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“Wait!”

  Masteress Meenore had stopped His Lordship in time. He lowered his arms.

  “Upon your arrival, ask the brunka and his bees if they know of anyone who might be angry at them, exceedingly angry, or angry at anyone else on the mountain, or angry at the mountain itself, although they may consider that question odd. Ask also if anyone has recently left Zertrum.”

  “Ask . . .” Elodie paused, not liking to offend the high brunka, but this wasn’t a time to worry about that. “Ask if the brunkas refused aid to anyone recently.”

  “We never deny help lightly, lamb.”

  “Excellent, Elodie. Your Lordship, make them answer you.”

  Count Jonty Um’s expression darkened. Elodie knew he hated to be feared, and now he was being told to take advantage of the terror.

  Masteress Meenore knew, too. “You are a count—nobility. Use that if you can. But if you must, frighten them. You may save lives.”

  The high brunka said, “How soon will you be there?”

  “Before dawn.”

  “Will you stay to help people off the mountain? Most folks live in the valley or on the lower slopes, but several families built their cottages high, to be with their flocks.” The high brunka clasped her hands in supplication. “Please help them.”

  “You must not. You may be tempted by your unaccountably kind nature and by the direness of people’s need. Resist! I require the answers to my questions if my inquiry is to succeed.”

  His Lordship raised his arms.

  Elodie braced herself. She hated the shifts because His Lordship’s face bore such a look of agony. “High Brunka, it may not hurt as much as it seems to. He doesn’t say.”

  “Thank you for telling me, lamb.”

  His mouth opened in a silent scream; his eyes became slits; his nose wrinkled; his nostrils flared. His body vibrated, became a shrinking blur overwhelmed by his blue cloak and blue cap. His silver pendant on its golden chain slid off the pile of apparel. The ogre seemed to have disappeared.

  High Brunka Marya breathed, “Where . . .”

  The mound shook, jounced, bounced. Elodie pulled away the yards of cloth to reveal a yellow bird ruffling his feathers. Elodie saw His Lordship’s intelligence shining out of his deeply set eyes.

  “Why doesn’t he go?” High Brunka Marya said.

  Elodie remembered first. “He’s waiting for you to wind your medal around his neck.”

  “Ah, yes.” She did so, and the swift tolerated her hands. She finished and stood.

  Elodie, who hadn’t stopped watching her friend, saw the thought fade from the bird’s eyes.

  Was he frightened to find himself in a stable, so close to a human, a dragon, a brunka?

  He cheeped a high, whistling chirp and flew out into the night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The swift circled the stable once and flew north, his being almost overcome by the burdens the ogre had placed on him: a feeling, two images, and two memories. The feeling: urgency. The images: a volcanic mountain peak that looked like a gaping fish and a building with two chimneys and an attached stable. The memories: a long-haired dog and a girl with big eyes and a wide, expressive mouth.

  The wind had died to a bare breeze. The snowflakes were shimmering sparkles. In his heart, urgency paired with the joy of flight.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Elodie missed her friend instantly. With careful fingers, she brushed hay off his beautiful cloak. Fly safely. Hurry back.

  “Madam, a few questions before you and Elodie leave me.”

  Leave IT? Of course, for the Oase. She was no use out here.

  “When was the Replica stolen?” IT asked.

  “I’m not sure. Within the last three days, certainly.”

  Three days? Zertrum might already be about to spew! Lambs and calves! IT should have asked this before His Lordship left! Elodie squeezed his cloak, which filled her arms. What had they sent him into?

  “Since then, has anyone departed the Oase?” IT asked.

  “No one. I discovered the theft late this afternoon after the storm began. We have guests, which we rarely do this time of year—”

  “Mmm.”

  ITs Mmm always meant something. Elodie felt sure this one meant that these guests might have come in order to commit the theft.

  “Poor Master Robbie—he’s a pup, as young as this lamb—grew bored because of the snow and being confined indoors. He asked to see the Replica again.” She added, “He saw it for the first time right after he arrived.”

  Elodie decided Master Robbie was a boy, not a puppy. Had he really made his request out of boredom? She felt ITs eyes on her. They exchanged glances. Maybe the boy knew it was gone. She wondered why he was poor Master Robbie.

  To the left of the stable door stood a rough cupboard, where she thought she might stow Count Jonty Um’s clothing. She went to it and lifted the wooden latch. What if the thief had hidden the Replica here, a reasonable spot for an escape on horseback?

  But the shelves seemed empty. She used her own cloak to wipe away dust on a middle shelf and placed His Lordship’s cloak there, then returned to the heap on the floor for the rest of his things. His boots she placed below the lowest shelf. His silver pendant, which was very valuable, she pushed under his cloak toward the back of the cupboard.

  High Brunka Marya was still explaining. “When I went to fetch the Replica, it wasn’t there.” She stood and paced. “I looked in other places, thinking I might have been absentminded when I put it away.” She stopped. “But I wouldn’t have been, not with the Replica. I’d never set it down anywhere except on its pedestal.”

  “Did you raise the alarm?”

  She shook her head. “I gave Master Robbie other relics to look at, Masteress. I said I was too tired to fetch it just then and promised to bring it in the morning. He was content.”

  Elodie’s and her masteress’s eyes met again. She felt a flash of happiness that they were thinking alike, that the boy’s contentment might have been a ruse.

  “High Brunka?” Elodie returned to her stool. “Er . . .” She felt shy, questioning a brunka. “Er . . . who else was there when Master Robbie asked for the Replica again, and who was there when you brought him the other relics?”

  “When the pup asked, we were gathered around the big fireplace, all the guests and Ursa-bee. When I returned, our cook, Ludda-bee, had come to announce what she was serving for the evening meal, so she was there, too.”

  If the thief was among them, he or she knew that the theft had been discovered.

  “What did you do next?” Masteress Meenore scratched under ITs jaw.

  “I went to my chamber to think.” The mask of distress covered her face again. Her eyes were tormented. “I knew I had to tell everyone, but I wanted to organize my ideas, which were as scattered as the stars. Then you sang, Masteress, and I came. The guarding bees were dozing at their posts. My movements are almost silent, so they didn’t waken.”

  IT shook ITs big head. “Guards are permitted to sleep?”

  “They’d have heard anyone but a brunka.”

  IT let that stand. “Might the thief escape in your absence, Madam, now that the blizzard has ended?”

  “He wouldn’t get far on foot in this snow. If he wanted a horse, he’d have to come here.”

  “He or she wouldn’t get far. If he or she wanted . . . Lodie, can you forgo sleep tonight?”

  She nodded. She’d done so before for IT.

  “High Brunka, can you show Lodie in secret where the Replica had been kept?”

  High Brunka Marya said that almost everyone would be asleep. “The bees who guard the Replica will be awake, but they know where it’s kept anyway.”

  ITs smoke shaded pink. “Mmm,” IT said coldly.

  She raised her chin and stepped back. “I have no secrets from my bees after they’ve been with me for three years.”

  Elodie heard ITs Fool! hang in the air unspoken. The high brunka blushed.

  “After you have shown
Lodie the Replica’s hiding place, you must awaken everyone and inform them of the theft. There is not a moment to lose. The snow has lessened. The thief may be contemplating his or her escape. How awkward these he-she and his-her locutions are. How much more efficient to be an IT.” Enh enh enh.

  Elodie stiffened. How could IT laugh now?

  “Lodie, if I cannot hold myself apart from events, I will never see them whole. You must cultivate this quality in yourself, which will be essential when the high brunka reveals the theft. No telltale sign in her audience may go unnoticed by you: no blush, no shudder, no sigh, no odor of distress. You must have the heightened senses of a brunka and the perspicacity of a detecting dragon.”

  What if I miss something, Elodie thought, and it’s the most important clue? “Masteress, you should be there.”

  “Alas, the fear and awe that I inspire would call forth trembling and stares. Even I could not discern which were due to guilt and which to my presence. Better by far that you be the only witness.”

  She nodded, but she wished that a mountain and His Lordship weren’t at stake.

  “Feeling—whatever you may feel—may not be allowed in. Madam, do not tell anyone that the girl is in my employ. She is a mere child I am returning to her home out of the goodness of a dragon’s heart.” Enh enh enh.

  “A half-truth is as false as a whole lie,” the high brunka said promptly, as if the words had been waiting on her lips.

  ITs smoke purpled. “An exploding volcano will be one complete truth, Madam, and your failure to prevent it will be another.”

  The high brunka sank onto her stool and spoke to her hands in her lap. A pale rainbow unfurled, then faded. “As you wish, Masteress. I’ll lie and try to be convincing.”

  “Excellent.” IT asked and was told that the Oase had a great hall, a large room. “Keep everyone there except for your most trusted bees, those who have been with you at least seven years. They may begin a search of the Oase. Have them search in pairs. Better yet, see that they do everything in pairs, and change the pairings often.”

  Oh! Elodie thought, dismayed. She’d heard that the Oase tunneled into the mountain, spidering into a vast warren of corridors and rooms. How could they hope to find anything as small as the Replica?

  “A bee would never take the Replica.”

  ITs tail twitched. “Madam, that is the assertion of an imbecile. Look at me.”

  Elodie thought she would shrivel up if IT ever used that tone with her.

  High Brunka Marya met ITs eyes. “Brunkas trust hearts and judge acts. That may make us imbeciles to you.”

  “Just so. Dragons rarely trust.”

  They dropped their eyes at the same time. IT continued, “Your bees know where the Replica was kept, which almost certainly caused the mischief. A bee was indiscreet, or a bee is the thief.”

  “I’ll do what you suggest.”

  “As my agent, Elodie will hold you to your promise.”

  She’d have to mansion an imperious self for that.

  ITs smoke whitened. “In the morning, expect me at the Oase entry, ready to interrogate each guest and each bee. Instruct those you can instruct to answer me truthfully. The thief will certainly lie. If everyone else is honest, I may catch an inconsistency.”

  “Come, lamb.” The high brunka stood.

  “Go!” IT said.

  Elodie wrapped her cloak around herself.

  “Wait, Lodie! In the Oase, proceed as if Zertrum were safe for a century. If you rush, you will bungle. You will meet bees and guests and will need to take their measure. I will want your opinion.”

  “Masteress! There isn’t time.”

  “Mansion that there is. And take care and more care and care again. A thief who would make a mountain explode will not mind destroying you.”

  “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “You let your most important possession be taken.”

  “I’ll be careful, Masteress.”

  “See that you are. And keep your penetrating mind a secret, Lodie. The appearance of a slow wit . . .”

  Elodie hardly heard the end of the sentence. Had IT truly called her clever? If I had dragon smoke, she thought, it would be white and spiraling with happiness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Masteress Meenore watched Elodie follow the high brunka into the night. What a slender reed the girl is, IT thought, and such a valiant reed! How easy to cut down a reed.

  ITs smoke grayed, and something that might have been a tear filled ITs emerald eye. Never before had an unfathomably brilliant, temperamentally chilly IT so treasured a human girl.

  As IT curled ITself for sleep, IT felt virtuous. I am capable of deep feeling, IT thought.

  And yet I sent her into danger.

  Pride in ITs goodness faded. IT thought, Life is danger, and was asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  High Brunka Marya lit their way with a series of rainbows. When they reached the end of one, it faded, and she sent forth another. Snow still fell, but lazily. Beyond the rainbow glow the night was black and seemed eternal, although to the east, on the other side of the mountain, the horizon might already be smudged with gray. Elodie and High Brunka Marya crossed a wide ledge through deep snow.

  “There’s a stairway ahead. Hold my hand, lamb.”

  Their gloved hands met easily, since the two were equally tall. High Brunka Marya’s grip was firm.

  “Here. Up.” She tugged Elodie.

  Although Elodie sought footing, her boot just crashed through snow. Then she had it. She’d been feeling for something higher, but these steps had been made for short legs. They climbed together, struggling in the snow. Once, Elodie had to hold the high brunka to save her from falling. Luckily the steps were wide enough for the two to climb side by side.

  A closeness comes when two do something difficult together. Elodie felt she could rely on the high brunka for steadiness, and she hoped the high brunka was beginning to trust her.

  It occurred to Elodie that after the high brunka showed her the Replica’s hiding place, they might not be alone together again. She tried to think of questions that a penetrating mind would ask.

  Nothing came for two more steps. Then she huffed, “High Brunka, why did your worry grow when you found out I’m from Dair Mountain?”

  She heard a smile in High Brunka Marya’s voice. “That was before your masteress explained matters to me.”

  An evasion.

  Two more difficult steps to another ledge. They lumbered through snow and then were out of it, under the eaves of the Oase. The high brunka let Elodie’s hand go and strained to raise a heavy wooden bar, finally succeeding.

  “Help me. Push!”

  The big door moved by inches. Elodie doubted it would be wide enough to admit Masteress Meenore, although Count Jonty Um, whose size was mostly in height, probably could squeeze through.

  They slipped in as soon as the opening let them and then had to work to close the door again. Darkness was broken only by embers glowing in three distant fireplaces, one far to the right, one far to the left, and the last far, far ahead. The space felt vast and empty and hardly warmer than the cold outside.

  The high brunka took her hand again. “Come.”

  Elodie’s feet shushed across the floor rushes.

  “Quietly!” High Brunka Marya whispered. Her steps were noiseless.

  Elodie lifted her feet but couldn’t help making a small whisking sound with each footfall.

  Around the fireplace in the right wall, cocooned in blankets, people, probably bees, slept on pallets, as the servants did in His Lordship’s castle. One slumberer rolled over. Another flung out an arm. An old man slept sitting up on a bench next to the fire. His snore rumbled and whistled to a regular beat.

  They passed the fireplace and eventually reached a smaller door, much too low and narrow for Elodie’s masteress or His Lordship.

  “Don’t gasp,” High Brunka Marya whispered.

  What was there to gasp about? Elodie brace
d herself for a shock. The high brunka opened the door.

  The air smelled metallic. Near the ceiling of a narrow corridor that had been carved out of the mountain, wee lights twinkled.

  “Lambs and calves!”

  “Shh!” But the whisper sounded proud. “Oase glowworms. Brighter than my rainbow.”

  “Flying worms?”

  “They hang.”

  The worms emitted a green light. Each one was as tiny as the tip of a blade of grass, and they were as crowded together as grass in a meadow.

  “They hiss,” the high brunka added. “But you probably can’t hear them.”

  She couldn’t. She followed High Brunka Marya straight ahead, looking up as she walked. The glowworms continued into the distance. “Are they magic? Did Brunka Harald make them?”

  “They were here before him. They’re just worms.”

  They weren’t just anything. “Why don’t they light up the great hall?”

  “They prefer smaller places.” She turned right into another corridor. The worms shone here, too.

  The passageway was warmer than the great hall had been, as warm as spring. Elodie let her cloak hang loose.

  “Lamb . . .” The high brunka stopped. “If you want to stay here, no matter what happens with the Replica, we’ll give you asylum. You don’t have to continue to serve the dragon. You’ll be as safe as the glowworms here.”

  Oh no! “Did something happen to my parents?”

  “No. I believe they’re fine. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Then why would I need asylum?”

  “Your parents sent you away, a twelve-year-old lamb—I mean, child.”

  “My parents love me!”

  “You could be a bee if you like.”

  Elodie shrugged this off. Bees didn’t mansion or deduce or induce. “High Brunka, I’m old enough to apprentice, and my family thought I could do it for free.”

  Her parents, with the encouragement of Albin, who knew she wouldn’t live a happy life on the farm, had sent her, less than six weeks ago (although it seemed like an age) across the strait to apprentice in Two Castles town. They hadn’t known what she’d learned only on her way over, that free apprenticeships had been abolished. If Masteress Meenore hadn’t taken her in, she might have starved. If Count Jonty Um hadn’t hired them, he’d still be just a frightening figure to her.