Read Online The Tasters Guild by Susannah Appelbaum - Free Book Online
Authors: Susannah Appelbaum
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extinguish the very last of it.” Axle paused. “And consider, if you will, its other name.”
Rowan nodded, mollified.
“What other name?” Ivy asked.
Axle turned to Rowan, who quoted easily.
“‘Scourge Bracken—var. Scourge Weed. Avoid at all costs. Easily accomplished by the fortunate fact that the weed is extinct. Obsolete moniker:
Kingmaker.’”
“Kingmaker?” Ivy frowned. It was probably a good idea to keep a poison called Kingmaker away from a man bent on ruling the world.
Axle reached into his waistcoat and retrieved a small package.
“I had this brought from home for you, Ivy.”
Ivy brightened. Opening the simply wrapped package, she found something utterly familiar.
“My
Guide!”
she squealed. Indeed, it was her very own personally inscribed
Field Guide
—the one she had left in her rush as she abandoned her uncle’s tavern. It was filled with hercurly scrawl and splattered with various spills from her experiments. It smelled like home.
“Thank you, Axle! Now I can give yours back.…” She turned to Rowan.
The taster nodded. He was allowing his attention to wander. The fresh air on deck was a relief to his congested head. He had been feeling wheezy and disagreeable and had found it hard to concentrate since boarding the
Trindletrip
. It would not be long before he realized the source of his discomfort. Folded within a coil of greasy rope was a cat of enormous proportions.
A filthy, ink-stained cat.
Chapter Seventeen
Six
H ey, that’s the cat from Dumbcane’s shop!” Ivy said when Rowan had revealed the animal’s napping spot.
The cat slept on, oblivious. “I’m sure of it. My, he’s a big one!” Ivy continued, drawing nearer. “What is he doing here, I wonder?”
In fact, he was an invited guest.
Trindle had long needed a mouser, and when a cat appeared—one with a massive appetite—he was relieved. Houseboats exist in a state of siege; rats and mice and other uninvited pests were often skittering around the water’s edge. As Trindle searched for a name for his new pet, one soon presented itself. The cat survived both a dip in a dirty oil pan and twice a fall overboard, and was safely said to be on his sixth life—if indeed it was true that a cat as large as he was only granted nine lives. Trindle easily decided upon a name.
He was called Six.
“For the time being,” Axle laughed.
“And look—he’s got six toes on each of his front paws!” Ivy noticed.
Like his parents and their parents before them, the creature was indeed born with an extra digit on each front foot, and all twelve toes gave him an even more unfair advantage when hunting.
And six gleaming claws on each, Rowan couldn’t help but notice. The taster was appalled. He had never once heard of a cat doing anything useful. Here, revealed, was the cause of his intense discomfort! His allergies had never been worse. The monster cat seemed to care nothing for presentation, or any of the usual cat-type pastimes of bathing, cleaning, or preening. There the thing was, its noisy purring punctuated by occasional deep, raspy growls. As he watched the source of his misery through increasingly itchy eyes, the thing perked up a ragged ear and yawned—half its face seemed to disappear in a bountiful row of teeth and gums. It was simply crawling with fleas.
“Humph.” Rowan narrowed his eyes at the creature. “The filthy thing has been splashing about in Dumbcane’s ink!”
In fact, the cat Six would soon prove to be a large amount of trouble. Here was a cat with no loyalty—or rather, a loyalty of his own design (not much different from any other cat). But, alas, there was no way of foretelling the mischief ahead—even for such a wise man as Axle—for loyalty is only revealed when it is tested.
Rowan resisted the impulse to throw the thing ashore byhis ragged, inky scruff. What a poor substitute for Poppy—his beloved bettle boar! And to his horror, Ivy was currently tickling Six’s torn ear
Rowan nodded, mollified.
“What other name?” Ivy asked.
Axle turned to Rowan, who quoted easily.
“‘Scourge Bracken—var. Scourge Weed. Avoid at all costs. Easily accomplished by the fortunate fact that the weed is extinct. Obsolete moniker:
Kingmaker.’”
“Kingmaker?” Ivy frowned. It was probably a good idea to keep a poison called Kingmaker away from a man bent on ruling the world.
Axle reached into his waistcoat and retrieved a small package.
“I had this brought from home for you, Ivy.”
Ivy brightened. Opening the simply wrapped package, she found something utterly familiar.
“My
Guide!”
she squealed. Indeed, it was her very own personally inscribed
Field Guide
—the one she had left in her rush as she abandoned her uncle’s tavern. It was filled with hercurly scrawl and splattered with various spills from her experiments. It smelled like home.
“Thank you, Axle! Now I can give yours back.…” She turned to Rowan.
The taster nodded. He was allowing his attention to wander. The fresh air on deck was a relief to his congested head. He had been feeling wheezy and disagreeable and had found it hard to concentrate since boarding the
Trindletrip
. It would not be long before he realized the source of his discomfort. Folded within a coil of greasy rope was a cat of enormous proportions.
A filthy, ink-stained cat.
Chapter Seventeen
Six
H ey, that’s the cat from Dumbcane’s shop!” Ivy said when Rowan had revealed the animal’s napping spot.
The cat slept on, oblivious. “I’m sure of it. My, he’s a big one!” Ivy continued, drawing nearer. “What is he doing here, I wonder?”
In fact, he was an invited guest.
Trindle had long needed a mouser, and when a cat appeared—one with a massive appetite—he was relieved. Houseboats exist in a state of siege; rats and mice and other uninvited pests were often skittering around the water’s edge. As Trindle searched for a name for his new pet, one soon presented itself. The cat survived both a dip in a dirty oil pan and twice a fall overboard, and was safely said to be on his sixth life—if indeed it was true that a cat as large as he was only granted nine lives. Trindle easily decided upon a name.
He was called Six.
“For the time being,” Axle laughed.
“And look—he’s got six toes on each of his front paws!” Ivy noticed.
Like his parents and their parents before them, the creature was indeed born with an extra digit on each front foot, and all twelve toes gave him an even more unfair advantage when hunting.
And six gleaming claws on each, Rowan couldn’t help but notice. The taster was appalled. He had never once heard of a cat doing anything useful. Here, revealed, was the cause of his intense discomfort! His allergies had never been worse. The monster cat seemed to care nothing for presentation, or any of the usual cat-type pastimes of bathing, cleaning, or preening. There the thing was, its noisy purring punctuated by occasional deep, raspy growls. As he watched the source of his misery through increasingly itchy eyes, the thing perked up a ragged ear and yawned—half its face seemed to disappear in a bountiful row of teeth and gums. It was simply crawling with fleas.
“Humph.” Rowan narrowed his eyes at the creature. “The filthy thing has been splashing about in Dumbcane’s ink!”
In fact, the cat Six would soon prove to be a large amount of trouble. Here was a cat with no loyalty—or rather, a loyalty of his own design (not much different from any other cat). But, alas, there was no way of foretelling the mischief ahead—even for such a wise man as Axle—for loyalty is only revealed when it is tested.
Rowan resisted the impulse to throw the thing ashore byhis ragged, inky scruff. What a poor substitute for Poppy—his beloved bettle boar! And to his horror, Ivy was currently tickling Six’s torn ear
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