“If we leave, what will you do for friends if you find yourself in trouble again? That cat can’t be trusted. I bet you haven’t even seen him since we arrived.”
There was no arguing with that. She sighed, resigned to the inevitable. “All right. You can stay a few days longer. But pay attention to me. If you do one more thing that causes trouble, you’ll have to leave immediately. I mean it. I’m trying to stay in hiding here, and you don’t help matters by doing things that are likely to anger our hosts. So there will be no more foraging. Stick with eating rats, if you must.”
The image was nauseating, but then she wasn’t a G’home Gnome, either. “Can’t you eat grass or something?”
Poggwydd frowned. “G’home Gnomes don’t eat grass, Princess.”
“That’s an example, Poggwydd! I’m just telling you not to eat anything you haven’t been given permission to eat. Are we clear?”
Both Gnomes nodded forlornly, their wizened faces crestfallen and their shoulders slumped. They couldn’t help being what they were, she knew. They couldn’t be something else; they didn’t know how. Given all the time in the world, she probably couldn’t teach them.
“I have to go eat my own breakfast,” she muttered in disgust, turning away.
Beset by images of rats being gnawed on by Gnomes, she discovered that she really wasn’t very hungry anymore. Nevertheless, she managed to eat a little bread and cheese and drink some milk before going off to work in the Stacks. By the time she arrived, Thom was already there, sitting cross legged on the floor as he sorted through the latest batch of books the recalcitrant Throg Monkeys had stacked next to him. He gave her a cheerful greeting, and she was relieved when he didn’t say anything about the fact that she was late. Putting thoughts of the G’home Gnomes behind her, she settled down to the job at hand and in no time at all was deeply enmeshed in cataloging and cleaning.
The morning passed quickly, helped along by her concentration on her work. Very little conversation passed between Thom and herself, and when he did speak it was only to ask her if she had slept well, if she had eaten and if she needed anything. She wanted him to say more, was eager to talk with him, but his seeming reluctance left her unwilling to push the matter. She had to content herself with watching the furtive movements of the Throg Monkeys as they slithered through the stacks like wraiths, crouched over and slit-eyed, their purpose and destination unknowable. She might have been frightened of them before, but by now she had grown used to them and found herself mostly irritated that they insisted on lurking rather than helping.
She was aware, too, of Rufus Pinch peering out at her from various hiding places, a spy without spy skills. It didn’t seem to bother Thom, who appeared unaware of the wizened face and furtive movements of the little man. Thom just worked along as if nothing unusual was happening, humming to himself, sparing Mistaya an occasional look, but saying nothing. She found herself increasingly irritated with him, too. She wanted him to acknowledge what was going on instead of acting as if he were oblivious. But Thom never once said a word or even gave her one of those conspiratorial looks that he had shared with her yesterday.
Then, just when her patience was nearly exhausted, he leaned forward suddenly and whispered, “Had enough, little sister? Let’s go somewhere they can’t spy on us.”
He took her to the kitchen to gather up bread, meat, cheese, and cups of cold well water for their lunch, then walked her out again and down a hallway to a huge old stone stairway that climbed into gloom and a flutter of bat wings.
“Up there?” she asked doubtfully.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s safe enough once we’re at the top. And we can lock the door when we get there.”
She followed him up, ascending the tower steps in steady progression, counting until she lost interest. Slits cut into the walls allowed for just enough light to find the way but not enough to chase the gloom. The bats clung to the walls here and there in shadowy communities, but she couldn’t quite decide how they got in since the slits seemed too narrow. It wasn’t until she neared the top and the light brightened that she saw barred window openings in the upper reaches of the tower flanking a heavy ironbound door that sat at the apex of the stairs.
Thom reached the door, lifted the latch, and pushed. The door opened with a creaking of metal fastenings, and sunlight poured through in a bright gray wash.
Once through the opening, they were outside the castle, elevated on a battlement that gave a 360-degree view of the countryside beyond. Mistaya could see for miles, even though the day was hazy and the lake country mists snaked through the forests to coil in pools in the vales and deeps. She could see the dark flanks of the mountains south and west, and father north the deep emerald of the Greensward.
She even thought she caught a momentary glimpse of Sterling Silver’s bright gleam through the drifting haze.
