The Thief Queen's Daughter

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “Keep walking. While you eat, I’ll tell ya,” said the Rat King. “Just remember ta be thankful for each bite while yer listenin’. Come this way.”

  He held up the Lightstone at the opening of another passageway, one that led off for as far as they could see in the glow. Several dark shadows were there as well. The Rat King’s court had returned.

  They followed the shriveled little man and his court until there seemed to be nothing but endless tunnel both ahead of them and behind them. Ven was given one of the mushrooms, which he ate thankfully, while Char struggled to chew on a raw potato.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, they came to another branch in the tunnel. The Rat King and his men stopped. Macedon turned around.

  “If ye follow this path here, to the right, all the way to the end, it’ll bring ya out at the Great River, a mile or so north of the bridge,” he said. “Mind yer manners there—some friends of ours live around there. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them. You’ll be out o’ the Market and free ta go on yer way from there.”

  Ven’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. He heard his friends behind him perk up in excitement.

  “Really?” he exclaimed. “You’re letting us go?”

  The Rat King’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked. “Ye came by invitation—and we’s good hosts. Even if you aren’t the king himself. All we ask is that ye keep our secret, an’ not be leadin’ others back here. We like our privacy.”

  “You have my word,” said Ven. “The only one I will tell is the king.”

  Macedon nodded. “Good.” He pointed to the way out, and the men in the court moved out of the way.

  “Get back safe, now,” the Rat King cautioned. His black eyes sparkled in the fading glow of the Lightstone. “And don’ ferget to tell the king this—that what belonged to his father is by right his now.” He handed the stone to Ven.

  * * *

  Then I remembered—the whole reason we had come into the Gated City in the first place. In all the running from Felonia’s thugs, the searching for Saeli, and the heavy smell of spice and soot, I had lost sight of it. The thought struck me as hard as if a brick had dropped on my head from the sky. My eyes shot open until the skin of my forehead hurt.

  * * *

  “Of course!” Ven exclaimed. “The Wonder! That’s what the coded message was talking about: ‘the brightest light in the darkest shadow.’”

  In the glow of the stone he could see the white teeth in the Rat King’s smile next to the larger, darker spaces in his mouth. The shriveled man shook his head as if he were amused.

  “Alas, lad, I’m afraid you’re like all the ones afore you. You’ve seen the Wonder—but you haven’t seen the light. Ah, well.” He pointed down the tunnel. “Be off, now. If you see anything movin’ in the dark, stand still an’ let it pass, if it’s gonna. It can move a lot faster than you in the tunnels.” He looked back at the glittering eyes of the other children. “Well, faster than them. You’re Nain. You might have a shot at outrunnin’ it.”

  Ven peered down the dark, dank tunnel. “We’ll stay together, no matter what.” His skin was prickling from the Rat King’s words. How could I have been wrong about the Wonder? he thought. Then he remembered he should thank the Downworlders for rescuing them. He turned back.

  “Thank you, Your Majes—”

  The king and his court were gone. Ven’s words echoed up the tunnel behind him.

  “Come on, Polywog, get moving,” Ida insisted.

  It was strange to hear her voice. They were the first words she had said since entering the well.

  “Right,” Clemency agreed. “We don’t want to be here one second more than we have to be.” Saeli nodded behind her.

  “I dunno,” said Char. “We might want to take our time, so as not to disturb any dirt, or things that might be hidin’ in that dirt.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Ven promised. He held up the Lightstone and started down into the darkness ahead of them.

  They walked for so long that it seemed like there would never be an end to their journey. Several times they stopped, needing to sit down and rest, but hurried back to their feet and on their way as soon as they had caught their breath. The tunnel floor was a dark place that skittered with movement, and no one wanted to remain there any longer than necessary.

  Finally, from ahead of them they felt a gust of wind. It was cool and heavy with moisture, as if it were about to rain.

  “Feel that?” Clemency said excitedly. “We must be near the outside!”

  The fresh air gave them hope and new energy. All five started to run, Char in the lead, followed by Ida, Clem, and Saeli, while Ven brought up the rear, still holding out the light.

  The glow of a different kind of light was shining at the tunnel’s edge up ahead. They could hear the sound of rushing water in the distance.

  “It’s the moon, and the river!” Clemency shouted. “Come on, Ven, we’re almost there!”

  “I’m right behind you,” Ven called in return.

  At its end, the tunnel shrank down to the size of a large rabbit hole. The children had to crawl out, one by one, even Saeli. As they did, they found themselves in the gravel along the banks of the Great River. Ven waited until everyone else had crawled out, then followed.

  When he stood up, free of the tunnel, it was like stepping into a different world. The wind greeted him, rushing through his hair and making his clothes snap like the sails on the sea. The moon overhead was rising into a clear sky, shining silver light across the fields around them, pooling in the river, making it seem alive.

  A tall, dark shadow loomed above them, moving like a giant in the dark.

  Ven looked up.

  They were standing near an enormous mill that spanned the Great River, its huge stone turning night and day, powered by the flow of the river, grinding grain into meal, and meal into flour. Beyond the mill to the north there was a town, where bright lights blazed and music could be heard in the distance over the sound of the water. I wonder if that’s one of the mill towns the constable said was such fun, he thought. Then his gaze went higher.

  Turning the huge grindstone was a towering machine, with four giant blades on which large sheets of canvas caught the wind.

  A windmill.

  Ven stared at the giant machine, then felt a chuckle well up inside him, like a bubbling spring. He laughed out loud, causing the others to turn and stare at him as if he were daft. Ven paid them no mind; he laughed and laughed until Char finally came over and shook him by the arm.

  “You all right there, mate?” his friend asked nervously.

  Ven nodded, finally out of laughter.

  “Yes,” he said as the wind blew through again, chasing the clouds along overhead. “Let’s get home. We’ve quite a ways to go still.”

  They followed the river south, walking along the banks. Ven had pocketed the Lightstone, because the light of the full moon was almost as bright as day. Clemency came alongside Ven and nudged him, then looked at Ida. The Thief Queen’s daughter had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she were cold, her face set in a firmly indifferent expression.

  “I’ve tried to talk to her, but she’s not having any part of it,” Clemency whispered so that both boys could hear. “Remember how she told us that she didn’t know her own real name? Well, I told her at least she knows now that her mother thinks it’s beautiful. She gave me a look so cold that I thought I was breathing icicles. It’s time for me to shut up now. Maybe you could say something, Ven.”

  “Oh, sure, I’m someone she really wants advice from,” Ven said, rolling his eyes. “I think anything I might say would only make things worse. Sometimes the best thing you can do for a friend is to not say something when there’s nothing to say.”

  “What a horrible deal,” Char agreed. “For once, I really feel sorry for her. Did you get any idea who that man—her father—might be?”

  “I thought
his voice sounded familiar,” Ven said quietly. “I wondered if it might be Mr. Whiting.”

  Char and Clemency shuddered at the same time.

  “That would be pretty disgusting,” Clem said.

  “And dangerous,” Char added. “I guess it’s prolly possible—they were talkin’ about Northland. When I was working on the Serelinda, that’s where Mr. Whiting got onboard the ship.”

  “Well, whoever her father and mother are, she just needs to know that to us, she’s still Ida,” said Ven. “Not that that is a good thing much of the time—but it’s what she’s comfortable being. So I think that’s how we should treat her. But, as far as that goes, you at least have something you should say to her, Char.”

  He could see Char’s face flush, even in the moonlight.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Char said reluctantly. He slowed his pace, waiting for Ida to draw closer, then walked closer to her.

  “Ida, I—er—I need to say sorry for callin’ you a liar,” he said awkwardly. Ida didn’t look at him, but wrapped her arms tighter and set her jaw. “I guess you really have been in the Market a bajillion times. I apologize.”

  Ida kept walking.

  “An’ I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Char continued. He looked pleadingly at Ven, who shrugged.

  “You didn’t,” Ida said curtly. “I don’t have feelings.”

  “Of course you do, Ida,” said Ven. “Everyone has feelings.”

  For the first time since they came out of the tunnels, Ida turned and looked at him.

  “That’s such a stupid thing to say, Polywog. Surely you’ve met a few people in the last couple o’ days who don’t. But maybe now you know that just ’cause someone takes your stuff or isn’t all that nice to you, that doesn’t mean they’re a liar. I may steal, but I never lie. I do have some standards.”

  Ven exhaled. “Yes, yes you do.”

  “So drop it.”

  “It’s dropped.”

  The thin girl stared at him a moment longer.

  “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Polywog.”

  “I won’t. I don’t. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good.”

  They walked the rest of the way to the bridge in silence.

  The day was beginning to break by the time they finally saw it in the distance. The rushing current swelled around the stanchions, the large upright supports made of stones that held up the span, then rushed between them, sending white plumes of spray skyward around them. The sky above had turned from black to soft blue, though the sun had not yet risen, and the birds were beginning to sing.

  As they reached the foot of the bridge, Ven stopped in amazement. He broke off from the group and walked down to the banks of the river, staring.

  There, beside the bridge, was a series of odd-looking footprints, short, wide tracks with strangely shaped toes.

  Beside them were several wadded-up pieces of waxed parchment, and cookie crumbs.

  “Blow me down,” he whispered.

  “What’s that?” Char asked, coming up behind him. “Looks like trash.”

  “Not trash,” Ven said. “Trolls. Another example of superstition, myth, legend, horsefeathers, and nonsense proved true.”

  Char shrugged. “Or at least proved possible,” he said. “Come on, mate. Step it up. Only a little ways now and we’re home.”

  22

  Another Royal Visit

  WHEN AT LAST THEY CAME THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE INN, THE door painted with a golden griffin, Mrs. Snodgrass let out an embarrassingly loud whoop of delight and relief. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying, but her round face glowed with delight as she hurried across the inn’s floor and swept them into an uncomfortable group embrace.

  “It’s been four days!” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been so worried about you children since Nick came home, saying Saeli had been stolen!” She hugged the little Gwadd girl especially tight. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you all.”

  The smile of delight faded to a look of mock severity. “Especially because there is dust all over my inn.” She looked pointedly at Clem, who blushed. “And weeds in my garden,” she said, staring at Saeli, who turned red as well. “And dishes piling up in the sink,” she said sharply to Char, who shrank away in terror. “And a whole host of odd jobs that need tendin’ to,” she said to Ven.

  “What about me?” Ida demanded. “What are you gonna yell at me for not doin’?”

  “Go get into trouble or something,” Mrs. Snodgrass said, wiping her hands briskly on her apron and heading back for the kitchen. “It’s been far too quiet around here.”

  The children looked at each other and sighed, then set to their tasks, all except Ven, who went over to the tabby cat drowsing lazily in the sun on the stone floor. He pulled the bundle of leaves from his pocket and dropped it in front of Murphy.

  “The treat you were promised,” he said.

  “Catnip.” Murphy sighed in delight. “Oh, happy day. A wonderful treat, to be certain. Well done, Ven. Too bad you’re human. You are almost worthy of being a cat.”

  “But I’m not human, Murphy,” Ven said. “I’m Nain.”

  “Ven,” Murphy said haughtily, “by cat standards, you’re human. Actually, you fall into an even broader category than that. There’s cats. And then there’s everything else. Unfortunately, you still qualify as ‘everything else.’”

  “Well, actually, the one who thought of bringing it to you was Ida,” Ven admitted. “So if you are keeping track of points or something, she’s a lot closer to being a cat than I am.”

  The orange tabby stretched. “Alas, neither of you will ever get there,” he said as he walked off to find a warm place to sleep. “You will just have to get used to being what you are, and living with the disappointment. Good night.”

  “Murphy—it’s morning.”

  The cat opened one eye, then pointedly stretched one paw, allowing the claws to extend fully.

  “Do you really want to press this point with me, Ven?” he asked. Then he rolled to his side and returned to his slumber.

  From across the room Ven could see the Lirin Singer smile.

  “Don’t ever try to confuse a cat with the facts,” McLean said, tuning his strange harp. “They know better. Welcome home, Ven. How was the Market?”

  Ven came over and sat beside him. “Terrible,” he said. “And amazing. And depressing. And magical.”

  McLean nodded. “As I expected. But I see you had things well in hand.”

  Ven opened his mouth to disagree, then looked down at his palm. The stain with the image of the Time Scissors was still there.

  “Can you see it, McLean?” he asked quietly.

  “See what?”

  “The picture in my hand.”

  The Singer smiled. “Now, Ven, you know better than that. I can’t see anything.”

  “Not with your eyes—but you know it’s there, don’t you?”

  “If you’re asking because you want to be certain that you are seeing it, then I can tell you that it’s there,” said the Singer. “But you have to remember, Ven, Singers swear to always tell the truth. So can I see it? No. I’m afraid not. But when you’re done with your chores, I’d love to hear the story of your adventure.”

  Ven sighed in relief. “Good enough,” he said. “Well, I’d best get to work.”

  Mrs. Snodgrass came out of the kitchen, a plate of sausages in her hands. “All of your chores can wait until you’ve had breakfast,” she announced to the children. “And a nap.”

  Ven came over and, feeling brave, reached up to steal a sausage off the plate.

  * * *

  After venturing into a market of thieves, having a friend stolen, our backs marked with pickpocketing circles, seeing Mr. Coates’s shop ransacked, being imprisoned by the Queen of Thieves, escaping and being hunted by the entire Raven’s Guild, jumping into a well, facing the Rat King and the rest of the Downworlders—after all of that, how could I not be brave enough to ste
al one of Trudy Snodgrass’s sausages in front of her very eyes?

  I’ll tell you how.

  The fearsome wife of Captain Snodgrass, terror of the seven seas, the woman sailors from every ship in Serendair fear more than sea monsters and storms, who is not even as tall as I am, stared me straight in the eye. And as she did, my hand started to shake, my knees knocked, and I moved my hand quickly back into my pocket and backed away as quickly as I could.

  I guess I’m going to have to work on that being brave thing.

  * * *

  “Sit down at the table, Ven Polypheme, and eat from your plate, or I’ll box your ears into next week,” the innkeeper said severely.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ven replied. “And afterwards I’ll skip the nap and will get as many odd jobs done as you want, Mrs. Snodgrass, if you wouldn’t mind letting me take a short trip to the castle first.”

  * * *

  So I caught a ride in the wagon with Otis, who was heading home across the bridge after a long night’s work. He let me sleep in the back, and even though he’s convinced that the stories of the trolls are nonsense, he was good enough to wake me up long enough to lay out the new cookies Mrs. Snodgrass packed for them.

  He dropped me off at the gate of Elysian just as the sun was four fingers from the horizon. I knew it would soon be time for noon-meal, so I asked if the king would like to play a game of Hounds and Jackals, then sat down and dozed off again while the message was sent up the bajillion steps to the castle.

  The guards woke me some time after that to say that word had come down for me to come directly up.

  On the way past the rocky outcropping that formed the Guardian of the Mountain, I watched carefully to see if it would wink at me again. But when I was looking carefully at it, all it resembled was rocks. I couldn’t even see the face. Maybe there’s a lesson there, that the magic of the world that the king is looking for sometimes not only hides in plain sight, but oftentimes doesn’t want to be seen at all if someone is looking for it directly.