Chapter 19
A trio of people were surfacing from over the side of the building and ambling over to the loft.
Usually only one person came to see the bird and its companions, although it remembered that in its youth other people used to visit.
At any rate, people meant food, or messages, or both, and so it cocked an eager head and watched them closely.
“I have never handled a pigeon in my life, Imogene. You do it. This was your idea.”
“You’re supposed to be the one who’s good with animals. I thought you’d know what to do. I’ve never used a messenger pigeon either, you know.”
“I’ve handled pigeons… Loads of them. That’s how I lost all my… well, you know. Tuck told you.”
I can’t believe we had to wait down here, Mr. Scruffles said in the alleyway below.
They are attaching a message to a bird, Tilly said, flicking her tail. Of course they didn’t want us up there. Because some of us can’t control himself.
They’ll be down soon, Ember soothed them.
I couldn’t catch a bird if my life depended on it, Mouser said.
Well, the bird wouldn’t necessarily know that, would it? Tilly asked.
“Oh, it’s so fiddly, Caterina. Could you roll the message for me?”
“Yes, here, give it to me.”
“Looks pretty good, though, the writing, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Ruben, very nice.”
The bird eyed its visitors more closely and stretched its wings, then its legs, then gave a great big yawn and fluffed all of its feathers, letting them settle back into place one by one.
It allowed itself to be caught, liking the way this person held it, with a more assertive yet tender grip than the usual handler.
Its messenger capsule was opened and closed, and the bird needed no coaxing to be sent off. It knew what it needed to do.
The cats below observed the pigeon cannon out over the building, heading northward, and then watched the three human companions as they descended the scaffold fire escape that led to the roof.
When they reached the ground, Ruben rubbed his hands together and allowed the eager Mr. Scruffles to sniff his fingers.
“Good work,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “Now let’s get back to the convent. I wouldn’t mind another one of those nice soaking baths before our appointments.”
The morning passed uneasily but quickly at Saint Percival’s as they waited for the appointed hour to visit with the Splints.
“How long do you think it takes a group of trolls to reach Burnt Umberland from the Stinky Mountains?” Mrs. Chrysler asked before her bath, and Katherine spent her entire soak thinking about it.
The way would be difficult, she imagined, and take at least two full days, if a human were traveling by foot or by coach.
But when you’re made of stone, you don’t really need to take roads if you don’t want to.
Terrain has a habit of getting out of the way.
While Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler stewed in their baths, Ruben evidently distracted himself by spending time in the sitting room they’d visited yesterday, reacquainting himself with the woman who had taken such delight in animatedly talking to, or perhaps at, him.
He was still there after Katherine’s soak.
“You’re such a great listener,” Katherine heard the woman tell him from the doorway, and he blushed.
Katherine stifled a laugh as she ducked back out of the room, unnoticed by either of them.
She could so easily envision Ruben content here, in company with this very friendly looking woman, and was surprised to find that she was pleased by the thought. She sighed.
After checking on Ruben, Katherine was drawn to the stables out back, and Mrs. Chrysler joined her.
The rainstorm had passed overnight, and the dragons had returned to their reclined basking on the sunlit flagstones.
August was among them, happily gnawing on his ball again.
Nuns in leather coveralls were mucking out stalls and ferrying wheelbarrows, but even they seemed happy in their work, singing some hymn Katherine had not heard before, about dragon wings and paws and things.
The barns smelled fresh and clean, and a light breeze carried the scent of dry straw and well-groomed fur from the stables.
Some of Saint Percival’s residents were nestled among the dragons, filing the great beasts’ nails or plaiting some of their long tufts of fur.
Others simply sat tucked against them, reading a book or working to solve a logic puzzle, pencil held pensively to their lips.
The pair didn’t see Sister Agatha all morning, and she was still absent as they strolled the grounds and visited with the dragons.
But they did see Tin-Whistle Todd, who was checking on a newly planted cottonwood tree, and they passed a pleasant chat with him before they were found by an obliging nun and escorted to a midday meal with the residents.
They were a welcoming bunch, Katherine found, and as she ate with them, they had only the nicest things to say about the abbess and the rest of the sisters.
With clear eyes and bright smiles, the residents delighted in telling Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler stories about their families, their time at Saint Percival’s, and their trades and lives before their need for assisted living.
Katherine delicately deflected more than one invitation to join a card game that afternoon and was shown more woodcut prints of grandchildren than she could easily remember.
The residents’ enthusiasm was encouraging, but she also squirmed in her seat a bit, even more aware now of what was at stake, and desperately hoping that today’s plan would work.
Afterward, Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler were back in the sitting room, and Mrs. Chrysler was getting fidgety. “It’s nearly time to go, Katty. I’m so excited I could just spit. This has got to work. It’s just got to.”
“Yes, Imogene. I’m hopeful about it too.” Inwardly, though, Katherine recalled how she had been hopeful about their encounter on the bridge, and wished they hadn’t needed to cut things so close, in case they were wrong this time too.
Presently, Ruben bashfully detached himself from his own conversation and joined them, having eaten his midday meal with his new friend. “’Bout time we should get going, isn’t it?” he asked, with a note of mild concern and a slight flush. “Shouldn’t we find Sister Agatha?”
“Here she is now,” Mrs. Chrysler said.
Katherine started when she saw her. This was the first time they’d ever seen the nun unadorned in her startling white. Instead, she wore a black traveling cloak that reached right down to the floor, hiding her feet. Her wimple was also an all-absorbing black. The overall effect was eerily spectral.
“You look perfect,” Mrs. Chrysler said weakly.
“I am ready,” was all she replied.
Katherine suspected that Sister Agatha would hold little patience with traveling to Merchants Lane by magical object, and so she didn’t offer to use her knitted map and brooch.
Their whole crew, including the cats, bundled into Tin-Whistle Todd’s bench-lined open wagon, and he gently led the eager mule according to Katherine’s directions to the appointed place.
As they rounded the corner onto the otherwise almost-empty lane, Katherine pointed out to Mrs. Chrysler an unassuming carriage and somber mule like the one they’d seen the previous day.
Except this rig was emblazoned with the painted words “Ride-N-Style Coach Service.”
“My guess is she’s here,” Katherine said, jerking her chin in the coach’s direction. “A different livery company, though. I wonder why she doesn’t just use her own coach around town. She must have one.”
“Prolly doesn’t want anyone knowing it’s her when she’s up to no good,” Mrs. Chrysler said with a curt frown.
“Sounds right, Imogene.”
When they all alighted onto the cobbles, Sister Agatha bid Todd to wait. Katherine gave their mule’s nose a gentle rub and gave Mrs. Chrysler a nod. “Peonies, Imogene.”
Their code word for good luck, Tilly said.
Mrs. Chrysler gave Katherine a wink, looked the somber Sister Agatha up and down, and gave the door to 1402A a smart rap with her knuckles.
As he opened the door, Angelo Splint’s face erupted in delight.
“Oh, it’s Margaret and Brother Hoode and—I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name the last time you were here, madam,” he addressed Mrs. Chrysler. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and opened an arm wide to usher them inside. He seemed not to have noticed Sister Agatha at all.
“Mr. Splint, good afternoon. You’re looking well,” Mrs. Chrysler said.
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
Katherine looked about the place, noticing that each one of the cubicles was now occupied by a seemingly engrossed clerk who, nevertheless, managed to steal a glance in their direction as they passed.
The worker who’d given Ruben her sandwich coupon wore a particularly curious expression and gave him an acknowledging smile.
Unlike her coworkers, she continued to watch Katherine and her party as they were escorted toward the back office.
“Please watch your step,” Mr. Splint was continuing, ahead of them.
“I did get that exterminator as you suggested, and he’s put sticky traps everywhere.
” His long legs lifted exceptionally high at the knee as he picked his way across the floor.
“I’m glad you’ve returned, but you’ll have to excuse me—my sister and I were just clearing up a little misunderstanding. ”
The sister’s pointed face appeared suddenly from behind the blinds of the main office. “What are they doing here?” she charged, although slightly muffled by the glass.