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just-so Master Uwald, with his arm around Master Robbie’s shoulders; the steward, angry Master Tuomo, whose face had not yet relaxed.
    The barber-surgeon moved to loom behind the youngest bee, the ardent young man who’d placed the benches. Why was her expression triumphant?
    An empty bench separated the guests from the two full benches of bees. Elodie remembered that the most trusted of them were in pairs searching the inner chambers. She’d have no chance to observe them, although one might be the thief.
    She knew the names of only two bees: clumsy Johan-bee and the disagreeable cook, Ludda-bee. Two others she’d noticed before: the oldest bee, and the young bee in front of the barber-surgeon, who resembled a real bee, with a plump middle, a short neck, large dark eyes, and skinny limbs.
    The high brunka came to stand between the benches and the fireplace. “Please sit, Mistress Sirka.”
    â€œWhy can the girl stand and not me?” asked the barber-surgeon, who now had a name—Sirka—and a voice, hoarse, and deep for a woman.
    Elodie prepared to sit on the floor, where she could still see everyone.
    â€œShe’s just a lamb.”
    Elodie continued to stand.
    Mistress Sirka shrugged and inserted herself between the eager young bee and another bee. The crowded bee benches became even more cramped.
    Elodie wondered if the high brunka could hear any hearts that might be pounding and identify their owners.
    Watch faces and hands, Elodie thought. Emotions declared themselves through them, as every mansioner knew.
    Remember to mansion shock, yourself!
    Master Tuomo, still angry, said, “I hope there’s a reason—”
    â€œI must . . .” The high brunka’s mouth flattened into a line, no smile. “Oh, my dears, I regret”—she pressed her hands together. The tips of her fingers tinted rainbow colors—“to say, the Replica has been stolen.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    E lodie put her hands over her ears as if to block the news. Her eyes met Albin’s, and his were both worried and comforting.
    Master Robbie watched her, too. His face was puzzled. He was probably wondering why she was shamming surprise.
    Master Tuomo rose. The skin around his lips had paled. “Uwald, we can be on the road within the hour.”
    No one can go! Elodie thought.
    â€œPlease sit,” High Brunka Marya said.
    â€œMy sons!” He remained standing. “I won’t reach them in time as it is. Uwald, we must—”
    â€œSit.” The high brunka’s soft voice held a note of command.
    The steward sat slowly.
    His sons are on Zertrum? Elodie thought. He can’t be the thief then.
    Watch the bees, she told herself. IT suspects them the most. Keeping her eyes wide, her mouth sad, she turned their way.
    The young bee jumped up, sat down, pumped his knees in agitation, his face tragic. Next to him, the barber-surgeon, Mistress Sirka, put a consoling arm around his shoulders. Her face looked untroubled, happy even. He seemed unaware of her.
    A female bee put her fist in her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.
    The ancient bee half closed his eyes, although his face was alert.
    Ludda-bee snapped, “If Johan could keep to his post, this wouldn’t have happened.”
    First to blame. Was she directing attention away from herself? Or did she have a reason for the accusation, beyond the fact that he visited the privy while guarding? Surely everyone did that during a long watch.
    The other bees seemed distressed in varying degrees, but neither their expressions nor their hands proclaimed anything definite—or anything Elodie could discern. Perhaps her masteress would already have named the thief if IT were here.
    She turned from the bees back to the guests.
    The genial expression had drained from Master Uwald’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Oh. Oh.” But then they popped open. With a visible effort he brought his smile back. He