Stolen Magic by Gail Carson Levine Page A

poor.”
    â€œWhy then?”
    â€œShe’s reckless.”
    â€œMmm. How would she have done it?”
    Dror-bee put his index finger on his chin, the image of someone thinking. “I don’t know where it was kept, so it’s hard to guess. She’s a night owl. She would do it when others are sleeping.”
    â€œMmm.” How did this youth know the barber’s ways—her recklessness, her tardiness to bed? “You became a bee rather than a soldier. How did that choice come about?”
    â€œMy father said I couldn’t stay on our farm, and I could be only one or the other. I’m happy as a bee.”
    Masteress Meenore’s internal flame flared. Here was a reason for anger against someone on Zertrum. “A farmer always needs more help. Why then did your father have no use for you?”
    Dror-bee nodded twice. “I had too many ideas, which often failed. Father said I made him tired. Mother said, ‘The sheep with too much wool gets caught in the brambles.’”
    Masteress Meenore thought that Lahnt had as many proverbs as sheep. “Are you enraged at your parents for sending you away?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œWere you angry at the time?”
    His shoulders slumped. “I was sad. But Marya doesn’t mind my ideas, and a month ago when I found two lost goslings for a farmer, he thanked me. He said”—Dror-bee’s chest expanded—“that Lahnt was lucky to have bees like me.”
    â€œYou called Mistress Sirka reckless. Why?”
    Dror-bee flung out his arms. “You’d think so, too, if you watched her cut hair. It’s a wonder she hasn’t choppedoff an ear, and yet the result is always pleasing.”
    â€œIs it reckless of her to court a bee?”
    Softly, so IT had to strain to hear, he said, “It is hopeless.”
    â€œPlease tell the alleged thief to come to me. I will speak with her next.”
    But a reckless thief would snatch and run. If Mistress Sirka were the thief, she would have to be cunning, too. Perhaps she was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
    F ear and hatred had almost killed Count Jonty Um in Two Castles town. Lahnt, he thought, may finish me off. His teeth chattered, and he’d lost feeling in his feet. At a safe distance, the hunters had cleared snow and built a fire, fetching branches from the woods below, but when it was roaring, they held burning brands to keep him from approaching, until he half wished they’d thrust one at him. Fee fi! Roasting might be preferable to freezing.
    He could shape-shift into a bear and have fur to warm him; however, he feared what the men would do to it or it would do to them.
    Brunka Arnulf arrived at last on a mule. He jumped off, crying, “You’ll kill our rescuer! Let him warm himself!”
    The men backed away, and His Lordship, who wasusually graceful, lumbered to the fire. When he stopped, Brunka Arnulf flashed rainbows at his half-frozen feet.
    â€œMy rainbows have no other medicinal use, but they’re good for this.”
    His Lordship’s feet tingled agonizingly, but agony was better than no feeling at all. And being touched by rainbows made the pain worth having.
    â€œHow bad is your wound, Master Count?”
    His Lordship boomed, “Not so bad for me. Dreadful for a bird. I can’t fly.”
    Brunka Arnulf stepped back from the sound. “Otto, you chose the wrong swift to shoot. We’re lucky your aim was off.”
    â€œHe really is a count?” Goodman Otto said. “A count ?”
    â€œI believe him when he says he is.”
    â€œOh.” Goodman Otto touched his cap. “I’m s-sorry. Er . . . p-pleased to make your acquaintance. Brunka Arnulf, is it true? The Replica was stolen?”
    â€œAlas, yes. I hear the mountain rumbling. Count Jonty Um was flying back to the Oase with information.”
    â€œI can walk, though I’ll be too late.”
    â€œThen stay,” Brunka Arnulf