boy said, without moving. “I'm still trying to make up my mind.”
Robbing Centaurs and Other Bad Ideas Page 3
