“I tickle the kitten’s tummy,” Bast said easily. “And if it winks at me, I know it’s a girl.”
This satisfied Viette, and she nodded gravely. “How can I get my father to let me keep it?”
“You’ve already asked him nicely?”
She nodded. “Daddy hates cats.”
“Begged and cried?”
Nod.
“Screamed and thrown a fit?”
She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve tried all that, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Bast thought for a moment. “Okay. First, you have to get some food that will keep good for a couple days. Biscuits. Sausage. Apples. Hide it in your room where nobody will find it. Not even your governess. Not even the maid. Do you have a place like that?”
The little girl nodded.
“Then go ask your daddy one more time. Be gentle and polite. If he still says no, don’t be angry. Just tell him that you love the kitten. Say if you can’t have her, you’re afraid you’ll be so sad you’ll die.”
“He’ll still say no,” the little girl said.
Bast shrugged. “Probably. Here’s the second part. Tonight, pick at your dinner. Don’t eat it. Not even the dessert.” The little girl started to say something, but Bast held up a hand. “If anyone asks you, just say you’re not hungry. Don’t mention the kitten. When you’re alone in your room tonight, eat some of the food you’ve hidden.”
The little girl looked thoughtful.
Bast continued. “Tomorrow, don’t get out of bed. Say you’re too tired. Don’t eat your breakfast. Don’t eat your lunch. You can drink a little water, but just sips. Just lie in bed. When they ask what’s the matter—”
She brightened. “I say I want my kitten!”
Bast shook his head, his expression grim. “No. That will spoil it. Just say you’re tired. If they leave you alone, you can eat, but be careful. If they catch you, you’ll never get your kitten.”
The girl was listening intently now, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“By dinner they’ll be worried. They’ll offer you more food. Your favorites. Keep saying you’re not hungry. You’re just tired. Just lie there. Don’t talk. Do that all day long.”
“Can I get up to pee?”
Bast nodded. “But remember to act tired. No playing. The next day, they’ll be scared. They’ll bring in a doctor. They’ll try to feed you broth. They’ll try everything. At some point your father will be there, and he’ll ask you what’s the matter.”
Bast grinned at her. “That’s when you start to cry. No howling. Don’t blubber. Just tears. Just lie there and cry. Then say you miss your kitten so much. You miss your kitten so much you don’t want to be alive anymore.”
The little girl thought about it for a long minute, petting her kitten absentmindedly with one hand. Finally she nodded. “Okay.” She turned to go.
“Hold on now!” Bast said quickly. “I gave you what you wanted. You owe me now.”
The little girl turned around, her expression an odd mix of surprise and anxious embarrassment. “I didn’t bring any money,” she said, not meeting his eye.
“Not money,” Bast said. “I gave you two answers and a way to get your kitten. You owe me three things. You pay with gifts and favors. You pay in secrets …”
She thought for a moment. “Daddy hides his strongbox key inside the mantel clock.”
Bast nodded approvingly. “That’s one.”
The little girl looked up into the sky, still petting her kitten. “I saw Mama kissing the maid once.”
Bast raised an eyebrow at that. “That’s two …”
The girl put her finger in her ear and wiggled it. “That’s all, I think.”
“How about a favor, then?” Bast said. “I need you to fetch me two dozen daisies with long stems. And a blue ribbon. And two armfuls of gemlings.”
Viette’s face puckered in confusion. “What’s a gemling?”
“Flowers,” Bast said, looking puzzled himself. “Maybe you call them balsams? They grow wild all over around here,” he said, making a wide gesture with both hands.
“Do you mean geraniums?” she asked.
Bast shook his head. “No. They’ve got loose petals, and they’re about this big.” He made a circle with his thumb and middle finger. “They’re yellow and orange and red …”
The girl stared at him blankly.
“Widow Creel keeps them in her window box,” Bast continued. “When you touch the seedpods, they pop …”
Viette’s face lit up. “Oh! You mean touch-me-nots,” she said, her tone more than slightly patronizing. “I can bring you a bunch of those. That’s easy.” She turned to run down the hill.
Bast called out before she’d taken six steps. “Wait!” When she spun around, he asked her, “What do you say if somebody asks you who you’re picking flowers for?”
She rolled her eyes again. “I tell them it’s none of their tupping business,” she said. “Because my daddy is the mayor.”
After Viette left, a high whistle made Bast look down the hill toward the greystone. There were no children waiting there.
The whistle came again, and Bast stood, stretching long and hard. It would have surprised most of the young women in town how easily he spotted the figure standing in the shadow of the trees at the edge of the clearing nearly two hundred feet away.
Bast sauntered down the hill, across the grassy field, and into the shadow of the trees. There was an older boy there with smudgy face and a pug nose. He was perhaps twelve and his shirt and pants were both too small for him, showing too much dirty wrist at the cuff and bare ankle below. He was barefoot and had a slightly sour smell about him.
“Rike.” Bast’s voice held none of the friendly, bantering tone he’d used with the town’s other children. “How’s the road to Tinuë?”
“It’s a long damn way,” the boy said bitterly, not meeting Bast’s eye. “We live in the ass of nowhere.”
“I see you have my book,” Bast said.
The boy held it out. “I wann’t tryin’ to steal it,” he muttered quickly. “I just needed to talk to you.”
Bast took the book silently.
“I didn’t break the rules,” the boy said. “I didn’t even come into the clearing. But I need help. I’ll pay for it.”
“You lied to me, Rike,” Bast said, his voice grim.
“And din’t I pay for that?” the boy demanded angrily, looking up for the first time. “Din’t I pay for it ten times over? Ent my life shit enough without having more shit piled on top of it?”
“And it’s all beside the point because you’re too old now,” Bast said flatly.
“I aren’t either!” The boy stomped a foot then struggled and took a deep breath, visibly forcing his temper back under control. “Tam is older’n me and he can still come to the tree! I’m just taller’n him!”
“Those are the rules,” Bast said.
“It’s a shite rule!” the boy shouted, his hands making angry fists. “And you’re a shite little bastard who deserves more of the belt than he gets!”
There was a silence then, broken only by the boy’s ragged breathing. Rike’s eyes were on the ground, fists clenched at his sides; he was shaking.
Bast’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
The boy’s voice was rough. “Just one,” Rike said. “Just one favor just this once. It’s a big one. But I’ll pay. I’ll pay triple.”
Bast drew a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Rike, I—”
“Please, Bast?” He was still shaking, but Bast realized the boy’s voice wasn’t angry anymore. “Please?” Eyes still on the ground, he took a hesitant step forward. “Just … please?” His hand reached out and just hung there aimlessly, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Finally he caught hold of Bast’s shirtsleeve and tugged it once, feebly, before letting his hand fall back to his side.