The Blackthorn Key

A low fire left burning in the oven in the corner gave enough light to see the damage. Pots and cookware were scattered across the benches. Books, flipped open, had been tossed aside like garbage. The ceramic jars were overturned, leaving rainbow powder starbursts on the floorboards. Even the ice vault in the floor was open, the precious chipped chunks left exposed to melt.

It wasn’t until Bridget made a strangled cry that I realized I was squeezing her.

Tom tugged on my sleeve. “We need to go.”

I couldn’t. Against Tom’s urging, I went forward, trembling, into the shop. I expected bad. I got even worse.

Half the jars were off the shelves, some tipped over, some shattered, herbs and powders blown everywhere. Here, too, the books were torn apart, pages fallen across the room like an ink-stained blanket of snow. Even the stuffed animals hadn’t been spared. Every one was sliced open, straw sprayed over the rest of the mess.

My shoulders shook. The horrible, hateful monsters. Were they going to destroy everything I cared about? For a moment, I wanted to collapse. But I didn’t break my promise. I just wiped my eyes and stamped the swell back down, let it fuel the anger inside.

My master’s sash lay in the corner, partly covered in blackberry leaves. I dropped the key on the counter and put Bridget there, too. I picked up the sash. It still smelled faintly of Egyptian incense, reminding me evermore of him. I shook the leaves away and wrapped it around my waist. It held me tight.

I hadn’t returned for this, but I wasn’t going to leave it. Not now. I tied it on over my shirt. Then I searched through the wreckage, fingers sifting through multicolored grains, until I finally spotted what I came for, hidden on the floor under a mound of cinnabar.

My puzzle box. My birthday gift from Master Benedict. Mine.

I held it, letting its weight press into my palm. For one small moment, it felt like everything was all right again.

“Should she be eating that?” Tom said.

I turned. Bridget, on the counter, was pecking away at a pile of fine white crystals.

“Bridget! No!” I ran over. She marched away, flapping her wings.

I dipped a finger in the powder and touched it to the end of my tongue. I tasted sweetness, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only sugar. Harmless, thank goodness. Though I imagined what Master Benedict would say if he caught me feeding valuable sugar to a pigeon.

That’s when it hit me. It was valuable.

Sugar, blackberry leaves, saltpeter, cinnabar . . . apothecary ingredients traded for a fortune at the market. Even if the burglars didn’t understand what all the goods were worth, we had jars of powdered gold and silver, obvious prizes to take. Instead, we stood in a king’s ransom scattered like sand.

Then I realized something else. It was the dry ingredients that littered the shop. Powders, minerals, leaves. All of them. Not one of the jars left on the shelf contained something solid. And none of the jars with liquid had been touched.

Books torn apart. Stuffed animals shredded. Dry goods dumped.

Whoever had ransacked the shop hadn’t come here to steal. They were searching for something. Something specific, hidden by my master. Something so valuable, they were willing to throw away hundreds of pounds’ worth of ingredients to find it.

And they could read the labels on the jars.

I jammed the puzzle cube under my master’s sash and picked up Bridget. “We need to go.”

Tom sounded exasperated. “That’s what I said.” He half jogged toward the workshop door. I followed him, then ran straight into his back.

Bridget squawked and ruffled her feathers. I stepped back. Tom stood frozen in place. “What are you—” I began, but he held his hand up, eyes wide.

Then I heard it, too.





CHAPTER


15


A SLOW CREAK, FROM THE stairs to the second floor. A foot on the dirt. A voice, low and rough.

“Who’s there?” it said.

I pulled on Tom’s shirt. We ducked under the second display table, the one farthest from the light of the fireplace.

Footsteps came to the door, slowly, cautiously.

“Master? Is that you?”