Fallen Thief Read online

  Collin’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything. Mira and Kay glanced at each other behind their backs and raised their eyebrows. Even Peter looked back at his friends and shrugged before he swung his bow and quiver off his shoulder and rested it against the barn. Mira had never heard Cassandra snap at her brother like that, but it didn’t seem to bother her in the least as she took her place next to Peter and grabbed a horseshoe.

  Cassandra’s arrogant smile lasted only until Peter made his third throw, when it was clear that he had perfect aim. The look on her reddened face when Peter won made Mira laugh until Mr. Streck’s drawling voice reached her ears.

  “What are you two doing back here?” Mira’s muscles tensed as she spun around but found the tall man glowering down at Collin and Cassandra. He wasn’t wearing a costume. “Come away at once before you embarrass me in front of the other councilors with your mediocre skills.”

  Collin and Cassandra kept their eyes lowered as they moved stiffly under their father’s stern glare. Mr. Streck gave the others a disdainful glance before turning away and following his children towards the town square.

  “He’s even nastier than they are,” Peter muttered once they were out of earshot.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” grunted the old stableman as he picked up the horseshoes.

  Mira supposed he was right. For the first time, she actually pitied Collin and Cassandra. Still, there were enough distractions around them that they soon forgot the tense moment in the middle of all the festivities.

  In the town square, acrobats and troubadours were putting on performances. Mira found Appoline watching one of the troubadours sing a ballad and was thrilled to see her mother dressed as the Tree of Time, with colorful leaves formed in a wreath in her hair and dangling on strings over her skirt. They greeted her for only a moment before the sight of a fire-eater on the other side of the square made them clamber through the crowds of people to get a closer look.

  Beyond the man extinguishing flaming batons in his mouth, Mira saw a familiar figure. The Fabler was sitting on the library steps with a small group of little children sitting in a circle on the ground in front of her. She was dressed in her usual colorful clothes as she made wide gestures with her arms and drew them all in for her enticing story.

  When Lynette and Red were called away by their parents to get their lunches, Mira, Peter, and Kay walked about the square with chicken drumsticks Appoline had gotten for them. They made it past the tailor dressed as a fortune-teller who was reading palms before Appoline got called over by a pair of astronomers.

  At that moment, Mira locked eyes with the Fabler by the library, now sitting on her own. The Fabler smiled and waved for them to come to her.

  Mira, Peter, and Kay approached her, clumsily wiping their greasy hands on their pants.

  “Ah, if it isn’t the Heroes of Crispin,” the Fabler said from her seat on the stairs. “What news have you gathered for me from Nesston? Oh, to live the tale must be so much sweeter than to tell it.”

  Mira glanced at the others in silence, unsure of what to say. The hairs on her arms stood on end. How did the Fabler know they had gone to Nesston?

  Kay spoke up after a moment.

  “Our parents won’t let us go.”

  “Oh, well, that’s too bad,” the Fabler said, though she didn’t look disappointed at all. In fact, a spark of mischief lit up her round eyes. “Though, I trust you didn’t expect them to give you their blessings to travel to an abandoned Old Town, did you?”

  “No,” Mira said slowly, checking over her shoulder for signs of Appoline. She spotted her mother with the scholars at the fruit stand, but she still didn’t like the Fabler’s prying questions.

  “Smart girl,” the Fabler said with a wink. She sighed and rested her arms on her cane in front of her. “I knew from the moment you turned up at my door that you three were destined for great things. You don’t need to tell me what you’ve found for me to know you’re on the path to solving a centuries-old mystery.”

  “I—I’d better go,” Peter said finally, inching away. “Papa and I are doing the puppet show soon, and I need to help him set up the theater.”

  “I will see you there, Master Puppeteer,” the Fabler called after him. “I’ll need a bit of help, though. Come, give me a hand,” she said to Kay. “We’d better get a head-start—I’m a slow walker. It doesn’t help that I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days. The stables aren’t far from my house, and the horses have been restless lately.”

  Mira and Kay walked awkwardly on either side of the Fabler, each with a hand on her arm. Appoline gave Mira a quizzical look when she noticed the procession but smiled approvingly as she watched her children help the town’s old storyteller to the puppet shop.

  Just as Peter had promised, the grand theater was right outside the puppet shop, in the shade of the overhang from the upper floor. A large sign was hanging from the beam in front of it, tethered to the ground with a thick rope. On it was a painting of golden antlers with words woven through it: The Waylor Theater of Whimsy.

  There was a pair of little girls sitting on a stool beside the theater. One stern look from the Fabler sent them scrambling to get up and let their elder take their spot, right underneath the large sign. Once they had helped the Fabler to her seat, Kay nudged Mira in the ribs and pointed to the back of the small crowd, where Red and Lynette were watching them. Mira turned to the Fabler.

  “Would—would you mind if we…?” Mira timidly pointed to her friends.

  “Go on, go on to your friends.” The Fabler waved her hand. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

  “What were you doing with the Fabler?” Lynette asked as soon as Mira and Kay reached them.

  “She needed help walking over here.” Mira shrugged.

  “Strange that she asked you,” Lynette said.

  Mira avoided her friend’s eyes as she patted a slobbering Oberon’s head by Red’s side. “She’s strange, all right,” she muttered.

  More and more children took their seats on the ground, and the rest of the crowd stood in a semicircle around them. Mira saw Mrs. Waylor smiling proudly beside the theater on the other side of the crowd, with Appoline at her side. A moment later, drumrolls coming from behind the stage signified the start of the show, and parents hushed their children, who poked at each other in excitement.

  “Gather round, every girl and every boy,” Peter’s voice carried across the street, “for here is a tale for everyone to enjoy.” The curtains in front of the stage opened in a flash to reveal the backdrop of a forest.

  “There once was and at once wasn’t,” came the soothing voice of Mr. Waylor, “in a land of kings, queens, and peasants, a lonesome prince who wished to win the heart of a beautiful princess.”

  The wooden prince came clacking onto the stage, moving as easily as if it were alive. From the other end, the princess entered. Peter did all the voices as his father narrated the story. Mira couldn’t help giggling into her hand as he performed the princess’s part so flawlessly.

  It was a marvelous show, and all too soon, they reached the final scene with a sweeping change in the backdrop. As soon as the painting dropped into place, there was a loud meow followed by the gasps of a few of the spectators as a startled cat ran through the crowd and around one of the buildings. The children laughed at the commotion as Mr. Waylor resumed his storytelling.

  In the midst of the little stir caused by the alley cat, Oberon began barking, pulling Red in the direction of the cat.

  “Oberon,” Red hissed, pulling on his leash. Oberon kept pulling, earning disapproving mutters from the spectators who were trying to watch the end of the show. “Be right back,” Red grunted over his shoulder to his friends and hurried out of the crowd, practically being dragged by his dog.

  Mira chuckled and turned back to the play just as someone bumped into her legs from behind.

  The world around her swam into a clo
udy vision of a rope––a thin fiber holding two pieces together, rapidly fraying as it tore apart.

  “It is done,” said a deep voice.

  Mira gasped, spinning around to see who had bumped into her. She only found the smiling faces of the audience looking over her head to watch the end of the show. Was this another one of the Shadowveils’ dreams? she thought frantically. She looked at her brother, who seemed to be oblivious to her distress.

  No, this wasn’t one of their dreams. It wasn’t nearly long enough, and something told her the man’s voice wasn’t meant for her to hear.

  But what was the meaning of the rope?

  She looked around, breathing fast, trying to find any sign of a rope that had been cut. As the audience clapped at the witch’s demise in the puppet show, her gaze fell on the thick rope that held up the new sign Peter and his father had made. Mira peered between two people in front of her and traced the rope with her eyes: up over a wooden beam of the house and down to a hook on the ground. Right near the hook, even from a distance, Mira could see the threads that had been torn apart.

  The Fabler was sitting directly under the sign, and a group of small children was only a few paces away.

  “Watch out!” Mira yelled, but the Fabler didn’t hear her, for the audience had burst into a chorus of laughter and applause.

  “What’s wrong—” Kay began, but Mira pushed past him and fought her way to the front of the audience.

  “The sign is falling!” she called out, but only a few adults around her seemed to notice her.

  Peter! she screamed silently, not knowing what else to do. Peter’s head appeared around the side of the stage, scanning the crowd for a sign of Mira. He saw her pointing up above the theater. Grab the rope!

  Just then, the last fiber broke loose.

  Peter jumped forward, but the rope snapped out of his reach.

  In a breathless moment, Mira watched the Fabler fall back from her stool in surprise as Peter lunged at the falling sign. The audience screamed and the children scattered back just in time to avoid getting crushed.

  Peter wasn’t as lucky.

  Chapter Ten

  The Cursed Children of Crispin

  M

  ira stood quietly at the doorway, peering between the small group of people huddled around Peter’s bed, desperate to catch a glimpse of her friend. Mrs. Waylor was sitting on the edge of the bed while the doctor spoke to Mr. Waylor near the door.

  “I gave him something for the pain,” the doctor murmured. “A few weeks in that splint, and his arm should heal up well.”

  Mr. Waylor nodded and wiped his forehead, which was beaded with sweat.

  “Put this on his wound twice a day…” the doctor continued as he led Mr. Waylor to the nightstand, giving Mira her first clear view of Peter since they had carried him into the house. She was desperate to see that he was, indeed, all right after that giant sign had fallen straight onto him.

  He was fast asleep, but Mira could only see one eye, for the other one was hidden under a bandage wrapped around his head. His right forearm was tightly bound against two pieces of wood and rested against his chest in a sling.

  Her eyes met Mrs. Waylor’s, who gave her a small smile.

  “Don’t worry, sweet,” Mrs. Waylor whispered. “He’s got a cut on his head, but the sign missed his eye, thank the stars. He’ll be just fine.”

  Mira gulped and bit her nail, hoping Mrs. Waylor was right. Her head had been pulsing with a headache since the commotion at the puppet show, but she barely noticed it as she watched her best friend. It took her by surprise when Kay tugged at the back of her shirt.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Appoline’s still waiting for us outside.”

  They descended the stairs, and Mira squinted in the afternoon sunlight as she stepped outside after her brother. The ordeal that had happened only an hour before seemed like a nightmare now that the street was all but deserted, the townsfolk having left to continue their Day of Dreams celebrations somewhere less dangerous. The large wooden sign that had fallen rested against the side of the puppet theater. A town watchman was holding up the end of the rope to show Appoline.

  “Looks like it’s been chewed on by a rodent,” the watchman said.

  “A rodent?” Appoline repeated. “Helen said she and her husband only fastened it in front of their shop this morning. Surely the bustle of the festival would have kept any rats at bay today?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Miss Byron,” the watchman said. “It’s a strange accident, to be sure.”

  “A strange accident, indeed,” Appoline said slowly.

  “It’s a miracle that poor Waylor boy was the only one who was hurt. If you ask me, it looked like that sign would’ve fallen right onto whoever was sitting on that stool over there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rust. I’ll tell the Waylors what you found once they’ve taken care of their son.”

  Mr. Rust tipped his cap and left. Appoline turned to Mira and Kay, who were waiting silently at the front door.

  “Are you all right, my dears?” Appoline said gently.

  Mira nodded.

  “The doctor said Peter’ll be fine,” Kay said.

  “Thank the stars for that.” Appoline sighed and gave them a tired smile.

  “What happened to the Fabler?” Mira asked. “It looked like she fell pretty hard…”

  “She’s a strong woman,” Appoline said, stepping forward and resting a hand on her shoulder. “She only needed a little help to walk back home.”

  “Can’t believe a wretched rat chewed through that rope.” Kay kicked the end of the rope. “It’s lucky you noticed it, Mira.”

  “That’s right,” Appoline said and squeezed Mira’s shoulder gently. “If you hadn’t brought it to everyone’s attention, more people could have been hurt.”

  Mira shook her head, bracing herself to say what had been nagging at her thoughts.

  “Well—” she took a deep breath, “I don’t think it was an accident.”

  Mira paced back and forth in the living room of their home as she told Kay and her mother about the strange vision she had had right before the sign fell.

  “You’re making me dizzy,” Kay said after she’d finished.

  Mira groaned and dropped into a chair. “I can’t just stand still when I’m certain that this wasn’t an accident.”

  “This is very serious,” Appoline said after a moment. “You heard a voice clearly say ‘It is done’ before it happened?”

  “Yes. I saw the rope, too. In my mind—before seeing it snap in real life.”

  “And you don’t think this is the Shadowveils giving you a dream again?”

  “I didn’t get it,” Kay said. “Why Mira and not me?”

  Mira wrung her hands together.

  “I felt someone bump into me the moment I saw the vision.” She looked from Kay to her mother, knowing that what she was about to say would sound ridiculous. “I think it was a Shadowveil, and that his thoughts…sort of…spilled into me.”

  She cringed, waiting to hear laughter.

  But Appoline leaned forward on the couch with a frown. “You’re saying you heard the Shadowveil’s thoughts without him meaning to share them?”

  “I thought merrows couldn’t take anyone’s thoughts,” Kay said. “Thoughts can only be given by another merrow.”

  “I didn’t take those thoughts,” Mira said quickly. “They just came to me—I don’t know how—”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Appoline said. “I believe your vision was a stroke of luck, even if it was accidental.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “It is now clear that we have a Shadowveil in Crispin. Now, is there a reason you can think of that the Shadowveils would want to hurt someone as innocent as the Fabler?”

  Mira stared at her mother. She glanced at Kay, who looked as stunned as her.

  “W-why do you think they’re trying to hurt the Fabler?” Mir
a asked.

  “Why, the watchman pointed it out. He said the sign would have fallen right onto the Fabler, who was sitting on that stool below it.”

  Mira blinked, not knowing what to say. She turned to Kay, who shrugged and said, “Who’d want to hurt an old woman?”

  Appoline sighed. “I was hoping you would know something I didn’t. You two seemed to be spending some time with her, being kind enough as to help her around the town and all.”

  Mira shrugged, too, but her heart rate quickened. Could it be that the Shadowveils were after the Fabler for telling them the story behind the Grimmir?

  “Will you tell the mayor about it? To protect the Fabler?” she asked Appoline.

  “I’m not sure he will believe me,” Appoline said. “The only proof we have that a Shadowveil dropped the sign is a vision that only you saw.” She gave Mira a small smile and added, “But I will try to convince him. Let me see if I can find a councilor who will listen.”

  Appoline tried to convince Mira and Kay to return to the festivities while it was still light out, but they refused. It could never be the same knowing that Peter was hurt.

  As soon as Appoline left to find a councilor, Mira turned to Kay, who was sprawled out on the couch.

  “I think we should’ve said something about the story the Fabler’s told us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s why the Shadowveils are after her! It’s what they do—if they think anyone’s helping us, they do anything to stop them! First Alexandra gets…you know,” Mira still couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Then that antique shopkeeper goes missing, then Appoline gets caught in that awful fire, and now they’ve gone after the Fabler and Peter got hurt!”

  Kay sat up. “You remember what Appoline told us after the fire? She’ll go berserk if we tell her we’ve been all the way to Nesston—twice—to search for an ancient sorcerer!”

  “Well, we could at least prove that the Shadowveils are after us to stop us from finding out a way to save the sorcerer. Then the mayor will have to protect the Fabler properly!”