A Bitter Magic by Roderick Townley Read Free Book Online

trick, Uncle Asa appears to step out of a column halfway down the hall. His black shoes click on the marble.
    “Sir?”
    Asa pulls up beside us, gives me a glance, then turns to his steward. “Strunk, I hate a spool-turned leg!”
    “Sir?” Mr. Strunk glances nervously at his own calf.
    “They disgust me. Stacks of billiard balls, that’s what they look like.”
    Strunk looks lost.
    “I think, Mr. Strunk,” I murmur, “my uncle is talking about chairs.”
    “Of
course
I’m talking about chairs. Now, what’s his name, the crippled fellow who fixed the Chinese side table last year?”
    The steward’s face brightens. “You mean Havens, the cabinetmaker.”
    “The very one. Get him here.”
    Asa finally notices the covered pail under my arm. “What have you got there? Not that filthy reptile, I hope.”
    “Elwyn is not a reptile, and he’s cleaner than we are!”
    Asa’s eyes narrow.
    “I bathe him twelve times a day. He even sleeps in the bathtub!”
    “In the bathtub! Worse than I thought. Get rid of that disgusting creature right now!”
    “Uncle Asa!”
    “Or send him down to the cook. At least he can serve some purpose.”
    I pale at the thought.
    “I’m serious. I can’t have you making a laughingstock of us.”
    I start to object, but he holds up a silencing hand. “I know what people are saying. It’s not Asa Thummel the magician. Not anymore. It’s old Thummel, uncle of thatpeculiar girl who goes about with a filthy whatever-it-is. I won’t have it!”
    “He’s my friend.”
    “Your friend.”
    “I know that sounds odd to you.”
    “It sounds absurd to me.”
    There’s no way to make him understand. “You’re not really angry at
me
,” I say finally.
    “Oh, I am.”
    “You’re angry about the chairs.”
    “That, too.”
    “And you’re mad about the chairs because you’re mad about the labyrinth.”
    I can see this isn’t getting me anywhere. In fact, he’s smoldering. “And?” he says, his eyes flashing.
    But here I hesitate.
    “And why am I angry about the labyrinth?”
    No. This is a minefield I mustn’t cross.
    “Say it!”
    I look down. “Nothing.”
    He’s moving from angry to furious. “You think I’m mad about the labyrinth because I have to rely on incompetent mechanics, is that it?”
    I say nothing.
    “And I have to rely on incompetent mechanics because—why? Why do I have to rely on incompetent mechanics?”
    “Because…” He knows and I know, but it’s bad to say it. “Because you don’t have magic.”
    I see his fist clench and unclench. The moment passes. He mutters through his teeth: “Get rid of the lobster.
Today!
”
    He turns on his shiny leather heels and clicks off down the corridor.

Chapter Nine
    “You know,” says Elwyn as I lift him from the bathtub and set him, dripping, on the tiles. “It may be just as well.”
    “What do you mean? It’s terrible!”
    “Did you see the way the cook was looking at me today, when we went through the pantry? It’s only a matter of time before she drops me in a pot of boiling water.”
    “Don’t say that!”
    “Especially considering the way your uncle feels.”
    “Who are you talking to?” Miss Porlock’s voice reaches me from the other room. She comes to the door. “Oh.”
    “Elwyn says I need to let him go.”
    “Elwyn? You still think that creature can talk?”
    “Of course.”
    “Don’t you remember your biology? Lobsters have no voice box. They barely have a brain.”
    I turn to Elwyn. “I know you don’t like to speak when others are around, but say something. She won’t hurt you.”
    “What should I say?” he says clearly.
    “Anything, but speak up! She can help us.”
    “I doubt that very much.”
    “If someone hears you speak, they won’t cook you!”
    “Oh, that would make me even more of a delicacy. Delicious
and
loquacious!”
    “Low what?”
    “Look it up.”
    I turn to Miss Porlock. “You heard that, surely.”
    She looks at me with pitying