The Water Mirror by Kai Meyer Read Free Book Online Page B

happens, we have to defend the workshop.”
    Typical boy, thought Merle, as she patted a
     little helplessly at the paint on her dress. But why did they constantly have to prove
     themselves with such nonsense?
    She looked up—and was hit on the forehead with another paint bag.
     Viscous yellow poured over her face and her shoulders.
    That did it! With an angry cry she grabbed up the glue bottle, whose
     contents she’d been using to glue the mirror frame, and hurled herself at the
     first available weaver boy. It was the one with the bear mask. He saw her coming and
     tried to grab another paint bag from his shoulder bag. Too late! Merle was already
     there. She hurled him over backward with a blow, fell on him with her knees on his
     chest, and shoved the narrow end of the glue bottle into the left eye opening.
    â€œClose your eyes!” she warned and pumped a strong jet of glue
     under the mask. The boy swore, then his wordswere lost in a
     blubber, followed by a long drawn-out “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”
    She saw that her opponent was out of action for the moment, pushed herself
     off him, and leaped back up. She now was holding the glue bottle like a pistol, even if
     it didn’t make much sense, for most of the contents had been sprayed out. Out of
     the corner of her eye she saw Boro and Tiziano scuffling with two weaver boys, a wild
     fight. The mask of one of the boys was already demolished. Instead of joining in,
     however, Merle ran over to Junipa, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her behind one of
     the workbenches.
    â€œDon’t move from that spot,” she whispered to her.
    Junipa protested. “I’m not as helpless as you
     think.”
    â€œNo, certainly not.” Merle glanced at the boy with the bird
     mask. His upper body was green from Junipa’s paint bag. “Nevertheless,
     better stay under cover. This can’t last much longer.”
    As she sprang up, she saw that her triumph had been too early.
     Tiziano’s opponent had gained the upper hand again. And there was no sign of Dario
     anywhere. Merle first discovered him when suddenly he was standing in the doorway. In
     his hand gleamed one of the knives Arcimboldo used to trim the whisper-thin silver
     sheets for the backs of the mirrors. The blade wasn’t long, but it was razor
     sharp.
    â€œSerafin!” called Dario to the boy with the bird mask.
     “Come on, if you dare.”
    The weaver’s boy saw the knife in Dario’s
     hand and took up the challenge. His three companions retreated to the entrance. Boro
     helped Tiziano to his feet and then pushed Merle to the edge of the workshop.
    â€œHave they gone crazy?” she gasped breathlessly.
     “They’re going to kill each other.”
    Boro’s frown betrayed that he shared her concern. “Dario and
     Serafin have hated each other since they first laid eyes on each other. Serafin’s
     the leader of the weavers. He cooked up this whole thing.”
    â€œThat’s no reason to go at him with a knife.”
    While they were speaking, Dario and Serafin had met in the center of the
     room. Merle noticed that Serafin moved with light feet, like a dancer. He skillfully
     avoided the clumsy attacks of Dario, whose knife cut silvery traces in the air. Before
     Dario realized it, the weaver boy had extracted the knife from his fingers. With a cry
     of fury, Dario rushed at his opponent and landed a treacherous punch on his Adam’s
     apple. The yellow bird face flew to one side and revealed Serafin’s face. His
     cheekbones were finely cut, a few freckles sprinkled the bridge of his nose. He had
     blond hair, not so light as Junipa’s; the green paint had clumped it into
     strings.
    The weaver’s bright blue eyes were squinting angrily. Before Dario
     could avoid it, Serafin landed a punch that flung the student mirror maker against the
     workbench behind which Junipa had taken shelter. Dario made