by Heidi Lang
“Where’s Hannah? Is she okay? And Ryon?” Lailu struggled against her blankets.
“They’re both okay, honey. You protected them.”
Lailu relaxed, all the fight trickling out of her.
Lianna smoothed Lailu’s hair from her forehead. “You took the worst of the blast. Well, aside from the automaton and . . . and . . . Starling Volan.” Lianna said this last name softly, sadly.
“Starling, is she . . .” Lailu swallowed.
Lianna shook her head, and Lailu knew then that the scientist was dead.
Emotions warred and mixed in her stomach like an ill-prepared sauce. Starling was dead . . . because of her. What would happen now—to her, to her friends?
What would happen to Wren?
“I know what you’re thinking, love, but it was not your fault. Hannah already told us what happened. You did what you had to do to survive and save your friends.”
Lailu thought of Elister, and it was as if the sauce in her stomach had solidified and curdled. What would he do when he found out his star scientist was dead? If he didn’t know already. “Sometimes the good of the country must take precedence over justice,” Lailu whispered.
“Where did you hear that load of garbage?”
“Lord Elister.” Lailu closed her eyes. “When I told him I thought the scientists had killed Carbon.”
“Well, you were absolutely right about that.”
“I was?” Lailu’s eyes flew open.
“Oh yes. I told you Elister sent for me because he didn’t entirely trust Starling? I’ve been tailing her and the other scientists all week.”
“Really?” Lailu still had a hard time picturing her mother tailing anyone. Her mother . . . the spy.
“I was too slow to help you today, but at least I was able to recover the cylinder from the automaton you faced tonight. Well, some of the cylinder was melted, but I could see enough to prove what happened.” Lianna sighed. “Carbon wasn’t even the first.”
“But why? He was working for her.”
“Yes, but he had also started making plans to leave her. Starling wouldn’t tolerate that. So she had him killed by his own invention.”
“So Walton did kill him,” Lailu said, remembering the hat and the spot of mud on the rim. Strangely, she felt sorry for the automaton, forced to kill its creator.
“I think Starling wanted to make a powerful demonstration to the other scientists that she could turn their creations against them. And it worked—there was no more talk of leaving. But I wonder what will happen now, without her there to keep them all in line.” Lianna pursed her lips. “Such a mess. You know, one of her previous hairdressers turned up dead too? Apparently she was trying to help Carbon and his friends start their own businesses. Hannah discovered that. She said you gave her the tip.”
Lailu felt even sicker. “Hannah was always in danger, then. Even before she helped us.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about Hannah. That girl has a knack for getting herself into and then out of danger.” Lianna smiled fondly. “You’ve chosen your friends well.”
“Did you know she’s a spy now too?” Lailu asked.
“I’ve suspected as much. Ever since I saw her whispering with Ryon.”
“You know him, don’t you?”
“I know him by reputation only. If you need answers about Twin Rivers, the word in the spy world is that he’s the guy to go to.”
“Your world,” Lailu said, and even she could hear the bitterness in her voice. Her fight with her mother came rushing back, and she closed her eyes.
“Honey, I know you have a lot of questions, and you have a right to feel betrayed, but I’ve never lied to you,” Lianna said softly. “I’ve just never . . . mentioned my side job. It was a good fit. I enjoy traveling, meeting new people, and seeing new things, and Elister needed eyes and ears all around the country. It’s the reason I was out in Clear Lakes in the first place.”
Lailu opened her eyes at the mention of her home village. “Why would Elister want a spy out there?” Clear Lakes was tiny and far from the capital. And then she realized. “The Krigaen border.”
Lianna nodded. “I was supposed to check it out. I only planned to stay a few weeks, but your father . . . well. He’s very charming.”
“Dad?” Lailu asked incredulously. Her father was a very serious, hardworking man. He only spoke when he had something important to say, didn’t believe in dancing or loud music, and seemed like the complete opposite of her mother. Honestly, Lailu had never understood what they saw in each other, but mostly, she tried not to think about it. “So you’ve been working for Elister this whole time?”
“Off and on.” Lianna stood. “And don’t you worry about him, either. I’ve already spoken with him. Everything’s been taken care of. You’ll see.” She dropped a newspaper on Lailu’s lap. “We’ll talk more about this later, okay? Rest up.” Then she strode out of the room.
Lailu picked up the paper, the bandages on her hands making everything clumsy.
Elves Banished after Deadly Attack Kills Talented Scientist!
At nightfall on the Final Night of Masks, elves orchestrated a deadly and malicious attack. “Only one fatality,” a source close to the palace confirmed, “but hundreds were injured. Thank the gods for the scientists. They saved us all!”
Starling Volan, head of the scientists and the one responsible for protecting Twin Rivers, credited her daughter for this rescue mission just hours before her death. “Wren discovered the necessary ingredient we needed to neutralize the threat magic represents. She has really come into her own as an inventor. I couldn’t be more proud.” These will unfortunately be the last remembered words of this remarkable scientist, and loving mother.
Even though this attack seemed to be the actions of a small group of elves, Lord Elister had this to say:
“While the elven leader Fahr and I have worked hard on a peace, I cannot ignore this attack and must take steps to protect the people of Twin Rivers. Henceforth all elves are banished from this city’s borders. Any elf found within the confines of these walls is subject to immediate arrest.”
Although Fahr has vowed to uphold Elister’s decision, many insiders have doubts about his ability to do so.
“It seems to me he can’t really control his people,” said Jonah Gumple, one of the victims of this attack. “How can we trust he will enforce this edict?” Mr. Gumple was particularly distraught since he had attacked his future mother-in-law while enchanted to resemble a skilly-wig.
(story continued on page 5)
Lailu’s hands shook as she read the article again. The elves had nothing to do with Starling’s death! Sure, they had caused all the mayhem in the city, but to blame them for murder?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Lailu jumped. A shadow loomed in her window, silhouetted against the setting sun. She dropped the newspaper and drew the knife above her bed before she realized that it was just Ryon.
He pushed on the window, frowned, then tapped again.
Lailu sighed and opened it.
“Got yourself a lock, I see. Clever.” He climbed in and sat on the windowsill. “Brr, it’s cold out there.” He pulled his jacket closer.
Lailu studied him carefully. He looked mildly bruised but otherwise seemed fine, not like someone who’d nearly lost an eye or two.
“You know, you can put the knife away. It’s just me,” he said.
“That’s why I have my knife out.”
He grinned. “Fair enough. Although it would be unfortunate if you went through all that trouble to save me just to stab me now.”
“Unfortunate,” Lailu agreed drily. “Maybe I’ll just push you out instead, and then we can see if flying is another one of your ‘special talents.’ ”
Ryon glanced down, then slid off the windowsill and took a slow, deliberate step away from it. “I see someone’s still a little upset about my secrets. But, Lailu, you understand why I try not to let anyone know about my abilities, right? It
either makes people uncomfortable or it makes me a target.”
“You could have told me. I thought we were friends.”
“We are. And you’re right, I could have. I’ve just . . . I’ve gotten used to keeping things to myself. I’m sorry.”
Lailu deliberated, then put down the knife.
“Whew! I was getting worried there.” Ryon made a show of relaxing. “How are you, by the way?”
“Me?” Lailu asked. “Fine. Never better.”
“Awful, huh?”
She nodded.
“Well, you can stop that. Feeling awful, that is,” he said. “That woman got what she deserved.”
“But . . . I killed my friend’s mom! My friend who helped me save you.”
“First, technically Starling did that to herself. She hit that disturbing metal monstrosity and caused it to explode. The fact that you’d tossed it in her face makes no difference,” he continued quickly, stalling Lailu’s protests. “And second, while I appreciate your friend stopping the automaton last night, she wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have needed rescuing in the first place.”
“But she’s just a kid—”
“So you keep saying. But she’s not much younger than you, and she’s committed some horrible deeds herself—or do you really believe she took no part in the draining of the elves’ blood?”
Lailu reluctantly shook her head.
“Well, if that’s no comfort, think of it this way: if it hadn’t been Starling, it would have been you, it would have been Hannah, and it would have been me. Personally, I think you made the right choice. Don’t you?” Ryon crossed his arms.
Lailu sighed. “I do. Of course I do.”
“Good. Then quit feeling awful.” He inclined his head toward the newspaper. “I see you know about the banishment.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? That no one was killed last night?” Lailu said.
“The elves made a deal with Elister. They aren’t allowed to kill anyone under his protection, and I don’t think they’ve found a loophole in that. Even the people they enchanted weren’t able to kill either, only injure.”
“Oh.” Lailu tried not to think of the screams of pain and terror from everyone who was “only” being injured last night.
“And it turns out, I was wrong about Fahr,” Ryon added bitterly. “He was working with Eirad the whole time. This enchantment scheme was done with his approval. What he thought they would accomplish . . . I mean, of course Elister would banish them after this stunt.”
“I’m sorry,” Lailu said, and she meant it. It had seemed to mean a lot to Ryon that his half brother was not involved.
Ryon ran a hand through his hair. “I thought . . .” He shook his head. “Sometimes you see in a person what you want to see in them, and not what’s really there.”
Lailu nodded.
“If anyone asks about me, I’ll be keeping a low profile. But I’ll see you around.” He swung his leg over the edge of the windowsill, then glanced back at her. “And thank you, Lailu. It was a lucky day when I started working for Mr. Boss, because it brought me to you.”
Before Lailu could think of a reply, he was gone into the night.
She shivered in the sudden draft. “He could have at least closed the window behind him,” she muttered. But she was smiling as she leaned out the window and let the chill evening air cool her face.
43
MASTER CHEF LOGANBERRY
Lailu kept one hand on the banister as she slowly made her way down the stairs. She pushed open the door, then leaned against it. Getting blown up had taken all the strength right out of her.
“. . . shouldn’t tell her now,” Hannah was saying out in the dining room. “Give her some time.”
Sighing, Lailu pulled back the curtain and stepped through. “Tell who what?” she asked.
Hannah and Slipshod immediately fell silent. The fact that they were sitting together in the first place was surprising enough. “You have news for me, don’t you?” Lailu realized.
“Oh, Lailu, I’m so glad you’re awake!” Hannah rushed over and threw her arms around her.
Lailu stumbled, then managed to catch her balance.
“We’ve been so worried about you! Sorry, I’ll stop hugging you.” Hannah let her go, then lunged in and hugged her again.
“Get off!” Lailu laughed, pushing at her friend. “How long was I out for?” Had it been days? Lailu had a sudden, terrible thought. Weeks? Was Mystic Cooking ruined in her absence?
“Hours,” Hannah said.
Lailu almost fell over. “That’s all ? Why were you so worried?”
“Well, your mom had to use Paulie’s ointments on you as well as her own. She was worried about your hands.”
Lailu looked down at the bandages, dread curdling in her gut like overcooked cream sauce. Her hands were her life. “Will they be okay?”
“Oh yes—a bit of scarring, but nothing that will hinder your cooking. Paulie did a wonderful job.” Hannah bit her lip.
“Is . . . is everything okay?” Lailu asked. “With you and Paulie?”
“Oh, Paulie and I are just fine. We’ve had a chance to . . . discuss a few things. I’ve got no issue with her.” Hannah’s smile was cold and quite terrifying.
“This is all very well and good,” Slipshod said, “but I’ve got news I need to tell you, Pigtails.”
“I thought we agreed you would wait?” Hannah frowned.
“I did. I waited for you two to finish your reunion. But I’m afraid this can’t wait any longer.” He stood up, brushed his hands on his apron, and cleared his throat. “So. Well. That is.”
“Very informative,” Lailu said.
“Oh, hush. He’s about to tell you he’s taking the job with the king.” Hannah sniffed. “I’ll be in back. I think someone’s knocking.” She shot Slipshod a disgusted look, then strode off.
Slipshod looked down at his boots.
“Is that true?” Lailu asked.
“It is,” he admitted. “You . . . you could come with me?” he added hopefully. “The king specifically mentioned there would be room for both of us.”
“And leave Mystic Cooking?” Lailu shook her head.
“That’s what I thought,” he sighed. “Which is why I preemptively did this.” He pulled a roll of parchment from his back pocket and handed it to Lailu.
Sniffing, she opened it, and read:
Lailu Loganberry has hereby completed her apprenticeship on this, the Final Day of the Week of Masks. Full Master Chef status has been awarded to her. Welcome, Master Chef Lailu Loganberry, and may you serve Savoria well.
It was signed by Slipshod, Elister, her old teacher Master Sanford, and the king. Lailu folded it up again, feeling numb.
“And this is yours too.” Slipshod handed her another roll. “You don’t have to open it. It’s the deed to Mystic Cooking. This restaurant is yours now.” He smiled a little sadly. “It’s always been yours, truly.”
Lailu’s fingers curled around the deed. She felt like someone had taken a giant spoon to her insides. But there was one thought that cheered her up. “At least I can say I finished my apprenticeship before Greg.”
Master Slipshod cleared his throat. “Well. About that.” He picked up his copy of the morning paper, flipped through to a page in the middle, and thrust it at her. “I’m going to leave now before you read that. I’ll see you around, Pigtails.” He hesitated, then added, “I know I haven’t always been the best mentor. . . .” He paused.
Lailu said nothing.
“Okay, that pause was for you to jump in and disagree.”
“Oh. Um, you’ve been the best mentor I ever had,” she tried.
“But only by process of elimination, eh?” Slipshod chuckled. “I have nothing more to teach you, Master Chef Loganberry. But I do have one more thing to say.” He removed his fluffy white chef’s hat and stood up straighter, like he was about to give an important speech. “I have done man
y things in my life. I have hunted and cooked creatures you’ve never even heard of, I wrote the most highly regarded book on dragon cuisine, and I served the old king himself. But truly, being your mentor has been my greatest honor.”
Lailu’s chest tightened, and she wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you,” she managed. “For believing in me when no one else did.” She would always remember that Slipshod was the one chef willing to take a chance on her and her restaurant idea.
Slipshod scrunched his hat awkwardly in his hands. “No, Lailu. Thank you. You’ve taught me far more than I could ever teach you. Thank you for reminding this old man how to dream.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure you will do amazing things.”
Lailu watched until he vanished past the curtain into the kitchen, his footsteps echoing up the stairs. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. That made her think of Wren, and the tears fell even faster, splattering the paper in her hands.
She glanced at it.
A large picture of Greg grinning next to his uncle took up most of the space. Not surprising. He was probably getting credit for something or other. Lailu skimmed the caption, the words youngest, achieved, and master chef status flashing out at her.
Her tears dried up, evaporating in the face of her anger. “No way,” she breathed. “That lousy weasel has done it again.”
“Lailu, you have a guest,” Hannah called from the kitchen.
Lailu dropped the paper and stomped on it. Here she’d finally gotten a step ahead, only to find out that once again, Greg was right there with her.
“Why are you stomping on my face?” Greg asked.
Lailu looked up. Greg stood beside Hannah in her kitchen doorway.
Lailu narrowed her eyes.
“Um, I brought pie?” He held up a pie dish. “If that helps?”
“I was hurt, not dead!” Lailu snapped.
“Well, that’s good, since I brought this over to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“You know, us finishing our apprenticeships.” He grinned. “We’re both master chefs now, just like we always dreamed.”