The Blackthorn Key

Master Benedict had struck me in front of Wat to save me, to throw the boy off my trail. The cruel sting of the memory evaporated, leaving an aching emptiness inside. Oh, Master, I cried out to him. Why did you stay when you knew they would kill you? Why didn’t you come with me instead? Why didn’t you take my hand and run?

“I don’t care what Benedict thought of his apprentice,” Stubb said. “The boy might have seen something, heard something, read something. Find him and question him. Then get rid of him, same as the others, whether he knows about the fire or not. We can’t risk keeping him alive.”

I felt like I was frozen. I think Tom had stopped breathing, too.

Wat shrugged. “Fine,” he said, and he moved to go.

“Not now, you fool,” Stubb said. “How are you going to find where he went in the middle of the night? Do it tomorrow. Finish checking the books.”

Wat scowled. “Do you have any idea how many books this old man had?”

Stubb brought his hand up to strike the boy. “Watch your tongue.”

They locked eyes. For a moment, I was sure Wat was going to pull his knife. Instead, slowly, he reached down and took a leather-bound tome from the floor. He slapped it on the counter, puffing a cloud of orange powder into the air. Stubb coughed. Wat smirked, then started flipping pages.

Stubb returned to the saffron, trying to rescue as much of it as he could. Both of them were facing away from us. That wouldn’t last forever.

We needed to get out of here. Now.

Stubb was blocking the door to the workshop. The front door, behind me, was bolted shut. Maybe I could slip that open and unlock the door while their backs were turned. I almost crawled out from under the table before I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

The key. I’d left the key to the shop on the counter.

It was still there, dull gray iron in a pile of sugar. I cursed. I might be able to crawl around the far side of the room without getting spotted, but getting to the counter unseen was never going to happen. There was only one way out.

I needed to get Stubb away from the workshop’s door.

I tried to think. A corner of the puzzle cube tucked under Master Benedict’s sash poked into my stomach. I shifted, trying to adjust it so it would stop. Across from me, Tom curled up even tighter. He looked so scared, I thought he was going to cry. I knew exactly how he felt.

But it was looking at Tom that gave me the idea.

I held Bridget out to him. Fingers trembling, he gathered her in massive, gentle hands and held her close. His eyes widened as I slipped away.

I moved around the table, keeping the wood between me and the intruders. There was a gap in the middle of the room I’d need to cross, but I hoped if I stayed in the shadows, they wouldn’t notice me.

I crawled slowly to the other table, close to the fireplace. My heart thumped all the way there. Huddled behind the display, I searched through my master’s sash. Fortunately, Wat hadn’t broken the vials inside when he’d dumped it. I had to pull half of them out to read the labels before I found the three I was looking for.

Sulfur. Charcoal. And saltpeter.

Wat’s ransacking of my master’s books had left torn paper everywhere. I could use that. Quietly, I worked the cork stoppers out and emptied the vials on one of the pages. My fingers mixed the gunpowder as best as I could. Without the pestle, it wasn’t going to be as good as our cannon. I prayed that it would still do.

This close to the fire, I’d have only a few seconds to get it right. I put the paper with the gunpowder on it next to the fireplace. I took a second page and laid it on top, one corner on the gunpowder, its opposite in the blaze.

It caught instantly. The fire curled the paper faster than I’d expected. I scrambled into the open and dived behind the table that hid Tom and Bridget.

Stubb spun around, eyes narrowed. “What was th—”

Suddenly, the fireplace flared. There was a terrifying hiss. Then flame burst outward from the stone, burning pages shooting upward in its draft.