by Heidi Lang
“Yeah, he had his moments of brilliance. Occasionally,” Wren said as they drove across the bridge and away from Gilded Island.
Lailu frowned.
“Wow, I just realized how mean that sounded. I know I should be sorrier about him,” Wren said quickly, “but before we left Beolann, scientists died all the time. I guess I just got used to it.”
“Was it really that bad?” Lailu hadn’t heard much about Beolann, except for the well-known rumor that Starling and her people had disguised themselves as fishermen to escape, the first group to leave that country in living memory.
“Anyone who didn’t fall in line with what the General wanted was let go. Permanently.” Wren drew a finger across her throat, and the auto-carriage wobbled until she grabbed the wheel with both hands. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. Anyhow, I was young when we left. Things are better here.” She smiled. “And Mama’s going to make sure they stay that way.” Her smile turned cold and brittle, and Lailu noticed a tall figure leaning against one of the buildings, holding a small stack of masks. She raised a hand mockingly as they roared past.
Was that Gwendyl? Lailu thought she recognized the female elf’s sneer and the way she wore her chestnut-brown hair twisted into an elaborate knot on top of her head, showing off her pointed ears.
“Elves,” Wren muttered, her shoulders hunching up toward her neck. “They have it in for us, you know.”
“Well, you did kidnap their people,” Lailu said.
Wren flinched. “We were being forced to do Mr. Boss’s dirty work. It’s hardly our fault. And it’s not like we really hurt them.”
Lailu gaped at her. “You were draining their blood.”
“But it’s not like they feel pain.”
“What? Why wouldn’t they feel pain?” Lailu could still vividly picture the female elf trapped in that weird coffin, her eyes sunken, her strawlike hair tangled around her face, her dry, cracked lips pulled back in a silent howl of anguish. Was it possible that Wren never saw that?
“Because they’re creatures. They’re not human.” Wren turned her wide green eyes on Lailu, so matter-of-fact. “They’re not like us at all.”
Lailu’s skin prickled. She knew Wren wasn’t the only one who thought like this. It was a common attitude among the wealthy of Twin Rivers, those who could afford to stay separated from the rest of the city’s “riffraff” and never interacted with the elves. “They’re still people,” Lailu said firmly. She might not like those pointy-eared tricksters, but she’d been around them enough to see that. “They still— Eyes on the road, eyes on the road!”
Wren glanced back, adjusting the wheel just in time to avoid two men and a cart.
“Anyway, the elves aren’t that important,” Wren said. “What’s important is getting ourselves well established—that’s what Mama says. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“Yep. We—my mom and I—want to make you an offer.” Wren turned down the industrial district, zooming past metal buildings with large smokestacks. Lailu noticed that a few of them seemed to be working, the smoke drifting hazily up to mingle with the clouds hanging overhead.
“What kind of offer?” Lailu asked.
Wren smiled, a perfect Vahn-type smile, all pearly whites and dimples. “We want to set up a power generator in your restaurant.”
“A what?”
“A power generator.”
“No, I meant, what is a power generator?” Lailu asked. “Is that like some kind of new stove or something?”
“No, it’s way better.”
Lailu seriously doubted that. What could possibly be better than a stove?
“Just imagine this.” Wren turned toward her, her green eyes sparkling. “Lights that can be turned on at the flick of a switch, running water—either hot or cold—inside your restaurant, and all our newly tested cooking gadgets installed for you, working with your generator.”
“People. Up ahead,” Lailu said nervously.
Wren slammed a button on the wheel, and a honk that sounded like an angry pack of chickens split the afternoon. A couple of men in worker smocks and bowl hats leaped out of the way, shouting angry curses as the carriage zoomed on by. “This is why I love this thing,” Wren admitted happily. “So? What do you think?”
“What’s the catch?” Lailu asked. “What do you get out of it?” After her time working for the vicious Mr. Boss, Lailu no longer trusted anything that seemed like a good deal. He’d promised her and Slipshod a loan . . . and then nearly took their restaurant and their freedom.
Wren slowed down, her shoulders slumping. “I thought,” she said in a small voice, “that we were friends.”
“Of course we are,” Lailu said, surprised.
“Well, isn’t that what friends do? They help each other out?” Wren turned large, teary eyes on Lailu. “I just wanted to help you revolutionize your restaurant.”
Lailu felt a sharp pang of guilt, like a knife stabbed into her gut. “Oh.”
“I mean,” Wren sniffed, wiping a hand across her eyes, “you’re actually my only friend.”
The knife twisted. “R-really?”
Wren nodded. “Mama doesn’t usually approve of my ‘fraternizing with children.’ ” She emphasized those last three words in a way that showed she’d heard them often. “She’s afraid their immaturity will rub off on me. But she likes you well enough. I’m allowed to be friends with you.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Lailu hadn’t realized she was Wren’s only friend. Back home in her village, Lailu didn’t have many friends either, but at least she had her brothers, and Hannah. Poor Wren. “I’m glad we’re friends,” Lailu added.
“Do you really mean it?”
“Of course.”
“So . . . you’ll do it? You’ll let us install a power generator?” Wren asked, all trace of tears gone. “Mama will be so excited!”
“I’m not sure—”
“She’s always said you have the eyes of a true chef. She’ll be happy to see your restaurant really thrive,” Wren said, turning down the road that led to Mystic Cooking.
Lailu stopped. She remembered Starling saying that to her. Lailu had once really looked up to her, the brilliant scientist who had revolutionized the cooking world with her stoves the same way Lailu wanted to change the world with her restaurant.
As they pulled up in front of Mystic Cooking, Lailu tried to picture it fully revolutionized. Lights on, people laughing on the patio that she could have built out back where her current water pump sat . . .
“I have to make sure Master Slipshod agrees,” Lailu said.
“Oh, he already said it was fine, as long as you were okay with it,” Wren said. “He told me that you got final say.”
Lailu felt a burst of pride. First Master Slipshod sent her to hunt hydra without him, and then he gave her final say in such an important decision? He must really trust her judgment. “All right,” she decided. “I’ll do it.”
15
UNEXPECTED VISITORS
Hannah flew outside Mystic Cooking in a whirl of scarlet skirts and long black hair. Her eyes widened as she took in Lailu’s transportation. “Wow, Lailu! You came home in style!” She ran her hands along the sides of the auto-carriage reverently. “This is the newest model, the wood-paneled Steamer Model S. It’s a shame you had to ride in it so dirty.”
Lailu frowned. She was dirty, but Hannah made it sound like she’d somehow insulted this ridiculous carriage with her appearance.
“You really know your automotives,” Wren said, impressed.
“Well, it’s important to stay on top of things.” Hannah gazed up at Wren. “Are you a scientist?”
“Almost.” Wren sat up taller. “I’ve been working with my mother lately. You know, Starling Volan?”
Lailu was surprised by the pride in Wren’s voice. It was so different from how she’d reacted a few months back when Lailu had asked her about Starling. Back then Wren had seemed reluctant to discu
ss her mother and the work she was forced to do for her. She really must have embraced her role as her mother’s apprentice. For the first time, Lailu wondered what had made her change her mind.
“Wren, I have to ask you,” Hannah began, with an apologetic look at Lailu, “what was up with your mom’s hair at Elister’s party?”
Lailu groaned. “Would you stop with the ponytail already?”
“No, it’s a good question.” Wren hopped down from her seat, closing the door carefully behind her. “Mama is hopeless with hair, and she fired her hairdresser that morning. Said she suffered from ‘an abundance of stupidity.’ ” She shook her head. “It’s the third one she’s let go this month.”
“See?” Hannah beamed at Lailu. “I knew Wren would understand. She has great hair.”
“Really?” Wren touched her red curls.
“Oh, definitely. And I have an eye for such things. I studied at Twin Rivers’s Finest.” Hannah neglected to mention she’d been kicked out of that school recently.
“You know, Mama will probably be looking for a new hairdresser soon. Are you looking for a job?”
“Of course not,” Lailu said, at the same time that Hannah said “Maybe.”
Lailu felt like she’d just been smacked with a frying pan. Hannah was looking for a job? What about working with her? What about Mystic Cooking?
“I’ll mention it to Mama. It’s Hannah, right?”
Hannah nodded, not meeting Lailu’s eyes.
“Well, I should get to work.” Lailu tried to keep her voice even. “The harnesses are right behind the building.” She pointed them out, then retreated inside her safe, warm restaurant, waiting until the door closed before turning on Hannah. “A job?” she demanded. “What’s wrong with the one you have here?”
Hannah twined her hands together. “I like helping you with your restaurant, but this might be my one big chance to get back into doing what I love, and what I’m good at.”
“You’re good at this!” Lailu waved her hands to indicate the restaurant around her.
Hannah sighed. “Look, I’ll still help you. And I’ll still be living here. . . . I mean, if you let me. And you’ll still have Slipshod. Don’t look so abandoned.”
Lailu flinched.
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Bad choice of words. But I’m not going anywhere, I promise. It’s just a job, Lailu.”
“Ah, so you did find a job,” Ryon said.
Lailu whirled. Ryon leaned against the wall, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his navy coat thrown over his shoulder. He looked way too relaxed, like it was his own house.
Lailu crossed her arms. “We’re closed to customers.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not eating. I was just visiting your light-fingered friend here.” He inclined his head toward Hannah.
Lailu’s stomach churned like she’d just gulped down curdled milk. “Why are you visiting Hannah?” she asked as calmly as she could. As if it didn’t bother her at all. Because it didn’t.
“Well, technically, she owes me a meal.” Ryon smirked. “You know, on account of our dance?”
Lailu wanted to crawl inside her cellar and hide in the icebox.
“You don’t have to look so embarrassed. You only stepped on my feet twice.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Maybe three times.”
“I did not!”
“I have the bruises to show for it.”
“I’ll give you bruises,” Lailu grumbled.
“Speaking of bruises,” Ryon said quickly, “I notice you’ve picked up a couple more. Not to mention a shirt full of blood. I take it you had a successful hunt?”
Lailu thought about giving Ryon a vague answer and winking in his face to see how he liked it for once. But instead she found herself telling him and Hannah about the hunt. And then, despite Elister’s command to keep the news to herself, she couldn’t help describing the way she and Greg found Carbon’s body and the scene in Elister’s office afterward. “Starling claimed it was the elves,” Lailu finished, staring hard at Ryon, but his face was the same careful mask it always was, telling her nothing.
“Hey, I think I’ve found the problem.” Wren burst into the restaurant, then stopped at the sight of Lailu, Ryon, and Hannah all clustered together.
Lailu stood up. “You’ve fixed the harnesses?”
“Not yet,” Wren said slowly, her eyes lingering on Ryon. “I have to take them to the shop. I’ll bring them back when I’m done.”
“Sure. And take your time. Really.” If Lailu never saw those blasted things again, it would still be too soon.
“Well, ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I’d best be on my way.” Ryon pushed off the wall abruptly, nodded at Hannah and Wren, winked at Lailu, and disappeared through the front door.
“That was abrupt,” Lailu said.
“Why was he here?” Wren asked. “Didn’t he work for Mr. Boss?”
“I think he was working for Mr. Boss about as much as your mom was working for him,” Lailu said. Both Starling and Ryon had temporarily aligned themselves with Lailu’s old nemesis, but both were really there for their own purposes.
“You know, Mama always suspected he was up to something. She thought he had some sort of tie with the elves.” Wren wrinkled her nose.
Lailu and Hannah exchanged looks. “Er . . . ,” Lailu said, as noncommittally as she could.
“I think . . .” Wren stopped, then adjusted her tool belt. “I think I need to go now. I’ll see you around.” And she hurried out the door after Ryon. Moments later Lailu heard the roar of the auto-carriage taking off.
“Also abrupt,” Lailu said.
Hannah slumped into a chair. “Do you think it’s true?”
“What?”
“About the elves?”
Lailu hesitated. Eirad had been there at the feast, and he’d been “working.” Ryon thought he was up to something, and after Eirad’s strange, veiled hints in the Western Travel District, Lailu had to agree. And even though he’d said they were incapable of killing anyone under Elister’s protection, she had to admit, they seemed to find ways around their promises. Still, to murder a scientist? And right after Elister’s party? “I don’t think it was them,” Lailu said slowly. “They’re smarter than that.”
“So what do we do about it?”
“Do? We don’t do anything,” Lailu said. “Elister’s looking into it, and I’m going to stay out of it . . . or at least as much as I can. I’ve had it with getting involved with those people.”
“Good,” Master Slipshod barked.
Lailu jumped, her heart hammering.
Her mentor stood in the kitchen doorway. “And while you’re at it, quit lollygagging around. We need to prepare for the dinner rush,” he said.
Lailu’s jaw dropped, and she exchanged a glance with Hannah.
Master Slipshod’s chef’s hat was puffier than usual, his apron freshly pressed and whiter than egg whites. Even his hair had been brushed back into a neat ponytail, of all things.
“M-Master Slipshod?” Lailu whispered. He never looked presentable. Rumor had it he wore a stained apron and left his hair unbrushed even in the days he’d worked as the king’s chef.
“What is it?”
“Nice . . . ponytail,” Hannah said.
Slipshod ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. “Big nights ahead, big nights. Important to look our best.” His eyes narrowed on Lailu’s appearance. “So you might want to go wash up. Can’t have a sloppy-looking apprentice. But first, go greet your guest.”
“Greet my what?” Lailu asked, confused.
Master Slipshod stepped to the side to reveal a short, curvy woman with auburn hair held back by a vibrant scarf, her skirts a swirl of color around her. The woman smiled, her large hazel eyes taking in Lailu’s appearance, from the dirt and blood on Lailu’s clothing to the bruises underneath. “It’s nice to see that some things never change,” she said, her voice as warm and welcoming as a large pot of ho
memade stew. “My little Lailu. How I’ve missed you.”
Lailu’s breath caught. It was her mother.
16
RUMOR HAS IT
As Lailu bustled about the kitchen, she could feel her aches and pains drifting away on a minty-fresh breeze thanks to her mother’s salve. Lianna Loganberry might not have been the most reliable mother, but her healing ointments never failed. Still, Lailu had to wonder why her mother was there. She hadn’t seen her in over a year; her mother hadn’t bothered to show up to her graduation. So why now? It felt like hunting that hydra, as if she were seeing only the first three heads, the rest of the beast hidden.
“Your father sends his love,” Lianna said from her perch on the counter. “And so do Lonnie and Laurent. They asked when you were going to come home for a visit.”
“When I have free time,” Lailu said, trying not to feel guilty. She had a restaurant to run. She didn’t have time for family visits. She knew her father understood; he had always respected those who sacrificed their time in pursuit of hard work. But Lonnie occasionally sent her whiny letters. “I’m surprised Lonnie didn’t come with you.” Lailu thought of the last letter he’d sent, where he’d threatened to move in to Mystic Cooking. She loved her brother. He was only a year older than her, and he was one of her best friends, but he could be a bit much sometimes. She didn’t think she could handle him and run a business.
Lianna laughed. “Oh, he tried. I had to sneak out.”
Lailu winced.
“What? He doesn’t mind.” Lianna waved her hands as if ditching her son was no big deal. And to her, it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
Lailu took a deep breath. She wanted to tell her mother how much it hurt when she abandoned them, wanted to ask her how she was so sure Lonnie didn’t mind being left behind. But when she looked her mother in the face, she couldn’t do it. She was never able to do it.