Stolen Magic

by Gail Carson Levine

  Might it have something to do with the Replica?

  As she left the room, she wondered what the bees had made of the knife. The Elk Room was Master Tuomo’s. To Elodie’s surprise, a lute lay across the bed. She wouldn’t have guessed angry Master Tuomo to be a musician. In the distance, a clappered bell rang. She stepped out into the empty corridor and heard voices.

  “Johan, wait! Don’t you march off! You’d think Marya would trust me to fetch the child alone. I’d trust . . .”

  No time to return to her room, but at least they hadn’t caught her in anyone else’s. “Has the Replica been found?” she called.

  Johan-bee came into sight first, then Ludda-bee.

  “No, not—”

  “That dragon hasn’t discovered anything. Girl, I pity you for having to travel with the meddling, sneering monster.”

  “IT wasn’t meddlesome with me,” Elodie said mildly.

  The three started back toward the great hall.

  “Aren’t you the lucky one. But what does a child have for anyone to meddle over?”

  In the great hall her masteress was interrogating Master Uwald and Master Robbie—or perhaps not. The two humans were sitting on the floor. IT had lowered ITs head and was leaning on ITs elbows. A thin stream of pink smoke rose—an irritated dragon.

  “Mistress Elodie, approach, if you will.”

  When she drew close, she saw that IT and Master Uwald were playing Thirty-One. A smiling Master Robbie dealt the cards. Happy to be in Master Uwald’s company or in ITs?

  Master Robbie placed two cards faceup and one facedown in front of IT and set the same before Master Uwald.

  IT brushed the cards away. “Enough. I cannot part with more books.”

  “Masteress,” Master Uwald said, “I was unlucky once in a great affair of the heart. Since then, the cards smile on me. The dice smile on me. I believe the Replica will be found. If not”—he winked—“I can sell your books.” His face became serious. “I hope it’s found, for Tuomo’s sake and the sake of his sons and of our poor workers.”

  Serious, Elodie thought, but not anxious.

  IT straightened. “Mistress Elodie, come with me. I require your assistance with the dog. Master Robbie, you may be helpful as well. May he accompany us, Master Uwald?”

  “Robbie, do you want to—”

  “Yes!”

  “Go then. Wrap your cloak tight around you.”

  A late-afternoon sun hung low in the cloudless sky. The air sparkled with cold. Followed by Masteress Meenore, Master Robbie and Elodie walked down the dragon-wide pathway IT had forged earlier. But the stairway, which IT must have hopped over, was still heaped with snow.

  “Move aside.” IT thrust out ITs snout and flamed. The snow vanished; the steps steamed; Master Robbie held the mourning beads and grinned.

  Another of the surprising comforts his grandmother had predicted, Elodie thought, and was glad.

  IT spread ITs wings and skimmed over the steps, landing lightly below.

  Elodie ran down. “Masteress, let Master Robbie stand under your wings. Please!”

  “We may not dally, Lodie.”

  IT set off at ITs slow pace, wings out. Elodie knew ITs wings were ITs only vanity—and all IT had to be vain about. She waved for Master Robbie to hurry.

  He caught up and ran under, craning his neck to see. “Whales and porpoises!”

  ITs wings were crisscrossed with sinews, like the stitch lines in a quilt, between which stretched skin that was utterly different from the wrinkled brown of ITs belly. This skin was thin as a butterfly’s wing and tinted the tones inside a seashell. The blue sky blended through, turning pink skin to violet, yellow to green, and pale blue to deep. From above, when Elodie was on ITs back, the hues changed constantly, depending on what they flew over.

  “I wish Grandmother could see.”

  They continued toward the stable. Elodie hoped for a sign that His Lordship had returned, but she saw nothing and heard only Nesspa barking. As soon as they entered, he greeted her joyously and Master Robbie almost as happily. He gave IT a wide berth. The other beasts moved uneasily in their stalls.

  IT settled on ITs belly in the space near the door. “Lodie . . .”

  Elodie noticed IT wasn’t pretending to hardly know her. She sat on the stool she’d occupied earlier. “Yes, Masteress. Masteress, shouldn’t His Lordship be back by now?” Nesspa curled up on the floor at her feet.

  “When he arrives, he will be here.”

  Master Robbie took the other stool.

  “Masteress! Tell Master Robbie I’m your assistant.”

  “Indeed. I pay her a salary, which I will curtail if she does not begin to earn it by deducing and inducing and using her common sense. I expect you to do the same, Master Robbie, although I will not remunerate you.” Enh enh enh.

  Elodie deduced that IT didn’t suspect Master Robbie of the theft.

  He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “What are deducing and inducing, Masteress?”

  “Lodie?”

  These were the foundations of detecting. “To deduce is to reason from something you already know or from a principle.”

  IT nodded ITs huge head.

  “To induce is to pull the truth from facts, from what you saw or heard or smelled.”

  “Pull is inelegant, Lodie. Now, describe where the Replica was concealed. I have had an account from Ursa-bee and I must compare.”

  She did, hoping she was including more details than the bee had.

  “Ah. Ursa-bee neglected to mention a storage room. Repeat, Lodie: the door to it from the corridor was kept locked?”

  “Yes. High Brunka Marya said she has the only key.”

  “The lock is locked on both sides of the door?”

  “No, Masteress. Only on the corridor side.”

  “Careless! Of a piece with everything else. So the storage room door in her chamber entirely lacks a lock?”

  Elodie nodded.

  “Master Robbie, earlier you alluded to a handkerchief that weeps. Pray tell, what is this?”

  He wet his lips. “Masteress . . .” He repeated, clearly enjoying the word, “Masteress, it’s one of four enchanted things, but the handkerchief is the only one that’s missing.” He described the others, ending with “Mistress Elodie can make a person laugh as well as the flower can.”

  “It is a shame Lodie could not hear the handkerchief and model it. You were told this weeping can insinuate itself inside one’s mind?”

  Master Robbie nodded. “Yes, Masteress.”

  Elodie wondered if she could mansion the handkerchief even without having heard it. She closed her eyes, summoning sadness. The flower had started laughing slowly, and the nightingale had chirped before it sang. She sighed deeply, looking at the stable floor, and thought of the people who might die on Zertrum. Her eyes filled. She looked at her masteress and brought His Lordship to mind. A sob bubbled up. She looked at Master Robbie. He’d lost one home and might soon lose another. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  The sadness took her. She wiped her streaming eyes and nose with her sleeve and sobbed and wept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Mistress Elodie, don’t . . .”

  Even IT touched her arm. “Lodie . . .”

  Now she had to make her sadness anyone’s sorrow, so it would enter their minds, too. She raised the pitch of her wailing until it became a knife tip of misery, as inescapable as loss and disappointment and sickness and death.

  Master Robbie held his hands over his ears and turned away from them, his shoulders shaking. ITs smoke darkened to gray-black, the darkest Elodie had ever seen it. ITs emerald eyes glittered, and a drop of clear liquid fell from one of ITs overhanging fangs.

  She fought for composure. Her weeping diminished gradually, as the flower’s laughter had. The unhappy thoughts receded. She could breathe deeply again and look around.

  “Astonishing, Elodie. An accomplishment.”

  “You did it on purpose?” Mast
er Robbie’s question was half accusation.

  She nodded. It was a performance she didn’t want to repeat.

  “You proved the truth of Ursa-bee’s account. A harder heart than hers would have found that weeping irresistible. Even I, a dry and leathery creature, could not resist reaching out to comfort you. And if you had not been visible before us, I would have been hard put to locate the source of the sound.”

  “Really?”

  Master Robbie seemed to have recovered. “You’re truly a mansioner.”

  Of course she was. But she savored the praise.

  IT, however, never lingered on others’ achievements. “What else did you discover?”

  “Master Robbie told me about the guests and the barber and the bees. He said Mistress Sirka—”

  “Permit him to speak for himself.”

  Master Robbie retold his information with relish. Under ITs questioning, he divulged more than he had to Elodie. He recalled details about several other bees. One hummed constantly under his breath. Another always smelled of mint. He reported which was the Oase’s spinner, which the weaver, which ones made soap. He ended by saying, “Deeter-bee is the historian, and he can tell you anything about Lahnt.”

  “You are Master Uwald’s ward, are you not?”

  Master Robbie looked startled, but he nodded.

  “And this arrangement is not of long standing?”

  Master Robbie’s hands found the mourning beads. “Just since my grandmother died two weeks ago.” He paused. “But I always knew he would come. If he died before she did, Master Tuomo was to be my guardian. As soon as I was old enough to understand, Grandmother told me I was going to inherit Nockess Farm.”

  Elodie clenched her teeth to keep her jaw from falling open. Yet he’d lived in poverty! How strange! He’d been poor with a cloud of wealth hanging over his head, and only tragedy would bring the rain of coins. Couldn’t they have arranged it better?

  ITs eyebrow ridges furrowed. “Your parents and your grandfather are all dead?”

  Master Robbie let the mourning beads go. “Mother and Father died of fever when I was three. Grandfather was a fisherman. Grandmother said he wanted to be rich like Master Uwald, but he died before I was born.”

  Elodie’s throat tightened in pity.

  Masteress Meenore showed no sympathy. “Had you encountered either Master Uwald or Master Tuomo before your grandmother’s demise?”

  Master Robbie looked confused. “Her death, Masteress?”

  “So I said.”

  “No, Masteress. I never met them before.”

  Likely that’s why he has the knife, Elodie thought. To protect himself from these strangers. She had a sudden idea. “Has High Brunka Marya offered you asylum?”

  Master Robbie said yes.

  “Are you going to stay?” Elodie leaned forward. “Do you want to be a bee?”

  He shook his head sharply. “I won’t be a bee.”

  Elodie felt relief. Bees led limited lives, as she saw it.

  And they couldn’t marry, although that thought came and went so quickly, she hardly noticed it.

  “But I may stay. I haven’t decided.”

  “Master Robbie, is Master Uwald aware of this offer of refuge?”

  “I don’t think so, Masteress.”

  “High Brunka Marya is a veritable pied piper to lure away a child. It is pernicious, this brunka habit of deciding what is best for everyone.” IT blew a puff of pink smoke. “Lodie, did you think to ask Master Robbie about asylum because the same had been proposed to you?”

  She nodded. “From my parents and you.”

  The pink darkened to an outraged red. “She would deprive you of me?”

  Master Robbie blinked in surprise, then smiled.

  Elodie seized the opportunity. “She must have noticed that you often mistreat me by calling me Lodie, though my name is Elodie.” Nervously, she added, “Enh enh enh.”

  ITs smoke whitened. Enh enh enh. “And why refuge from your parents?”

  She explained.

  “Mmm.” IT returned to Master Robbie. “Do you suppose Nockess Farm would still be yours should you remain here?” IT was thinking aloud. “Who would own the farm if you became a bee?”

  “I’m not going to be—”

  “Answer my question.”

  “Maybe the brunkas. Maybe Master Tuomo.”

  “Presumably Master Tuomo has known for years that he will not inherit Nockess Farm. Can you confirm that, Master Robbie?”

  “No one said.”

  “Is he pleasant to you?”

  “He doesn’t seem angry. He was often angry at his horse on our way here. He kicked it and used the whip, but he was kind to me in a gruff way.”

  “Mmm. He may not have made his true ire known. Expecting events to happen—your grandmother’s death, your becoming Master Uwald’s ward—and the events’ occurrence differ vastly. One may think oneself reconciled and find oneself enraged instead. If it were not that Master Tuomo’s sons are on Zertrum, he would be my favorite suspect.”

  “But he didn’t know where the Replica was kept,” Elodie said.

  “He may have. Many others did: all the brunkas as well as the bees presently living here and those who formerly did. Knowledge may be bought. Even a brunka may have a price.”

  Master Uwald might have bought the information, too, Elodie thought, but he’d lose his farm. “What did Goodwife Lilli say about Master Uwald?”

  IT said, “Her name was Lilli?”

  Master Robbie nodded.

  “After the flower, the roots of which I have often enjoyed roasted and salted. Did Goodwife Lilli prepare you for the day that has now arrived?”

  “She hadn’t seen him in many years. She said he had been a kind boy.” He grinned. “A boy! Not tall and strapping such as she preferred—she laughed when she said that. But she didn’t say much. Grandmother didn’t like to talk about the past.”

  “Did she tell you how to comport yourself as a rich boy?”

  He laughed. “She said I should never miss the chance to kick a servant down the stairs. I should insist that tasks be done in half the time required. She made me practice wagging my finger and raising my eyebrows.” He demonstrated.

  Enh enh enh.

  Elodie smiled although she felt sad.

  “She said Master Uwald—my guardian . . .” He turned to Elodie and shrugged. “I don’t know what to call him.”

  She wanted to pat his shoulder but contented herself with looking sympathetic.

  “How does he wish to be called?”

  “Granduncle or just Grand, Masteress, but it feels strange.”

  Grand by itself sounded grandiose to Elodie.

  “He’s not my uncle.” Master Robbie spoke with his head down, squeezing his hands together. “He says he lo— cares about me, says he has ever since Grandmother wrote to him to tell him that my parents had died and I existed.”

  “Nine years,” IT said, “if she wrote soon after their deaths. Enough time for affection to swell. Whether Master Uwald’s feeling is true or imagined will be proven in time.”

  Elodie found this dry logic comforting.

  Master Robbie raised his head. “Grandmother said Granduncle might be better than most rich people, but he was still a dicer and a wagerer.”

  “Do you agree?” IT leaned in toward Master Robbie, ITs flat eyes a deeper green than usual. “Is he better?”

  “I guess so. He never mistreated his horse. Soon after we came here, he told Ludda-bee and Dror-bee not to tease Johan-bee. They didn’t listen, but it was kind of him to try. And he’s been talking to Johan-bee. I think he’s helping him learn to speak up and teaching him backgammon.”

  “He has true sympathy,” Elodie said.

  IT sniffed.

  Elodie asked, “Has he done much betting?”

  “When I played queets he bet on me.” Master Robbie’s nose pinkened again. “He never lost.”

  IT snorted, and Elodie wondered how man
y of ITs books Master Uwald had won.

  Master Robbie continued. “He wagered on anything: how soon the innkeeper would bring our meal, what the weather would be, which room the high brunka would put us in. But he didn’t put money on everything. Sometimes it was more like guessing or predicting.”

  Elodie’s attention wandered. She was impatient to tell IT about Master Uwald’s messy bed and about the other rooms she’d entered, but Master Robbie’s knife was one of her discoveries, and he probably wouldn’t like being spied on. So, hoping to somehow escape his anger, she began indirectly. “Did the bees find anything in the guests’ chambers that gave you a hint, Masteress?”

  “The high brunka said nothing of import had been discovered.”

  “Was anything found among the bees’ things?” Elodie asked.

  IT twitched ITs tail. “I have not been told their possessions were gone through. Lodie, ask the high brunka about the results.”

  “Has anyone searched here?” Master Robbie asked.

  “Two bees came before dawn. Their visit—”

  “Masteress, will the bees—”

  “Do not interrupt, Lodie. What is it?”

  “Will the bees even recognize a clue when they see one? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone who was trained by a masteress could search?” Elodie doubted even IT was intelligent enough to understand her hint, so she added, “In secret.”

  ITs smoke turned rosy. “Master Robbie, Nesspa would benefit from exercise. I am sure you can find a rope to hold him, or otherwise he may attempt to seek his master.”

  How quick ITs understanding is! Elodie thought proudly.

  Master Robbie slid off his stool. His gaze went from IT to Elodie, and she knew he realized he was being sent away. He tied a rope to Nesspa’s collar and left.

  “Lodie, I hope you did not search the guests’ rooms.”

  “I did! I thought you’d want me to.”

  “I? A dragon with a secret hoard? Which you had the good sense not to invade when you were alone in my lair.”

  She felt ashamed. “But the high brunka—”

  “The high brunka informed her guests of the search, which you did not have the grace to do.”