“Leave it at the desk.” The crotchety old gargoyle looked past them at the new set of humans entering his office, listening to the keeper’s introduction rather than watching the two of them exit.
“It was worth a try.” Idabel shrugged off whatever faint hope she’d developed, but Betje shook her head, eyes twinkling.
“We’re not done yet.”
“Come along,” the keeper muttered in a low voice, appearing at Betje’s side to usher them back to the outer chamber. “The Nadir is quite busy and can’t abide dawdlers.”
“You must know a lot about the gargoyles here,” Betje said admiringly, once the door had shut behind them.
The keeper brightened inside her hood, and Idabel had to do everything in her power not to roll her eyes.
“I know several by name,” the keeper whispered, beaming. “And they know mine!”
“How lucky you are. Perhaps you know the one we’re looking for? He did my friend a favor, and we’d like to thank him personally.” Betje nudged her with an elbow, and Idabel jumped to attention, nodding while her mind raced to come up with a story. Betje always did keep her on her toes.
“Yes, a grand favor, but he didn’t leave his name.”
“They don’t, generally,” the keeper whispered, eyes wide at the mention of a favor. “What did he look like?”
“Tall. Stony. He had…large wings.” Realizing how silly and vague she was sounding, she tried again. “Long hair. Scars all over.”
“Old or young?”
Idabel frowned. Gargoyles aged differently than humans. Young could mean a hundred years or more. It was hard to tell. But the gargoyle who’d smashed her buckets hadn’t looked like the Nadir, who was obviously elderly. “Young, I suppose.”
“Hmm. Sounds like Brandt. He’s the only young one with noticeable scars. You said he did you a favor?” The keeper’s expression was doubtful. Idabel wasn’t surprised by her skepticism. He hadn’t seemed particularly generous to her, either.
“Do you know where we could find him?” Betje asked casually.
The keeper shook her head. “If it’s Brandt, he’s in the Tower, training the watch. He’s a commander.”
“Thank you,” Idabel cut in before Betje could drag this out any further. She pulled her out the door, past the impatient line of complaining humans perched on the stairs, and into the street.
Betje huffed at her. “We could have found out more about his schedule.”
“Pointless. If he’s a watch commander, he’s leaving when they deploy. Even if we found him, even if he agreed to guard my littlegarden—which I doubt he would, given that he smashed it all up—he won’t be around to protect it, anyway.”
“Hush!” Betje hissed, glancing at the moths circling the street lamp overhead. She slipped her arm through Idabel’s and hurried her over the cobbles in the direction of the apothecary shop. “We can talk about it inside.”
“Do they really listen?”
“Of course they do!”
Chapter 4
Idabel
Yawning in the back room, Idabel processed the armfuls of herbs she’d grown, stripping the leaves from the stems and spreading them out to dry on racks. The stems, she roughly chopped and set to steep for tinctures.
Some herbs had different medicinal uses for stem and leaf and required more preparations, but young basil and dill were the same for both, so it was a simple chore. She’d learned so much in a short time while working here, and there was still so much more to know. A lifetime of things to know about medicinalplants and how to prepare them. Rather than being daunted by the fact, it excited her.
When they’d returned to the shop, Betje was faced with a small line of customers who’d come to collect their orders, so they hadn’t been able to resume their conversation. It wasn’t until Betje snuffed the lantern in front and locked the door that they were able to speak again.
“All done.” Idabel wiped her hands, finger-by-finger, on her apron as Betje surveyed the short row of bottles and the half-full drying rack.
She gave an approving nod. “Good work.”
Idabel glowed under the restrained praise, dipping a quick curtsy. “I have a good teacher.”
