“And here we are,” Maude whispered, taking Meg’s hand. She reached up and knocked on the Maker’s door. “Tonight, and from now on, you will sleep in your papa’s chambers and be the proper daughter of the Maker.”
Meg looked up at her with wide and worshipful eyes.
Maude pulled something out of the pocket hidden in her skirts and held it before Meg, shaking the soft body of a stuffed doll. Meg’s eyes shot rounder and she grabbed the doll with both hands before squeezing it to her chest. Holding it straight out before her, she examined it with a cocked head. “Who …
Maude bent down and gave it a little shake. “Well, what does it look like?”
Shiny horn buttons made its eyes and nose glint big and black. Its mouth was stitched into a permanent smile. But stitching also designated fingers and toes—five on each hand and foot.
“Like someone … and a bunny. Oh!” Meg gave a little hop. “Somebunny,” she dubbed it.
“Excellent well,” Maude said, taking it back for a moment. “Here,” she instructed, “give its hand a wee squeeze.”
Meg nodded and obeyed.
There was a whirring noise and its legs shuffled, its arms rising and falling in a rhythm that mimicked walking. A voice forced through its frozen expression, fuzzily saying, “A place for all.”
Meg stared at it, her tiny rosebud of a mouth hanging agape. “It is lovely!”
“See, it has a clockwork within it,” Maude explained.
“Where is the key to wind it?” Meg asked, turning the doll around.
“There’s no key, silly bear,” Maude said with a giggle. “It’s powered by crystal.”
“Stormpowered? Like the automatons that guard the Council?”
“Well, not nearly so impressive as all that, but similar.”
“It is wonderful.”
“I got it for you through an amazing trader I know—”
“And just how well do you know this amazing trader?” Bran asked. The door stood open. Neither of the girls knew how long he’d stood there, watching and listening.
“Well enough to warrant a fair price on goods.”
“So he provides goods.” He gently picked up the toy to better view it. “And you—provide
“Ha!” She laughed before remembering herself and straightening. She smoothed her skirts and tugged at her hair. “No. I most certainly do not.”
He nodded, watching her face the whole time. “It is a remarkable dolly.”
Maude cleared her throat and led Meg around her father and to the side room just off his sleeping chamber. It was not much to speak of, but not much was still plenty if you came from nothing. Maude had placed a small bed in it and a trunk for clothing. “Not far to go from bed to clothes,” she said with a smile. “And it is a large space for a tiny sprite.”
Meg climbed onto the bed, smiling, before her gaze returned to the doll Somebunny. “That’s my little lady.” Maude shuffled backward out of the doorway and looked at Bran. “Good Maker, sir, it is time for our evening ritual.”
He looked at her blankly.
“Dear little Miss Meggie is ready to slip into her evening clothes and be told a story.”
“Oh. Then do go right ahead.” He motioned her toward the child.
“No, sir. Well, not entirely
“I…” Bran looked from the one to the other of them.
Maude smiled. “Give us a few minutes?”
Bran nodded, moving as quickly away as he could, busying himself straightening the odds and ends scattered throughout his room.
In only a few minutes Maude called him back. Meg was seated on the edge of her bed in a linen chemise that served as a nightgown, her hair loose and glossy from being freshly brushed. Tiny hands were folded in her lap.
“Good sir Maker, please seat yourself on the bed’s edge and regale your daughter with a delightful tale.”
He sat. His hands clenched in his lap like a schoolboy readying for a scolding. “A delightful tale?”
Maude nodded encouragement.
“And if I know none?”
Maude blinked. “Any tale that might not frighten a wee one will do.”
He closed his eyes, pondering. “And if I know none?”
“Just tell one your mother or father told you.”
“They told me no tales.”
Maude’s mouth slid closed, lips pursing. “Then something read to you?”
He shook his head.
“And you yourself—in neither of your libraries have—”
Again he shook his head.
“I see,” she murmured. “Then I guess the task falls to me.”
Bran made to rise but Maude lifted her hand and, surprising them all, stopped him.
“The task may fall to me tonight, but she is your sweet daughter tonight, tomorrow night, and forever, and so the task will be passed along.” She sat on Meg’s other side, spread her skirt so it lay neatly, and said, “Have you heard the tale of the Wise Little Fool?”
Meg shook her head.
“Well, little dove, tonight you shall!” And with that she leaped into an exciting tale of adventure that required wild gesticulations, funny voices, and one brief song. At the end, all three were smiling and Meg looked somehow healthier.
There were hugs from both adults and a quick peck on the forehead from Maude as she tucked the child in.
“Might I have a cup of water?” Meg asked as they prepared to leave her in the dark.
“Oh,” Maude said, looking at Bran. “I suppose one cup won’t hurt.” She bustled away, filled a cup from Bran’s personal pitcher, and returned with the requested drink.
Meg gulped it down. Immediately. “Might I have another?”
Bran took the cup and refilled it. This one the child set on the floor at her bedside. She smiled at them both and laid back, snuggling her head into the pillow.
“You’ll need to brush those tangles out in the morning,” Maude whispered as she passed him by and headed for the main door to his chambers.
“Wait,” he said, stopping her by placing his hand upon the door.
Her eyebrows rose.
He lowered his hand. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “The first night in a new place is most often the hardest. Good luck. To you both.” Then she opened the door and ducked outside to leave him wondering.
“Which one is it?” the Tester asked, a grin twisting his features. “Who has been begging for water?” From behind the bars of the wagon the prisoners all stared at him, licking their lips. “Bring me a canteen,” he commanded a Wraith. “Here!” He shook it so the sloshing of liquid was unmistakable.
A dark-haired boy lunged forward, his eyes caught on the canteen, arms shooting between the bars.
The Wraiths clamped down on his wrists, holding him pinned.
“You, is it?” the Tester asked. “You are the one who called last night’s storm and disrupted the balance?”
