All seven chambers of Masteress Meenore’s heart expanded as IT took in Zertrum’s beauty: peak of striated rock; mountain bones thrusting up through silver ice; snow-dusted evergreen slopes; cascading streams; the brown dot of a dwelling here and there.
Suddenly, as if a huge, invisible hand were at work, the entire mountain trembled and then became motionless again. The volcano showing its power.
IT flew close to the ground, enjoying the sight of ITs own shadow, passing over people fleeing their homes, who looked up with terrified faces.
Many drove their beasts before them. Fools! IT thought. They should have abandoned their herds and made as much haste as they could.
IT overflew a forest interrupted by a half-frozen stream. Below, but not in ITs shadow, and so having no reason to look up, a woman and a brood of children crossed the water on the back of an enormous horse, which was followed by an unburdened donkey. IT thought, How fortunate these people are to have such a powerful and obliging mount.
Your Lordship, where have you gone? Did you shape-shift? What beast are you now?
IT continued winging ITs way north.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After they left Deeter-bee, Elodie whispered to Master Robbie, “Master Tuomo is angry and prosperous.”
“He whipped his horse.”
And he’d been her masteress’s favorite suspect, if not for his sons.
Without further discussion, they went to him. Side by side, they sat on the floor and began going through the lower shelf of the same open cabinet that he was investigating.
Mistress Sirka merely stood at Master Tuomo’s elbow, watching Dror-bee. Elodie followed her gaze. Dror-bee seemed completely absorbed in his task, absurdly so. If he picked up a box, it wasn’t sufficient to peer inside; he had to turn it upside down as well. If everyone else were as slow as he, Zertrum would spew before much searching had been done.
And yet he appeared one of the most distressed, which might be a clue that he was mansioning his suffering. Or it might just be his character: a silly man, who heedlessly threw himself into every endeavor.
In contrast to Dror-bee, Master Tuomo’s movements were quick and determined as he pulled thick tomes out of a shelf of chained books, each volume big enough to conceal the Replica if the pages had been hollowed out. Accordingly, he opened every one and thumbed through it. Before returning each book, he peered into the darkness of the shelf behind it.
Elodie said, “If the Replica had been chained, it might not have been stolen, don’t you think, Master Tuomo?”
He just grunted.
Together, Elodie and Master Robbie moved relics off the bottom shelf onto the floor, so they couldn’t miss anything: a heavy granite rock, sanded smooth; a wooden carving of a deer; a cottage made of clay, too small to hold the Replica; a bowl full of glass baubles.
The last relic was a wooden box, also not big enough for the Replica but certainly large enough for—
Elodie and Master Robbie looked at each other. She nodded at him, and he lifted the lid.
Gray feathers, not the handkerchief that wept. She touched the heap, half expecting it to turn into a bird, but nothing happened.
Masteress, Elodie thought, I have no more idea of who the thieves are than you did when you left, no more idea, really, than if we’d never come to the Oase.
Master Robbie ran his hand along the shelf. “Nothing.”
Elodie pointed up at Master Tuomo and shrugged, meaning they hadn’t learned anything about him.
Master Robbie nodded, picking up an ancient-looking clay crock. He said, louder than if he had been speaking to just her, “I once stole a jar of honey from the inn where Grandmother worked.”
Elodie felt a new stillness from Master Tuomo.
Master Robbie chuckled. “I ate a spoonful every day till it was gone.”
“Did anyone catch you?” Elodie asked, as she deduced he wanted her to.
“A month later, Grandmother found the jar. She insisted that I pick my own punishment.”
“I would have taken the rod to you.” Master Tuomo crouched to talk to them.
“What punishment did you pick?” Elodie moved the relics back onto their shelf.
“I apologized to the innkeeper.”
“That was enough for your grandmother?” Master Tuomo’s voice was disapproving.
“She said it was perfect.”
“What did the innkeeper do?” Elodie asked.
“He took the rod to me.”
She wasn’t sure the punishment had been perfect. Did it have to be so harsh?
Master Tuomo barked a sharp laugh and stood. “You’re better for it. My sons are fine young men because of the rod.” He returned to examining the books.
Elodie thought, How much do you truly care about your children? Might you steal the Replica and not worry about their safety?