The Magician's Dream (Oona Crate Mystery: book 3) Read Free Page A

one of his most attractive creations. It’s not exactly a best seller.”
    “I can see why,” Mrs. Carlyle said, and then smiled. “Speaking of attractive, how’s that young Mr. Iree?”
    Oona’s face grew suddenly warm. “Oh, he’s . . . he’s just fine. At least he seemed so the last time I spoke with him.”
    “And when was that?” Mrs. Carlyle asked.
    Oona grinned. “Yesterday.”
    “Really?” Mrs. Carlyle said, feigning surprise. “I must hear all about it.”
    Deacon cawed loudly from Oona’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carlyle, but Miss Crate has some research to do, so if you don’t mind—”
    “There’s no need to be rude, Deacon,” Oona snapped, and she felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. This was one of the reasons it was so nice to have another female in the house. As much as she loved Deacon and her uncle, and Samuligan, too, there were just certain things she could not talk to them about.
    Deacon rustled his feathers uneasily. “But your first battle test is at three o’clock. That gives us little enough time to research as it is.”
    Mrs. Carlyle continued to smile fondly at Oona, as if she had not heard a word Deacon had said. “I must have been about your age when I first met the boy who would grow up to be my husband: Mr. Carlyle. Even back then I knew he was the one, because—”
    “I’d say, that’s quite enough!” Deacon squawked. “And I’d ask you, Mrs. Carlyle, to please stop putting ideas of matrimony into Miss Crate’s head. She is far too young to be thinking of such things, and she has very important magical research to do. Now please return to your duties.”
    “Deacon!” Oona half shouted.
    She was suddenly furious. Not just because Deacon was being so rude to Mrs. Carlyle, but because he had interrupted her just when the maid was going to tell her how she knew that her husband had been the one . Oona desperately wanted to know what the clue had been.
    Mrs. Carlyle turned abruptly to the ladder and began to climb back to the branch she had been dusting. “Oh no, Mr. Deacon’s quite right. If you have research to do, I shouldn’t be getting in your way.” She stopped halfway up the ladder and turned. “Then again, there are other places to do research that you might find more . . . informative.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Deacon said. “The Pendulum House library contains Dark Street’s most rare magical texts. Indeed, I believe it is safe to say that it houses perhaps the most obscure books written about magic in all of the World of Man.”
    “World of Humans ,” Oona corrected him.
    Mrs. Carlyle gave her a wink.
    Deacon sighed. “Regardless, many of these books are one of a kind. Where else would we find information on your apprenticeship battle training?”
    But Oona understood that Mrs. Carlyle was not necessarily referring to information about apprentice battles, and that she was more than likely suggesting that Oona could find the answers she was seeking about the one somewhere else—like, for instance, a place where a certain tattoo-faced boy happened to be working as a shelving assistant. Somewhere like . . .
    “The new public library,” Oona said.
    Deacon shook his head. “It is highly unlikely that the public library will possess any information if the Encyclopedia Arcanna has none to offer. I suggest we find a book here. We should call for Samuligan’s assistance.”
    “Yes, you are right, Deacon,” Oona said, before shouting: “Samuligan!”
    “You called?” came the silky, sly voice from above.
    Mrs. Carlyle screamed in surprise, dropping the duster and slipping down several rungs on the ladder. The duster continued giggling like a loon as it tumbled through the air, letting out a loud honk of laughter upon hitting the floor. Samuligan’s long face poked out from between two sets of books in the exact place the maid had been dusting. He grinned his horrible smile—a smile that showed too many teeth.
    It took Oona a moment