.3.

GOLD AND SWORDS AND CAKES

After a day on the road, her stomach pinched with hunger and her feet raw from walking, Girl stopped to rest at a river. Countless stars, even more brilliant at night than they were during the day, spilled across the sky. In the light of the two moons—one near and pale violet, the other white, more distant—she saw a shabby, mud-colored town, its rooftops a tumble of mismatched shingles. A sign at the town’s western bridge told her that this was Willow-on-the-River, where the sisters shopped for goods when their own small village’s market ran low.

But she would not think about the sisters just yet, nor any of the others back at the convent. First she must find food and a warm place to rest. Then she could sort out everything else.

“The Wolf King doesn’t attack children and old women,” Girl muttered to Fox, for the twentieth time that day. “He only attacks witches. And the witches are nearly gone.”

She stopped at the town church, hesitated, then went inside. Though she was normally not one for prayer, as praying required her to sit still and recite someone else’s words rather than her own, she lit a candle for everyone back at Saint Martta’s. She even prayed to the Wolf King, as she had been taught, but then she thought of Mother Petra’s screams and hesitated.

“I’m not sure he deserves my prayers,” she whispered to Fox, who was keeping watch at the chapel door, “not until I know that wasn’t him. Although I can’t imagine that it was him. It couldn’t have been. But I know what I saw.” She paused. “Is that sacrilege?”

Fox whuffed in what sounded to Girl like enthusiastic agreement, his breath puffing in the chilled air.

So Girl clasped her hands and prayed instead to the ever-present stars above her, from which the Star Lands got their name. She prayed that the sisters and girls were unhurt, that they were not too terribly afraid, and that if they needed rescuing, she, Girl, would be the one to save them, and in reward they would give her gold and swords and all the cakes she could ever want.

Then she and Fox explored the town square, just outside the church. The closed market stalls stood in rows, heavy canvases pulled down over their fronts.

“I know. I’m hungry too, Fox,” said Girl, rubbing her arms beneath her cloak to keep warm. Fox had offered Girl several quails and hares as they traveled, but Girl could not stomach raw meat and was afraid to build a fire in case the smoke gave away their position to any wolves prowling about. Since Girl did not eat the meat, neither did Fox, and Girl did not try to persuade him otherwise. They were partners, and it seemed to her that partners should eat together or starve together.

“I suppose I could wait until morning and buy something from the market like a respectable person would,” said Girl, thumbing through the stolen coins in her pocket.

Fox cocked his head.

Girl grinned. “Or I could steal something, like a respectable thief would.”

Fox wagged his tail.

“Come on, then!” Girl hurried through the dark streets, assessing each house she passed. None of them would do—too many people inside, items that could easily be used as weapons against her lying out in plain view, foul cooking smells indicating whatever food she found would not be worth stealing.

Then, on a quiet, ramshackle street, Girl saw a humble house, crooked and narrow, squashed between two larger buildings. The arrangement of its door and windows gave it an expression rather like someone who had long ago resigned himself to a cramped and crowded fate. One of the second-floor windows was ajar.

“Wait here, Fox,” whispered Girl. She started scaling the wall, using cracks between the stones to pull herself along. She looked back and saw Fox staring up at her, his torn ear sticking out crookedly as it always did.

She crawled through the open window into a dark room with an empty bed. She paused, crouching, listening for signs of danger and hearing none. Creeping out of the bedroom and down the stairs, she encountered nothing but bare walls and dust bunnies. Once she thought she heard someone moving about, but then realized it was only her own pounding heart. She opened the front door a crack and whispered to Fox, “I’m almost done. Stay right there.”

Fox did not move from where he sat in the road, though he licked his chops and quivered with excitement.

Girl tiptoed, grinning, to the kitchen. I knew no one was home, she thought. I sensed it right away when I saw this house. I really am the cleverest thief there ever was.

But as Girl rummaged through the kitchen stores, it quickly became clear that she wasn’t as clever as all that. The cupboards were bare. The pots and pans were cold and clean and neatly put away. There were no rolls, no pies, no potatoes. She even climbed atop a stool to check the highest shelves, but the only thing up there was a fuzzy layer of dust.

“What kind of kitchen is this?” Girl hissed, ready to smash every last maddeningly empty dish.

“It’s not your kitchen, I know that much,” said a voice behind her, and when Girl whirled around, she saw a shadowy figure standing in the kitchen doorway and the glint of a small, sharp blade.