Si-Si hopped up onto a stool and then onto a workbench. “So, study quickly.”
“While you were exploring the house, I sketched out some preliminary ideas for how to carve her,” Garit told Mayka. “Come on, I’ll show you!” He bounded across the workroom with an enthusiasm that would have confounded a rabbit. Si-Si hopped after him, and Mayka, holding Jacklo, walked behind, with Risa on her shoulder.
He led them straight to a workbench that was covered in rolls of paper, all piled up on one another, like pine needles on a forest floor. He selected one and unrolled it. “No, not this one.” Tossed it over his shoulder. Picked out another one. “Hmm, better, but no.” Chose a third one. “Ah, this is it!” He unrolled it and then pinned the corners down with bits of rock. “Look!”
They gathered around. He’d drawn a sketch of Si-Si, with parts labeled and numbered. Several sketches, from different angles, as well as versions of her wing.
Si-Si rose up on her hind feet and poked her nose closer to the sketch to see. “You were thinking about this? Really? I thought . . . I’d been forgotten again.” Softly, she said, “One of the worst parts about . . . leaving . . . the estate . . . was the fact that I don’t think they noticed I left.”
Kneeling, Mayka hugged the little dragon.
“See, there are two problems: the weight of her body, and the shape of her wings. They’re not balanced. So I’m thinking . . . make an incision and hollow her out.” Grabbing a nub of charcoal, he drew onto the sketch.
Si-Si shrank back.
Quickly, he said, “It won’t hurt! You’re stone!”
“Yes, but . . .” She wrapped her tail around her body. Her fiery eyes flickered to the locked door, to the workroom door, to Garit, to Mayka, to Jacklo, and then at last to Risa, who fluttered over to the worktable.
Risa poked at the sketches with her beak. “You want to take away pieces of her torso? Won’t that show?” The dragon was translucent stone. Any change within would alter how she reflected light.
Si-Si studied her stomach. The stone had swirls of orange and red, which Mayka thought was beautiful. She looked like the heart of a fire. “All right, do it,” Si-Si said. “I’m ready to change.” She held up her wings and closed her eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” Mayka asked. “What if he fails?” She wondered if the little dragon had thought this through. It was a major recarving, and you couldn’t add back stone that had been taken away. Once gone, that piece of her would be lost forever.
“Then at least I’ll have helped the bird.” Si-Si lay down on the workbench. “Mayka, don’t you see? I’m being useful!”
Jacklo turned his head away. “Tell me when it’s over.”
Flying back to him, Risa patted his shoulder with her wing but didn’t speak. She kept her wing around him, as if she could shield him with it.
Silent, the griffin continued to watch.
Garit picked up a piece of chalk and began to draw on Si-Si’s torso. “The idea is to redistribute the weight so that your wings can hold you. I’m going to carve away here”—he drew a sweeping line across her stomach—“and shape it smooth, then drill holes here and here, to remove some of the weight from the remaining stone.” He laid out his tools beside him, and then took a deep breath.
As Garit fiddled with his tools, Mayka laid her hand on his. “Can I help?”
Startled, he looked at her. “Um, really? But you’re . . .” He stopped. “I’m sorry. You did carve the pedestals.”
She picked up the chisel she knew would be right for Si-Si’s stone type. It would make a clean strike without chipping. “This is the one you want to use.”
He looked at it and said, “Yeah, it is.” Taking it, he bent over Si-Si.
Si-Si reached out one paw, and Mayka took it in her hand. She squeezed, as Garit began tapping lightly with the chisel on the dragon’s torso.
They continued that way, with Mayka holding the dragon’s paw with one hand and passing Garit tools with the other. He tapped carefully, chipping away bits of her stone and then sanding it smooth, changing her shape. One shard of stone fell off the workbench and landed on the floor where Si-Si could see it. She let out a yelp. “That’s a part of me!”
“We’re making a new you,” Garit reminded her. She started to sit up. “Don’t look yet. I’m not finished. Long way from finished.”
Si-Si settled back down.
From the doorway, Master Siorn said, “Oh, splendid! You’ve taken on quite a challenge.” He bustled to the workbench to stare over Garit’s shoulder. “Go on. Make the next cut.”
Garit positioned the chisel. Mayka could see his hands were shaking.
Master Siorn clucked his tongue. “Not like that, all limp. Hold it steady, boy! And lift that angle up.”
Concentrating, Garit obeyed. Sweat had popped onto his forehead. But he held his hand steady and tapped the chisel with the hammer. A sliver of red stone broke off. It tumbled off the table onto the floor, sounding like a bell as it bounced.
“Good,” Master Siorn grunted. He watched for a while longer. “You stick with it. I have to speak with the festival organizers and check on the preparations.”
Eyes wide, Garit looked up. “But don’t you need me for that? I can leave this—”
“Ah, I can handle it without you, my boy.” The stonemason patted Garit’s shoulder with his beefy hand. “The best carvings happen when you’re in the moment, focused on the task at hand, not distracted by details. If I need you, I’ll come back.”
“As you wish, master,” Garit said, and bent over Si-Si again.
Very nice, Mayka thought. Maybe Garit was smarter than she gave him credit for. She suddenly realized the stonemason was looking at her. She shrank back, as if that would hide her from view.
He plucked a hammer out of her hand. “Be careful when you handle an artist’s tools. These are what make us storytellers, not merely carvers.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She would have said their imaginations made them into storytellers, not the tools. Besides, she knew how to handle tools. She’d always helped Father with his carvings, taken care of his tools, kept them organized and polished and sharp and whatever else they needed. She knew them very well. But she didn’t argue.
“And please don’t interrupt Apprentice Garit. He needs his concentration.” Beaming at Garit, he swept out of the workroom with Kisonan trotting behind him.
Garit exhaled loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time.
All of them listened as the rock door was rolled open and the stone otters outside cheered and then fell silent when Master Siorn barked at them. They heard the door roll back into place.
“You should fix the bird now,” Si-Si said.
“But I haven’t finished you!” Garit said.
“Him first,” she said. “Then me. He needs his freedom more than I need my wings.”
Mayka squeezed Si-Si’s paw—one of the few places on her body that Garit’s chisel hadn’t touched—before she rushed over to Jacklo. She laid him out on the workbench and gently spread open his wings.
“He gouged the mark deep,” Garit said. “If I sand it out . . . even if I don’t affect the other marks, it will change his shape and weight. It could still affect his flight.”
Jacklo closed his eyes. “Do it.”
Mayka wished she could cry. She stared at the marks, at the ugly gashes that the stonemason had dug into Jacklo’s body, slicing through the delicate lines of the feathers.
She heard the otters screech from outside, and she heard the front rock being moved again. Kisonan’s voice drifted through the house, “Welcome back, Master.”
“Quick! Put him in the cage!” Garit whispered.
Mayka ran with Jacklo to the cage, while Garit carted the tools back to Si-Si. The stonemason stomped into the workroom, while the griffin followed behind him. “Garit, I need you. Those fools put my podium on the wrong stage!”
“But I don’t want
to wait!” Si-Si cried. Her distress seemed so real that Mayka almost believed her. She began to wail, a high-pitched nose that sounded like a kettle whistling. “Look at me! I’m hideous! You can’t leave me like this!”
“Shush,” the stonemason told her. But his voice was kindly. He believes he’s good, Mayka thought. He believes he’s helping. “You’ll be worked on soon enough. I’ll even assist Garit, once I’ve completed my own work.”
“I can finish tomorrow,” Garit told Si-Si, though he glanced at Jacklo as he said it.
Master Siorn shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll need you at the Festival Square, working on final preparations. It’ll have to wait until after the festival.”
Si-Si wailed louder.
“Cheer up! It will be over in a few days. We’ll have you flying through the sky in no time! And then I’ll present you at next year’s festival! I’ll unveil miracles two years in a row and secure my place in history!” Beaming at his idea, Master Siorn waddled out the door. He has no idea how evil he is, Mayka thought. He thinks he’s the hero of his tale, rescuing the poor stonemasons from unfair laws and bringing peace to the valley. “Come along, apprentice. Kisonan, the door.”
Garit shot Mayka a helpless look.
They waited in silence as Garit and the griffin followed the stonemason out. They heard otters chirp as Kisonan opened and shut the stone door.
“We have to leave,” Risa said. “You heard him! He wants to make Si-Si one of his! If he comes back and puts the mark on her too, she’ll be trapped.”
But they couldn’t leave, not with the mark still on Jacklo!
Mayka hurried over to Jacklo. Carrying him to the workbench, she studied the mark. I don’t know how to remove it without hurting him. If she tried to chip it out, she’d risk damaging the story around it and changing the very essence of who he was.
“Changing . . .” she mused out loud. The word gave her an idea, a crazy just-might-work kind of idea.
“Mayka?” Jacklo asked. “Did you say something?”
What if there were a way to change the mark, instead of removing it? “Risa, is there paper here? And something to write with?”
“Of course. Look at all his plans.” Risa flew over to Garit’s mess and plucked out one.
Bending over it, Mayka began to draw. She started with the obedience mark. And then she added lines and swirls. When that didn’t produce the shape she wanted, she crossed it out heavily and began again.
“What are you doing?” Risa asked.
“You’re right—we have to leave. But we can’t while Jacklo has the mark,” Mayka said. “And Garit isn’t here to remove it. I’m not skilled enough to do it—even with all his training, he said it would be tricky. But I’m thinking . . . I could change it.” A few more lines and Master Siorn’s name could be transformed into Master of the Sky . . . But what about “obey”? She kept drawing.
Risa cleared her throat. “Mayka?”
“What?” She almost had it. If she added an additional symbol, the one for wind, it would read as the “Master of the Sky obeys the wind,” which was a lovely summary for their travels, far from the mountain. He’d flown on the wind, sailing high and low. It could work, she thought.
“Mayka, audience,” Risa whispered.
Mayka looked up.
The griffin, Kisonan, was back in the workroom, watching them.
“Um, hello,” Mayka said. She didn’t know if they could trust him. From what he’d said and done, she thought he didn’t always agree with his master, but she didn’t know how far that went.
“I have only been instructed to let the master in when he returns, and the otters will alert me when he is here.” Kisonan sat, seeming to anticipate her questioning. “Until then, I may go where I please and do as I please.”
Good enough, she thought. She didn’t have time to worry about him. She turned back to her friend. “Jacklo, I have an idea, which might work and it might not.” She told him about how she could change the mark. “It will certainly have an effect, and I’m not sure what kind. It will be up to you and how you interpret the new story.”
“It has to be better than what’s there,” Risa said. “But are you sure you can do it?”
“I’ve helped Father,” Mayka said. “And I know how to write. I’ve done that often enough.” She gestured at her notes.
“Do it!” Jacklo said.
This is crazy, a part of her whispered. You can’t change his story: you aren’t a storyteller! Carving a pedestal wasn’t the same as shaping a story. But she knew the tools, she knew the words, and she knew stone. She whispered back to herself, You can do this.
Chapter
Eighteen
Just like writing on paper, Mayka told herself. She knew the strokes and the lines. She could visualize it exactly. Bending over Jacklo, she held the chisel steady. A light touch. That’s all it needs. She tapped the chisel with her hammer.
It barely dinged him.
“Your time shortens,” Kisonan said. “The master is rarely gone for long, especially so close to the festival. He must work on his masterpiece.”
Jacklo looked up at her. “I trust you,” he said. “And whatever happens, I won’t blame you. This is my choice.”
Those words gave her the courage. She positioned the chisel, tapped it, and made a line. Concentrating, she continued, adding line after line.
“How do you feel?” Risa asked, anxious.
“Shhh,” Jacklo told her. “Mayka needs silence.”
“Never thought I’d hear you ask for silence,” Risa said, but then she was quiet.
Mayka didn’t know how much time passed before she was finished. But at last, she was. Leaning back, she studied the mark. “‘Master of the Sky obeys the winds.’ That is your new story, Jacklo. Use it as you will.”
“I’ll use it to soar,” he promised, as he spread his wings.
“Not yet!” Risa cried. “You aren’t healed! You don’t want have to come back for more glue, do you?”
He folded his wings, and Mayka scooped him up. She turned to Si-Si. “Ready?”
The little dragon let out a hiccup-like sigh as she looked down at her body, once perfectly polished but now flecked with chips and roughly chiseled gouges.
Gently, Mayka said, “We’ll find another stonemason to finish you.” She didn’t know who, but that was a problem for later, after they were far away from here.
Cradling Jacklo, she hurried toward the doorway—and the griffin who blocked it. Caught up in carving, she’d forgotten he was there watching them. He’d been standing so still that he’d blended in with the half-formed sculptures that filled the workroom.
Risa flew toward his face. “Are you going to help us leave, or keep us here?”
Kisonan didn’t flinch. “You should know that Master Siorn will pursue you.”
“Oh?” Risa flapped her wings and raised her talons. “Is that a threat?”
“It is a warning,” he said. “There is something you must see, if you are to take the right precautions to protect yourselves and your family.” He crossed the workroom to the back door, and Mayka, curious, followed him. “There is no length to which he will not go. He has broken the law already, in his quest to restore the reputation of stonemasons. Ever since the Stone War, stonemasons have been forbidden to make giants. But that is what Master Siorn makes in secret.”
Si-Si skidded to a stop. “But . . . but he can’t!”
“He can and did,” Kisonan said gravely.
“But . . . but . . . how do you know?”
“I am his obedient servant,” Kisonan said, bitterness in his voice. “It is I who brought him the stones. It is I who cleared the space in the back room. It once housed raw supplies. Now it houses his masterpiece.”
Si-Si shook her head. “But . . .”
“He believes that once he has demonstrated that the obedience mark works with ordinary stone creatures, the law will be changed, and stonemasons will once again be revered. It is
then he plans to unveil this.” He unlocked the door and swung it wide open. Mayka stepped forward and peered into the private workroom.
And she saw a monster.
There was no other word for what he was. Mayka had never seen a creature so massive. Crouched over, he filled the room, as if he were his own mountain. His muscles were boulders, with huge arms that looked designed to crush and bash.
His stone eyes were closed.
She didn’t see any marks.
For now, he was inert stone.
“He’s not finished yet,” Kisonan said, behind her. “But if Master Siorn’s plan goes as he intends, the law against stone giants will be abolished, and he will have this behemoth at his command. He may send it after you if he wishes, and I believe he will wish to possess Master Kyn’s last creations. He will justify it, of course, in talk of the betterment of man, and claim that he and the monster are acting in the best interests of Skye, but the result for you and your friends will be the same: the loss of your freedom. You must be prepared to hide.”
Mayka stared at the griffin. Surely, she’d be safe on the mountain . . .
“And now you must flee, before it is too late for warnings to save you.” Kisonan led them out of the workroom and to the rock at the front of the house. He rolled it aside, and Mayka saw that it was nearly sunset. The fat sun looked as if it were about to drip onto the distant mountains.
We’ll have to hurry, she thought. Curfew begins soon. “Thank you,” Mayka said, “for not stopping us and for the warning.”
The griffin fixed his eyes on Mayka. “If it works, if the bird is able to leave, if what you did truly changed the mark . . . I wish you to return someday, when it is safe, and do the same for me. The mark is . . . a source of shame. I would have been loyal to him without it, but he took that choice from me. He did not, though, tell me how to feel about it, and I want it gone.”
“I will change your mark right now,” Mayka said. “Let me see—”
“There is no time,” Kisonan said. “You must be gone before he returns. Otherwise, he will issue orders, and I will not be able to allow you to leave.” He gestured to the yard. “Step on every third stone, and the otters will not touch you. Duck after the fifth.”
The Stone Girl's Story Page 17