Nieve by Terry Griggs Page A

check.”
    â€œAnd now Dr. Morys is–?”
    â€œGone.”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œNot dead, thank the heavens. Not that I know of, and I’m certain I would know if he were. He’s missing. Stolen out of his hospital bed right under everyone’s noses, including mine. I spent two days at his bedside working every charm in the book, but Jim was too far away, too far under. In spirit at least, and now they have his body as well. I stepped out to buy a sandwich – ten minutes gone, ten! – and when I got back the nurses were running from room to room in search of him.”
    â€œBut that doesn’t make sense. He’s in a coma, he can’t tell them anything, or do anything. He’s–”
    â€œUseless? Harmless? I’m not so sure. They wouldn’t have taken him otherwise. The only thing I know is that we have to find him. For both his sake and ours.” Gran regarded her calmly, but pointedly, blinking a couple of times before letting her gaze drift over to Artichoke. “Forfared, poor pup. He won’t be able to go with you, I’m afraid.”
    â€œGran?”
    â€œLias will, though.”
    â€œNot if she wallops me again, I won’t.”
    Nieve groaned inwardly. So much for them deciding what to do. Gran had already decided. How was she – a kid – supposed to find Dr. Morys? It was so dark out, pitch black in case no one had noticed, that she’d be lucky to find her own feet once she stepped out the door. Besides, Dr. Morys had gone missing in the city, not in town. She’d been to the city lots of times with her parents – to the museum and the mall and the dentist (fun) – but she’d always found it overwhelming. The buildings towered; the streets were clogged with traffic; people hustled past you on the street, their faces tight with worry. If that wasn’t bad enough, Gran was now telling them that parts of the city were still without electricity following that fierce storm.
    â€œThe hospital is using generators, but much of the city remains in darkness. You two will have to be extremely careful.”
    â€œThis is nuts,” Nieve said.
    â€œOh, it is! Frightening besides, and desperate, and I’m asking my own beloved granddaughter to be involved.”
    â€œAre you asking?”
    â€œI am, hen. Because you’re more capable than you know.”
    â€œAnd because there’s no choice,” Lias said.
    â€œThat too,” admitted Gran.
    No one said anything for a few moments, until Nieve, brushing the crumbs off her shirt, asked, “Will you look after Mr. Mustard Seed for me?” She felt a stab of worry for having left him in the house with that truant officer crashing around.
    â€œI will. Mr. Mustard Seed and Artichoke both. Don’t think I’m going to send you two off empty-handed, either.”
    â€œWe could use another bee box, a really big one.” Nieve wasn’t serious, although she did suspect that whatever Gran had in mind – blue string or a gold thimble or a stone with a hole in its centre – would be well-meant, but not helpful at all.
    Gran stood and began to rummage in the pocket of her baggy old cardigan. “Now that’s a mystery. What that box was, what those beasties were. Firebees? Is there such a thing? Professor Manning, remember, the one who owned the place before Twisden, he’s a biologist, retired. I suspect he may have been doing some experiments, crossbreeding, not the sort of thing I approve of but . . . where is that–?” She had plunged her hand into the very depths of her pocket. “Ah, found it.” She retrieved a tiny silver canister, which she offered to Lias. “Fern seeds.”
    Great , Nieve sighed, fern seeds .
    Lias, however, accepted the seeds with a surprised smile and slid the canister into a pouch that was attached to his rope-belt.
    â€œYou have your amulet, Lias?”
    He nodded toward a