Stolen Magic

She expected a broader smile and a more genuine welcome, but the high brunka’s frown deepened.

 

“Madam,” IT said, “you are every moment confirming my conjecture. You recognized Elodie’s name, and your unease increased.” IT held up a claw because the high brunka began to protest. “There is trouble of a certainty. As Lodie proclaimed, I am brilliant. You believe we are connected to the trouble.”

 

His Lordship left the oxen in four steps. “Is Elodie in danger, Meenore?”

 

“We may all be at risk. I require information to evaluate, but this brunka has not obliged us. Perhaps we can deduce on our own. Lo—”

 

“How do you know something is wrong?”

 

“An admission. Lodie, how did I conclude some calamity had befallen the Oase or the high brunka?”

 

Elodie felt the familiar pressure of her brain being squeezed. “Er . . . Masteress, you sang so that someone might hear us. Er . . . you knew brunkas have especially sharp ears. And a brunka came. Wasn’t that what you expected?” Her coming couldn’t mean anything! “Er . . . um . . .”

 

“You disappoint me. Your Lordship, if someone unknown arrived outside your castle in a blizzard, would you go yourself to see who it was?”

 

“Yes. A servant might freeze. I could always—”

 

“Oh!” Elodie had figured it out. “Pardon, Your Lordship. A nobleman less sweet-natured than Count Jonty Um would send a servant. High Brunka, why didn’t you send a few of your bees?”

 

IT didn’t give the high brunka time to answer. “Good, Elodie. Why do you think—”

 

“Masteress . . .”

 

“You know I do not relish interruptions, Lodie. What is it?”

 

She approached IT and stood on tiptoe.

 

IT lowered ITs head.

 

She whispered into ITs earhole. “The high brunka looks as if . . .” Midsentence she remembered brunka hearing. Feeling foolish, she finished without whispering. “She needs to sit.”

 

“Excellent observation. We do not want our informant to swoon.”

 

High Brunka Marya’s face was pale, and she stood on spread feet for balance. “Lamb, you’ll find a stack of stools at the end of the stalls.”

 

Elodie hurried through the stable, which held the hired oxen as well as six horses and seven donkeys. She wondered if all these beasts belonged here or if the Oase had guests.

 

“Bring a stool for yourself, Lodie. Your Lordship, perhaps you can procure a seat that—”

 

“I’ll stand.”

 

Elodie returned with two stools. The high brunka sat on one a few yards from ITs head. Elodie placed her own stool so that the four of them formed a rough diamond. She faced Count Jonty Um’s legs, and Masteress Meenore opposed the high brunka.

 

“Now. To continue. Lodie, why do you think High Brunka Marya came herself?”

 

“Um . . . because she was expecting someone and she didn’t want anyone to know?”

 

“Think, Lodie! Not unless she expected a singing dragon. She heard my song.”

 

Elodie pressed her hands together. “Er . . . um . . .” An idea came. She tested it and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. “Because she hoped we could help her and she didn’t want anyone else to know.”

 

“A reasonable inference. She certainly prefers to keep our arrival to herself. There is another possibility as well. She does not anticipate help from us. Rather—”

 

His Lordship interrupted. “She thinks we’re part of whatever is wrong.” Unspoken, hanging in the air: No one trusts an ogre.

 

Elodie’s mind raced straight to the worst possible calamity. “High Brunka Marya, has the Replica been stolen?”

 

“No. Certainly not.” The high brunka avoided Elodie’s eyes. Her hand went to straighten her cap, and for a moment—a blink—her face became a mask of distress before she recaptured her thin smile.

 

The mansioner in Elodie recognized the lie. “Lambs and calves! Someone did take the Replica. Masteress, this is terrible!” She held her head as if it might fly apart. “If the Replica isn’t found, Zertrum Mountain will explode.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

 

“Are your parents and Albin at risk, Elodie?”

 

How kind His Lordship was, to think of them, and to crouch so that his face was level with hers. Her masteress looked merely curious.

 

She said, “They’re safe. Thank you. Navon Mountain stands between our Potluck Farm and Zertrum. But many families live on Zertrum.”

 

“Excellent deducing, Elodie,” IT said, “and whatever else you did to root out the truth. Pray, what is this Replica a replica of? And how will its theft cause a mountain to spew?”

 

Elodie hardly heard. Was a bee the thief? How long had the Replica been gone?