“No more than you or I. Although I’m not sure about you, Miss Fancy Boots. You’ve had sugarplums in your mouth from birth, I expect.”
“I havenot.”
“Whatever you say. Come on.”
The “beds” were little more than shelves—two rows of them, each bunk a little wooden box with a curtain on rings that could be drawn across it. It reminded me of the pigeons’ nesting boxes in the Tower. To get to the upper row of beds, you had to clamber over the thin, straw-stuffed mattresses that hung over the edge on the bottom row.
“Here.” With a rattle of rings, Mieka drew back the curtain of one of the lower beds. “No one’s slept here for a while. It’s farthest from the fire, but you’ll find the cloth keeps the heat in all right. Keep the blanket over your head and you’ll be fine.” She looked at the bare mattress. “Ah. I’ll get you a blanket.”
“Thank you,” I said inadequately. I thought of the freezingrain outside and the doorway in which I might have had to huddle, and I shivered.
Mieka brought over a pillow barely half an inch thick and a quilt that smelled a bit like lamp oil. She thumped the pillow and slapped down the blanket as if she was angry with them both, but I was coming to realize that she had an oddly maternal streak and was merely making the bed as comfortable as possible. She fished out a pair of wool socks and a scraggly knitted fisherman’s hat from a basket of clothing that was apparently communal, and tugged the hat down over my ears while I pulled on the thick socks.
When the hat reached my ear lobes, the Hair started to writhe in protest. I grabbed at it, tamping it down and hoping that Mieka had not noticed.
No such luck.
Mieka reached out a hand and touched one of the strands with tentative fingers. It snaked out to curl around her finger, and she watched it, mesmerized.
“I knew I saw it. When you were by the fire.”
“It’s not …”
“I know what you are,” she said. “I saw it at once.” She climbed up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged opposite me.
“No! No, I …” I shook my head.
“Is that why you ran away? Were you married off? You can tell me. You wouldn’t be the only one here.”
“No, I wasn’t married off.”
“Sold, then?” She frowned. “I had you pegged as nobility. They’re more often married off than sold … not that there’s much difference, aside from one getting a fancier cage than the other.”
“No!” I drew up my knees and held them tightly. “Look, I didn’t run away. Not exactly. I’m … looking for someone.”
Her brows drew together. “If someone is after you, you need to tell me. You could be putting us all in danger.”
“I told you, the Temple …”
“The Temple isn’t a problem.”
I shook my head, not knowing what to say. “Someone attacked me,” I said. “At the Temple. But I don’t know why.”
“If you want to stay here,” said Mieka, “you have to tell me. Patrick’s token isn’t enough. I have all the girls to think of.”
My hair brushed comfortingly against the nape of my neck. It seemed to like Mieka well enough, and Baldbeak was hunched and snoozing on the rail above, seemingly comfortable here as well. I took a deep breath to calm myself and told Mieka my story as best I could.
“And you don’t remember what happened?” she asked when I was finished.
“I don’t remember anything between breakfast and waking up halfway out the window.”
“Strange,” said Mieka. She sat back on her haunches, thinking. “So you think they were after the spellbook.”
“They must have been. I knew it was special—that we had to keep it secret …”
“What was in it?”
I hesitated.
