A Baker's Guide to Robber Pie Read online

Cece stopped, looking away from Evie and her crow-beak mask. “I didn’t make a mask this year. I guess I thought we’d just watch.”

  “Watch?” Evie blinked. Dressing up like Fel to attack the Paline guard as they defended Saint Hart was more fun than she and Cecily had the rest of the year combined. Except, maybe, for that time they put sneezewort into Helena Blackwell’s soup to get her back for the spider eggs she’d smashed between the pages of Evie’s school primer.

  “It’s just…” Cece’s face went a little pink under her freckles. “All this Fel stuff. You’re not still going out into the forest tonight, are you? No one’s seen a Fel since they were trapped by the Fel King’s deal with Saint Hart. I like storming Helena’s luncheon and a good pirate fort as well as the next girl, but it’s mostly kids who fight with the guard. Trying to catch a Fel, pretending they’re out there just waiting to go on an adventure … it’s a little babyish, isn’t it?”

  A jolt lanced through Evie’s gut. Just because no one had seen Fel in a long time didn’t mean they weren’t there. All day, every moment since she’d woken up to a table of Tershan Twists to be twisted, dimple loaves to be dimpled, and French bread to be frenched, Evie had been thinking about going out into the forest. How she’d word her request when she found a Fel so it wouldn’t be able to trap her into a bad deal, not to mention the swords and wishes and magic and adventures that would come of it. I wish for you to come with me on an adventure as my servant. It may include Tershan pirates, monsters, or ghosts. You will get me home safe within a year without a single scratch, bruise, or any kind of harm to my body or mind. She wasn’t quite sure what the Fel would want in return.

  Cecily was looking back at Max—he’d somehow managed to tangle himself in the bakery stand’s ribbons—with a dreamy sort of smile on her face. She glanced at Evie, putting her hands up defensively as she caught Evie’s cross look. “Even Dr. Cleat says going into the Old Forest is asking for trouble, and he believes snails have nostrils.” She faltered at Evie’s glare. “I very much do not like the look in your eye, Evie Baker.”

  “I’ve always liked a bit of trouble, myself,” Evie said. “Let’s skip the contest. After Helena’s song, it’s undignified even to participate.” She pulled the Fel mask from around her neck and shoved it into one of her apron pockets. It hurt a little, tucking it out of sight after she’d spent many hours sewing it together. She would have made the most fearsome Fel. “If the battle is so babyish, then let’s just go out to the forest. Let’s go now.”

  Cecily bit her lip. But she followed Evie from the square.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Evie pulled her cloak tight around her as she led Cece into the trees. The murmur of voices from town bled into quiet, replaced by the rustle of night creatures moving about and cricket song. This wasn’t the Old Forest; it was just the normal trees, moss, and occasional-bear forest. The dividing line where the Fel forest started was very well marked and much farther on.

  Evie gave Cecily’s hand a tug. “Am I going to have to drag you the whole way?” she asked. “What is there to be scared of?”

  “Robbers,” Cecily muttered. “Bears, mountain lions, amberticks…”

  “Amberticks?” Evie fixed Cecily with her best piratey stare.

  Cecily wilted a little and stopped pulling so hard when Evie started walking again. “How are we going to find one, anyway? Fel are supposed to be tricky. They’re not going to come out just because we ask.”

  “I brought bait.” Evie pulled open her cloak pocket, revealing the slightly smushed raspberry tart inside. “Not a creature alive could resist, and you know it.”

  Cecily nodded unwillingly. She did know it.

  They walked on and hadn’t even reached their tree fort when an icy cold washed over Evie, as if she’d walked through a waterfall. The trees suddenly looked larger, darker, and painfully twisted about one another, without even a hint of starlight making it through the gaps between their leaves.

  “Wha … what was that?” Cecily whimpered. “We shouldn’t be out here, Evie. Let’s go back.”

  A delightful prickle ran down Evie’s neck as she looked out into the darkness. The trees’ ghostly shapes leered at her like monsters newly risen from sleep. The very air smelled spicy and sweet, as if adventure were cooking nearby in a Fel’s dinner pot. Evie could almost feel dark crow eyes watching them. “We’ve been planning this for ages, Cece. I’m going to ask for a pirate ship and hat, and then the Fel will ask for something in return—”

  “—or come at us with forks and knives. And pepper.”

  “I don’t like pepper.”

  “It won’t ask if you like it or not.”

  “Mum’s going to send you to France if you get any more boring, Cece.” That was what Mum always said—French loaves were the most boring, so they must have come from a horribly boring place. Whenever Mum got mad, she’d curse about France rather than Fel or saints because she thought that was blasphemous. Evie didn’t mind saints or Fel, but she did like the idea of a boring country where she could send off all the boringness so it wouldn’t bother her anymore.

  Not Cece, though. Never Cece.

  Linking her arm through Cecily’s, Evie walked into the old trees, heart beating against her ribs like a flag in high wind. When they came to a clearing, stars peering down through the hole in the trees, Evie pulled out the tart. She scampered to the very center of the clearing and placed it on a rock. Skipping back, she pulled Cece behind a tree. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “All we have to do is wait.”

  Cece whimpered, a hand going to her mouth as the forest around them seemed to hush, the background chorus of crickets and frogs suddenly all taking a breath at the same time. The hairs on the back of Evie’s neck stood on end.

  She grabbed Cecily’s hand, staring at the little lump of darkness that was the raspberry tart, waiting for the nighttime orchestra to start back up. It didn’t. The clearing before them seemed to hum with all the silence.

  And then, something did hum.

  Cecily’s grip on Evie’s hand tightened. The hum seemed to grow and then shrink, the sound unstable like a group of adules singing out over the river as they floated by on their boats. Cecily’s shoulders hunched, her whisper coming out in a rasp. “I can feel it to my bones. Is it bees?”

  “I think it’s singing.” Evie pulled Cecily farther behind their tree. A dark shape detached from the craggy tree limbs on the opposite side of the clearing, the jagged feathers of its wings silhouetted against the moon-purpled sky.

  The shape didn’t come toward them exactly. It circled the clearing once, then twice. And then it truly began to sing.

  “Bonded, bolted, barred, and branded

  by the Robber Lord demanded.

  Setting right what’s long forgotten

  lest our bones grow thin and rotten.

  But when the pact we’ve made is broken

  Silence ends and truth be spoken—”

  The black outline streaked across the sky, circling one last time before diving toward the raspberry tart. For a moment, the humming dulled, the strange singsong fading from Evie’s ears. The sound of a beak clicking and raspberries being swallowed echoed through the silent clearing.

  Was that … a Fel? A crow creature, full to the beak with magic less than a fifteen-minute walk outside of Paline? Evie looked around, hand fisted in her apron pocket. How to catch the thing?

  “Beautiful, isn’t he?”

  Evie jerked back from the tree, looking for the man who belonged to the rumpled-sounding voice. The night seemed blacker just behind them, the darkest patch suddenly flaring in the center as the owner of the words lit a match. He didn’t look at her, as if he’d been speaking to himself, not expecting her to hear it at all.

  She gulped. She hadn’t missed that bit in the creature’s song about a Robber Lord.

  Everyone knew about the robbers in the forest. And that it wasn’t just apricots they took off carriages. They stole everything, including the people inside.

  The crow’s song started up again, swirling around the clearing faster and faster, becoming so frantic Evie could no longer understand the words, the sound a buzzing tangle that vibrated up through her toes and tore at her ears from the insides.

  The man frowned toward the oversized bird as the notes flared red hot. He put the match to the end of a cigar hanging from his mouth. “What’s got you so excited?”

  A cigar. And a bristlebrush for a face. It was the same man Evie had seen buying tarts at the market square.

  “Uh, well, nice to meet you … forest man.” Cecily edged to the side, filing her voice down to a whisper. “Come on, Evie. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You can see me?” The man turned around to look at them properly, then swiveled back toward the circling Fel. “What gives?” he called.

  Evie backed away, her footsteps breaking twigs as she tried to slip into the trees with Cece on her arm. The man didn’t look like a robber any more than her own pop. If he had, she’d have called the guard quick enough back at the festival—Max had been right there with his flintlock, even if he probably would have had to use it as a bludgeon instead of firing it. She slowed a step to look back at the man with the cigar, his eyes on the flying shape above the clearing. He seemed to be muttering something about deals and bloody this and bloody that, including some very interesting words Evie had never heard before.

  Cecily gave Evie’s arm a good tug to get her moving more quickly, but the unexpected pull made Evie lurch to the side. Her toes caught against a tangle of low branches and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

  The man’s attention snapped back down to the girls. He smiled, teeth clamped around the awful cigar. “Where do you think you’re off to?”

  “Evie!
” Cecily grappled with Evie’s flailing arms, trying to pull her out of the bush.

  “Run! Just run, Cecily.” Evie rolled away from the bush, wrenched herself up from the ground, and dashed after her friend, the auburn glint of Cecily’s hair quickly lost in the darkness ahead. Evie hadn’t gone two more steps before another man with spiky hair and a leer slipped out of the trees in front of her, blocking her way. She skidded to a stop, changing direction.

  But now there were more of them behind her, to the side of her, up in the trees, the one with bright red hair she’d seen at the market in Paline, the one with a broken nose and fingernails she’d seen in the bakery. They were all men she’d met before, and now they were out here in the Fel forest as if they’d never eaten cranberry cake while having a laugh with Pop.

  They were robbers.

  The man with the cigar stepped into the circle they’d made around Evie. “Quick little lass, your friend. She’ll never get back to Paline.”

  Evie shoved a hand into her pocket, wishing she’d thought to bring one of Pop’s prize knives, but there was nothing in her pocket but the Fel mask.

  The air around her went still again, as it had just before the crow had appeared. Evie’s ears seemed to crawl all over on the insides as if she had ants for brains and she couldn’t hear through their twisting bodies. Everything began to vibrate with Fel song, but the words had changed to raspberry tart raspberry tart raspberry tart. The robbers seemed to hear it too, each of them clapping hands over their ears, one falling to his knees, crying, “Where’s my raspberry tart?”

  The distraction, especially of a fully grown man sobbing for a raspberry tart, was why none of them, not even Evie, noticed the guardsman on his horse until he’d charged straight into their midst.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A firearm discharged, the air-shattering crack splitting Evie’s eardrums. The sound seemed to right whatever was going wrong in her head, but only enough to let her stumble back from the horse’s rearing hooves. The guard tore a second weapon from his coat and fired again. Echoing cracks came from the direction of the road, shattering the circle of robbers. Evie found her feet, but immediately blundered into the robber with the cigar. He knocked the mask from her stiff fingers, grabbed her tight around the middle with one arm, and pulled out a knife with the other. Kicking at him didn’t work, and he’d pinned Evie’s arms to her sides so no matter how she wriggled, she couldn’t get free. He dragged her back from the guards, deeper into the forest.

  The rank scent of cigar smoke closed over Evie’s head along with the shadows from the Old Forest trees. She twisted and bit down on the robber’s arm so hard it felt as if her teeth would pop right out. He grunted and his clasp around her loosened a fraction, which gave her enough room to elbow him in the stomach. It probably wouldn’t have worked if the robber hadn’t tripped over an exposed root at the same time. Landing on top of him, Evie pulled out the vinegar balloon meant for the bloody tale of Saint Hart’s demise and smashed it into the robber’s face. He dropped the knife to swipe at his eyes, vinegar streaming down his cheeks.

  Evie grabbed the fallen knife from the ground and ran. Guards in the queen’s green clomped through the melee to join the single horse and rider, the edge of the meadow a boiling ant’s nest of groans and yelps, the clang of metal on metal, and the occasional thunderclap of black powder. Robbers ran in all directions, disappearing into the trees. Evie sprinted back the way she’d come, almost immediately slamming into someone. Teetering sideways, the two of them fell into the dirt, a mess of apron, polished boots, and straw-like hair.

  “Max?” Evie asked, attempting to pull one of her braids free from where it was stuck in his uniform’s gold buttons.

  The sounds of fighting seemed to have stopped, leaving a confused lull in the clearing. “You’re safe now.” Max picked himself up, awkwardly freezing when Evie gasped in pain, her braid still snarled around his buttons. “Um. Sorry.”

  “My friend. Cecily Miller.” Evie disentangled her braid and looked the way Cece had run. “She was here with me, but I don’t know where she went. Please tell me you’ve found her.”

  “Yes, she’s safe.”

  “Are you sure? Where is she?”

  Max pointed into the forest. “She stumbled into our company not five minutes ago—some of the guards are taking her back to Paline.”

  Lips pressed together, Evie tried very hard not to let tears spill out from where they were burning behind her eyes. “I didn’t get to fight them off. Not really. That Robber Lord person grabbed me and…” She swallowed, not liking the memory of cigar smoke in her nose.

  “It looks as though they tried to fight you, if you don’t mind my saying so, miss … Evie, wasn’t it?”

  Evie looked down, a line of red dripping down her arm from a scratch. “I’ve been wanting a bit of adventure, and when I find one, all I do is try to run. This isn’t even a proper battle wound.” She looked up when Max didn’t say anything. “What’s the matter with you? Didn’t you fight either?”

  He scowled at her, but an older man crowded up behind him before he could answer, pulling him away from Evie. “What in Hart’s name are you doing here, Max?”

  Max’s face burned pink. “I was the one who saw Miss Evie leave, Captain Garry. It’s only fair that—”

  “No, there’s nothing fair or not fair about being told to stay put. You don’t even have powder and shot for your weapon!” The old man harrumphed, blowing out his rather impressive set of mustaches. “You know the rules, Max. If I—”

  “Yes, sorry.” Max gave Evie one last embarrassed look before turning away. “I’m going. I just wanted to help. Running messages isn’t very exciting.”

  “Running messages is your job. Your only job,” Captain Garry called after Max as the boy walked toward the road. “Tell Bell and Granger to ready a prison cell!”

  “What’s the matter with him?” Evie meant for the question to come out in a whisper, but it didn’t quite work. Max turned to glare at her, his back straighter than Mum’s best broomstick.

  “I think a better question would be what’s the matter with you, little miss.” The captain raised one bushy eyebrow.

  Evie looked down at the cut on her arm, fighting to keep the tremor from her voice. Cece was all right. And nothing much was wrong with Evie either, so there wasn’t anything to be so upset over, was there? The robbers had run. She was safe.

  Somehow thinking all those things didn’t make her feel any better, but she didn’t want a stuffy old guard to know that. “It’s just a bit of a scratch, and the sounds of the fighting might have been a little scary, but—”

  “There are guards set around the perimeter of the forest, for Hart’s sake. They’re supposed to keep little girls like you from getting hurt. Just last week a girl went missing from the road not more than ten miles from here. They found her coach empty, her guards all dead. Everything pinched, down to the wheels. This place is dangerous, with robbers just waiting to … how did you even get through?”

  “Why would a Fel steal carriage wheels?”

  “A Fel? Out here?” Captain Garry rubbed a hand across his forehead. His voice had gone quiet, the sort of quiet that was much scarier than yelling. “We haven’t found a single person the robbers have taken, and you’re telling stories about Fel? Saint Hart took care of those beasties a long time ago.”

  Evie stared at his mustaches to keep from crying, wondering if they were as heavy as they looked. They bobbed up and down with each word, quivering all the way to the ends. “At least we didn’t get hurt.” She dried her cheeks with her apron, then picked up the robber’s knife from where it had fallen in the tall grass and tucked it into her pocket. Captain Garry raised an eyebrow but didn’t try to take it away.

  The scrape on Evie’s arm twinged and she held it close to her chest. Only a few hours ago, she probably would have been thrilled to have a war wound, but somehow the reality wasn’t quite so exciting. She let Captain Garry lead her to where the others were standing over a man on his knees.

  “You caught one of them?” Evie craned her neck to catch sight of the robber, who seemed weak-chinned and rather sad to be kneeling in a circle of the queen’s green. It was the same man who’d been moaning for a raspberry tart. “Oh, it isn’t the Robber Lord.”