“Heading to bed?” Braiden asked. “We’ve all had a long day. Actually, I don’t think we’ve seen the two of you since lunch.”
“We waited around for Bones’s friend to wake up,” Warren said. “We showed him the card from the storage room.”
With all the excitement of planning and preparing for their expedition, Braiden had forgotten all about the mystery card. His licked his lips, breathless in anticipation.
“And what did your friend Gregor have to say?” Augustin asked.
Bones placed his hands on his hips. “Well, first he did what he usually does, which is pretend that he’s unhappy to see me. It’s just like him, the old geezer. ‘You bother me so much. I’m not even on my first cup of coffee and already you’re in my hair. And who’s this guy with the bucket on his head?’”
“That was me,” Warren explained. “I tried not to let it hurt my feelings very much. He was a lot nicer after Bones made the introductions. He never seemed to get any friendlier with Bones, though.”
“That’s just our dynamic, Gregor and me. It’s just how best friends are with each other.”
Braiden carefully noted how Gregor had suddenly been promoted to best friend status.
“So anyway, it took some convincing, but he sat down and took a long look at the card. He still can’t say what it is, exactly,but we told him how the drawing showed up in the sunlight. He held it up to a candle. I started yelling and panicking. ‘Oh, gods, Braiden is going to have my hide for this,’ I told him. But wouldn’t you know it: more stuff started showing up on the paper.”
That raised Braiden’s eyebrows. As long and circuitous as Bones’s stories were, he did eventually end up where he was supposed to. It just took a little while. He held out the card, and there they were, tiny words printed at equal intervals below the drawing of the device.
Warren held out his paw, tracing a line out over and over from one paw to the other. “Apparently, the device requires strings of varying thickness. You couldn’t really tell by the drawing, but the new words made it clearer. I can’t help thinking how much it reminds me of something.”
Bones crossed his arms. “I’m telling you, it’s a musical instrument. The strings start thin, then get thicker and thicker toward the end of the frame. What else could it be? So I asked Gregor if he could help us build it. You know, make a prototype, see what it’s for. And he said yes!”
“Wonderful!” Augustin said.
“For a price.”
“Oh,” Augustin said.
Bones felt around inside his hoodie’s pockets — good thing Braiden had the foresight to give him pockets — and produced a second bit of paper, this one thinner and flimsier than Bethilda’s secret card. He turned it over to find a number written in a hasty scrawl. Augustin leaned in to peer closer, nearly bumping their heads together. He let out a yelp that made Braiden yelp in turn.
“Is that number in gold coins?” Augustin asked, flabbergasted.
“Yep,” Bones said. “Says he doesn’t know what the thing’s for. What if it’s magical and he activates it by accident while he’s carving it? What if it blows up in his face?”
All extremely sensible points, Braiden conceded, but this was only another expense on top of all the other expenses that Elder Orora had already threatened them with. It wasn’t necessary, either, not something actually required to run either aspect of their business.
But Braiden couldn’t kick the nagging thought that there was something more to his grandmother’s Heirloom than met the eye. Didn’t he owe it to Granny Bethilda to at least unravel this last mystery she’d left him? He chewed on his bottom lip, considering it all carefully.
“I’m not sure we can afford this right now,” Augustin said with a shake of his head, handing the piece of paper and its ludicrous price back to Bones.
“Maybe not right now,” Braiden answered. “But maybe eventually?”
Bones raised his hand hopefully, pinching the bit of paper between his fingers.
“Should I ask Gregor if we can pay in installments?”
Chapter
Eight
Braiden heftedthe weight of his rucksack against his shoulders, staring longingly at his unmanned spinning wheel. The days of preparation had simply flown by, taking less time than Braiden had ever expected for the both of them to be ready for the trip.
Augustin’s boot soles were secured, his garish blue tent exchanged for a far more sensible one in mossy green. He’d brewed up crates of plain elixir with his single whistle stone, teaching Elyssandra how to infuse the flavors by tipping in the concentrated extracts from an array of brilliantly colorful bottles.
Neatly folded new moongrass garments had been stacked lovingly toward the front of the store, each threaded with freshly spun moongrass filament, each imbued with an enchantment lightweight but efficient enough for adventuring purposes.
Braiden had even taken the time to knit matching scarves for himself and Augustin, threaded through with warming enchantments just in case Yhip Valley turned out to be a far chillier place than they’d expected.
