Read Online The Cabinet of Wonders: The Kronos Chronicles: Book I by Marie Rutkoski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marie Rutkoski
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whenher father said, “Unfortunately, he is not for sale. He belongs to my daughter, and has for six years.”
“I am willing to pay a very good price for it.”
“I am very sorry to repeat that he is not for sale.”
“I will pay even more. I know how you artisans operate. You will do anything to drive up the price.”
“Perhaps I can interest you in something else? A music box?”
She waved a gloved hand. “I have many.”
“But I doubt you have a Muse Box. Petra, show her.”
Petra used a footstool to reach the row of Muse Boxes on the topmost shelf. She stepped down and thrust the box at the woman.
“It plays whatever you need to hear,” Mikal Kronos said, and nodded at his daughter. “Petra, go ahead.”
Petra opened the box. It began to play a merry jig of a pipe and two fiddles. It took Petra a moment to recognize the tune. It was called “The Grasshopper.” When Petra was nine, or perhaps ten, it had been played on the night of the annual May bonfire. Ever since Okno survived the Black Plague centuries ago, the men in the village would head into the woods on the first day of every May, cut down the tallest poplar tree they could find, and carry it through the village streets. Everyone else followed behind in a long parade, and one child was chosen to sit on the tree as it traveled through the village. When the procession reached the town square, the May Child was lifted to the ground and handed a torch to light the bonfire once the poplar had been chopped into pieces. As Petra listened to the music box play “The Grasshopper,” she remembered how everybody was dancing but her. She watched the Tree of Life burn and felt angry that yet again, one more year, she hadn’t been chosen to be the May Child. Her father asked her to dance. And she forgot her disappointment.
Petra closed the box.
“This music means nothing to me,” the woman said, and turned to leave.
“It was my daughter who opened the box. Do try it yourself, my lady.”
With a look of amused disbelief, the woman lifted the lid. A quick, longing melody flowed from the box. Petra didn’t recognize it.
The woman listened, staring at nothing.
“It is not a Czech tune,” Petra’s father said. “Am I right? I believe it is an English song called ‘Greensleeves.’”
The woman shut the box. “I know the song. But I did not wish to hear it.”
“It plays what you
need
to hear, not what you want to hear.”
The woman’s eyes glittered. She ordered her footman out of the shop. Then she paid much more than the asking price for the Muse Box. She gripped the box in both hands as she left the Sign of the Compass.
That evening, when Petra bid her father good night, she hugged him and said, “You know I love you very much.”
“I do know that,” he said, and placed his wrinkled hand on her knotted hair.
“Do you know … did you hear that it rained sand last week? With thunder and lightning? On a clear day?”
“Did it?” His voice was indifferent, but in a practiced way.
She whispered, “Aren’t you worried?”
He paused, and Petra saw that he was. Still, he tried to persuade his daughter that everything was all right. “If the prince caused this, it only means that he cannot control the clock’s power. Perhaps he has been able to assemble the last part to some degree. That is possible. Lightning would be the easiest thing for the clock to produce. But I never designed the clock to rain sand. This suggests to me that he cannot assemble the last part properly.”
“But he’s trying.”
“Petra.” Her father’s voice was stern as he gripped her shoulders. “The clock is no longer our concern. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His white bandages confronted her. She nodded, although she knew he could not see her. “I do.”
8
Firefly
A FEW DAYS LATER, when Petra was visiting Tomik at the Sign of Fire, he hissed at her so Master Stakan wouldn’t hear: “Lucie and Pavel leave tomorrow morning.
“I am willing to pay a very good price for it.”
“I am very sorry to repeat that he is not for sale.”
“I will pay even more. I know how you artisans operate. You will do anything to drive up the price.”
“Perhaps I can interest you in something else? A music box?”
She waved a gloved hand. “I have many.”
“But I doubt you have a Muse Box. Petra, show her.”
Petra used a footstool to reach the row of Muse Boxes on the topmost shelf. She stepped down and thrust the box at the woman.
“It plays whatever you need to hear,” Mikal Kronos said, and nodded at his daughter. “Petra, go ahead.”
Petra opened the box. It began to play a merry jig of a pipe and two fiddles. It took Petra a moment to recognize the tune. It was called “The Grasshopper.” When Petra was nine, or perhaps ten, it had been played on the night of the annual May bonfire. Ever since Okno survived the Black Plague centuries ago, the men in the village would head into the woods on the first day of every May, cut down the tallest poplar tree they could find, and carry it through the village streets. Everyone else followed behind in a long parade, and one child was chosen to sit on the tree as it traveled through the village. When the procession reached the town square, the May Child was lifted to the ground and handed a torch to light the bonfire once the poplar had been chopped into pieces. As Petra listened to the music box play “The Grasshopper,” she remembered how everybody was dancing but her. She watched the Tree of Life burn and felt angry that yet again, one more year, she hadn’t been chosen to be the May Child. Her father asked her to dance. And she forgot her disappointment.
Petra closed the box.
“This music means nothing to me,” the woman said, and turned to leave.
“It was my daughter who opened the box. Do try it yourself, my lady.”
With a look of amused disbelief, the woman lifted the lid. A quick, longing melody flowed from the box. Petra didn’t recognize it.
The woman listened, staring at nothing.
“It is not a Czech tune,” Petra’s father said. “Am I right? I believe it is an English song called ‘Greensleeves.’”
The woman shut the box. “I know the song. But I did not wish to hear it.”
“It plays what you
need
to hear, not what you want to hear.”
The woman’s eyes glittered. She ordered her footman out of the shop. Then she paid much more than the asking price for the Muse Box. She gripped the box in both hands as she left the Sign of the Compass.
That evening, when Petra bid her father good night, she hugged him and said, “You know I love you very much.”
“I do know that,” he said, and placed his wrinkled hand on her knotted hair.
“Do you know … did you hear that it rained sand last week? With thunder and lightning? On a clear day?”
“Did it?” His voice was indifferent, but in a practiced way.
She whispered, “Aren’t you worried?”
He paused, and Petra saw that he was. Still, he tried to persuade his daughter that everything was all right. “If the prince caused this, it only means that he cannot control the clock’s power. Perhaps he has been able to assemble the last part to some degree. That is possible. Lightning would be the easiest thing for the clock to produce. But I never designed the clock to rain sand. This suggests to me that he cannot assemble the last part properly.”
“But he’s trying.”
“Petra.” Her father’s voice was stern as he gripped her shoulders. “The clock is no longer our concern. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His white bandages confronted her. She nodded, although she knew he could not see her. “I do.”
8
Firefly
A FEW DAYS LATER, when Petra was visiting Tomik at the Sign of Fire, he hissed at her so Master Stakan wouldn’t hear: “Lucie and Pavel leave tomorrow morning.
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