The Thief Queen's Daughter

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “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.

  5

  The Adventure Begins

  * * *

  The next morning I got up as early as I could. No dreams remained when I woke up, if I’d had any to begin with, so I had no trouble hopping out of bed. Sleeping in had brought me nothing but bad luck, so I figured maybe the opposite would be true if I got my hindquarters out of the blankets and hit the deck as soon as the sun was up.

  On my way to the tool shed I ran into Cadwalder, the house steward of Hare Warren. Cadwalder is about fifteen, has a bristly mustache and beard, and the sallow complexion of someone who spends a lot of time in the stable and not in the sun. I nodded to him, and he nodded back, but we rarely speak. Cadwalder once tried to set me up for thievery, which led to my original arrest. When Mrs. Snodgrass found out, she chewed him out within an inch of his life. He has been very careful around me ever since. I still don’t trust him, but I’d like to get to a point where we can at least be friendly to one another. Maybe it will happen someday.

  As soon as I got into the inn, Mrs. Snodgrass was there to meet me.

  * * *

  WELL, 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.”

  * * *

  Char’s fascination with Felitza is something I have to admit I’ve never understood. While I’m no judge of male beauty, and certainly not human male beauty, Char seems to be a fairly handsome guy. He’s wiry and strong and seems to have a pleasant face—at least the girls in Mouse Lodge think so.

  Felitza, on the other hand, is not what anyone would call beautiful. Anyone but Char, that is. When Char looks at Felitza, he apparently doesn’t see her rather oversized teeth, her somewhat stringy hair and colorless skin. What Char sees is another kind of beauty, a beauty he first noticed in the golden brown finish on her corn bread, along with all the other skills she has in the kitchen. Whether he is still impressed by her talent at cooking or in love with her, however she looks, doesn’t really matter.

  Because Felitza doesn’t know Char is alive.

  * * *

  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.

  * * *

  Saeli is perhaps the strangest person I have ever seen. I don’t mean strange in a bad way; I just mean more unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Like me, and McLean, and Galliard, she’s of a different race than most people. Saeli is a Gwadd. While Nain tend to be shorter than humans, Gwadd are much shorter than Nain. Saeli is tiny and shy, and while she has a voice, she only uses it on rare occasions. Instead, she speaks in flowers.

  * * *

  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.

  * * *

  Charles Magnus Ven Polypheme

  In the care of Mrs. Gertrude Snodgrass

  The Crossroads Inn

  Serendair

  * * *

  “Oh boy,” he muttered.

  * * *

  I have to confess, I try not to think about my mother. It hurts too much.

  That “another story” I mentioned earlier, about how I came to be here, is sort of complicated. On my fiftieth birthday, I was minding my own business, headed for work on the docks of Vaarn, my hometown, to my family’s shipbuilding factory. I was pretty excited.

  Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

  The albatross that for some reason keeps following me appeared for the first time on that day. It flew over and dropped a feather on my head, and from that moment on, my ordinary, boring life became one of constant change, both exciting and dangerous. I was sent out on an Inspection of our newest ship, the Angelia, which was then attacked by Fire Pirates. In the chaos that followed, both our ship and the pirate ship exploded—my fault, by the way—and I found myself on this wonderful, horrible adventure that now is my life. I have to say I am enjoying it most of the time, especially since I got a letter the day before yesterday from my father, telling me that everything was fine at home, that the crew of the Angelia had survived, and giving me his blessing to find my way in the world. I had adventure awaiting me, a nice place to live, great friends, and an exciting job—until yesterday, anyway.

  But the one thing I haven’t been able to put out of my mind is my mother.

  My mother is not the sweetest person in the world, though she can be very kind. She is mostly businesslike, keeping track of a family of thirteen children and a good many of my father’s employees, some of whom are upworld Nain, like us. She is the busiest person I have ever met, and is quite insistent on us always being on time and prepared for whatever we are doing. Most often she becomes annoyed if we are late for tea, which happens on occasion when things don’t go well at the factory. For all that men who sail the seven seas fear Mrs. Snodgrass, she is nowhere near as scary as my mother can be if her tea is allowed to get cold. And when one person is late, we all wait, so by the time whoever had an emergency at work or got caught up in something gets to the table, the only thing colder than the tea is my mother’s stare.

  So this is the reason that I get cramps in my stomach every time I think about my mother. All the while I have been away from home, I have kept imagining my teacup sitting empty on her table. I can see in my mind the expression of pain on her face. I know how confused her orderly life must have become when I never came home from the Inspection on my birthday.

  I know she is sad. For weeks she thought I was dead.

  I know she misses me. I’m her youngest.

  And it makes me sick.

  * * *

  He clenched his teeth, worked up his courage, and broke the seal on the letter.

  As he unfolded the oilcloth, a piece of waxed paper scrip fell out, in the amount of one hundred gold pieces. Scrip was the money sailors and merchants who sold goods to them exchanged rather than using gold or gems, the way everyone else did.

  Ven’s eye went to the letter. It contained a brief paragraph at the beginning and the end, with a long list of items in between, carefully printed in his mother’s neat hand. He read the first few lines, then blinked in surprise.

  * * *

  Ven,

  Glad to know that you are alive and well. Please make certain you are minding your manners and behaving appropriately. Be especially sure to:

  1. Make your bed every day. 2. Wash well, with special attention behind your ears. 3. Say “please” and “thank you” in all situations. 4. Remember your lessons. 5. Use your head. 6. Keep your elbows off the table. 7. Cover your mouth when sneezing or coughing. 8. Hold the door for others. 9. Pitch in with chores around the inn.

  * * *

  The list continued on for over one hundred items. Ven scanned them quickly, his worry turning to annoyance as he continued to read. Each item on the list was a directive for his behavior, the same orders she had been giving him every day of his life from the time he could remember.

  * * *

  There was no mention of anyone at home, or how things were in Vaarn. No news, no sign of worry or relief in discovering I had survived, outside of “glad to know you are alive and well.” Fire Pirates never leave anyone they attack alive. Everyone in Vaarn must have believed me dead, and yet my mother did not seem particularly overjoyed to know I had escaped with my life, and was now safe in Serendair, making a name for myself.

  All she wanted to make sure of was my good behavior in her absence, since she wasn’t there to corr
ect me herself.

  I felt about twenty years old. [Five in human years.]

  * * *

  He sighed in disappointment and skipped to the bottom of the list to the last paragraph above the signature.

  * * *

  Here is some money to repay the kindness of Mrs. Snodgrass and anyone else who has helped you in the course of your misadventure. Please make sure you have repaid anyone you owe. If you need more, please write with the amount and I will send it.

  Your

  Loving Mother

  P.S.—Make sure to wear clean clothes always. No one of any worth wears dirty clothing.

  * * *

  The front door of the inn opened. It was painted with a golden griffin, and from where he stood, it looked as if it were holding hands with Char, whose fingers rested on the door handle.

  “Ya comin’?” his friend demanded.

  “I’ll be right along,” Ven answered. He scraped the remains of the wax seal into one of the candles on the table, then folded the oilcloth and stuffed it into his pocket. He shook his head as if to shake off his annoyance, then hurried out of the inn with Char and headed for the crossroads.