by Garth Nix
Eleanor allowed herself to resume breathing, even though she had immediately lost sight of Odo again. Noting the direction they went through the house, she made an intelligent guess as to where he might have ended up. There was a long, relatively narrow wing that had a dormitory look to it. When she clambered onto its roof, there were none of the hot spots she had found before, and the single chimney wafted only white smoke in a thin column.
Moving from place to place, she listened for any sign of Odo or Biter. The smell of dinner became distinctly stronger. Her stomach rumbled and she reached into a pocket for a piece of bread she had put there after lunch, very glad now that she had. If she couldn’t find Odo she might be stuck on the roof until everyone went to bed, contented and full.
“Flawed, he says? Nonsense! The man’s a fraud!”
Eleanor smiled. She’d know that outraged voice anywhere, even when it was trying to be quiet.
Shhh! They’ll hear!”
Odo tried to force Biter back into the scabbard but the sword would not be contained. Biter darted out of his reach and flashed back and forth across the narrow room they had been given for the night. There was barely enough space for the meager cot and a single wooden chest. There was definitely not enough space for an indignant flying sword.
“They’ll hear all right,” Biter grumbled in slightly softer tones. “They’ll hear a lecture on the finer points of swordsmithing before I’m done with them.”
Odo wiped away a fleck of grit that had fallen into his eye. “Remember what we’re here for. To find the firestarter, get some armor, and help the apprentices. Don’t upset everything by taking it personally.”
“How can I not take it personally? Fyrennian said I was flawed. He said there’s a nick!”
“Actually, there is,” said a voice from above. “I noticed it while I was cleaning you yesterday.”
Odo looked up in surprise. By the light of the room’s candle he could see Eleanor’s green eye peering back down at him.
“What are you doing up there? I was going to come out on the wall and signal to you.”
“That’d be useful, you waving about on their wall. Besides, you need me close to make sure you don’t get into trouble,” she said. “Did you miss me? Have you seen Toland? What about the firestarter? Have they brought you any food?”
Odo lay back on the cot so he could look at her without craning his neck, and told her everything he had seen inside the smithy so far.
Ramm had led him through two busy workshops to get to his audience with Fyrennian. Toland had been one of ten apprentices working the giant bellows. Their eyes had met, but Toland had immediately looked away. It looked like he hadn’t had the chance to reveal who Odo was, and didn’t seem likely to. Either he could be trusted or he was too frightened to talk.
Of the firestarter, however, or of dinner, or of the deposed Master Thrytin, there were no signs. So he had decided on the spur of the moment to ask about staying the night, intending to snoop around while everyone was asleep.
Biter slowly settled to a resentful mutter, only occasionally stabbing or slashing at the air to make a point.
At a firm knock on the door, he dropped to Odo’s side on the bed and Eleanor covered up the chink in the tiles with her hand.
“Come in!” Odo called.
The door opened to reveal Toland, holding a wooden platter of soup and a round, whole-wheat crust. Odo sat up in surprise and went to speak, but Toland shook his head. The boy put the platter on the chest, then went back to the door and peered outside, looking both ways along the hallway. He came back once he was sure the coast was clear.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Can’t you leave well enough alone?”
“What?” Odo replied. “We’re trying to help you!”
“It’s my problem, not yours. You’ll only get me into more trouble.”
“It’s Fyrennian’s problem,” said Eleanor, making Toland jump. Her eye reappeared in the ceiling. “Stealing from a dragon is bad news.”
“Dragon? What dragon?” Toland’s eyes went wide as goose eggs. “You don’t mean Quenwulf, do you?”
“I don’t think so … but I don’t know,” said Odo. He wondered for a moment if live dragons vomited up firestarters, or if they could only be got out of dead ones or their ancient remains. Not for the first time, he regretted knowing almost nothing about dragons — and also not for the first time, wished he was back at home in the mill, covered in flour dust and not having to think about anything more dangerous than a mousetrap.
“The source of Fyrennian’s fire came from a dragon,” said Eleanor from above, repeating what Biter had told them, without adding the part about destroying the firestarter. “Do you know where he keeps it?”
“I told you I never saw it!”
“That’s not what she asked,” said Odo gently. “Do you know where he keeps it?”
Toland stood mute, shaking.
“You have to tell us,” said Eleanor in an urgent whisper. “He’s hurting people with it. And what happens if a dragon comes looking for it?”
Toland looked even more terrified.
Odo followed Eleanor’s lead. “If you tell us where he keeps it, we’ll make sure he can’t hurt anyone, now or ever again.”
“But my apprenticeship —”
“Once we have the firestarter,” said Eleanor, “Master Thrytin can take over again. You said he was much nicer to everyone.”
“Yes … but the special buyers won’t be happy. There’s a delegation due any time.”
“They’ll see reason.” Odo put one hand on Toland’s shoulder. “We’re here to help you but we need your help to do it.”
The boy warred within himself for a moment, then nodded.
“Master Fyrennian keeps the firestarter somewhere in his private chambers. He brings it out once a day to stoke the furnaces or to work particular pieces. He carries it under a cloak.”
“What does it look like?” asked Biter.
“I told you, I’ve never seen it,” said Toland. He shivered, then slowly added, “I did see the shadow of it once. He held something twisted, like a crooked branch, about as long as your sword. I think the fire came out one end.”
“So he carries it to and from his chambers?” asked Odo. “Did it look heavy?”
“Not for Master Fyrennian,” said Toland. “But he’s very strong.”
“So am I,” said Odo. That was one thing he wasn’t shy about claiming. He might not be much of a knight, but he was incredibly muscular, as had been proven in many a midsummer fair contest. No local boy would ever compete against him in the stone-lifting, and he had even beaten many of the men. In fact he grew stronger all the time, and it was generally accepted in the village that he would be a veritable man-mountain when he grew up.
“Where are his chambers?” he asked.
“In the northwest wing. I’ve never been inside. He has a dog there, a little one, as a guard, I suppose. You can hear it yapping. He never lets it out.”
“And where is Master Thrytin imprisoned?”
“He’s allowed to work in the day, but gets locked up in the cellar at night.”
Somewhere deep in the smithy a bell rang.
“I have to go,” Toland said. He seemed even more nervous than usual. “I have duties.”
“Wait!” called Eleanor. “Let me see your hands.”
The boy held them out, palms up. They were still red and peeling, but the larger blisters looked likely to scab over and heal well.
“Try to keep them clean,” she advised. “Just go to bed as normal. We’ll have everything sorted out by morning.”
Toland nodded. He looked at his hands again, and then at Odo, a tangled expression on his face, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out. Then he gave a great sigh and went out the door, closing but not locking it behind him.
Odo pushed the chest in front of the door and sat on it, in case anyone else unexpectedly came to visit.
“What do you think?” he asked Eleanor and Biter.
“I think,” said Eleanor, “that if you dip some of that bread in the stew and stick it on the end of Biter, he can fly up here and give it to me.”
“I am not a fork, squire —”
“Hurry up and do it, will you? I’m hungry.”
Odo obeyed her instructions while she busied herself widening the hole so her arm could slip through. Biter reluctantly presented his sharp tip for the bread, and ascended to a point where Eleanor could just reach it.
Odo forced himself to eat, even though his stomach was already full of worries.
“What I meant was —”
“I know what you meant,” said Eleanor once her meager mouthful was swallowed. “I’m sure I can find Fyrennian’s room from up here. That way we’ll know more or less where to go. Then it’s just a matter of waiting until everything’s quiet and the deed is practically done.”
“It would be easier if we could send Biter to have a snoop around,” Odo observed.
“Impossible,” said the sword. “I must remain at my knight’s side at all times.”
“Are you just being huffy or is that really true?” asked Eleanor.
“Of course it is! A true sword, like a true knight, never lies.”
Odo thought of all the times he had dodged, obscured, or plain broken the truth in his lifetime. It was impossible to avoid in a big family. Would mentioning those instances finally disqualify him from knighthood?
Mind you, he thought, Eleanor is no better. She sometimes “bent the truth” to avoid jobs or lessons she considered too boring. But he didn’t want to disqualify her either. It was better to keep silent.
Around him he could hear smiths going about their evening business. They didn’t stay up much past sunset. Candles were expensive, flaming torches dirty, smoky, and dangerous, and in any case work would begin again at dawn. Odo heard people moving back and forth in the corridor outside, wishing each other good night and fair sleep. Odo and Biter kept conversation at a minimum for fear of being overheard. Eleanor said nothing. It was even more important that she not be discovered.
Eventually the voices in the corridor ceased and Odo heard other noises, this time through the walls — the sound of snoring, full-throated, protracted, hard-earned snores that had the slate tiles vibrating in sympathy.
Satisfied that there was little chance of discovery now, Eleanor set off across the rooftops in search of Fyrennian’s chambers. The northwest wing was some distance from the other sleeping quarters, which meant quite a crawl. Maybe Fyrennian didn’t like sleeping near the ordinary smiths. He probably didn’t trust them.
She pressed her ear against several tiles until she heard the sound that Toland had described — the persistent yapping of a dog, and Fyrennian’s voice saying, “Quiet, Ferox!”
By strategically lifting tiles, she could trace the path of internal walls and thereby map the corridors through the smithy. It took her some time as it grew darker, but there were still remnants of light from the forges and the few lanterns hung in case of a midnight emergency, and eventually she had the path memorized. When she had that, she returned to her peephole over Odo’s room.
He was either practicing or being made to practice. It was hard to tell the difference, because both sword and boy were silent.
Eleanor clicked her fingers once to get their attention, and then again several times before Odo raised his sweaty face and looked up.
“Don’t wear yourself out, you two,” whispered Eleanor. “It’s time to go steal a firestarter!”
Odo caught Eleanor as she dropped. Moving three tiles had created a hole big enough for her to slip through, and if he stood on the box he could just about reach her feet. She didn’t weigh much more than Toland, all told.
She gulped down some more of the bread and stew he had saved for her, describing the way to Fyrennian’s room between mouthfuls. When she was finished, Odo eased open the door of the room and peered cautiously outside.
The corridor was empty and all was quiet, save for the snores.
“It’s very dark,” whispered Odo.
“For you, maybe,” said Eleanor. She’d noticed before that she could see better at nighttime than Odo. “Follow me.”
Eleanor took the lead. It seemed Odo really couldn’t see, because he held tight to the back of her tunic with his non-sword hand. It was strange seeing the corridors from ground level because she had the map burned into her mind from above. Accompanied by the snoring of the smiths and keeping at least one eye ever-peeled for Ramm, she tiptoed slowly down the corridor and turned right at the end.
Odo followed very cautiously as they took another right turn, then a left, going up three steps that he would have stumbled over without Eleanor’s guidance.
Eleanor slowed and tapped Odo’s shoulder three times — a warning. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see ahead. Gradually, he recognized a large chamber he’d been through earlier. There was a dim red glow in one corner, a banked-down forge, and across from that … a whole lot of shadowy lumps on the floor.
One lump moved.
Odo almost jumped in fright, but got a grip on himself as he realized the lumps were merely apprentices sleeping on the floor.
Eleanor moved stealthily across the floor. Odo felt like a great ox behind her, his every footstep, no matter how careful, twice as loud as hers. Then he nudged a swage block with his toe, causing a scraping sound that seemed terribly loud.
He froze, waiting for a cry of alarm to go up from the sleeping apprentices, but apart from a sluggish murmur or two, they didn’t stir. Too tired, Odo thought, and perhaps used to the sound of the cooling forge.
They resumed their stealthy creep, Odo trusting that Eleanor knew where she was going. He tried not to think of pits, or traps, or simply running into someone who had gotten up to go to the latrines outside.
Left. Right. One final left turn and, Eleanor knew, they would be in the northwest wing.
Here, surely, she thought, there would be guards to protect the precious firestarter.
But when they turned the corner … there were none. A lantern swung from a hook in the ceiling above the intricately carved door to Fyrennian’s chambers, but that was all. Master Fyrennian didn’t even trust Ramm with his secret.
Maybe Fyrennian placed great faith in his own ability as a swordsman. Or Ferox the dog was much bigger than it sounded, unlike its master. Eleanor felt for the stew-soaked crust she had slipped into her pocket before leaving Odo’s room. That would distract the dog, she hoped. Belatedly she thought of the sleeping draft her father had packed for her, and wished she’d soaked the bread in that instead.
Eleanor motioned Odo forward and pointed at the nearest door, silently mouthing the word Fyrennian.
At that moment, many of Odo’s unspoken fears fell away. Now that he had come this far, there was no point worrying about what might happen, because it was happening to him already. And so far, given that there were no sharp things being pointed in their direction, it was going quite well.
He drew Biter and edged closer to the door, grateful for the light of the lantern. Eleanor crouched next to the door on the other side, and both held their ears against the carved wood.
They heard snoring. One snore was deep and rhythmical, the other higher and less human.
Fyrennian and his dog. Asleep.
Eleanor examined the handle of the rope that would lift the bar on the other side of the door. She pulled it very gently, testing to see if it was pegged on the other side so it could not be moved.
It wasn’t.
Eleanor slowly dragged the rope handle back. The bar scraped upwards on the inside. It sounded ridiculously loud.
With the bar raised, Eleanor paused to listen again. The snoring continued, so she pushed the door open. Not slowly, because that might make it creak, but in one smooth motion, exactly as she had done for years when sneaking out of her own house late at night.
Odo went in fir
st, Biter at the ready. The emerald in the sword’s pommel caught and reflected the faint embers of a dying fire, casting a green glow across Odo’s hand. There was enough light to see fine tapestries draped upon the walls, just as Eleanor had imagined earlier.
A huge, four-poster bed dominated the room. Right in the middle of it was a dwarf-sized lump under a great many blankets. Fyrennian, still snoring. Next to the bed was a basket with another small lump under a tartan rug: the sleeping Ferox, utterly failing in his guard dog duties.
There was no sign of anything that might be the firestarter. Eleanor hadn’t expected it to be so straightforward. After all, who would sleep with such a dangerous magical item next to their bed?
But on the far side of the room there was a sturdy iron door, made with heavy, plate-sized rivets that just screamed out Treasure Room! Eleanor nudged Odo and pointed.
Together, they edged around the bed. Odo flinched at his every footfall, because the floor creaked under his weight as it didn’t with Eleanor. Surely either Fyrennian or the dog would wake up?
But they didn’t. As they reached the door, Odo noticed a faint glow coming through a half-inch gap between it and the floor. There was a fire or perhaps a lantern on the other side.
He hesitated for a moment and looked back at the bed. The lump hadn’t moved. The sound of snoring was relentless. How did the dog sleep? He looked at Eleanor, who made a “hurry up” gesture.
Odo examined the door’s hinges. It was designed to open inwards, and he saw no lock or pull-rope for a bar. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed against the cold, heavy iron.
The door squeaked softly — and then suddenly flew open. Odo stumbled forward into a furnace heat, blinking from the unexpected brightness. The room was lit with fire from three tall, golden braziers. Wall, floor, and ceiling were solid stone. There was a plinth in the center of the room, and on it squatted a black, twisted, rootlike staff that had to be the firestarter. Next to the plinth Odo saw —
Fyrennian.
And Ramm, armed with a giant cudgel.