The Thief Queen's Daughter

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “I was afraid of that,” he said. “Should’a known when I saw the double circles that nobody could resist a Gwadd. Highly rare and valuable, they are.”

  “Can we borrow Finlay?” Clemency asked urgently. “Please, he may be the only hope we have of finding her before the Market Day bell rings.”

  Mr. Coates exhaled again, then looked down at his dogs.

  “Well, if you’re gonna take Finlay, Munx is gonna want to go, too,” he said. “Can’t play favorites, you know. Just bring ’em home as fast as you can. Kinda need ’em around here, especially as the day goes on.”

  The children looked at each other in relief.

  “Thank you so much,” Char said.

  “Do you have something of hers that Finlay can smell?” Mr. Coates asked. He walked over to the wall behind the counter. “Hold still a moment, please.”

  Char, Ven, Nick, and Clem looked at each other.

  “I don’t,” Clemency said as the boys shook their heads. Then a thought occurred to her. “But I think Finlay does.”

  Mr. Coates gave the wall a solid smack. The crossbows and swords straightened back into place again.

  “How’s that?”

  “He took her hair ribbon,” Clemency said. “It’s blue, and tied in a bow.”

  “Ah, so that’s what that was,” the weaponsmaker said. He rifled through his trash bin and pulled out a soggy, shredded mass of blue goop. “Don’t know if any of her scent is still on it, but it’s the best we have, I suppose.” He snapped his fingers twice. Finlay spun around and trotted over to him. He held the slobbery fabric under the cream-colored dog’s soft black nose.

  “All right, then, boy, seek,” Mr. Coates directed.

  Finlay sniffed what had been the ribbon carefully. After an agonizingly long few moments, his ears went up, as did his head, and he bolted out the front door, his nose to the ground.

  “Better catch up quick,” Mr. Coates cautioned. “He will leave you in the dust if he gets a good trail.” He tossed Ven the shredded hair ribbon.

  “Thanks, Mr. Coates,” Ven called over his shoulder as the other three ran out the door after Finlay. He followed them, while Munx brought up the rear, trotting in long, unhurried strides. Tufts of hair exploded into the air with every step.

  Finlay dashed through the market, his long, slender body and legs slithering through the crowds easily. Nick and Char struggled to keep up, bumping into the people shopping as they ran through the crowds, with Clem and Ven farther behind.

  The dog hurried across the square to some of the first booths they had visited upon entering that morning. He passed the carousel of wooden beasts, now flying high in the air above the streets again, and the griffin swings, until he came to a halt in front of a wooden kiosk hung with purple draperies.

  The kiosk was closed down, the draperies pulled shut and bound with rope.

  Finlay sniffed in circles, then sat down on the cobblestones of the street and gave a short bark.

  “What was this place?” Clemency asked out loud as she came to a stop in front of it. “And what is Finlay telling us?”

  “This was the one full of golden cages, wasn’t it?” Char said, pulling on the knotted rope.

  “Of course! The strange animals!” Ven exclaimed. “Saeli was so unhappy to see them in there. I’m not surprised she came back here.”

  “But where did everything go?” Nick wondered. “Things sure appear and disappear into thin air fast around this place.”

  A harsh cawing sound scratched their ears from above. Ven looked up to see a raven, possibly the one that had been on the animal seller’s shoulder. It was eyeing them from atop the kiosk.

  His anger exploded. He stooped and picked up a stone, then heaved it at the bird.

  “You piece of dung!” he shouted. “Where’s my friend?”

  The bird cackled, then took to the air, leaving a stream of white droppings behind on the cobblestones. It caught an updraft, then banked away toward the Inner Market.

  Char was struggling with the knot on the draperies.

  “Can’t—believe I’m sayin’ this but—I almost—wish—Ida was—here,” he muttered. “She would have this stupid thing untied before her heart beat twice.” Nick nodded and began working on the other knots.

  “Enough of that,” Ven said, still angry at the bird. He got down on the ground and started to crawl under the draperies.

  A strong hand grabbed him by his belt and pulled him back out again.

  “Think,” Clemency said in her best House Steward voice. She pushed him backward on the ground. “There were animals, and a pretty scary man, in that tent. If you crawl under, you’ll have no escape route and you won’t be able to see. Take a breath, Ven, and we’ll get the rope untied while you do.”

  Ven exhaled sharply, then nodded. He stood up and brushed the dirt from himself as Char and Nick finished untying the knots and pulled the ropes away. He pulled back the draperies and went inside. Char followed him.

  Inside the kiosk was dark, like Madame Sharra’s tent. The golden cages were either gone or hanging open, the animals missing.

  “Saeli?” Ven called. “Are you here?”

  There was no answer.

  He took out the king’s stone and held it up. The glow filled the dark tent with shadows of cages, making eerie, crisscrossed stripes on the fabric walls.

  “Saeli?” he repeated again in the ghostly light.

  “Ven, here,” Char said. He bent down next to a table of empty cages. “Bring the light.”

  Ven came over and held the stone above Char’s head.

  On the ground was a Market Day token on a blue ribbon.

  “Oh no,” Ven whispered as he picked it up. “Oh no.”

  A terrifying growl shattered the air. Suddenly the cages tumbled around their heads as the tables were thrown to the sides of the tent.

  A brown bear dived at them from the shadows, its mouth snapping wildly. It stood up on its hind legs, then seized Char with paws that looked almost like human hands with claws, ripping his shirt as he twisted away, gouging at him with the teeth in its long, thin snout.

  “Ven, run!” he screamed, trying to free his shirt from the animal’s claws.

  Ven spun around. There was nothing, not a broom, not anything except the cages, so he grabbed one and hurled it at the bear’s head. The bear flinched as the cage whizzed past him, then dragged Char closer by the shirt, biting at his throat.

  A sudden snarl came from behind Ven, and another flash of teeth and fur leapt at Char.

  Ven reached for another cage, then stopped.

  It was Munx.

  The muscular dog seized the bear’s arm in its powerful jaws, throwing his body against the bear’s chest. Off-balance, the animal dropped Char and swung at the dog clinging to its arm, growling and yelping at the same time.

  Munx responded with a low growl, dragging down on the animal’s arm in his teeth. The bear crashed backward onto his back amid the scattered cages, the dog still on its chest.

  “Get out of here!” Ven screamed to Char. He grabbed the kiosk drape, spilling dusty afternoon light into the tent. Char, stunned, shook for a moment, then gathered his wits and ran out through the drapes, followed a moment later by Ven.

  “What the—?” exclaimed Nick as the two boys came crashing out of the kiosk.

  “Run! Run!” Char gasped, grabbing Clem by the arm and pulling her with him away from the booth.

  As the children and Finlay dashed away from the tent, some of the passersby stopped in their tracks to avoid running into them.

  “What’s going on?” demanded a man with a Market Day token whom Char narrowly missed as he darted across the street.

  “There’s a bear loose in there,” Char said raggedly, gasping for breath.

  “A bear?” gasped the woman with the man. “Did you say a bear?”

  Murmurs of horror passed quickly through the crowd: A bear? Did she say a bear? There’s a bear loose! Where? Where’s the bear?r />
  The tent flap rustled.

  Gasps of anticipation and fear rang through the street.

  A street vendor carrying a pole of pretzels lifted its base, spilling his wares onto the cobblestones, and held it like a weapon.

  The tent flap slapped open.

  Munx emerged from the tent, trotting smoothly across the street to the children.

  The street vendor opened the flap of the tent wide. There was nothing there but scattered cages. He dropped the flap in disgust and looked down at his pretzels on the ground at his feet.

  The sounds of shock were quickly replaced by ragged laughter as the people in the crowd went back to their shopping, some chuckling, some rolling their eyes, some glaring angrily at the children.

  “Are you all right, boy?” Ven asked, running his hands over Munx’s massive head, coating his palms with dog hair. The dog wagged its shaggy tail.

  “Hey! You kids! You owe me for those pretzels!” the vendor shouted from across the street.

  “I’ll get it,” said Nick, trotting over with his hand in his pocket.

  “No sign of Saeli in there?” Clem asked anxiously.

  Ven shook his head. “Just this,” he said, holding up the token.

  “Where’d the bloody bear go?” Char wondered aloud.

  “All the tents and kiosks and stores in this place seem to have escape hatches and back exits,” Ven said as Clemency took the token, tears filling her eyes. “Let Finlay smell that thing, Clem. Maybe he can tell us where she went.”

  Clem nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She held the token down to the cream-colored dog.

  “Here, Finlay,” she said. “Seek?”

  The dog sniffed the ribbon, then followed his nose back to the front of the tent again. He stopped, looked up, gave another short bark, then sat down, as he had done before.

  “This must be where her scent trail ends,” said Ven miserably. “Probably whoever stole her put her in a cage, or carried her, wherever they went, which is why Finlay can’t find her scent.”

  “What do we do now?” asked Nick, looking around. “I’m all out of money, and all I’ve got is a bunch of dusty pretzels. It’s starting to get on toward closing time.”

  “Maybe you all should go home,” Ven said. “I’m not leaving without her, though. I brought her into this madness, and I can’t abandon her here.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving either,” said Clemency. “I’m her house steward, and I’m responsible for her.”

  “Don’t even ask,” warned Char as Ven glanced at him.

  “I want to stay and help look for her,” added Nick.

  “Maybe for a little while longer, Nick,” said Ven. “But I think if we don’t find her soon, you should get out of here, meet up with Ida, and go to the constable. Let him know she’s missing.”

  “I can do that, but he can’t do anything about it,” said Nick. “Didn’t you say the king said the constable has no right to come into this place, and no power here?”

  “Yeah, unless he’s going shopping, that’s right.” Ven sighed. “All right, well, at least someone should meet up with Ida and get back to the inn to let Mrs. Snodgrass know what’s going on. Especially if four of her residents aren’t coming home for a week.”

  “Or longer,” Char added gloomily.

  This is just so wrong, Ven thought. This is just wrong. What do I do? I wish my father were here.

  As his mind went to his father, he remembered the words in the last letter his father had sent him.

  I hope that the jack-rule survived your ordeal, Pepin Polypheme had written. If you see things as they appear through its lens, you are taking measure of the world correctly.

  I haven’t tried the jack-rule, Ven thought. I guess it can’t hurt to look around with it.

  He unbuttoned his pocket and pulled out the thin folding ruler, then extended the telescoping lens.

  Ven peered around through the crowd, through the booths at the shoppers and merchants and goods, but saw no sign of Saeli. Then he turned to the carousel in the distance, and sighted in on the riders aloft in the air on the wooden beasts, laughing or screaming or looking dazed. He scoped all around, but there was nothing visible. Finally he looked back at Finlay, who still sat across the street in front of the tent where the strange animals had been sold. He caught sight of the toasted-marshmallow ears up close, then a gigantic nose, then down to his soft yellow feet tucked in front of him.

  In front of which a tiny smattering of dainty blue wildflowers grew in between the cobblestones.

  Ven looked harder.

  “Clem,” he said to the curate-in-training, “come here a minute.”

  Clemency walked over to him, and he held the glass of the jack-rule steady for her.

  “What kind of flowers are those, do you know?” he asked.

  Clem peered through the lens. “Forget-Me-Nots,” she said. “One of the Spice Folk is Forget-Me-Not. Her brother is Sweet William, but we call him Bill.”

  Ven’s heart started to pound. “Forget-Me-Not,” he murmured, “Forget-Me-Not!”

  “Saeli!” he and Clem shouted at the same time.

  “What?” Char demanded. “What’s going on?”

  Ven ran across the street to where Finlay sat.

  “Good boy,” he said, tousling the marshmallow ears. “Good boy!” He pulled the flowers from the ground and held them under Finlay’s nose. “Seek!”

  The cream-colored dog sniffed the blossoms, then took off, nose to the ground, away from the bright booths of the Market square, heading north.

  Toward the Inner Market.

  “Oh man,” said Char as they ran to catch up, Munx loping casually behind. “I was hopin’ he was gonna go the other way.”

  “How realistic is that?” Clem said. The dog came to a halt at the edge of the street.

  “Look,” said Nick. “More flowers.” A tiny patch grew near a hitching post.

  Ven took out the jack-rule, looking up the road deeper into the gray streets. A haze was hanging in the air, making it hard to see. But sure enough, all along the street were tiny clumps of fragile blue flowers that grew nowhere else in the city.

  Ven glanced to his left.

  “If we’re going to follow the flowers, we should get the dogs back to Mr. Coates,” he said. “His shop is a few blocks over, at the First Row.” The other children nodded in agreement.

  They hurried back to where the pretty shops lined the edge of the market.

  The door to Arms of Coates was standing open.

  The woman who had shown them the silk saw them as they approached. Her face went slack; she turned and hurried back into her store, slamming the door shut behind her. The window shade went quickly down.

  “What’s going on here?” Nick asked nervously.

  Ven ran up to the porch and climbed the stairs. He stopped in the open doorway.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no.”

  13

  The Stolen Alleyway

  * * *

  The trap we had almost set off before had been sprung.

  Crossbow bolts and arrows were stuck in the floor. Spiked balls made of metal had been flung into the walls from hidden mechanisms behind the shields that hung from the ceiling. The suits of armor had fallen like dominoes and now littered the floor.

  Thin streaks of blood were everywhere.

  The back door was standing open.

  * * *

  THE FOUR FRIENDS STOOD, UNABLE TO MOVE, STARING AT THE chaos in what had been a neat and orderly store shortly before.

  “Where’s Mr. Coates?” Clemency asked softly.

  Finlay seemed to be searching for that answer as well. He darted over the threshold, squeezed between them, and began sniffing the wooden floor intently. He passed each of the blood trails after only a quick sniff, then followed his nose to the back door.

  Then he gave a short bark and sat down.

  Carefully, the four made their way through the mess and joined him.


  The back door looked out on an alleyway behind the First Row, into the deeper parts of the Outer Market.

  Like the image Ven had seen earlier in the morning when he had looked through his jack-rule, the world beyond the square of tents and kiosks was a gray one, with peeling paint and broken bricks. The neatly cobbled streets of the festival area gave way to a dirt pathway with only a few patches of bricks here and there. The farther in it seemed, the more shabby everything looked. And, as always, a slight mist hung in the air, even in the golden afternoon light, as if the place had something to hide, even from itself.

  There was no sign of Mr. Coates.

  “What do we do now, Ven?” Char asked. “Any bright ideas?”

  “Saeli’s out there somewhere, either in this part of the Outer Market or, the way my luck’s been going, deep in the Inner Market,” Ven replied in dismay. “For all I know, the Queen of Thieves herself has her.”

  “Queen of Thieves?” said Clemency. “What are you talking about?”

  Ven sighed deeply. “Madame Sharra let me choose three dragon scales in my reading—that’s how she sees the future. The second one, the one that was supposed to tell me what was coming, was the Queen of Thieves. As a fortune, it’s supposed to warn that you are about to lose something important—that would be Saeli, no doubt. But she also said that the Thief Queen is a real person who lives deep in the Inner Market, and who rules the entire Gated City. She’s supposed to be terribly evil, and terribly dangerous. She warned me to stay as far away from her as I could. So it just goes to figure that she’s the one who took Saeli.”

  “If she did, what are we supposed to do about it?” Nick asked nervously. “Mr. Coates is a bloody weaponsmaker, and who knows what even happened to him? We only have a few hours at most to find her and get the heck out of this city. I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “You’re right,” Ven said, staring at the misty streets behind the shop. “It isn’t. So this is what I suggest—you three leave, get to the constable and ask his help. Even if he can’t get inside here, he might have some ideas. Then go home and tell Mrs. Snodgrass what happened.”