Forest of Wonders

  “To do what?” Kuma’s voice trembled with trepidation.

  Raffa paused, considering the kinds of tasks an animal as big and strong as a bear might be able to manage. A thought crossed his mind: night slopping. What Trixin’s father did. Lifting the heavy barrels of human waste, emptying them into the vats . . . Could a bear do that?

  “Whatever it is, I can’t believe for one moment that she would stand for it,” Kuma was saying. “She never lets anyone but me get near her.”

  Raffa blinked as realization dawned. “That’s it,” he said, his voice low but certain. “That’s why they gave you a term of service. They know about you and Roo—just like I did, I’d heard about you before I came here. They want you to help them train her.”

  They.

  The Chancellor. And whoever was working for her. Who else? Did the project have the approval of the Advocate, holder of the highest office in Obsidia? And even more important to Raffa, what about Uncle Ansel and Garith? His mind balked. Surely his uncle and cousin didn’t know about the shed compound and all those imprisoned baby animals; they would never have agreed to engage in something so cruel.

  Kuma sat up, her eyes blazing. “I won’t do it! They can’t make me!”

  Raffa looked away, not wanting to say what he was thinking. They could make her, and it wouldn’t even be hard. All they would have to do was threaten to hurt the bear if Kuma didn’t cooperate.

  The same thought must have occurred to her, for she gave a bone-shaking shudder.

  Raffa touched her arm. “If I’m right, you don’t have to search for her anymore. They’ll bring her to you. Or you to her. You need to go to my uncle in the morning and—and apologize for disappearing. Once we know where she is, we’ll figure out a plan.”

  He furrowed his brow, remembering something he wanted to ask about that would also serve to take Kuma’s mind off Roo for at least a few moments. “Those scarecrows . . . you said you’d tell me about them.”

  “Oh. They were just there. I didn’t see anyone doing anything with them. But here’s a strange thing: grapes. On the ground around the scarecrows. A whole lot of grapes, crushed or half-eaten.”

  Grapes? Raffa didn’t think he’d ever in his life been more puzzled.

  At that moment, one of the twins began sobbing in its sleep. It was only a tiny noise, but it was one of the saddest sounds Raffa had ever heard.

  “Mamma . . . Mamma . . .”

  Echo flapped from his perch to the rucksack. “Twig sleep, sleeeep,” the bat said soothingly. He seemed to be able to tell the twins apart as easily as their mother would.

  Raffa had a sudden thought. “Kuma! The animals in that one shed, the adults—are they mostly female?”

  She was startled at first, then frowned in concentration. “They might be. . . . Yes, I think they are. A lot of them, anyway.”

  Raffa rapped himself on the head in frustration. “Why didn’t I think of it when we were there! They’d have to keep the mothers around until the babies are weaned, right? The mother raccoon might be in that shed!”

  Echo flitted back to his perch, having once again accomplished his duties as the twins’ nanny. Raffa took the raccoons’ box out of the rucksack—and Kuma’s eyes grew wide with alarm.

  “That box,” she said, staring at it hard.

  “What about it?” He looked at it curiously. It was an ordinary wooden box, the one that had held the raccoons when Trixin first brought them to the laboratory.

  “I saw it, this morning. I didn’t know—but you said—” She pressed her hands against her stomach, as if bracing herself.

  Raffa couldn’t fathom why she found the box so upsetting.

  Kuma swallowed hard. “Two men. One was carrying that very box. I could swear it. They passed right by where I was hiding. It was covered—I couldn’t see what was inside, but now I know—it must have been the raccoons. They went into one of the sheds, the empty one. And then a third man took something else inside.”

  “What was it?” Raffa asked.

  “I—I—I’m not sure. But the way he was carrying it . . .” She held her arm out away from her body, her hand in a fist and her forearm parallel to the ground. “There was a—a sort of bag over it. And he was wearing a big glove.”

  “A raptor,” Raffa said slowly. “An owl. Or maybe a hawk.”

  A shaft of ice seemed to run up his spine. He could not stop the awful images that filled his mind’s eye. The two men taking the baby raccoons into the shed. A third man carrying a raptor inside.

  The raptor’s hood being removed, its jesses untied, and then—

  The whoosh of the sleek feathered wings in terrible contrast to the tortured cries of little Bando and Twig as the raptor attacked them with beak and claw, again and again and again . . .

  For a moment Raffa thought he might get sick. It was one thing for predators to hunt their prey in the wild. This attack in an enclosed space on totally defenseless babies—this was something else altogether.

  He had to take several breaths before he could speak again. “Who were the men? Did you know them?”

  Kuma shook her head.

  “What did they look like? Do you remember anything more about them?”

  She scowled in concentration. “The first two . . . One was taller than the other. And the shorter one was darker. The third man . . . I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a hood, but I remember thinking that he looked sort of—I don’t know—raggedy compared to the other two.”

  “Raggedy?”

  “His clothes. Maybe I’m wrong.” She shrugged hopelessly. “I didn’t know I should be paying more attention to them. I was only thinking of Roo.”

  Raffa’s mind was still staggered by the horror of it. Why would anyone want to maim two tiny baby raccoons?

  So many questions. How could he possibly decide what to do next when he had so few answers?

  “Kuma, I have to talk to my uncle. He must know some things we don’t. And if he doesn’t—if he’s being kept in the dark about the way the raccoons got hurt, and about all those other baby animals—then he needs to know, and maybe he’ll be able to—”

  “No!” Kuma’s voice could not have been more emphatic. “You can’t tell him anything! What if he’s part of it? They’re obviously trying to keep everything secret, and if you tell him what we know, they’re sure to stop us from finding out anything else!”

  “He’s not part of it. You don’t know him, he would never—”

  “That’s right.” Kuma cut him off, her eyes flashing. “I don’t know him, so how can I trust him? I don’t even know you very well, and there’s only one reason I’m trusting you.”

  She flicked a glance at Echo, hanging on his perch. “Because he does. People are . . . They’re tricky. They lie, you can’t depend on them. Animals are more reliable, if you ask me.”

  “My uncle would never do anything to hurt me.”

  A pause. “I don’t mean to speak ill of your family,” Kuma said. “But Roo is—she’s like my family. I have to get her out of here.”

  “But we can’t handle this alone,” Raffa said. “It’s too—too big.”

  Kuma sat up straighter. “Alone? We’re not alone, either of us. You’ll have my help and I’ll have yours, and that’s way more than I usually have.”

  “What about Garith? He’s been here for a while now, he knows his way around. Maybe he could help—”

  “Do you trust him not to say anything to your uncle?”

  Raffa started to say yes, but the word lodged in his throat. The disagreement with Garith had been their worst ever. Raffa wasn’t sure how Garith would react to anything he said.

  “That leaves Trixin,” Kuma said. “But I don’t think we should ask her to help us.”

  “Why not?” Raffa liked Trixin. She may have been too outspoken at times, but it was part of her honesty, and beneath her impatience, he sensed that she was steady upon solid.

  “She works for your uncle,” Kuma said. “We can??
?t ask her to hide anything from him. If she gets caught, she might lose her job, and you know she can’t afford for that to happen.”

  Raffa felt guilty that he hadn’t thought of this himself.

  Silence. Echo chirped softly, as if aware of the seriousness of the conversation. Raffa reached for him and stroked his back.

  “The most important thing to me,” Kuma said at last, “is finding Roo and freeing her. If you’re right about my service assignment, I’ll be working with Roo. That’s step one taken care of. And once I’m with her, I’ll figure out a way to free her. If I can’t stop you from talking to your uncle, then at least don’t give me away. Is that fair enough?”

  Raffa did not reply at once. Nothing about this was fair.

  But what if he were in Kuma’s place, and it was Echo he was trying to free? Raffa looked down at the bat, who stared back at him and chirped again.

  That made the decision easy.

  “Fair enough,” he said with a nod.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  RAFFA felt like he had only just closed his eyes when he was awakened by the sound of the laboratory door opening. He found himself on the floor with his head on the chair.

  “Raffa?” Uncle Ansel’s voice.

  Another voice: “Maybe he’s not awake yet.” Garith.

  “Sleepydeep, I’ve been up for hours!” Trixin.

  Raffa staggered to his feet. “I’m just coming,” he said, his voice rusty.

  Kuma sat up on the bed. She rubbed her eyes, then opened them wide. Pushing aside the blanket, she picked up the box with the raccoons, who had begun to stir.

  “Good luck,” she whispered, to both Raffa and the twins.

  Before going to sleep, Raffa had considered one more problem: how to keep the twins’ ability to speak a secret. With Echo’s help, the twins had been made to understand that a raptor—the raptor, the bird that had attacked them—was going to be in the vicinity, and that they had to stay absolutely still and silent.

  It was an awful thing to do to them, but Raffa hadn’t been able to think of anything else short of dosing them with a sedative, which he refused to do.

  He put on the perch necklace, tucked it under his tunic, and took the box from Kuma. She stood and exchanged one last look with him. Then he pushed open the door of the bedchamber.

  “Steady morning,” he called out, hoping he sounded cheerful. He had decided not to ask his uncle about the shed compound until after Kuma had been reunited with Roo, worried that he might somehow give away her plans. For the moment, he had to act as if nothing was amiss. “Look who came to see me!”

  Kuma stepped forward and bowed her head toward Ansel. “Senior Vale, I am truly sorry,” she said. “I just—I lost my head. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was so worried about Roo that I had to go and look for her. Raffa told me it was wrong of me not to tell you, and I see that now. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Raffa was watching his uncle closely. Ansel’s expression went from surprise on first seeing Kuma through a quick frown of anger, before finally settling into grudging acceptance.

  He nodded once. “I am glad I did not have to ask for an apology,” he said, “and I’m sure you will understand that until you have proved yourself reliable, you will not be allowed to go anywhere on your own.”

  “I do understand,” Kuma said quietly.

  “All right, then,” Ansel said, and nodded again. “We’ll say no more about it for the moment. Raffa, what of the raccoons?”

  Raffa put the box down on the worktable, holding his breath.

  “They’re awake,” Garith said. “But look at them—they’re scared to death.”

  Bando and Twig were curled into tight little balls, their faces not even visible. Their violent trembling was the only indication that they were awake. Ansel bent over the box. He touched Twig with a fingertip, trying to provoke a response. The raccoon curled up still tighter.

  Raffa’s idea was working, but the obvious terror of the little raccoons tore at his heart. He hoped everyone else would leave for at least part of the day, so he could tell the babies that the fictional raptor had flown off.

  “Well, clearly their wounds are healing well,” Ansel said, after taking a look under Twig’s bindings. “That vine may be a miracle plant, but cheers also to the pother.” He smiled at Raffa, who quickly held his hands out toward Garith for a celebratory clap, including him in the credit.

  “The work goes on,” Ansel said. “Kuma, I am especially relieved at your return because you are to start your service this afternoon.”

  “Senior Vale, may I ask what I will be doing?” Kuma’s voice was so polite that Raffa was sure he was the only one who heard the tension in it.

  “It would be much better to wait until I can show you,” Ansel answered. “Please, don’t worry. For now, Trixin can accompany you to the apartment. You can wash and rest a little, until lunchtime.”

  Trixin looked disappointed. “Are you sure you don’t need me to pickle anything?” she asked.

  Ansel chuckled. “Not at the moment. Later today I’m expecting a crate of sea-celery, and we’ll want some of it pickled. So you have that to look forward to.”

  The girls departed. Ansel watched them leave, then turned to Raffa. “Now, some good news,” he said. “I did not want to mention it with Kuma here, as you will understand in a moment. . . . The bear has been found!”

  “What?”

  “Where?”

  “How big is it?”

  “Is she all right?”

  Ansel raised his hand to stem the flood of excited babble from the boys. “The bear is now safely in Senior Jayney’s care. He is not certain if the beast can be part of the project, but it is the Chancellor’s wish that we at least make an attempt.”

  “But why couldn’t you tell Kuma right away?” Raffa asked.

  “As you can imagine, the bear is rather distressed,” Ansel replied. “Kuma would doubtless have insisted on seeing it immediately, and I thought it would upset her to see it in that state. Senior Jayney has requested an infusion that will calm the bear, yet leave it alert enough to assess its potential for training.”

  Raffa kept his face steady. Kuma would be wild with dismay over any notion of dosing Roo, even if the effects were only temporary.

  “What about the combination we’ve been using?” Garith suggested.

  Ansel shook his head. “The bear would have to drink bucketsful for it to have the desired effect. Raffa, we need a similar infusion, but both more concentrated and more powerful. Do you think you can do it?”

  Raffa saw Garith’s shoulders stiffen, and he knew what his cousin was thinking. Raffa this, Raffa that . . . It wasn’t fair to Garith. He had been doing good work here; Uncle should at least have asked them both.

  “Garith is the one who’s been making the training infusion,” Raffa said. “He knows it best. I think we should work on it together.”

  Ansel deliberated for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “You can begin together, but Garith will need to leave at third bell to dose the trainees, so it is likely that you will finish on your own.” A pause. “I am going to report that you did a fine job on the raccoons, but another success would be all to the good.”

  Raffa lowered his head. The garble with the crow had been his own doing, but it still rankled that anyone, even the Chancellor with her loathsome project, should think so little of his pothering.

  “I have to prepare a stimulant infusion requested by Senior Jayney,” Ansel continued. “It will be a busy morning, so we need to get started. Raffa, have you had breakfast?”

  While Raffa hastily downed an oatcake from the laboratory’s small pantry, Garith laid out the ingredients for the training infusion. “Califerium and millocham,” he muttered, “plus the vine.”

  Garith seemed more than a little sulky, and Raffa hoped he and his cousin might have some time alone to steady things left wobbled by yesterday’s argument. He took up a place cornerwise from Garith at the table.


  Their first task would be to modify the amounts of the botanicals to account for the bear’s size and weight. “What’s the biggest animal that’s had the infusion so far?” Raffa asked.

  Garith considered for a moment. “Stoats, maybe? I dosed them yesterday.”

  Stoats . . . Raffa had seen the weasel-like creatures a few times on the outskirts of the Forest. They were both fierce and unfriendly, sharp of teeth and claw; a less cuddly creature was hard to imagine. “What are they being trained to do?” he wondered aloud.

  Garith shrugged. “I don’t know. We make the infusions and dose the animals. Senior Jayney is the one in charge of the training.”

  Raffa tensed slightly and tried to keep his voice casual. “Do you ever get to watch? Sounds like it might be kind of fun.”

  “No, Da says an audience would be distracting. Wait—I just remembered. We dosed badgers a few days ago—they’re bigger than stoats.”

  There followed a lengthy discussion on the relative weights of bears and badgers and how that would affect the amounts of the ingredients for the infusion. Raffa was terrible with figures; after only a few attempts, he flipped away his piece of chalk. “I’m toppled,” he said in disgust.

  “I’ve almost got it,” Garith declared. “Steady on for one more sec—okay, here it is. You’d better check it over.”

  Raffa worked Garith’s figures backwards. Everything came out as it should. As they began to prepare the infusion, Raffa realized that it was the first time in what seemed like weeks that he was having fun. This was his idea of what apothecary should be—working on a challenge, in a place where he had everything he needed, and with Garith in better humor as well.

  They stood side by side now, between the stove and the table. Garith did the measuring and handed the ingredients to Raffa, who combined them carefully. As he added the vine pulp, the silent hum suffused his mind. It was somehow deeper than before; he thought it might be in response to the more concentrated intensity of the combination.

  Then they heard the ring of the Commons bells. “Third bell,” Garith said. “I have to dose the animals now.”