Mrs. Vanilla’s hands had gone into overtime while I knelt next to her, and she continued to make high- pitched squeaky noises that increased in volume until I worried that the old lady was having some sort of fit.
Mom bustled over to us. “Are you all right, dear? Need to use the loo? No? Hungry? Do you want some soup? Are you tired? Nap time?”
I put the books away and stood next to the old woman, feeling helpless. “Should I get her something? Does she take any medicine?”
“I don’t think so. What is it, dear? Can we get you anything?”
The old woman’s hands alternated between plucking at the blanket and making odd little fluttering motions, but after a few minutes she settled back down with her knitting.
“Mom.” I pulled my mother to the other side of the tent. “When you kidnapped Mrs. Vanilla from the nursing home—”
“Rescued her. We rescued her. She begged us to do so. She saw an ad advertising our school, and knew that we were the only people who would be able to rescue her from the mortals.”
“Did she have any medicine in her room? I don’t think she’s . . . right. I mean, that thing with the hands, and making those noises but not actually talking. That’s beyond odd.”
Mom brushed off that thought. “She’s just a bit eccentric, dear. You would be too if you were as old as her.”
I looked across the tent. Mrs. Vanilla’s crumpled little figure was almost swallowed up by the massive coat she was making. “I’m concerned that she needs medicine for a condition that we don’t know about. And if she doesn’t get it, she might get seriously sick. We have to take her back, Mom.”
“Oh, no, dear. She’s quite happy here. Happier than she would be back in the mortal world.”
“She
“Don’t be silly. Of course she isn’t. Now, you go look for your bird, and your mother and I will finish up this latest batch of potions while Mrs. Vanilla rests. Alice, dear heart, do you think we should make another potion for Death?”
“No!” I shouted, making all three women look at me with varying expressions of surprise. “No more potions for Death.”
“Very well, dear.”
“I’m off to look for the bird, and then I should check in with my warrior trainer before it’s my shift time. He said something about me learning how to lop off heads today, and I wouldn’t want to miss that, now would I?”
My voice had a tinge of hysteria to it that both my mothers failed to notice.
“When I’m done,” I said loudly at the entrance to their tent, “I expect to find both of you and Mrs. Vanilla ready to move over to my tent.”
I departed hastily, followed by stereo objections and exclamations that I had turned horribly bossy ever since I hit a hundred years, all of which I ignored. I had plenty of reason to worry about my mothers’ well-being, and they were just going to have to accept that.
The next hour or so was spent trying to pin down anyone who’d stand still about the missing lapwing, but no one seemed to know anything about it. It wasn’t until I was ready to give up and go find Master Hamo for my daily lesson that I ran across the apothecary my mothers had raved so much about. I explained that I was looking for information about the bird, fully expecting to get an answer similar to the others I’d had thus far. But I was more than a little surprised to have the middle-aged, bespectacled bald man look up from a wooden crock of dried herbs and say, “Oh, she left quite some time ago. Couldn’t take the separation.”
“Separation . . . from Aaron?” I guessed.
He nodded. “Very devoted pair they were. You’d never see the king without his lapwing. Went everywhere together. Until, of course, the day that she-cat got an eyeful of him.”
“What she-cat?”
“The queen, naturally.” The look he gave me was a mixture of slyness and amusement. “She took one look at the king and decided she fancied being the queen of the Underworld.”
“Are you saying that she got rid of Aaron’s beloved lapwing?”
The man winked and turned back to his task. “I’m not saying that, but I’m not not saying it, if you ken.”
I mulled that over for a few seconds. The implication that Constance might well be behind Ethan’s actions in stealing Aaron’s beloved bird—and dog and deer—was unavoidable. I couldn’t wait to talk about that theory with Gregory, but for now . . . “And you don’t know what happened to the bird after she was . . . er . . . parted from Aaron?”
“Spirited away would be my guess.” He peered at me over the thick lenses of his glasses for a moment. “If you were the queen and you wanted to get rid of the rival for your husband’s love, what would you do?”
“Rival? We’re talking about a bird, right? How can a beloved pet be a rival for the love of a woman?”
“Have you met Lord Aaron?”
“Yes, I . . . oh. Point taken.” Despair filled the pit of my stomach when I considered what an enraged Constance might have done. “She would have wanted that bird to fly away. Far away from her and her cats.”
“That’s a safe line of reasoning.”
I watched the apothecary for a few moments, feeling utterly lost. If the bird had been set free in the mortal world, she could be anywhere now . . . assuming she had survived all the centuries. “Thanks so much for your help.”
He waved a gnarled hand in farewell. A glance at the red and gray sky overhead warned that I had little time to spend trying to round up my mothers, but I was loath to let them stay there unprotected. I just hoped that Gregory had managed to do something with Irv and Frankie . . . and that annoying Death’s minion.
I compromised by warning my mothers to stay in their tent, and then racing across the stream just in time to meet Master Hamo, who looked pointedly at a sundial set near the practice ring.
“Sorry. Was checking on my mothers.” I pulled out my sword. “I hope we’re going to learn a way to take down someone quickly, because I know a couple of guys that I might have to use that on if my boyfriend doesn’t take care of them.”
Master Hamo raised his eyebrows, but simply said, “I don’t believe you are ready for more advanced attacks, but I can show you a couple of simple yet effective moves that have served me well.”
The next hour and a half was spent learning. I had to admire Master Hamo—no matter how many times I ended up in the dirt, he always helped me up and patiently explained what I’d done wrong. By the time my lesson was over, I was bruised but victorious. For the first time I had felt the power in the sword.
“I could get used to this,” I told Seith, who appeared to take away my mail and sword for cleaning.
“Learning from Master Hamo?” he asked with an envious glance toward that man as another warrior entered the training ring.
“Using a sword.” I handed the Nightingale to him. “This one is awesome. It’s almost like it knows what to do without me directing it. I wonder if I could buy it from Ethan?”
Seith shrugged and trotted off to do his squirely duties. I limped to Ethan’s camp, which was bustling as usual. I was careful to peek around corners before I hurried toward my target tent, just in case Gregory hadn’t found Death’s minion.
“I suppose it’s a lost hope to expect that you’ve done as I asked and packed up?” I asked at the entrance to my mothers’ tent. They were, as I had expected, busily preparing some potion or other.
Both of them looked up, surprise on their faces. “Oh, Gwenny, it’s you again. Of course we’re not packed. We have no need to leave, as your mother and I have both told you. And keep your voice down. Mrs. Vanilla is taking a nap. The poor dear was most distraught after you left, and it took three cups of chamomile tea to settle her down.”
I took a deep breath, preparatory to explaining to my mothers yet again why I wasn’t comfortable with them remaining unguarded and at large, but suddenly a horrible clashing, grinding noise rose up over the chatting, barking, and other normal sounds of camp life.
“What the hell?” I spun around to pinpoint the source of the noise. My mothers rushed out with gentler exclamations.
The camp members nearest me froze in the act of attending to their daily business, and all heads swiveled to look across the stream toward Aaron’s camp. For one horrible moment I feared that some new catastrophe had
