The Toymaker's Apprentice Read Online Free Page B

shock of white-blond hair emerged. His criminal cousin climbed out onto the roof like a spider emerging from a crack in the wall. The likeness made Stefan’s skin crawl. No one had ever invaded his sanctuary before.
    â€œAh. I knew you’d be up here,” Christian said, arranging himself into a sitting position next to Stefan. “This was Elise’s favorite escape, and that flock of biddies deserved a good escaping from.” He smiled easily, folding his long legs to his chest and leaning back on his palms. “I’ve missed this city,” he said.
    â€œWhy are you here?” Stefan asked. His father had been delighted to see this stranger, leaving Stefan even more alone in his misery.
    â€œIt’s a long story and I’d rather not tell it twice. I think the ladies will be leaving soon and they’ve left a nice spread for supper. Come down and I’ll tell you both over a glass of elderflower cordial.”
    â€œNo,” Stefan said. “Not why are you here in Nuremberg. Why are you here
now
?”
    His skin prickled at his own rudeness, but he didn’t care.Mysterious criminals with eye patches and royal jailers didn’t get to just show up and have polite conversations on other people’s rooftops. Stefan stiffened his jaw. “You turn up and act as though you’re part of the family. My father seems to adore you. But I’ve never even heard of you, apart from a few stories about ‘our cousin at the royal court’ of wherever. If you knew my mother well enough to sit on this roof with her, then where were you when she got sick?”
    Christian’s easy manner grew solemn. “I loved your mother, Stefan. Had I known she was unwell, I assure you I would have come.”
    â€œBut why have you stayed away all these years?”
    Christian’s mouth twisted in consternation. “Have you ever wanted to impress someone? I mean, really show them that you’ve done well?”
    â€œYes,” Stefan said. Every apprentice strove to impress his master. That his master also happened to be his father made it both better and worse. There were days he thought his father was too hard on him, and days he was too easy. Stefan often wondered if his work was as good as his father sometimes said, or as bad. The only way to be sure was to always do better.
    â€œThen you’ll understand,” Christian said. “I wanted to impress your parents. Zacharias is one of the best toymakers in the city, and your mother was the best woman I’ve ever known. I was a bit big for my britches when I left. It’s hard to come home in chains. Especially to the people you admire the most.”
    â€œBut you’re here now,” Stefan said.
    â€œPrecisely. As the clockmaker said to the clock, better late than never.”
    â€œAnd you’re not in chains, exactly,” Stefan noted. “If you’re a criminal, why aren’t you in prison?”
    Christian smiled wistfully. “Like I said, it’s a long story.”
    Everything was a long story when it came to adults. They muttered and murmured to each other all the time, but rarely shared any of the conversation. It was a wonder Stefan ever heard anything of use.
    â€œWhere is Boldavia? Or is that a long story, too?” he asked.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, it is,” Christian replied.
    Stefan rolled his eyes.
    â€œYou know, you won’t remember this, but I used to visit Nuremberg every year at Christmas,” Christian said. “The last time, you must have been five or six. Elise was very proud of you. You had just learned how to count to a hundred. And you wouldn’t stop doing it. She said you might make a good clocksmith someday. You know . . . because of the numbers.”
    Stefan shrugged. “I don’t remember that.” Which wasn’t exactly true. He remembered the counting, and his mother calling him “regular as a clock.”