Forest of Wonders

  “Where do you go for that?” Raffa asked.

  “There’s a place out back of the stables,” Garith said vaguely. “Mannum Trubb brings the animals to me there. I’ll be back before lunchtime.”

  “Mmm,” Raffa said. “I’ll keep on here, then.”

  His mind was racing. Garith obviously knew about the shed compound. Surely he also had to know about the hundreds of baby animals! How could he possibly—

  Then Raffa remembered the last shed. The empty one. That had to be where Garith did the dosing. . . . Maybe he wasn’t aware of what was inside the other sheds. Raffa knew that this might well be more hope than sense, but he had no way of asking about it without revealing his nighttime venture.

  After Garith departed, Raffa put a kettle of water on to boil, then began collecting the equipment he would need to make the infusion. Uncle Ansel continued working on the other side of the laboratory. From outside came the sounds of hoofbeats slowing and wagon wheels creaking to a stop, and then a voice as someone hailed Ansel.

  “That will be Jayney,” Ansel said. “He won’t come in. He says all the magic in the room makes him jibbery.” He rolled his eyes, and in return, Raffa grinned and shrugged. But his nerves went taut, like a deer on alert.

  Jayney. The man in charge of training the animals. Whatever he had to say, Raffa wanted to hear it.

  Ansel wiped his hands on a cloth. “I’ll just go and speak to him.”

  As soon as his uncle stepped outside, Raffa hurried into the bedchamber, which had the window closest to the laboratory door. He eased open the shutter the merest crack.

  “—the Afters live everywhere, not just the slums,” Jayney was saying.

  “My only concerns are the infusions,” Ansel replied. “The bear’s will be ready for this afternoon.”

  “Good,” Jayney said. “The Chancellor knows as well as we do that the bear has the potential to make us all but invincible.”

  Invincible? Raffa frowned in bewilderment and listened all the harder.

  “A pity there aren’t two of them,” Jayney went on. “I have been thinking that it would be good to have wolves for the other front, and have raised the bounty for a wolf set.”

  “It may take some time to adjust the infusion for the bear,” Ansel said.

  “Hmph. And the stimulant for the stoats and badgers?”

  “It’s finished. I’ll come with you and dose them myself. I’ll be but a moment.”

  Raffa scrambled back into the main room and made it to the stove, where he began fussing with the drafts as Ansel entered.

  “I’m working with Senior Jayney for the next while,” Ansel said. “Take a break for lunch, won’t you?” He smiled at Raffa.

  “I’ll do that,” Raffa said, a little too loudly. He could feel his face reddening and hoped that, if Ansel noticed, he would think it because of the heat from the stove.

  Ansel cleaned up his work area quickly, then departed. Raffa was alone now; he felt his neck and shoulders relax a little. He hadn’t realized how tight they were.

  First matters first: Raffa checked on the twins. Mercifully, they had fallen asleep, and he hoped they would sleep the whole day. Without waking them, he looked under their bindings. The wounds were healing beautifully. As he bent over the raccoons, he tried to make sense of the conversation he had just heard.

  Invincible. That wasn’t a word you would use when training animals to do tasks. And Jayney had mentioned wanting wolves. A bear, wolves, stoats, badgers—all fierce and fearsome. Maybe the animals were for fighting; in that case, the desire to be invincible would make sense.

  But against what enemy? Ever since the Great Quake had isolated Obsidia from neighboring lands, its people had lived without fear of invasion. It was so unlikely that Raffa almost cast aside the entire notion.

  Then one of the twins grumbled in its sleep, and he stared down at them with a throb of dreadful realization. If you were preparing for a battle, the ability to heal grave injuries quickly would be a tremendous advantage. Had Bando and Twig been the subjects of some terrible experiment?

  Raffa shuddered, then groaned inwardly. The more he learned about the project, the less he seemed to know.

  The door opened. Trixin and Kuma had returned.

  “How are they doing?” Kuma asked.

  “Much better,” Raffa answered as he covered the raccoons’ box with a cloth.

  “We brought lunch,” Trixin said, and began unpacking a flat basket. “I hope you’re hungry, we’ve enough to feed a crowd. That pantry at the Vales’ apartment—it’s a wonder! Two kinds of cheese, both bread and farls—oh, we forgot to bring plates. There must be some here somewhere.”

  She bustled into the small pantry and came out again a moment later. “Mugs, but no plates,” she said. “Kuma, will you check that closet?”

  Kuma turned and opened a narrow closet near the door. Raffa was close enough to hear her strangled gasp. He saw her freeze, still as a stone for a long moment.

  “Any plates?” Trixin called from across the room where she was pouring water from the kettle into a teapot.

  Kuma cleared her throat. “No—no plates,” she said. Slowly she moved her head until she could meet Raffa’s gaze. “Nothing in here but this—this raggedy old thing.”

  Now it was Raffa’s turn to freeze. Raggedy. She had used that word before . . . to describe the man who had taken the raptor into the shed to torture the twins.

  Kuma pulled something from the closet and held it out toward him, her hands shaking.

  It was Uncle Ansel’s old leather tunic.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE room spun, and Raffa gripped the edge of the table. In a last throb of desperation, he tried to tell himself that someone else could have been wearing the tunic. But that thought fell apart in shreds as tattered as the tunic itself.

  Uncle Ansel had hurt Bando and Twig on purpose. And lied about it. He knew everything. No, worse than that: He was part of everything.

  It was the simplest answer. Nothing else explained all the mysteries. Through the whirl in his brain, he heard Trixin from somewhere far away: “Raffa, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he heard himself say. “Just . . . um, a little tired.”

  Trixin poured out a mug of tea, stirred in some honey, and handed it to him. “Sit down and drink that,” she ordered.

  Raffa obeyed as if he were dreamwalking. But the hot, sweet tea helped steady him.

  He had to leave. Had to get away from his uncle, go home and tell his parents everything. He wanted to feel his mother’s arms around him, hear her wise and funny words. He even wanted his father’s sternness, which felt like something solid, something he could lean on.

  Not in a few days. Now.

  “Did your uncle say when he’d be back?” Kuma asked, and he knew she had asked the question in an attempt to steady him.

  “No,” he answered woodenly. “But I think it should be soon.”

  With those words, his reason snapped back to life.

  Roo.

  Ansel would be taking Kuma to Roo—almost certainly to the shed compound. Raffa was supposed to have the infusion ready to dose the bear. The flicker of an idea came to him. It grew into a flame, and quickly, for he had very little time.

  He jumped to his feet and hurried to the stove, where the solution he had made with Garith was simmering. “I’m going to finish this up now,” he said loudly. “You two just go ahead and eat. It won’t take me long.”

  And it didn’t, because there was no need for precise calculations or careful measurements. Raffa waited until the girls had their backs to him, then took the beaker of solution and emptied it out the window. Standing at the counter, he quickly mixed honey and water in the beaker. In the large cabinet he found the drawer holding dried quagberries.

  He steeped the berries, crushed them, and strained them into the beaker to turn the honey mixture red—not the exact shade of the scarlet vine infusions, but close enough. Then he poure
d the liquid from the glass beaker into an earthenware jar, which made the color harder to discern.

  Raffa corked the jar. Finished.

  He had made a “cinder”—an infusion both harmless and useless.

  Raffa went into the bedchamber. He donned Echo’s perch necklace; the bat sleep-grumbled at the disturbance but settled again under Raffa’s tunic. He took the twins out of the box, swaddled them well in soft rags, and put them in a hemp bag. Then he hurried to the laboratory’s small pantry, where he packed all the edibles he could find into his rucksack.

  In the glasshouse, he gathered up the clippings of the scarlet vine, wrapping them in damp cloths, and put them in the rucksack, too. He was nearly ready: The only thing he needed now was a chance to speak to Kuma alone.

  The color in his cheeks was high as he returned to the laboratory and sat down for a quick bite to eat. Trixin shook her head. “What’s in you today—one minute you can hardly stand up straight; the next you’re running around all ziggy!”

  “Er—it must have been the tea,” Raffa said. “Did you put something in it? Are you turning pother already?”

  He was relieved when she giggled. “Of course not,” she said. “It’s just zinjal and mint!” Trixin, at least, didn’t seem to suspect anything.

  The door opened and Garith came in.

  “Is there any more food?” he asked. “Da sent me to fetch you all. He said to come right away. Are you going to eat that?” He pointed to the farl in front of Raffa, who handed it over.

  Garith took a big bite. “Don’t forget the infusion,” he said. He grabbed a handful of dried plums. “Let’s go.”

  Raffa lagged behind, hoping to talk to Kuma, but she and Trixin promptly followed Garith out of the laboratory to the lane, where a wagon awaited them. Garith sat up front with the driver, with the others on the bench behind.

  Raffa’s mind was in a whirl. He couldn’t make his plan work without Kuma, but it was too late to speak to her alone. He would have to think of some other way. . . .

  The wagon took the route toward the shed compound. Trixin, seated next to him, gave his arm a nudge. “Shakes, you look serious,” she said, her voice loud over the wagon’s rattling wheels. “Anything I can do to help?”

  Raffa found himself touched by her concern. “I wish there was,” he mumbled.

  “What? Speak up, won’t you?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, and managed to give her a small smile.

  Then Garith turned his head toward them. “Almost there,” he said.

  The wagon drove through the gate of the compound, where a small cluster of people were standing: Ansel, two other men, and the Chancellor.

  Kuma nudged Raffa with an elbow, and he saw her gaze flick over the two men. One was tall and pale, with a beaky nose; the other was dark and bearded and solidly built. They were surely the men she had seen with Ansel and the baby raccoons. The tall one was carrying a spiked bluggen.

  Raffa gulped. He hadn’t counted on the presence of weapons.

  “Welcome!” Ansel called as the foursome climbed down from the wagon.

  Raffa’s nerves strained as he forced himself to look at his uncle. He almost expected that Ansel would have glaring red eyes now, or at the very least a noxious leer. But he looked the same as always, like the man Raffa had always thought of as a second father. His stomach lurched again.

  “Greetings,” Chancellor Leeds said. She smiled warmly at all of them, then looked directly at Raffa. “Young Santana, your uncle has told me of your fine work healing—what was it, raccoons? I am more than pleased.”

  Raffa bowed over his fists, which were properly joined—and tightly clenched. “Thank you, Chancellor,” he mumbled, not trusting his voice enough to speak any louder.

  The Chancellor indicated the two men. “Senior Jayney and Mannum Trubb have charge of the animal training,” she said, “and as such have been working closely with Senior Vale and young Vale. Senior Jayney, you wish to speak to our newcomers?”

  The dark burly man stepped forward. “Most of this compound will not concern you,” he said. “Indeed, any disruption would be unacceptable. Your work will be confined to the first shed.” Pause. “I am sure I will have no cause to regret your presence here.”

  Raffa recognized the voice he had heard talking to Uncle Ansel. Jayney sounded laconic, almost lazy, but Raffa shivered to hear him.

  “Let’s get started,” said Mannum Trubb, whose words seemed to come out through his nose. “Sooner begun, sooner done.”

  Jayney nodded. Ansel rubbed his hands together. “Now, then, Kuma,” he said, and Raffa saw her straighten in alertness. “I have wonderful news for you! The bear has been found—and it is here.”

  Kuma gasped and dropped her face into her hands for a moment; when she looked up again, her cheeks were shining with tears. “Please,” she said, “can I see her?”

  “We shall do much better than that,” Ansel said, smiling broadly. “For your service assignment, you will be with her every day.” He beckoned Kuma, and they began walking toward the shed, with the rest of the group trailing.

  “There is no need for alarm,” Ansel said. “But as you can imagine, the bear has been in something of a distressed state. The first thing to be done, I’m sure you will agree, is to calm and soothe her. Raffa has made an infusion to help with that—”

  “Oh, for quake’s sake!” Garith burst out. “I made it with him!”

  Ansel turned, clearly astonished.

  Raffa spoke up quickly. “Garith did all the calculations.”

  To his dismay, Garith glowered at him. “I don’t need your help. Just keep clear, why don’t you?”

  “Garith, please. We will discuss this at home.” Ansel’s voice was light, but Raffa heard a warning note in it. “Chancellor, I apologize.”

  The Chancellor raised her eyebrows, then inclined her head. Garith’s shoulders stiffened, and he gave Raffa another scowl. It wasn’t fair of Garith to be angry at him, yet Raffa felt more bewildered than resentful. He wanted to help his cousin, but he didn’t know what to do—maybe because it wasn’t his problem to fix.

  Meanwhile, Ansel had gathered himself and was speaking again. “Well, then. The infusion . . . As I was saying . . . Raffa?”

  Raffa pulled the earthenware jar from the pocket of his tunic. Kuma glared at him. In her eyes he saw the anger and hurt of betrayal, and he could tell what she was thinking: How dare you help them dose her?

  “No,” she said, her voice low and tight. “I won’t need the infusion. She knows me, I can steady her without it.”

  “I cannot allow that,” Jayney countered. “It’s far too dangerous.”

  “I agree,” Ansel said, and the Chancellor concurred, saying, “Senior Jayney is right.”

  They were all looking at Kuma, a solid wall of disapproval. She thrust out her chin. “No,” she repeated.

  Her stubbornness gave Raffa an opening. This would be his only chance. He stepped toward her and put the jar of the harmless infusion in her hand, using it as an excuse to turn them both away from the others.

  “Kuma, I treated the raccoons,” he said brightly. “You know that, right? I’m sure this infusion is exactly what Roo needs.” He stared hard at her, willing her to hear what he wasn’t saying: Trust me. I have a plan.

  “Do you know, I’ve never actually seen a bear before?” he babbled on. “This is really exciting! Does she roar a lot? Is it very frightening?”

  Kuma stared back, querying him with her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Sometimes,” she said.

  “If she were to do that now, it might make things all shakes and tremors! Just give her the infusion, and get her to do what you want. And then—well, we can all go home.”

  He forced a hearty chuckle and patted her shoulder, feeling her body tense under his hand. Did that mean she had understood?

  Chancellor Leeds addressed Kuma. “We would much prefer that you be the one to give the bear the infusion, young Oriole,” she said. Her
voice was relaxed, but the implication was clear: If Kuma would not dose the bear, then someone else would.

  Mannum Trubb cackled, and Kuma looked at the heavy spiked bluggen he was holding.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  Jayney walked to the shed door. He pushed it partway open. From inside, Raffa heard panting and whining sounds. Jayney reached down beside the door and brought out a bucket of water.

  “The bear is caged,” he said. “We have kept it thirsty so it would take the infusion.”

  Kuma glanced into the bucket. She emptied out half the water, then uncorked the jar and added the infusion. “No one comes in with me,” she said as she stood and picked up the bucket.

  Ansel and Jayney exchanged glances. “There is a small door at the side of the cage,” Jayney said. “Dose the beast first. After you show us the empty bucket, you will wait for the dose to do its work before opening the cage. I will be standing at the door.”

  Kuma stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  Raffa hurried to the wall of the shed and pressed his ear against it. He heard Kuma’s voice murmuring indistinctly. Then the door opened, and she tossed out the bucket, empty.

  Everyone waited. More murmurs from inside the shed. The muscles in Raffa’s neck knotted; he bounced on his toes a little to try to relax. What was happening? Did Kuma understand what he had tried to tell her?

  Then Kuma’s voice came through clearly. “It’s okay, Roo. It’s okay— No, Roo! NO!”

  She sounded on the edge of panic. Everyone outside stirred uneasily. For the first time, Jayney looked unsure of himself.

  Then the door burst open. Wild-eyed and disheveled, Kuma shouted, “She’s crazed—she doesn’t know me! Get away! RUN!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  A mighty roar shook the shed. Another roar followed, jolting the very ground itself. The group scattered. Trubb was the first to flee; he promptly dropped the bluggen and headed for the gate, with Jayney, the Chancellor, Garith, and Ansel on his heels. Raffa ran, too, but he ducked around the corner of the shed.

  Kuma was racing after the others, with Roo right behind her. “Run, everyone!” she screamed again. Then, to Raffa’s amazement, she turned her head, caught his eye . . . and winked at him!