“There you go, Sheriff—lock, stock, and barrel!” Hiram Bindlestiff was strutting around the gaol like a peacock, preening for the Mayor, Osgood Thrip, Crumble, Aramina, and Mr. Dorro. “You have the thieves, the evidence, and the location of their secluded hideout. These two rascals have been ravaging Thimble Down, and now deserve nothing less than exile. Or a good, old-fashioned hanging!”
“Have you gone mad, Bindlestiff? They’re just children!” roared Dorro, his mind reeling with the implications. “We don’t hang criminals in Thimble Down anyway.”
“I think exile sounds more than fair,” noted Thrip. “It’s better than chopping their fingers off; why, that was how we treated thieves back in my day. Mayor, it’s your duty as chief magistrate—”
“Hold on, you’re not chopping my Wyll’s fingers off, nor are you exiling him!” snarled the bookmaster. “You have not conducted a proper trial, and secondly, you found him in the place where the Pie Thief kept his loot. You didn’t catch him or Orli in the act of theft.”
“And secondly,” piped up Aramina, “If either of you harm me nephew, I will take my dirk and filet you like a fresh trout. Belly first!”
That effectively shut Bindlestiff and Thrip up, as the Sheriff held up a hand.
“Folks, let’s all calm down. No one is cutting anything off, and believe it or not, we do have a due process of law in this village. A complaint has been lodged against these two boys; now, the magistrate—our Mayor—has to decide if he wants to build a case for trial. That will take at least a month. For now, the boys will stay here for a day or two and thence be eligible for bail. Is that clear?”
“Phooey! I wanted to gut these two blithering idiots and make ’em cry,” moaned Aramina in genuine disappointment.
“Can I see my boy?” begged Crumble, followed by Dorro, who desperately wanted to see Wyll.
“’Fraid not, gentlemen,” warned Forgo. “These lads need to be questioned first, and that will take at least a day. I will be done with them by this time tomorrow, but rest assured, I will take good care of them.”
That answer didn’t seem to appease anyone except the Mayor, who realized that Forgo had saved his neck yet again and thought it might be time to give the lawman a meager raise in gratitude. If he won the election, of course.
As the mob departed, Dorro was still incredulous. “I can’t believe Wyll is the Pie Thief, Forgo. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know that, and you know that, Winderiver, but they were caught in the villain’s lair. I assume they were discovered as they were running away. That’s a hard-headed boy you have there.”
“He’s much like his mother in that way—and perhaps me as well,” said Dorro sheepishly. “No one could tell Siobhán what to do, and it’s the same with Wyll. When faced with problems, his solution is often the same as hers—to simply run away. Dashed fools!”
“Give me a day to sort them out, by which time you can have yer lil’ rascal back. And be kind this time! Maybe he won’t run off.” That last remark stung, but that’s how Forgo had intended it. It was time for Dorro to stop whipping the boy into a rabid lather. “Now, do you know where the girl is?”
“Cheeryup? No sign of her either. I’m going to her burrow to find any signs of her, but she may still be in the forest. Wyll is very good at hiding her and surely wouldn’t tell me where she is. They’re quite crafty, those two.”
“Well, I need some lunch, so let’s meet up later at the Stoat to compare notes. Six o’clock … and don’t be late!”
* * *
Go away! Cheeryup yelped in her head, while a frustrated Dorro knocked on the front door of the darkened Tunbridge burrow. As much as I’d like to let you in, Mr. Dorro, I cannot trust you at the moment. Not while Wyll is in gaol and there are so many loose ends!
The girl was huddled in the back room of her mother’s burrow, where she’d been hiding since the wee hours of the night. The past hours were a blur, especially the part about being rescued from gaol by Wyll and Orli, an act—shockingly—abetted by deputy Gadget Pinkle. She was dragged off to the river cave, whereupon the boys brought her to the Pie Thief’s lair. If that wasn’t staggering enough, the subsequent invasion of the cave by Fibbhook and his cronies was the capper.
No, the capper was when they took Wyll and Orli and threw them in gaol. They had the nerve to call the boys the Pie Thieves, as if they comprised some sort of joint criminal enterprise. Pure nonsense! Fibbhook will pay for this, I swear! Cheeryup was incensed by the actions against her friends and swore revenge. Now, I just need Mr. Dorro to go away. I can’t speak to him now.
Fortunately, the bookmaster took the cue and wandered off. He’d even tried the door, but Cheeryup had soundly locked herself in the night before. She had some food, and intentionally left the curtains pulled tight and had lit a small fire in the far-back bedroom where no one would see smoke rising from its chimney.
To all outside appearances, the Tunbridge burrow was cold and empty, the mother lying unconscious in Nurse Pym’s infirmary and the ne’er-do-well daughter off on some lark. But inside the lodging lurked the brilliant mind of young Cheeryup Tunbridge, and for the foreseeable future, she planned on using it as her secret headquarters. The thought mildly thrilled her.
Working quickly in the back room, Cheeryup cleared off a table and dropped the satchel containing the papers she had found the night before. Before beginning, she dashed off to the kitchen to find some sustenance and located a wedge of cheddar cheese and freshly picked apples in the larder. That and a tin cup of water would suffice for the moment.
She opened the fabric bag and pulled out the papers within. It took Cheeryup only a few seconds to realize she’d hit upon a pot of gold. While the words on these parchment pages didn’t mean anything to her, the ink drawings and diagrams clearly indicated something about the black stones and how to burn them in a furnace or stove.
More disturbing were a few pages in the back containing crude pictograms, these ones of Halflings, Men, and other creatures, but all of them sick and dying. The images were horrific and sad, with ailing folk emitting smoke from their lungs, lying on streets in agony, or twisted up in spasms of intense pain in bed. Cheeryup knew these pages contained proof that the black stones used at Bindlestiff’s Smelting Works were causing the Grippe and all its ensuing sickness and death.
The girl wanted to rush to Mr. Dorro and tell him all about it, but she feared his temper and didn’t know if he’d cast her off to gaol as well. She put her hands in her pocket and felt something strange, but knew what it was instantly. Cheeryup pulled a clump of hair from the pocket and examined it.
There was something about the lock of hair that bothered her, but she could not put her finger on it. At that moment, Cheeryup made a decision. She left the hair clump on the table, but stashed the satchel of papers under her mother’s mattress where no one would find it. She slipped to the closet, put a heavy shawl around her head, and snuck out a side window.
Cheeryup had someone she needed to speak with.