“No, the postmaster’s boy.”
Rose Red knelt beside Leo, peering through the branches, which caught and snagged on her veil. “And he’s bringin’ the alger-bruh?”
“More likely a letter from my mother telling my nursemaid to get me back to work, and by Lumé’s crown, that’s the last thing we want!”
“Is it a kind o’ snake?”
“What?”
“The alger-bruh.”
Leo gave her a look. “Don’t you know anything?”
Before she could answer, their attention was arrested by a high, tuneless whistling. Leo crouched a little lower. “That’ll be him now. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll jump down in front and distract his attention; then you sneak down behind and nab his sack. Find the letter from my mother while I keep him busy, then make for the Lake of Endless Blackness as fast as you can!”
“Leo, I—”
“There he is!”
A scruffy boy a size or two smaller than Leo came up the road, whistling like a tone-deaf cicada, a satchel over his shoulder. His face was blissfully ignorant of his impending doom.
“On the count of three,” said Leo.
“I cain’t—”
“One, two . . .”
“Leo, I cain’t—”
“THREE!”
Leo burst from his hollow, tripped on his beanpole, and rolled down into the road with much scraping of hands and knees, but was on his feet in a trice and bolting after the boy . . . who by now was making good time up the hill as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. But Leo had the threat of academics to motivate him, and he overtook the lad and barred his way with Bloodbiter’s Wrath. Leo looked quite the sight with his hair all on end and adorned with sticks and leaves. The boy gave a squawk, froze in place for a moment, then suddenly darted to the left.
“No you don’t!” Leo cried, blocking the path with Bloodbiter’s Wrath. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Oi gots me some mez’ges ter deliver!” the mountain boy declared, his face a mask of outraged dignity. “Oi weres promised a coin fer me troubles.”
“Not until I see them first,” Leo said. “All right, Rose Red! Come on out!”
Nothing happened.
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Oi’s goin’ ter be late. And Oi ain’t suppose ter let nobody sees ’em save Mistress Redbird.”
“Now’s the time, Rose Red!” Leo didn’t take his eyes from the boy as he kept his beanpole up and ready. They sidled back and forth, but the mountain lad didn’t dare make a break. “Like we planned!”
Rose Red didn’t appear.
“Oi ain’t s’pose ter stop fer bandits nor bears nor nobody,” said the boy, and Leo could see him gathering his bony person together for another burst.
“Rosie!” he called.
The boy broke into a run, and Leo was hard-pressed to catch him, though he still couldn’t wrest away the satchel. The best he could manage was to keep the boy from progressing up the hill, and once more they stood facing each other. Leo panted, his sore head throbbing, and the other boy’s face hardened into something like war.
And still no Rose Red.
Leo puffed, exasperated, and planted his beanpole in the dirt. “I say, look here, let’s come to an agreement. Why don’t you let me just look through your bag and take what I need?”
“Not fer bandits, nor fer bears, nor even fer the mountain monster!”
Leo rubbed a hand down his face, hating himself for what he was about to say next. “Look, boy, don’t you recognize me?” And he smoothed down his hair, straightened his shirt, and struck a profile pose with his beanpole extended.
The mountain boy gasped. “Oi! Oi! Silent Lady save us, Oi dern’t recogg-er-nize yer, Yer High—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Leo shook his hair back out and extended a hand to the boy. “Pass them over.”
The satchel strap was looped over the boy’s palm, and Leo hastily dug inside. He found the envelope sealed with a panther and starflower, his mother’s emblem. It was addressed to him, so he did not feel quite as guilty as he might when he slipped it from the sack and into his pocket. No other missives with the panther and starflower symbol were inside, and he handed the lot back to the mountain urchin. The boy bowed several times, then scurried on up the hill and out of sight.
Rose Red appeared at Leo’s side. “Why didn’t you ask him for it from the start?”
Leo glared at her. “Some help you are. You wouldn’t mind if I got swallowed by studies the whole rest of this summer, would you?”
She bowed her head. “I cain’t read in no case.”
“Excuses.”
“And I cain’t . . .”