The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [62]
A thump and a series of raucous guffaws reached my ears above the song, and I stepped with one foot from the branch to the window, bal-anced in a triangle of rope, branch, and sill, took out my pocket knife and (A-here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green... ) fumbled open its thinnest blade, slid it up between the window frames, and in a brief eternity felt more than heard the latch snick open. I waited, but there was no reaction from within, so I reached down (A-here we come a-wand’ring so fair to be seen... ) and eased the lower window up with barely a squeak. I stepped down onto the bare floorboards, taut for at-tack, but none came; the room was empty, and I let go a deep and shaky breath and moved quickly across to (Love and joy come to you... ) the door. The hallway and stairs were empty, voices raised downstairs both inside and out, the door to the corner room slightly ajar. I pulled the doll from the waistband of my trousers and stepped into the horribly bright hallway.
(And to you your Wassail, too, and God bless... )
“Jessica!” I whispered. “Don’t be frightened. There’s someone here to see you.” I held the doll in front of me, pushed the door open, and looked down into a very serious six-year-old face. Jessica pushed her-self slowly up onto her elbows, studying my black-smeared but evi-dently unthreatening visage, and waited.
“Jessie, your mama and papa sent me to bring you home. We have to go right now, or those men will stop us.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Oh God, I thought, what now?
“Why not?”
Wordlessly she sat up and pulled the covers back from her foot, re-vealing a metal cuff and a chain fastened to the leg of the bed.
“I tried to get away, so they put this on me.”
The riot outside was coming to a climax, with a crash and the tin-kle of breaking glass, followed by furious shouts and a rush of drunken laughter. In an instant they would remember, and we had to be away before then. I had to risk a noise.
“Just a minute, honey. Here, you take the doll.”
Her arms went tightly around the beloved object, and I knelt to ex-amine the chain. It was new and strong, fastened at one end to her an-kle cuff—which was padded, I was glad to see—by a sturdy padlock, and at the other end to the leg of the bed, held by a bolt the size of my little finger, which seemed to have been welded to its nut. The bed was a cheap one, but the wooden leg was a good three inches thick, glued and fitted into place. I could see only one option, given the time, and could only hope that I didn’t break every bone in my foot.
I hoisted up the end of the bed, balanced my weight on my left leg, drew back my right foot, and then straightened it out explosively. The angle was awkward and the jar of it did, I later found, crack one bone, but it was a small price to pay, because the bed now had only three legs. She was free. Careless of noise now, I lowered the bed to the floor, scooped up child, chain, and the stub of the bed leg, and tossed her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
The key was in the lock, so I obligingly turned it as I went out and then pocketed it. Heavy boots sounded on the stairs as I ducked into the dark room. I closed the door, shot out the window, and had a bad moment when I stood balanced precariously between sill and limb and tried to close the window. I nearly dropped her, but she made no sound, just clung to my shirt with one hand and to her doll with the other. I caught up the end of the rope that I’d left hanging there and with it to support me, eased the window down with my aching foot, then half-walked, half-swung up the branch, and had just gained the trunk when the pounding came on Jessica’s door. Shouts followed. I tossed the rope up into a branch so its trailing end might not give us away and prepared to drop. “Hang on really tight, Jessie,” I hissed, and with her arms and legs wrapped around me we scrambled and fell down the tree, took five huge bounds to the privet hedge, and burst through, losing skin in several