Everybody shook their heads.
“I can’t remember any MM pairs we Bootmakers have Made,” Goose admitted.
Cordelia frowned. “There’s something else strange about all this,” she said slowly. “Cook’s right. Why tell our families that they had to deliver the Peace Clothes by noon today, only to arrest them at dawn, before they even had a chance to deliver them? They can’t very well finish them in the Tower, can they? And why throw what they’ve got into the river, if the princess is so desperate for them? It makes no sense!”
“Well, they may have thrown most of the Peace Clothes into the river,” Cook said, looking as smug a hen sitting on a golden egg. “But not all.”
She got to her feet, bustled over to the cold oven and, with a flourish like a baker producing a magnificent cake, she pulled out—
“The Peace Hat!” Cordelia cried, jumping up. “You hid it from them!” She looked around at everyone. “D’you see what this means? We can finish Making it and take it to the princess! She’ll have to let my family go—and I can explain that none of the Makers are traitors at all!”
“You’ll finish your breakfast first,” Cook decreed, placing the hat gently on the table.
After breakfast, Cook made Cordelia wash.
“You’re filthy from head to foot, Dilly. I won’t ask why, nor will I ask where that ragamuffin comes from.” Cook narrowed her eyes at Sam, who was inspecting a silver spoon. “But you are to wash. Before touching the Peace Hat. Your aunt would say so, sure as I.”
So Cordelia hopped from foot to foot in the copper tub as Cook poured buckets of chilly water from the pump over her and scrubbed her with soap and a sea sponge.
“It’s FREEZING!” Cordelia shrieked.
“If you’d given me two shakes, I’d have warmed the water over the fire for you, Dilly!” Cook tutted.
“That would take too long! We have very important work to do!” Cordelia gritted her teeth as the next bucketful came.
Goose was staring determinedly out of the window. Sam climbed on top of the cupboard and looked edgily at the washing going on below him. Cook beckoned him down.
“Come on, it’s your turn!” she barked.
But Sam shook his head and clung to the cupboard, while Cook threatened to climb up and fetch him down.
Fearing an eruption of hostilities, Cordelia negotiated a truce. Cook agreed not to pursue Sam up the furniture if Sam agreed to scrub his hands and face. A damp cloth was passed to him on the end of a broom handle and he even cleaned behind his ears. Still, only when Cook had poured all the water away and put the soap back in the dish did Sam decide it was safe to descend.
Cordelia, Goose, Sam, and Cook all studied the Peace Hat.
This second attempt was a delicate creation made of pale-blue felt from the Snowdonian Lullwool Sheep. A Sage Ribbon (woven from some beard-hairs of the famous philosopher Professor Pondergood and seven silver strands from the head of an Irish wise woman) was already fastened around the band. Uncle Tiberius had sewn three sheeny Paxpearl Shells onto the ribbon. But the Cordial Blossoms had withered to black papery saucers, with only thin crescents of yellow left like old bitten fingernails. An olive branch, twisting around the crown, had been snapped in the rush to hide the hat.
Cordelia dusted a bit of soot from the oven off its brim.
As she touched it, she felt a flash of sadness—and drew her hand back. It was as though her fingers had been burned by a cold fire.
Her aunt had been so sad after they had argued.
Cordelia carefully pulled the broken olive branch off the hat. She felt stress in the buttons around the brim, and a thread of anger in the stitches. The Cordial Blossoms crumbled into black ash at her touch.
All the discord she had caused was infused in the hat.
She shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” Goose asked.
Cordelia sighed. “It’s all wrong—it’s full of stress and sadness. Not what we want at all. It needs to be overflowing with peace.”
Her fingers still tingled with her aunt’s sorrow. “We can’t take any chances,” she said. “We have to start again.”
Goose, Cook, and Sam stared at her with round eyes, but Cordelia gritted her teeth and picked up the hat.
“Come on, everyone,” she said, trying to sound confident. “We’ve got a lot of work to do!”
Goose stood and stared. He had never been inside Hatmaker House before, let alone in the workshop itself. He gazed at the bright cascade of ribbons hanging from the ceiling and the glittering glass beads and buttons by the windows. He was wonderstruck by the rainbow feathers pinned to the wall, along with shiny beetle wings, precious stones, frothy lace, glinting gold leaf, delicate leaves, flowers, sequins, skeins of cloth, and shimmery gauze.
“It’s amazing in here, Cordelia!” Goose whispered. “So much more colorful than the Bootmaking Workshop. We only have stacks of leather and sheets of metal and some wooden models of feet.”
Cook sniffed.
“Yes.” Sam nodded with an air of authority. “I like the Hatmakers’ best too.”
Goose looked sharply at Sam. Before he could begin to wonder how Sam could know anything about the Makers’ workshops, Cordelia plucked a Merrybird feather from the wall and put it in Goose’s hands. She watched his smile come back as the Merrybird feather worked its sweet magic.
She carefully unpicked the Paxpearl Shells from the brim of the hat and unwound the ribbon. As the ingredients came off, she felt the stress and sadness fall away. A few minutes later, she placed the un-decorated hat on the hat block. She felt the eyes of the others on her, waiting for instructions.
“I’ve never really Made a hat on my own before,” she admitted. “I’m too young. I don’t know all the stuff. I haven’t had enough lessons, I haven’t read all the books … Things could go badly wrong …”
She wanted to add “again,” but she did not think it would be good for morale to admit that she had already had one disastrous adventure in illicit Hatmaking.
She suddenly wished, with a great ache, that her father would come striding through the door, tanned from his adventures and still smelling of the sea. He would take charge and fix everything with smiling ease. But there was no musical sound of a carriage pulling up at the front door, no tread on the stairs.
Cordelia looked down at her feet so that nobody would see the despair in her eyes. Now was not the time to give in to hopelessness.
Then the ticklish floorboard quivered and something rolled out from under the table, glinting gold like a thin shard of hope. She bent down to look at it.
It was Aunt Ariadne’s hatpin.
She picked it up. It was cool and sharp, and it gleamed with power. The emerald on its tip winked at her. Fingers shaking, Cordelia slid the hatpin into her hair, just as she had seen her aunt do a hundred times. She could feel the hatpin humming with possibilities; they sang through her hair, into her head, through her chest, and right to the tips of her fingers.
Magic!
Cordelia took a deep breath and raised her head, a new hope shining in her eyes.
“I’m the last free Hatmaker,” she announced. “So I’m going to give it my best shot. And you’re all going to help me. We’re going to Make this hat together.”
“But …” Goose faltered, “What about all the secrets? Aren’t Makers meant to keep their secrets safe?”
Cordelia looked at Goose, who looked sideways at Sam and Cook.
“Isn’t keeping secrets sort of what got everyone into this big mess in the first place?” Cordelia asked.
Goose shifted in his boots.
“My aunt told me that the seventh star on the Makers’ crests means we’re stronger when we all work together: we’re best when we’re united,” Cordelia said decisively, twiddling the hatpin in her hair. “Let’s get to work!”
The Politic Cord was spooled and ready to be put on the hat, and the garland of Mellow Daisies her uncle had made lay next to it. There was the s
ilver bowl of sifted starlight too—Cordelia saw the serene glimmer of the evening star when she tipped the bowl.
“We’ll use all these ingredients,” Cordelia said. “But it needs something more.”
She looked thoughtfully at the wall of sandalwood boxes with their minuscule labels, then shook her head. All the rules and all the usual ingredients were not enough. It would have to be a hat like none that had ever been. They needed to break the rules and throw them out of the window.
She turned to Cook and Sam.
“What makes you most peaceful?” she asked. “In the whole world?”
Sam stared blankly, but a dreamy expression came over Cook.
“The smell of Sunsugar when it’s caramelizing,” she crooned. “Just as it turns golden and starts to taste like sunlight.”
“Can you make some?” Cordelia asked. “To go on the Peace Hat?”
“But—food doesn’t go on hats!” Cook protested.
“You told me once that food is a kind of magic,” Cordelia replied. “It might be one of the kinds of magic we need.”
“I … I …” Cook began, apparently struggling to wrap her head around this astonishing logic. “All right! Yes, I will!” And, with that, she bustled out of the workshop, muttering, “I will get my best copper pot out and start right away.”
Cordelia turned to Sam.
“I—I can’t help you with this,” he stammered. “All I’m good for’s thieving. I ain’t got any kinda learning—”
“Nonsense,” said Cordelia, taking his hand. “Everyone has the magic in them to Make things. Most people have just forgotten or got distracted or don’t believe they can.”
“I can’t even read!” Sam protested, his eyes roving over all the spidery labels on the sandalwood boxes.
“You don’t need to learn stuff to know how you feel, in your belly,” Cordelia replied. “In fact, sometimes learning too much stuff gets in the way. Remember what you said to me last night? Don’t think—just jump!”
Sam squirmed, as though his belly was causing him some discomfort.
“What makes you feel at peace? That’s all you need to tell me,” Cordelia said gently.
Sam was silent, his face a little scrunched. Then, on a shelf just above his head, a round-bottomed bottle rocked and toppled over. Its cork popped and smoke billowed out, surrounding Sam’s head in a cloud of violet mist. Cordelia smelled a faint spiciness and recognized it at once.
Vapor of Valor! Just what he needs. Well done, House!
“It might sound silly,” Sam began. “But … I feel most peaceful lookin’ at the sky just before a lightning storm—that moment when everyfing goes quiet.”
Cordelia was glad to see that his eyes were shining. The Vapor of Valor had melted into the air.
“So,” she said. “You need to find something that has that feeling in it: the sky before lightning.”
Sam hopped up onto the windowsill, all his swagger back.
“Righto!” he crowed. “I know just where to go. Back in a jiffy!”
And he was off out of the window with a duck and a spring.
Goose, still holding the plumy Merrybird feather, said, “Your new friend is … unusual.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Cordelia grinned. “All right, Goose—”
But before she could decide what Goose should do to help, he was swallowed by a colorful avalanche.
“Aaah!” he yelped, his voice muffled.
Every one of the exotic feathers pinned to the wall had dropped on top of Goose.
“I think it’s your job to decide which feathers we should put on the Peace Hat,” Cordelia laughed as he reemerged from the storm of whirling colors. “Hold each of those feathers in your hand and whichever ones make you feel most peaceful, we’ll use those.”
Goose nodded, eyes wide. He picked the first feather gently from the floor and balanced it seriously in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes in concentration.
Cordelia looked down at the Peace Hat.
“Benevolence Buttons?” she wondered aloud.
A cupboard door popped open and some sky-blue buttons rolled out.
“Thank you,” Cordelia said, picking them up. “And perhaps also an Angelus Shell chime?”
A soft tinkle rang through the room. Cordelia followed the sound to find the Angelus Shell jingling among a collection of sea-green glass bubbles hanging in the window. She took the shell down gently and laid it on the workbench. She surveyed the ingredients laid out ready.
To get my family back, she thought, this has to be the most peace-filled hat we can possibly Make.
“What brings me peace?” she whispered. “In my heart and head and belly?”
She closed her eyes and dived into a sea of images: the smooth seashell painted with her mother’s portrait, the spicy-smoke smell that hung like a garland around her father, the seven freckles on her own nose, the feeling of magic right at the tips of her fingers …
Her eyes were still closed and she was still trying to decide when an earthy, tangy smell sneaked like a finger up her nose and tickled her brain.
Horse dung.
CHAPTER 29
CORDELIA’S EYES SNAPPED OPEN. THE THIEFTAKER loomed in the doorway, looking exhausted and furious. His left elbow was crusted with a brown substance that smelled very suspicious. Cordelia had the impression that, like her, he had been up all night.
“Ah! Miss Hatmaker!” he drawled in a horribly triumphant voice. “How nice to see you again!”
He made the word “nice” sound terribly nasty. Goose dropped the feather he was holding.
“Hello, Thieftaker Sternlaw,” Cordelia said politely, backing away from him. “You’re looking well.”
“You can’t run,” the Thieftaker snapped. “Don’t try to hide. I’m putting you under arrest.”
Cordelia moved so the workbench was between the two of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hat ribbons wriggling restlessly.
“Goose,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Dark blue ribbon.”
A thick indigo ribbon hung, heavy as a python, among the others. The Thieftaker advanced on Cordelia and she backed away. He dived for her and she sprang across the workshop.
Goose was ready. He held out the end of the wiggling ribbon and Cordelia snatched it. She swerved, holding the ribbon tight, and the Thieftaker ran straight into it. Cordelia ducked and darted and wove, nimble as a needle in her uncle’s hand. In the time it took the Thieftaker to say, “OOF—ARGH!—NO!—GRRR!” Cordelia had wrapped the ribbon five times around him, binding his arms to his sides.
Thieftaker Sternlaw struggled. But he was not fighting to free himself; he was struggling to keep his eyes open. The ribbon that bound him was made of Drowslip Silk, which the Hatmakers used in nightcaps to help the wearer fall asleep.
He blinked with heavy eyelids and yawned. “N-n-now, s-seeee h-h-here, Miss—ooh—Miss—H-h-h-haaaat—maaaa—”
Cordelia pointed at an inky velvet ribbon shimmying beside Goose’s shoulder. “Wrap that around him too, Goose!”
Scampering around the Thieftaker, whose head was dropping onto his chest, Goose trussed the man in the black ribbon. By the time he was finished, the Thieftaker was soundly asleep. With the ribbons still attached to the wall and holding him up, he snored and swayed gently like the bough of a tree. Several other ribbons snaked around the slumbering Thieftaker and tied themselves in a smart double-bow. He looked like a present nobody would want to be given.
Goose turned shining eyes to Cordelia and whispered, “That was so much fun!”
Cordelia grinned at him. “Keep wildness in your wits, Goose, and magic in your fingertips!”
And she knew in that instant what she wanted to put on the Peace Hat.
The Sicilian Leaping Bean wriggled in her hand. She held it tight between thumb and finger as she wrapped a strand of spider silk around it. When she was sure it was tied tight enough, she let the bean go and it jiggled gleefully on the end o
f the thread.
“What is it?” Goose asked.
“It’s something my father taught me,” Cordelia said.
She tied the spider silk carefully around the three feathers Goose had chosen and fixed them into the ribbon on the hat. The Leaping Bean bounded and skipped proudly along the brim and back again.
“Now all we need is—” Cordelia began, but she stopped as the most delicious smell wafted in through the workshop door. It was the smell of hot sunshine.
Cook appeared, carrying a honey-colored halo, just like the circles of gold around the heads of saints in stained-glass windows.
“Oh, Cook!” Cordelia breathed. “It’s beautiful!”
“I hummed a Serene Shanty while I made it.” Cook beamed. “To help the peace along. Seen your aunt do that before, y’know.”
She carefully placed the halo on the hat. It shone like a woven ray of sunshine around the crown. Cook was so enthralled with her own amazing creation that she completely ignored the snoring Thieftaker.
As Cordelia was draping the Mellow Daisy chain over the top of the Sunsugar and securing it with the Politic Cord, Sam swung in through the window.
“Cor!” he exclaimed. “Hat’s lookin’ dapper!”
He landed lightly on the floor, while Goose frowned at him suspiciously.
“Got me fing here!” he announced, holding out a large golden star. “It’s from the very top of St. Auspice’s spire.”
“Brilliant!” Cordelia cried. “That star catches lightning! We might have to put it back afterward, but it will be perfect to borrow for the Peace Hat.”
She stitched the gleaming star to the very top of the hat.
“The last thing that goes on is the starlight,” Cordelia said.
She picked up the Starbowl and swirled it around. A faint tinkling shivered through the room.
“What does it do?” Sam whispered.
Cordelia gazed into the bowl. “It gives hope if you have lost your way,” she said. “And the feeling of not being so alone.”
The Hatmakers Page 15