Elodie slept through breakfast, although the table hadn’t yet been taken down when she awoke. First she needed the garderobe. Not thinking, she headed for the corridor door from the great hall, which Dror-bee was guarding. “Stop! No one can leave.” Ardent as ever, he repeated, “Stop!”
“But I came after the theft.”
Dror-bee asked High Brunka Marya to rule.
“Apologies, lamb. I can’t let you go alone and no one else.” She appointed Ludda-bee and Johan-bee to conduct Elodie to the privy.
Elodie wondered if the high brunka paired the two to push Johan-bee to stand up for himself, or if it was a kindness to send him, because he’d be able to use the garderobe himself. Outside the great hall, she asked to be led to the privy closest to where the Replica was kept.
Ludda-bee complained about the extra distance, but she didn’t say no.
As they walked, Elodie was aware that the thief had come this way. When they neared the turn into the high brunka’s corridor, she thought, If the villain had an accomplice, he or she might have slipped into one of these rooms. High Brunka Marya said they were all unoccupied now. On Master Robbie’s map IT had pointed at this room on her left, the Ferret Room. She decided to ferret about in there and wished she could tell IT the pun. Enh enh enh.
“Can I look in here?” Without waiting for an answer, she went in.
“You think the Replica may be there?” Ludda-bee asked, following her in.
“I just want to see something.”
Johan-bee stayed in the doorway. Inside, there was hardly enough space for two. The cook reeked of animal fat and garlic. This chamber was narrower than Elodie’s own Donkey Room, but it still held a bed, a chest, and a stool. If the box had been hidden in here, the thief would have put it where Ursa-bee wouldn’t see.
No use looking in the chest, because if the handkerchief had been in there, the lid would have muffled the weeping. The floor seemed evenly strewn with floor rushes, but—she peered under the bed—had the rushes been disturbed there?
Ludda-bee grunted and crouched, too.
Too dark to tell, where there were no glowworms. Elodie tried to pull the bed out of the way as far as it would go, but it was too heavy.
“Help the girl, you inconsiderate oaf.”
Ludda-bee and Elodie had to leave the room so Johan-bee could work. He pulled the bed out. From the doorway, Elodie saw rushes with no sign they’d been disturbed, except where Johan-bee had moved the legs.
They left the Ferret Room. Ludda-bee and Johan-bee turned into the corridor where the high brunka’s chamber was.
Elodie stood still. If she didn’t turn but continued a few steps, she’d come to a room between the high brunka’s corridor and the next, where the thief might have waited if he or she had worked alone. “I want to look in this room, too, if you don’t mind.” She opened the door to the Turtle Room, which proved to be another tiny chamber similarly furnished.
Johan-bee went in first this time and moved the bed.
“Thank you.”
Near the wall, the rushes lay too flat. A narrow, cleared path led to the flattened place that could have been made by an arm.
“Oh!” Elodie’s heart speeded up. The thief had been here, had breathed this air, had opened the box, had touched the handkerchief that weeps, had hurried out. A single thief, since this was the room—if ITs theory was right.
“What do you see?” Ludda-bee bent down, too. “Nothing’s there. Just rushes.”
Johan-bee said, “In winter the Oase is overrun by mice.”
A mouse could have caused the path and could have lain there, matting the rushes.
“He knows about mice,” Ludda-bee said, starting down the corridor after Johan-bee. “A few nights ago he woke us all with his screaming when one walked across his face. You have a visage beloved by rodents, Johan.”
Make a jest of it, Johan-bee! Elodie thought. He could say that all creatures loved his face. Then Ludda-bee’s wit would be outwitted.
But he marched ahead of them.
Elodie called, “Thank you, Johan-bee, for your labor.”
He turned. “I don’t mind. Bees help.” The toothache medicine almost disappeared in his smile.
They continued on to the garderobe, where Elodie disliked having people waiting for her. Again, she pitied Johan-bee.
When she came out, Ludda-bee said, “I suppose you want to use it, too, Johan.”
He did. While they waited, Elodie tried to think of useful questions to ask the cook, who began a new tirade with “See how slow he is, girl? I would have finished twice by now. He’s slow in everything. He took forever to dig up the beets before the blizzard, before you and the monster came. If he were cook we’d never eat. It’s a wonder Master Uwald has taken an interest in him. That man is goodness itself, to poor Master Robbie, too.” But, incapable of paying a complete compliment, she added, “Of course, Master Uwald will wager with anyone. He’d play dice with a pig if it had hands.”
“Do you think the high brunka will find the Replica in time?”
“I do not. Marya hates to think ill of anyone. . . .”
And you love to, Elodie thought.
“. . . but she’ll find it in the end, and then I pity the thief.”
“Who do you think might have done it?”
“Master Tuomo or Mistress Sirka. He’s high and mighty, and she’s low and mighty. He’s losing his inheritance to Master Robbie, and she’s as poor as a termite.”
Johan-bee emerged at last.
Elodie thought she’d learned one thing worth knowing: there had been a single thief, if her masteress’s theories were right.
As they walked the long corridor back to the great hall, she wondered if Ludda-bee could be the thief. The cook had studied Johan-bee’s habits, so she’d be aware of when he’d go to the garderobe. And she knew the Replica’s hiding place. But if she took it, she’d have to leave the Oase and stop complaining. The loss would be too great.