The Thief Queen's Daughter (12 page)

Nick held out five copper pieces. “Here’s the fare for all of us,” he said, his face turning red as the woman smiled more brightly and opened her hand to him.

“You want to ride the griffin swing?” she asked, pocketing the coppers.

“Ye—yes ma’am,” Nick said awkwardly.

The young woman nodded, then took the beautiful blossom in her hand and held it under Nick’s nose.

“Do you like my flower?” she asked. Nick nodded. “Does it smell pretty?”

Nick sniffed, then nodded again. Char coughed into his fist, and Ven suppressed a chuckle. Nick had the same stupid look on his face that Char got when he was around Felitza.

The burly man in charge of the red griffin swing nodded to the woman, and she took down the rope. “You can board the griffin now,” she said. “Have a wonderful flight.”

“Thank you.” Nick scurried over to the swing and climbed into the hollow seat.

Char was next in line. “Can I ride the silver dragon on the carousel?” he asked.

“Of course,” the woman said. “Any beast you want.” She waved the flower in Char’s face as well, then stepped out of the way so he could climb onto the dragon. Then she turned to Ven. “And you, sir?”

“I think I’ll ride the winged lion, if that’s all right,” Ven said.

“Certainly,” said the woman. She held out the flower again for Ven to smell it. It was a luscious red, with soft petals and a black center.

From behind Ven’s shoulder, Clemency’s arm shot out and pushed the stem of the blossom out of the way.

“Uh, Ven, don’t do that,” she said seriously. She pushed Ven toward the carousel, then let Saeli go ahead of her.

“What’s the matter, Clem?” Ven asked as he walked over to the wooden lion with wings.

“You shouldn’t be sticking your face in herbs or flowers you don’t recognize,” Clemency answered. “The Spice Folk use flowers and herbs for all sorts of things, mostly medicines, but for mischief as well. You need to be more careful with what you breathe in.”

“You’re right, I didn’t even think about it,” said Ven as he climbed into the lion’s bejeweled saddle and took hold of the reins. “Glad you’re paying attention, Clem.”

“Someone has to,” Clem agreed. “And I’m the only house steward here, so it may as well be me.”

Smoothly, the carousel began to move, slowly gaining speed as the music grew louder and merrier. Ven held on to the lion’s mane, gripping the heavy wooden sides with his knees.

The wings of the lion beat in time to the music as the carousel spun around, thrilling Ven to the bone. He could hear the excited laughter from his friends on the carousel, and the high, wild screaming of Nick as the griffin swings were pushed higher and higher by the burly men.

After what seemed like both forever and no time at all, the rides slowed to a gentle stop. The carousel settled back onto the ground, still slowly spinning. Ven looked behind him to see Saeli’s tiny face bright with excitement, her eyes sparkling, as she climbed down from the black unicorn. Even farther back, Clem was dismounting from the sea serpent, looking equally excited.

They stepped off the rides and made their way to the other side of the ropes. Ven looked over his shoulder and stopped in alarm.

Char and Nick were bringing up the rear. Nick looked like he was going to be sick, while Char’s face was as gray as a dishrag.

“What’s the matter?” Ven asked as the girls turned around. “You guys look awful.”

“Gotta sit down,” Nick mumbled. “Gonna yak if I don’t.”

“Here, come this way,” Clemency ordered, taking Char by the arm. He seemed to be having trouble focusing, while Nick was growing paler.

“Don’t your ears hurt, mate?” Nick asked Ven woozily. “That bloody lion of yours was roaring the whole time. My skull is ready to explode.”

“What are you talking about?” Ven asked. “The lion didn’t make any noise. You’re imagining it.”

“No more than I’m imaging my dragon was breathing fire,” Char insisted as Ven helped him sit down on a log bench near the toymaker’s booth. “I think it burnt my eyebrows off. Look.” He wiggled his forehead at Ven, who rolled his eyes.

“You’re right about that flower, Clem,” he said. “We better get these guys some water.”

“I’ll do it,” Clemency said. “The food sellers are right over past the fountain.”

“Thanks,” Ven said as Saeli sat down on the log beside Nick and began patting his hand sympathetically.

Nearby a Lirin man in brightly colored clothing was sitting, chatting with a group of children. Ven turned and watched. These were the first children he had seen since coming into the Gated City. After a moment, he realized that none of them had tokens around their necks.

These weren’t visitors, or shoppers here with their parents.

These were residents of the Thieves’ Market.

His stomach sank. The children were talking happily and excitedly among themselves as they settled down on the ground in front of the brightly clothed man.

The man in the bright clothes took out a small wooden chest and set it in his lap. With a great flourish, he slowly opened it and waved his hand in the air above it.

Out of the chest flew what looked like many white doves. Ven covered his head, remembering the raven on Gregory’s headstone, but the doves floated up into the air at about the shoulder height of the man, in pairs. A closer look showed that they were not doves at all, but
gloves.

Ven sat back on the log, intrigued.

The man looked down at the children around his feet.

“First, I believe I will recite the story of Ogre Bruce and the Magic Wheelbarrow,” he said solemnly. He turned to the gloves. “Maestro, if you please.”

The pair of gloves closest to the man swelled until they looked like hands, clapped itself, then raised up its index fingers like the conductor of an orchestra. Immediately, the other gloves scurried into position, hovering in the air. Then the first pair of gloved hands began to move, making gestures that looked like they were drawing anchors in the air.

The remaining pairs began to move in time, one as if it were playing a flute, another a violin, a third a cello. Gloves tapped out rhythms on invisible drums and strummed the air as if it were harp strings.

And as they did, from each pair of gloves came forth music, beautiful tunes in the sounds of the instruments.

Even Char and Nick looked up, entranced. But the multicolored man didn’t seem to notice. He launched into his tale, an amusing story of a well-mannered ogre and his ill-tempered wheelbarrow, much to the delight of the audience of children. All the while he was talking, the hand band was providing a musical undertone that exactly matched the action of the story.

At the end, the musical gloves swept to a big finale, then fell silent.

The audience of children applauded politely. Ven joined in, only to receive a sharp dig in the ribs from Char, who was still holding his head in pain.

“He must be a Storysinger, like McLean,” Ven murmured.

“Really?”
said Char. “Ya think so? What gave it away?”

“Thank you, thank you,” the Singer said to the children. “And now we will have a Gwadd tale from the Wide Meadows across the Great River, the Sad, Strange Tale of Simeon Blowfellow and the Lost Slipper.”

Ven turned around to smile at Saeli. Instead he saw Clem, just retuned from the food sellers, holding two mugs of water. She was staring wildly at him.

“Ven,” she said, her voice brittle. “Where’s Saeli?”

V
EN WAS ON HIS FEET IN AN INSTANT, GLANCING AROUND THE
crowded market square.

“Saeli?” he shouted, turning frantically and trying to see between the bodies crowding around the booths and kiosks. “Saeli!”

A split second later, the others were doing the same, spinning to see where the tiny girl could have gone. They were shouting her name, pushing through the crowd of children, looking desperately for any sign of the Gwadd girl.

All they saw was the sea of people jamming the square, paying no attention to anything but the exotic goods for sale.

Ven stumbled into the circle of sitting children, causing the Singer’s story to grind to a sudden halt.

“Excuse me,” he gasped, “have any of you seen a little girl? She was right here—she’s about this tall—”

The children stared at him in confusion, looked at each other, then slowly shook their heads.

“Who’s missing?” the Singer asked, putting his arm around a dirty-faced little girl with stringy blond hair.

“My friend Saeli,” Ven said desperately, watching Char and Nick looking under the skirts of booths, while Clemency was trying to stop passersby, who mostly ignored her pleas. “She’s a—a Gwadd, and she—”

A look of shock crossed the man’s face.

“A Gwadd? A real Gwadd, here? In the Gated City?”

“Yes,” Ven answered, his stomach knotting in fear.

“Since when? Did she come in at the opening bell?”

“Yes,” Ven replied. “We all did.”

The Singer shook his head sadly. “Surprised she lasted this long.” He looked down at the wide-eyed faces of the children sitting on the ground below and smiled. “There’s a little girl missing, my lovelies. Her name is—Saeli?” He looked questioningly at Ven, who nodded. “Go through the streets up to the First Row, no farther, and see if you can’t find her, eh? If you do, take her hand, bring her here. You’ll know her—she doesn’t belong here.”

The children nodded and scattered.

“She was here?” the Singer asked after the children had disappeared. “In the story circle?”

By then, Nick and Clemency had joined them.

“Yes,” Nick broke in. “She was sitting right beside me. I was feelin’ kind of sick, an’ I wasn’t payin’ attention—”

“To the left of you, or the right?” the man asked.

“The left,” Nick replied.

The Singer looked around, then nodded. “Well, if she was not on the end of the bench, but inside, she must have wandered off. Good as the thieves in this market are, you would have noticed if they reached over you and dragged her away.”

“Yes,” Nick said. “I certainly think so.”

“So,” the brightly dressed man continued as Char joined them, “you need to figure out where she went, what she would have gone back to see. What caught her eye? What entranced her earlier?”

The children looked at each other.

“Everything,” said Clemency finally. “She was excited by everything. Even the giant soup pumpkin.”

The man exhaled sharply, a look of sympathy on his face. He looked around again, as if he were following moths in flight, then reached into the air as if he were catching a few of them. He pulled the invisible strings together with his fingers, then looked back at the children again.

“Well, you know what they say when someone goes missing.” His voice had the same ring that came into McLean’s when he was speaking as a Singer instead of just as a person.

“No,” Ven said quickly. “What do they say?”

The Singer smiled.

“Better call out the dogs,” he said knowingly. Then he turned and walked away.

Ven, Char, Nick, and Clem stared after him as he left.

Then they looked at each other.

Without another word, they darted across the square to the First Row of shops, where the weaponsmaker’s store stood.

Nick reached the steps of the Arms of Coates first, Char behind him. They burst through the door, shouting as they did.

“Mr. Coates! Mr. Coates! Help, please!”

Clemency climbed up the porch just as the fabric seller next door came to her window and peered out in alarm. Ven, puffing, came up behind her.

Mr. Coates stood in the center of his shop, his hands out in front of him. The dogs stood on either side, their ears back, their teeth exposed.

“Shhhh, now, young’uns,” he said softly. “Please do me a favor and don’t come slamming into the store like that—for all our sakes.” He looked at the dogs, then at the weapons on the wall. Many of them were loaded and pointed directly at the doorway where they stood, like a trap about to be sprung.

“Sorry about that,” Ven said. “Mr. Coates, Saeli is lost in the Market.”

Mr. Coates sighed, the dark circles under his eyes deep and sad.

“I was afraid of that,” he said. “Should’a known when I saw the double circles that nobody could resist a Gwadd. Highly rare and valuable, they are.”

“Can we borrow Finlay?” Clemency asked urgently. “Please, he may be the only hope we have of finding her before the Market Day bell rings.”

Mr. Coates exhaled again, then looked down at his dogs.

“Well, if you’re gonna take Finlay, Munx is gonna want to go, too,” he said. “Can’t play favorites, you know. Just bring ’em home as fast as you can. Kinda need ’em around here, especially as the day goes on.”

The children looked at each other in relief.

“Thank you
so
much,” Char said.

“Do you have something of hers that Finlay can smell?” Mr. Coates asked. He walked over to the wall behind the counter. “Hold still a moment, please.”

Char, Ven, Nick, and Clem looked at each other.

“I don’t,” Clemency said as the boys shook their heads. Then a thought occurred to her. “But I think Finlay does.”

Mr. Coates gave the wall a solid smack. The crossbows and swords straightened back into place again.

“How’s that?”

“He took her hair ribbon,” Clemency said. “It’s blue, and tied in a bow.”

“Ah, so that’s what that was,” the weaponsmaker said. He rifled through his trash bin and pulled out a soggy, shredded mass of blue goop. “Don’t know if any of her scent is still on it, but it’s the best we have, I suppose.” He snapped his fingers twice. Finlay spun around and trotted over to him. He held the slobbery fabric under the cream-colored dog’s soft black nose.

“All right, then, boy,
seek,
” Mr. Coates directed.

Finlay sniffed what had been the ribbon carefully. After an agonizingly long few moments, his ears went up, as did his head, and he bolted out the front door, his nose to the ground.

“Better catch up quick,” Mr. Coates cautioned. “He will leave you in the dust if he gets a good trail.” He tossed Ven the shredded hair ribbon.

“Thanks, Mr. Coates,” Ven called over his shoulder as the other three ran out the door after Finlay. He followed them, while Munx brought up the rear, trotting in long, unhurried strides. Tufts of hair exploded into the air with every step.

Finlay dashed through the market, his long, slender body and legs slithering through the crowds easily. Nick and Char struggled to keep up, bumping into the people shopping as they ran through the crowds, with Clem and Ven farther behind.

The dog hurried across the square to some of the first booths they had visited upon entering that morning. He passed the carousel of wooden beasts, now flying high in the air above the streets again, and the griffin swings, until he came to a halt in front of a wooden kiosk hung with purple draperies.

The kiosk was closed down, the draperies pulled shut and bound with rope.

Finlay sniffed in circles, then sat down on the cobblestones of the street and gave a short bark.

“What was this place?” Clemency asked out loud as she came to a stop in front of it. “And what is Finlay telling us?”

“This was the one full of golden cages, wasn’t it?” Char said, pulling on the knotted rope.

“Of course! The strange animals!” Ven exclaimed. “Saeli was so unhappy to see them in there. I’m not surprised she came back here.”

“But where did everything go?” Nick wondered. “Things sure appear and disappear into thin air fast around this place.”

A harsh cawing sound scratched their ears from above. Ven looked up to see a raven, possibly the one that had been on the animal seller’s shoulder. It was eyeing them from atop the kiosk.

His anger exploded. He stooped and picked up a stone, then heaved it at the bird.

“You piece of dung!” he shouted.
“Where’s my friend?”

The bird cackled, then took to the air, leaving a stream of white droppings behind on the cobblestones. It caught an updraft, then banked away toward the Inner Market.

Char was struggling with the knot on the draperies.

“Can’t—believe I’m sayin’ this but—I almost—wish—Ida was—here,” he muttered. “She would have this stupid thing untied before her heart beat twice.” Nick nodded and began working on the other knots.

“Enough of that,” Ven said, still angry at the bird. He got down on the ground and started to crawl under the draperies.

A strong hand grabbed him by his belt and pulled him back out again.

“Think,”
Clemency said in her best House Steward voice. She pushed him backward on the ground. “There were
animals,
and a pretty scary man, in that tent. If you crawl under, you’ll have no escape route and you won’t be able to see. Take a breath, Ven, and we’ll get the rope untied while you do.”

Ven exhaled sharply, then nodded. He stood up and brushed the dirt from himself as Char and Nick finished untying the knots and pulled the ropes away. He pulled back the draperies and went inside. Char followed him.

Inside the kiosk was dark, like Madame Sharra’s tent. The golden cages were either gone or hanging open, the animals missing.

“Saeli?” Ven called. “Are you here?”

There was no answer.

He took out the king’s stone and held it up. The glow filled the dark tent with shadows of cages, making eerie, crisscrossed stripes on the fabric walls.

“Saeli?” he repeated again in the ghostly light.

“Ven, here,” Char said. He bent down next to a table of empty cages. “Bring the light.”

Ven came over and held the stone above Char’s head.

On the ground was a Market Day token on a blue ribbon.

“Oh no,” Ven whispered as he picked it up. “Oh no.”

A terrifying growl shattered the air. Suddenly the cages tumbled around their heads as the tables were thrown to the sides of the tent.

A brown bear dived at them from the shadows, its mouth snapping wildly. It stood up on its hind legs, then seized Char with paws that looked almost like human hands with claws, ripping his shirt as he twisted away, gouging at him with the teeth in its long, thin snout.

“Ven, run!” he screamed, trying to free his shirt from the animal’s claws.

Ven spun around. There was nothing, not a broom, not anything except the cages, so he grabbed one and hurled it at the bear’s head. The bear flinched as the cage whizzed past him, then dragged Char closer by the shirt, biting at his throat.

A sudden snarl came from behind Ven, and another flash of teeth and fur leapt at Char.

Ven reached for another cage, then stopped.

It was Munx.

The muscular dog seized the bear’s arm in its powerful jaws, throwing his body against the bear’s chest. Off-balance, the animal dropped Char and swung at the dog clinging to its arm, growling and yelping at the same time.

Munx responded with a low growl, dragging down on the animal’s arm in his teeth. The bear crashed backward onto his back amid the scattered cages, the dog still on its chest.

“Get out of here!” Ven screamed to Char. He grabbed the kiosk drape, spilling dusty afternoon light into the tent. Char, stunned, shook for a moment, then gathered his wits and ran out through the drapes, followed a moment later by Ven.

“What the—?” exclaimed Nick as the two boys came crashing out of the kiosk.

“Run! Run!” Char gasped, grabbing Clem by the arm and pulling her with him away from the booth.

As the children and Finlay dashed away from the tent, some of the passersby stopped in their tracks to avoid running into them.

“What’s going on?” demanded a man with a Market Day token whom Char narrowly missed as he darted across the street.

“There’s a bear loose in there,” Char said raggedly, gasping for breath.

“A bear?” gasped the woman with the man. “Did you say a
bear
?”

Murmurs of horror passed quickly through the crowd:
A bear? Did she say a bear? There’s a bear loose! Where? Where’s the bear?

The tent flap rustled.

Gasps of anticipation and fear rang through the street.

A street vendor carrying a pole of pretzels lifted its base, spilling his wares onto the cobblestones, and held it like a weapon.

The tent flap slapped open.

Munx emerged from the tent, trotting smoothly across the street to the children.

The street vendor opened the flap of the tent wide. There was nothing there but scattered cages. He dropped the flap in disgust and looked down at his pretzels on the ground at his feet.

The sounds of shock were quickly replaced by ragged laughter as the people in the crowd went back to their shopping, some chuckling, some rolling their eyes, some glaring angrily at the children.

“Are you all right, boy?” Ven asked, running his hands over Munx’s massive head, coating his palms with dog hair. The dog wagged its shaggy tail.

“Hey! You kids! You owe me for those pretzels!” the vendor shouted from across the street.

“I’ll get it,” said Nick, trotting over with his hand in his pocket.

“No sign of Saeli in there?” Clem asked anxiously.

Ven shook his head. “Just this,” he said, holding up the token.

“Where’d the bloody bear go?” Char wondered aloud.