The Wizard of Rondo by Emily Rodda

Author:Emily Rodda [Rodda, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781921989599
Publisher: Scholastic Australia
Published: 2012-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

22

Ban the Baker

As the friends turned the corner and approached the bakery door, appreciatively sniffing the delicious aroma of baking bread, they saw that an elegant red fox was sitting beside the doorstep keeping a watchful eye on the dots scurrying about on the cobbles.

Bertha made a small, choked sound that she tried to turn into a cough as everyone looked at her anxiously. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I got a little shock, that’s all. That fox reminds me of – of another fox I know.’ ‘All foxes look alike to me,’ Freda muttered. ‘Good morning,’ Conker said to the fox with forced heartiness as they reached the doorstep. The fox nodded graciously without taking her eyes off the dots.

A bell on the door tinkled as Conker hurriedly ushered Bertha into the shop. Mimi followed, then Freda, slapping her feet loudly on the step and giving the fox a challenging look as she passed. As Leo hesitated, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Bodelia and Sadd weren’t looking in the bakery’s direction, a dot made a break for the open door.

The fox moved so fast that she was a red blur. The dot didn’t even reach the doorstep. Snip, snap, swallow, and it was gone. The fox licked her lips with a long pink tongue and went back to her post.

‘She’s fast, I’ll give her that,’ Freda said grudgingly, as Leo quickly stepped into the shop and closed the door behind him.

‘Fastest fox in the north,’ said a cheerful voice. ‘A treasure! I’d be lost without Renée.’

A chubby bald man wrapped in a spotless white apron was beaming at them from behind the counter. Wire racks behind him were loaded with loaves, rolls, pies and cakes. There couldn’t be any doubt that this was Bun the baker.

‘We’re wasting our time here,’ Leo murmured. ‘He looks completely harmless.’

‘It’s just a pose,’ Mimi whispered back, eyeing Bun suspiciously. ‘Someone that cheerful must have something to hide.’

‘I’m with you,’ Freda agreed.

‘And what do you fancy today, ladies and gents?’ asked Bun, his face positively shining with good humour. ‘A nice sultana cake? A bramble pie, still warm from the oven? Or could I tempt you with some Princess Pretty Tarts, as served at the recent Crystal Palace ball?’

He gestured with modest pride at a rack of small, heart-shaped tarts glistening with pink fruit and topped with a fluff of meringue. ‘My own invention,’ he continued happily. ‘They melt in your mouth, if I do say so myself.’

‘Er, yes, we’ll have a few of those,’ Conker said, feeling for his moneybag.

‘Five dibs apiece,’ Bun said cheerfully. ‘Or a dozen for a dab and six bread rolls thrown in – that’s our holiday special.’

‘Excellent value,’ said Freda, eyeing the Princess Pretty tarts with interest.

Conker nodded. ‘A dozen, then,’ he said grandly. ‘Why not?’ He put a gold coin on the counter.

Bun picked up the coin and inspected it closely on both sides before putting it into the cash register.

‘I’ve grown cautious,’ he said apologetically, catching sight of Conker’s insulted expression.

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