They left the Ferret Room. Ludda-bee and Johan-bee turned into the corridor where the high brunka’s chamber was.
Elodie stood still. If she didn’t turn but continued a few steps, she’d come to a room between the high brunka’s corridor and the next, where the thief might have waited if he or she had worked alone. “I want to look in this room, too, if you don’t mind.” She opened the door to the Turtle Room, which proved to be another tiny chamber similarly furnished.
Johan-bee went in first this time and moved the bed.
“Thank you.”
Near the wall, the rushes lay too flat. A narrow, cleared path led to the flattened place that could have been made by an arm.
“Oh!” Elodie’s heart speeded up. The thief had been here, had breathed this air, had opened the box, had touched the handkerchief that weeps, had hurried out. A single thief, since this was the room—if ITs theory was right.
“What do you see?” Ludda-bee bent down, too. “Nothing’s there. Just rushes.”
Johan-bee said, “In winter the Oase is overrun by mice.”
A mouse could have caused the path and could have lain there, matting the rushes.
“He knows about mice,” Ludda-bee said, starting down the corridor after Johan-bee. “A few nights ago he woke us all with his screaming when one walked across his face. You have a visage beloved by rodents, Johan.”
Make a jest of it, Johan-bee! Elodie thought. He could say that all creatures loved his face. Then Ludda-bee’s wit would be outwitted.
But he marched ahead of them.
Elodie called, “Thank you, Johan-bee, for your labor.”
He turned. “I don’t mind. Bees help.” The toothache medicine almost disappeared in his smile.
They continued on to the garderobe, where Elodie disliked having people waiting for her. Again, she pitied Johan-bee.
When she came out, Ludda-bee said, “I suppose you want to use it, too, Johan.”
He did. While they waited, Elodie tried to think of useful questions to ask the cook, who began a new tirade with “See how slow he is, girl? I would have finished twice by now. He’s slow in everything. He took forever to dig up the beets before the blizzard, before you and the monster came. If he were cook we’d never eat. It’s a wonder Master Uwald has taken an interest in him. That man is goodness itself, to poor Master Robbie, too.” But, incapable of paying a complete compliment, she added, “Of course, Master Uwald will wager with anyone. He’d play dice with a pig if it had hands.”
“Do you think the high brunka will find the Replica in time?”
“I do not. Marya hates to think ill of anyone. . . .”
And you love to, Elodie thought.
“. . . but she’ll find it in the end, and then I pity the thief.”
“Who do you think might have done it?”
“Master Tuomo or Mistress Sirka. He’s high and mighty, and she’s low and mighty. He’s losing his inheritance to Master Robbie, and she’s as poor as a termite.”
Johan-bee emerged at last.
Elodie thought she’d learned one thing worth knowing: there had been a single thief, if her masteress’s theories were right.
As they walked the long corridor back to the great hall, she wondered if Ludda-bee could be the thief. The cook had studied Johan-bee’s habits, so she’d be aware of when he’d go to the garderobe. And she knew the Replica’s hiding place. But if she took it, she’d have to leave the Oase and stop complaining. The loss would be too great.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The piebald horse picked his way down the mountain, slowed by the deep snow. He felt the low rumble far beneath his hooves, but his nature was placid and he experienced no fear.
The widow, who had never ridden a horse before, wound her fingers tight in his mane. At first the children expressed wonder at being so high up, but within a half hour they fell silent, the steady motion putting them all in a kind of trance. The baby slept. The donkey trailed behind.
An hour passed. The air warmed. The snow, which in the cold had been light as sifted flour, grew heavy and wet and harder to push through.
They entered the woods below the cottage. Although less snow had reached the ground, the trees grew close together, and the ground was stony. The horse had to pick his way and progressed more slowly. They hadn’t gone far before the earth shuddered, instantly awakening the ogre in the horse. Fee fi! He stopped because that seemed safest, since every step would be treacherous, but the donkey bolted. The baby and the three-year-old wailed.
The shuddering was noiseless, but a crack split the air ahead as a tree toppled and narrowly missed the donkey, who surged ahead.
A great groaning and whirring came from above them on the mountain. His Lordship guessed rocks and snow were skidding down. Fo fum! Let the slide not reach them!
It didn’t, but, in the distance, someone screamed.
His Lordship knew he couldn’t investigate the cry, not with as many as he could carry already on board. He wished he could.