A Bitter Magic by Roderick Townley Read Free Book Online Page A

eyes.
    “Elwyn, say something else.”
    “Why? Only you can hear me. Don’t you know that?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We talk mind to mind.”
    “Mind to—?” I turn to my tutor. “You really don’t hear anything he’s saying?”
    “Oh my dear,” she says.
    Elwyn lifts a feeler. “The tide should be high soon. Maybe we should go.”
    A glance at Miss Porlock tells me there’s no help to be found. I fill Elwyn’s bucket, set him in it, and hurry out.
    —
    The path to the seawall is a shambles of loose rocks and dirt, and partway down I slip and nearly fall, whacking the bucket on the ground.
    “Hey!” Elwyn calls from inside.
    “Sorry.”
    “My shell isn’t made of iron.”
    I reach my lookout spot and watch the waves dash against the rocks below. Cole isn’t anywhere to be seen, but I no longer expect him. He’s probably out filching goods from shopkeepers or laughing with his friends about Thummel’s crazy niece.
    And who’s that girl he was with, running from the shop? Accomplice? Girlfriend?
    I climb over the edge of the wall and work my way down to the water, balancing Elwyn’s pail in one hand while I search for handholds with the other. It’s loud down here, waves curling and crashing. To my sensitive nose, the smell of seaweed and dead horseshoe crabs is startling.
    Slowly, Elwyn emerges from his bucket. He’s free of the leash but still wears his spun-gold collar. He seems to like it, so I leave it on him to remember me by.
    For long seconds, we stare at the water. “Where will you go?” I say.
    “The firth’s a big place.”
    “Will I ever see you again?”
    He is silent.
    “Elwyn, will I
see
you again?”
    “You’ll hear from me.”
    Somehow, that’s not reassuring. “Why are you being so mysterious?”
    “You’ll hear from me. One way or another. Probably another.” He steps delicately into the water. A wavelet sweeps over him, bearding him with foam. “Don’t forget what I told you,” he says.
    “About what?”
    “About that mad scientist you call your uncle. Pay attention. He’s up to something.”
    “And how would
you
know what he’s up to?”
    “You mean,” he says, turning his beady eyes on me, “how would I, a mere crustacean, a pair of ragged claws—”
    “That’s not what I mean at all.”
    Another wavelet, foamier than the last, briefly covers him.
    “Never underestimate a crustacean, my dear,” he says, sputtering slightly. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a tide to catch.”
    “Won’t you miss me?”
    It takes him several seconds and another wavelet before he answers. “I will miss you very much, Cisley Thummel.”
    With that, he steps farther out and is immediately submerged. For another few seconds, I can see the glimmer of his golden collar. Then he really is gone.
    We’re in the heat of the day now, and the boats have left for the fishing grounds. The painter, having donewhat he could, folds his easel and trudges along the beach. He lifts his hat to wipe his forehead with his arm, and I see his face.
    Something about him: the tan, deeply lined forehead, the serious eyes. Haven’t I seen him before?
    Not here. Where?
    Why does it disturb me?
    I lean back against the seawall and watch.
    I
know
I’ve seen him before.

Chapter Ten
    I’m out in the hall, listening. Not a sound.
    The tightly spiraled staircase lies to the right—to Asa’s rooftop laboratory. What would he do if he caught me up there?
    But this morning, he’s outside. I saw him with Strunk, inspecting the labyrinth.
    I wish I had Mother’s courage. But even a coward can put her foot on the first step.
    Why haven’t I ever been allowed up there? I can understand why he doesn’t want outsiders seeing how he invents the effects for his magic show, but I’m family; I know his tricks; I’ve seen the smoke in all his mirrors.
    I take the second step. After that, the others are easier. As I round the first curve, a slight breeze reaches mefrom above. The next