Cinders and Sparrows by Stefan Bachmann

Author:Stefan Bachmann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greenwillow Books
Published: 2020-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I found Bram in the kitchens, ferrying baskets of onions, sides of ham, and cones of sugar out of the pantry in preparation for dinner. “Oh dear,” he said, before I’d even begun my story, which made me think I must look fairly frantic.

“Oh dear what?” Minnifer demanded, poking her head up from her mountain of pillowcases. She clambered out from among them, and they both hurried over, squinting at Vikers and me.

“It’s the triggles,” I said. “The triggles have my Anchor!”

“The triggles?” Minnifer whispered. “Are you sure?”

“Almost positive. I know where it was supposed to be, and it wasn’t there, and I caught a whole passel of them rummaging about—”

“Little wretches!” exclaimed Minnifer and Bram at once, and then Minnifer said, “We’ve got to get it back,” with such conviction I thought she might be about to don a helmet and take up a sword.

“Do you know where they hide the things they snatch?” I asked, my heart thumping. “I thought you would, Bram, since you’re always after them, and I just hope they haven’t put it somewhere unreachable like under the floorboards or—”

But Bram and Minnifer were already pulling me out of the kitchen and down a corridor, their work forgotten.

“They’ve got little troves all over the castle,” said Bram. “Sometimes they like to move them about, especially if they feel they’re being watched. But they’ve got one main spot.”

“Amsel’s Tower,” said Minnifer. “North wing.”

“The burned one?” I said, dashing along with them, Vikers clutching to my shoulder for dear life and letting out a squawk of indignation at all the excitement.

Bram nodded. “We’ll go through the forest. It’s safer than climbing through all that rubble. There’s a place where Pragast Wood creeps right up to the edge of the castle, and that’s where the tower is. Looks like a broken finger. I’ve cleared it out twice, but the triggles keep filling it up again. . . . Here, put this on.”

We had entered a little room, green cloaks on pegs, heaps of baskets, and rows of high black boots on the floor. Bram stuffed one of the cloaks into my arms and began pulling on a pair of boots. Vikers flew up to the gas lamp and perched there, watching us.

“Mrs. Cantanker will have a fit if she sees us with you and not at our work,” said Minnifer, pulling on her own boots. “But we’ll take you to the crack in the wall, and we’ll keep watch while you go into the tower, and if Mrs. Cantanker sees us we’ll just pretend we were out mushroom picking.”

I nodded, and we donned the green cloaks, took up baskets from the pile, and set off across the gardens for the perimeter of trees.

It was a lovely afternoon, bracing and sharp, the mountain air smelling of pine and stone and the coming winter. Vikers wheeled in the sky above. The last of the autumn leaves blew around us, and the sun took the edge off the cold and made my heart soar.

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