Chapter 13

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The following day, just after a dinner that was referred to as brawn ― a gelatinous mixture made from boiling a pig’s head and feet and letting it cool into a jelly-like substance, Grim sat in Treena and Rudy’s room, relishing his respite from Quinn. It finally gave him the opportunity to mention what he had witnessed outside the orphanage with Madam Adelaide.

“The bird sounds like a Razorbill,” Treena said, “but the color is wrong. They’re black. And if they have a mechanical eye, they’re used as watchers.”

“Watchers?”

“To keep the peace,” she said. “Each city has them to alert the constables. They’re even used as spies. Lord Victor has them all over. Really, it could be anyone’s. Even from the Southlands.”

That reminded him. “We still need to learn more about these Southlands because we know little of the place we keep telling people we’re from.”

“Actually,” said Treena, “it’s good that people think you’re from the south. They speak with a strange accent ― like yours.”

“I speak with an accent?”

Treena nodded. “You all do.”

Rudy lifted her eyebrows.

At that point Quinn paraded in and Grim struggled not to roll his eyes.

“Indeed,” he said with the pompous tone he used when he was looking down his nose at them. “It’s a dialect rather typical of the Southlands.”

How much had he overheard?

“Have you ever been there?” Rudy asked.

Quinn shook his head. “Travel to the Southlands? How absurd! We have servants for that.”

 “Well since you’ve never been there, you don’t know for sure, do you?” Rudy said in a manner that was far too polite.

Quinn shrugged. “Well, I’ll just have to go and inquire about the Southlands,” he commented with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He marched out of the room.

Treena got up and closed the door.

“How much do you know about the Southlands?” she asked.

Grim and Rudy shook their heads. “Nothing.”

Treena scowled. “That’s not good. You need to get some books from the Library. There might be something there. And you better get there before Quinn starts asking questions that you can’t answer.”

“How am I going to get in there?” Grim asked. “That’s for the students.”

“Doesn’t Master Cobblepot send you in there?”

He pulled out a small piece of paper that the old man had given him. It was written permission to let Grim in to take out books. “Yes.”

“Then if anyone asks, tell them you were told to get some books for him.”

Grim looked out the window at the setting sun. “How long do we have?”

Treena joined him. “Long enough to at least find some books and bring them back here. I’ll help.”

Rudy nodded and yawned. “I’ll stay here. I don’t want to go anywhere near the Library. Madam Tyne has been looking for me since I mixed up the titles on some of the books. How was I supposed to know that Poy Son’s Lime and Its Pickled Juices belongs in the alchemical section.” She paused. “But pickled limes might not be right. It’s kind of disgusting.” Rudy stuck out her tongue.

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