The Grimjinx Rebellion by Brian Farrey Read Free Book Online Page B

me, it puts us out too. But we won’t cause any trouble. My name is Tyrius, by the way. In case, you know, you ever want to say, ‘Hey, Tyrius, go sweep out the seers’ quarters—’”
    Mavra squeezed a large bellows into the fireplace. “For now, just shut up and do what you’re told. Stand in the hall, out of the way. When we’re done here, I’ll show you to the worker barracks. And stay away from the seers until I tell you it’s okay.”
    We did as we were told and waited.
    â€œWell,” Callie whispered, “she’s lovely. ”
    â€œShe’s the one in charge,” I said.
    â€œSo?” Maloch asked.
    â€œSo, it’s like my great-aunt Rodina Grimjinx always says, ‘A friend in charge means rewards large.’”
    â€œUgh,” Maloch said. “It sounds like Rodina’s been talking to Holm.”
    I peered at Mavra, who darted around the library, shouting orders at the other servants like a general in the Provincial Guard. “If Mavra’s in charge, she must know everything about the Creche. We get her on our side, and we can have Aubrin out of here in a day. Two days, tops.”
    Callie wasn’t convinced. “I’m getting the idea she doesn’t make friends easily. How are you going to do this?”
    I pushed my glasses up to the bridge of my nose. “Grimjinx charm is a force to be reckoned with. You wait and see: by the end of the night, Mavra and I will be best friends.”

8
    A Baking Accident
    â€œTo steal a purse, first steal the heart.”
    â€”Ganjar Grimjinx, master thief of Yonick Province
    A pparently, I was a mite out of practice using Grimjinx charm.
    By the end of that night, Mavra and I were not best friends. In fact, days went by and the harder I tried to charm the Aviard, the more she seemed to hate me. When the week was nearly out, not only was Aubrin still nowhere to be seen but also Mavra’s talons were wrapped around my throat and she was trying to kill me.
    To be fair, I could see why she was angry. Her feathery eyebrows had just been singed off when the scorchcake I’d placed in the oven exploded. But I didn’t do it on purpose. Singe her eyebrows, I mean.
    The explosion, though, was very much planned.
    Every surface in the kitchen was covered in hot, gooey cake batter. Servants slipped across the floor, trying to put out the oven fire. In the middle of the chaos, Mavra had pinned me up against a wall. Thankfully, the batter on her hands made it hard to get a good grip. I slid from her clutches and ducked under a table.
    â€œNow, Mavra,” I said, scrambling away, “killing me won’t solve anything.”
    â€œWrong!” She dug her talons into the stone floor. “It will solve the biggest problem I have. You!”
    Mavra was only four years older than me but she was as huge as any adult Aviard. Her beak dropped open, emitting a terrible screech, and she lurched at me. She tried to spread her wings and come at me from above, but the cake batter prevented her from flying. I pushed off the table, sliding across the room.
    She began hurling everything she could get her talons on: rolling pins, ladles, egg whisks. I did a good job dodging them until a well-aimed wooden spoon hit me right between the eyes and sent me down into the muck on the floor. Before I could recover, Mavra was on top of me.
    My fellow servants were not exactly helpful. Once they put the oven fire out, they surrounded us, cheering on whoever they thought was winning. In other words, they were rooting for Mavra.
    She slapped at me while I flailed around, pitching handfuls of batter into her eyes. This, of course, made her howl louder and pummel harder.
    â€œIs too loud!”
    Mavra froze, just as she grabbed my smock. Gobek tread carefully through the batter on the floor, wincing with every step. He took in the mess and shook his head. “Is not going to be good cake,” he