Bea Flint awoke to the sound of birds chattering in the trees. Someone had put a blanket over her in the night. She was stiff from sleeping curled up in the chair, and when she tried to open her eyes they felt gummy. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Miller, sitting in a chair at the balcony’s edge and stitching something. Bea closed her eyes again quickly. The sun was already high, but still it felt too early for talking. She pictured Theo waiting for her where the thin wavy trees were, and felt the weight of his absence at once like a cold stone in the pit of her stomach.
She tried to distract herself by listening to the birdsong that surrounded her. There was a colony of small birds in the Millers’ own tree. She could hear the chip-chip-cheeep of a hundred small chicks, their beaks open to the sky as they yelled for their breakfast, and the chatter of their parents as they squabbled over who should provide it. There was another larger bird there too. He sang a longer song that ran out like a telephone wire toward a neighboring tree. He was answered by another, maybe a hundred paces away toward the falls. As her ears followed that sound, Bea became aware again of the network of bees that loosely tied the countryside together, and from the purposeful paths of the bees she learned that the line of villagers had gone and her mother was no longer in the clearing. She felt she was beginning to grasp the idea of Mumbo Jumbo, and she remembered what her grandmother had said: You are the one who can find Theo. She sat up at once and opened her eyes.
“I’ve made you both some sandwiches,” said Mrs. Miller quietly. She smiled at her. “Of course, you can have breakfast here if you like, but I expect you’ll want to set off exploring as soon as you can.”
Bea rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. Mrs. Miller had resumed her sewing, and there was a pile of sandwiches on the table, neatly wrapped in waxed paper. “Have you been there all night?” asked Bea.
“I couldn’t sleep,” said Mrs. Miller, “and you both looked so comfortable there I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Thank you,” said Bea. She looked at Phoebe on the chair beside hers, tucked up in another blanket and still fast asleep. She poked her with her toe.
Phoebe sprang to life like a jack-in-the-box. “Let’s go!” she said.
They set off along the path, warmed by two mugs of steaming hot chocolate that Mrs. Miller had insisted on making for them. They had told her that they would return to the hills where they had been the previous day, but once they were out of sight of the house they doubled back to visit Arkadi. Phoebe trailed a stick on the ground and said thoughtfully, “He can’t be the one Granny Delphine was talking about. He’d have to be a hundred and forty at least.”
“What age would you say he is?” asked Bea. She had made a small opening in the zipper of the backpack and was feeding almonds to Nails as they walked.
“It’s hard to tell,” said Phoebe. “Forty? Sixty? He can’t be a hundred and forty. Nobody’s that old.”
“Maybe,” said Bea, “but how many…” She paused. She had heard something odd to her right. There were so many sounds among the trees that she could not tell what it was. Some tiny sound, so faint that it was almost no sound at all. That was it! No sound at all. She resumed talking, but her ears tuned in like satellite dishes. She could almost feel them swiveling. “How many people do you know named Arkadi?”
“None,” said Phoebe. “I don’t know any other Phoebes either, but that doesn’t mean I’m a hundred and forty.”
Bea lowered her voice. “Don’t look around,” she said, “but Granny Delphine was right. Someone is following us.”
“One of the Ledbetters?” whispered Phoebe.
“Must be.”
“Is it the same one who was spying on us when we went back to the falls?”
“I don’t know,” said Bea. “I can’t see him.”
“You heard him, right?” said Phoebe. She was starting to get used to her friend’s unusual hearing.
“Sort of. It’s more that I can’t hear him.”
“Then how do you know he’s there?”
“You know how sneaky the Ledbetters are,” said Bea quietly. “They’re so good at creeping up on people that they don’t make a sound.”
“Are you going to start making sense soon?” said Phoebe.
Bea laughed. “There are bees and crickets and shrews and all sorts of creatures in the undergrowth,” she explained. “They’re moving around all the time, but when a Ledbetter passes they freeze until he’s gone. It’s like a patch of silence moving through the trees.” She felt a wave of delight at her newfound skill. “It’s a dead giveaway!” she whispered.
“We’ll have to lose him,” said Phoebe. “Otherwise we’ll lead him straight to Arkadi.”
“That won’t be easy,” said Bea.
“We’ll split up.”
“He’ll still follow me,” said Bea. “Maize will have told him to stick with me.”
“Where is he now?” said Phoebe.
Bea tuned herself in to the silence. “About twenty feet to the right of the path, and ten paces behind us. What are you—”
“Meet you at the falls,” whispered Phoebe. She stopped in her tracks. “Was that a sausageberry tree back there?” she said in a loud voice, and in an instant she was gone, charging straight through the trees toward the sneaking silence. Bea caught a glimpse of the spy as he tried to slip out of Phoebe’s path. It was a Ledbetter, all right; there was no mistaking that broad blank face. It looked like the boy who had fallen into the thornbush at the Millers’ house, the boy whom Maize had called Ike. Like all his clan he seemed to be wrapped for a blizzard.
Bea quickly stepped out of sight to the left of the path. She lost herself among the trees, keeping low for the protection of the ferns and bushes. When she judged she had gone far enough she stopped, crouched down, and listened. The sounds of the forest assembled themselves around her, but she could hear nothing out of place. She smiled. She could see the little hut among the trees, and she made her way toward it.
She moved as quietly as she could, trying to be as stealthy as their pursuer, but she soon learned just how difficult that was. The birds called her position cheerfully to one another. Small animals scurried through dried leaves to avoid her, and twigs snapped beneath her feet. Just as they always do in stories, she thought. It must take a lifetime of sneaking around to be that good at it.
Arkadi sat with his back to her. He was peeling some sort of yellow fruit and humming to himself. Bea held her breath and tiptoed even more carefully.
“I finished the doggie,” said Arkadi. He put the fruit down carefully on a leaf and turned around. He produced the carving from his overalls pocket. “Do you like it?”
Bea let her breath out with a whoosh. “It’s not a doggie,” she said, slightly irritated. “It’s a meerkat.” She looked closely at the carving. It was incredibly detailed. It stood with its nose in the air, and it was so lifelike that she could almost see it twitch. “It’s very good!” she said.
Arkadi beamed. “I like making things,” he said. “Did you bring sandwiches?”
Bea put the backpack on the ground and unzipped the front pocket. She found it impossible to remain annoyed with Arkadi. “I don’t know what’s in them,” she said.
Arkadi unwrapped a sandwich and took an enormous bite. “Fwhere’s your ffriend?” he said through stuffed cheeks.
“Someone was following us, so Phoebe went the other way to distract him.”
Arkadi nodded. “Big eyes, all wrapped up,” he said. “I’ve seen him.”
“Do you think he saw you?” asked Bea.
Arkadi shook his head. “I’m good at hiding.”
“Because of Mumbo Jumbo?” said Bea. She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“Don’t know about any of that stuff,” said Arkadi, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m always getting in trouble. That’s why I’m good at hiding.”
“My granny says Mumbo Jumbo was founded by a man named Arkadi,” said Bea.
“I heard that too,” said Arkadi. “Are there any more sandwiches?”
Bea gave him another. She rushed her next question out before she could feel too foolish to ask it.
“Are you the same Arkadi?”
Arkadi did not laugh. His face remained as open as before.
“It was a popular name when I was little,” he said. “Every Tom, Dick and Harry was called Arkadi.”
Bea heard a sound behind her and turned quickly around. Phoebe was coming through the trees, scratched and smiling. “I lost him,” she said.
Bea turned back, but Arkadi had vanished. The meerkat carving stood on the log where he had sat a moment before, an inquisitive little figure in blond wood. The hut yawned open, as though it had been empty for years. Bea looked over Phoebe’s shoulder. She could see no movement among the trees, but she shook her head. “I don’t think you did,” she whispered.