A Sliver of Stardust Read Online Free Page B

truth.”
    â€œSo the poems you sent us . . . They’re supposed to be about the Fiddlers?” Wren pulled the packet of papers out of her pocket, letting her gaze fall on the topmost one about a hopping little bird. She couldn’t see the connection between the wild tale that Mary was spinning and old Mother Goose rhymes.
    â€œThe rhymes have their own kind of magic.” Mary nodded at the papers in Wren’s hand. “The ones you have there are instructions for how to weave the stardust.But there are other rhymes, some that record what happened to Fiddlers long ago, and some that even foretell what may yet come to pass.”
    â€œInstructions for weaving the stardust,” Simon echoed. “How exactly does one go about doing that?”
    Mary laughed at his question. “You won’t learn it by taking notes, that’s for sure. That’s why you’re not a student, you’re an apprentice. Apprentices learn by doing. You’ll learn to be a Fiddler by working the stardust’s magic.”
    Wren’s mind whirled. Could it be possible? A small part of her thought the whole thing was some enormous joke, but she had seen the magic with her own eyes. Besides, the rest of her felt connected to what Mary was saying, like a string was stretched between them, pulling her near. “So what next?” she asked. “What kind of spells can you—I mean, we— do? I bet you do all sorts of things to help other people and stuff.” Her mouth was working to catch up with her thoughts. “I can’t wait to tell my parents. My dad is always going on about—”
    Mary interrupted her. “Wren, you mustn’t. Not yet.” She frowned at both of them. “It is a dangerous thing to be a Fiddler in this world. Ordinary peopledon’t understand. You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone.” Her gold-flecked eyes seemed to plead with them. “When you are stronger, you may tell whomever you wish and endure the consequences. Until then, you will set your mind to learning everything that I and the others can teach you.”
    Prickles crawled over Wren’s skin. She imagined telling her parents about all of this—from the flying bird to the children’s rhymes to the Fiddlers—and wondered what they would say. If they couldn’t see the stardust for themselves, would they believe her anyway?
    â€œWhat others?” Wren swung the cloak around her shoulders and began fastening the buttons. In that moment, she knew that it didn’t matter if no one else in the world believed her. It didn’t matter if she had to keep the secret forever. If there was magic in the world, she wanted to play it.

FIVE
    Wash the dishes, wipe the dishes,
    Ring the bell for tea.
    Three good apprentices,
    I will give to thee.
    M ary led them through the workroom to an alcove nestled in the back. There was a circular green door in the center, and Mary knocked on it.
    When the door opened, a delicious smell wafted out. It promised pies and cookies and every delicious thing Wren had ever seen in a bakery window. The man standing beyond it looked older than Wren’s father. His dark hair was shot through with silver, and the crinkles around his eyes hinted that he often smiled. As if to confirm Wren’s suspicion, his face broke into a wide grin.
    â€œMary,” he said in a booming voice as he pecked the air near her cheeks. “You’re just in time for supper. Liza will be pleased.”
    â€œLiza’s back? Where is she? Did she bring the potions I asked for?” Mary brushed past him into the room beyond, which glowed orange from the fire blazing in the stone hearth. Worn-looking furniture sat next to tables crowded with books. Shelves full of glass jars and bottles covered the walls, so that the space felt like a strange blend of an old-fashioned sitting room and an herbalist’s shop.
    â€œAllow me to introduce myself,”