The Crimson Shard (14 page)

The quartet huddled in a black alley, awaiting the arrival click of heels on paving stones. A rain shower had left a slick of moisture over everything but had cleared away to leave the sky open and full of stars.

“Not much moon tonight,” Fleet observed. “But enough starlight to move around well. On a dull night, you must use your hands and ears and nose to pick out the way through the dark.”

Sleek hissed for them to be quiet. “A glim.”

A lantern wended its way down the lane, held aloft by a boy of about twelve. As he got closer, they saw that he led an unsteady young man in fine clothes.

“ ’Tis Smithy,” whispered Sleek.

Fleet explained, “Smithy is a link-boy, hired by gents to guide them home with his lantern — we calls ’em glims. At other times, Smithy changes into a moon-curser and lifts valuables from his squires’ waistcoats.”

“Moon-curser?” Sunni shook her head. “Link-boy?”

“You shall learn, Sunniver. Stay in the shadows and watch. We has decided Smithy will play moon-curser tonight, with the assistance of me and Sleekie.”

When Smithy came near the alley, the nightsneaks stepped out and raised their arms in greeting.

“Why, Smith, ’tis a pleasure to see you,” said Fleet with a quick wink at the boy, who stopped short and glared at him.

The tipsy young man with him jumped back and exclaimed, “Do not accost us, sir! Be on your way.”

“You misunderstand, sir.” Fleet put on a serious face and bowed. “We is here to warn our friend of danger. Footpads is nearby, and the night watchman is all up in arms.”

“Footpads!” said the young man, weaving back and forth, his eyes rolling in his head.

“Aye. They like nothing better than to bleed innocent young gentlemen of their money, so take care.” Fleet stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Shall I demonstrate how they ensnare their victims, so you shall not be caught out?”

“By heaven, would you?” cried the drunk.

Fleet gestured to Sleek, who moved to the young man’s side. “One rascal speaks to you, genial and close up, like my friend there. While his crony comes up from the back, like this, and is upon you!” Fleet mimed stabbing movements with an imaginary blade.

“Vile! I am glad you warned me, sirs!” The drunk staggered away from Fleet and his invisible dagger, stumbling into Sleek, who kept him upright. They all had a convivial chuckle.

“Safe home then, sir,” said Fleet, saluting the pair and winking again at Smithy. Once the light had dwindled in the distance, Fleet and Sleek danced into the alley.

From his deep pocket Sleek produced an elegant watch and an engraved snuffbox, both glinting in the starlight against his black-gloved hand.

“You picked his pocket while you stood next to him,” Blaise said. “Right?”

“Nay, the goods was lifted in the moment he fell against Sleekie,” Fleet said. “The man never felt a thing but Sleekie’s helping hands, when his valuables was snatched. He thanked us!”

“Smithy didn’t look too happy,” said Sunni.

“He will when he gets his share later.” Fleet glanced around them at the empty lane. “Eyes and ears bright at all times, lads. Or else bigger fish may happen along and see us as dinner.”

Sunni shuddered. Fleet was right — she did feel vulnerable in these predatory streets. “I can’t do this.”

“Me neither,” said Blaise.

“But you saw how easily Sleekie nabbed the silverware,” said Fleet. “Snatching works well in pairs. When you two is on your own, one can engage the gentleman or lady, while the other plucks the goods from a purse or pocket.”

“No,” said Sunni. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“We shall take our leave then.” Fleet threw his arms up in the air. “Perhaps you shall do better alone.”

Sleek pocketed his booty and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Blaise blocked his path. “Sunni, er, Sunniver, are you sure?”

“Yes. Look,” she said to the nightsneaks. “All we want you to do is tell us where we’ll find a magician. Then we can look after ourselves.”

“Magician!” Sleek exclaimed.

“We think Throgmorton must have used some sort of magic to open the painted door. The only way we can go back to our time is if we find someone who can help us do the same,” said Blaise.

“Aye, of course,” said Fleet slowly, as if this made all the sense in the world. “Magic.” He paused and looked inquiringly at Sleek, who nodded. “We only knows of one place where magicians gather. But there is a problem.”

Sunni and Blaise groaned in unison.

“You must pay money to see them. Not much, but you have none. And the first magician you meet may not be the right one, and then you needs more money. And in the wait for the right one, you must eat and lay your heads down.”

“I get the point,” said Blaise. “Can’t you lend us some money?”

“Lend?” Sleek snorted.

“Aye, if we had plenty to spare, but we do not,” said Fleet. “Sleekie and I must go to ground, and we needs every shilling.”

“Then we’re stuck,” said Sunni angrily. “We have no choice but to be pickpockets.”

Blaise shrugged. “If it’s the only way we can get quick money, we’d better just do it.”

She kicked at the ground and grumbled, “All right, all right. But how do we get money for the stuff we take?”

“We fences it for you with people we knows and takes a small commission for our trouble.” Fleet cocked one ear. “Hear that? It’s the watch, and he’s coming this way. This is your chance.”

A lone, thin voice moved nearer, droning, “Four o’clock, the sky is clear.” A man came into view, walking slowly along the lane, a lantern in one hand and a long pole in the other.

Sleek laughed silently at the sight of him and nudged Fleet.

“Old Slipper, the night watchman. A more easy target you could not wish for.” Fleet pushed Blaise toward the corner of the alley. “See how slow he is.”

“But he’s an old man,” Sunni protested.

“Pah! Old Slipper is tough as iron. You cannot injure him,” said Fleet. “Go on, which of you shall divert him and which shall do the lifting?”

“I’ll do the talking,” said Blaise. “Sunniver’s got smaller hands than me.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Sunni.

Fleet nodded. “Good stratagem. Your Colonial way of speech will throw Old Slipper off balance, Blaise.”

Sunni started shaking her head. “How am I supposed to take something from him without him feeling it?”

“Diversion,” said Sleek.

“Keep his attention on Blaise,” added Fleet. “Seek his pocket watch. It will be in his waistcoat or his coat pocket. Ask him the time and you shall see which.”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, if we screw up, just run for it,” said Blaise, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were warming up for a race.

“I don’t believe this,” Sunni said, her brow furrowed.

“We’ve got to eat.” Blaise readied himself, hat pulled down over his forehead. “Come on.”

He yanked her out into open view of the watchman, who was trying to relight a street lamp.

“Sir!” Blaise called, smiling nervously. “Did I hear you call the time?”

Old Slipper turned suspiciously. “Four o’clock and the sky is clear.”

“Are you sure? It seems later to me.”

The watchman scooped his pocket watch from his coat and squinted at it. “You is right. It is gone one quarter past four.”

“Thank you very much,” said Blaise. “My friend and I are new in town, from the Colonies, and we don’t know our way around.”

“The Colonies,” the old man said, his eyes round. “Which one?”

“Massachusetts,” said Blaise. “Boston.” He gestured at the pole. “Can we help you?”

“No, no.” Old Slipper lit the end of the pole and aimed its flaming tip toward the wick above them. “Are the Colonies as rough and lawless as they say?”

Sunni moved in behind the watchman and steadied the lower end of the pole for him. Old Slipper looked around at her and shrugged.

“Not Boston, sir,” said Blaise, watching intently as Sunni inched closer to the man’s back. “Boston is as fine a place as you would ever want to see . . . almost as good as London.”

Old Slipper strained upward, leaving his wide pockets vulnerable to incursion. With a deep breath, Sunni dipped her hand in and withdrew the old man’s pocket watch.

Horrified at what she had done, she nearly dropped it. When it was safely inside her pocket, she backed away from the man and let go of the pole. Blaise scrambled to her side, and they made for the alley.

“I doubt it is as splendid as London,” muttered Old Slipper as he finally managed to light the streetlamp. But there was no answer. He looked around and the two Colonists were gone.

By the time he looked for them down the nearby alley, it was empty, too. The four thieves were already on the hoof to Bandy Lane and the welcoming lights of the Green Dragon.

“By jingo!” said Fleet. “That was well done, boys. Clever brain, Blaise, and clever fingers, Sunniver.” He put out one hand. “Let me see the booty.”

When Sunni fished the pocket watch out, she could not hand it to Fleet fast enough. It was a sad, dented object. Somehow the sight of it broke Sunni’s heart in a way that a brand-new watch would not have.

“Old Slipper might’ve had that since he was young,” she said, her lower lip sagging. “It might have been his father’s or grandfather’s.”

“Or he might have bought it from a pawnbroker for ten shillings. I doubt we shall get much more than that for the thing,” said Fleet. “He might even have lifted it himself, off some poor drunk in the street.”

Sunni shook her head, rejecting these explanations.

“Or Old Slipper might be King George himself, come down from his palace to light lamps in the night!” Suddenly Fleet took hold of her shoulder and stopped her dead. “We can imagine stories till the sun rises, Sunniver, and find reasons not to do the things that must be done. It don’t change the fact that you and Blaise will now have a few shillings to make your way with. And Old Slipper ain’t hurt or starving, is he?”

“No.”

“At worst he cannot shout out the time all night, for he will not know it till he finds a new watch. And for that, the citizens of these streets heartily thanks you!”

He and Sleek guffawed as they rapped on the Green Dragon’s door. A surly watchman let them in with a nod, and as they strolled into the tavern, the other thieves grinned welcome.

“See?” said Fleet, saluting them. “You is one of us now.”

T
he sun was already high in the sky when Blaise awoke. Someone had covered him with a moth-eaten blanket. It gave off a cloud of dust when he shrugged it aside, revealing Sunni stirring awake by his feet.

Blaise pulled his hat over his face, so no one would talk to him quite yet. The next thing he knew, two hard things bounced off his hat and onto his chest. Jenny was tossing bread rolls into the Nook and cackling at the snoring men in the back.

“No use going out in the day, eh, gents?” The landlady laughed. “You is all far handsomer in the dark.”

Sunni was already sitting up, gnawing on a roll. “So do we think this is an improvement on the Academy?”

“At least they let us sleep here.” Blaise let out a yawn.

Jenny called to them, “Gentlemen waiting for you downstairs, boys.”

The tavern on the ground floor was already heaving with customers and seemed no different from the night before, since the grimy windows let in so little sunlight.

Fleet and Sleek were in discussion with two other men.

“Good day, boys.” Fleet pulled two stools up to their table. “Straight to business. Here are Mr. Simpkins and Mr. Jute.”

Mr. Simpkins, a sallow man with tufts of hair sprouting from his ears, counted out a selection of coins from a pouch. “Ten shillings for the pocket watch. ’Tis only worth nine, but I gave you an extra shilling as it comes from Old Slipper, which amuses me greatly.”

Sleek smiled and moved one silver coin away and into his pocket. “Commission.”

“Merely half a crown,” Fleet assured Sunni and Blaise. “For our guidance in these matters.” He siphoned off some copper coins and made them into a small pile. “This goes to Jenny, for your grub, bed, and clothes.”

“Mr. Jute and I,” said Simpkins, “will be happy to dispose of your unwanted goods in future, lads.”

Blaise brushed the rest of the money off the table and dumped it into a tattered pouch he had discovered in his coat pocket. “Thank you, sir.”

The two men left the table after handshakes all around.

“What can we get with this money?’ asked Blaise. It didn’t look like much.

Fleet smiled. “One shilling buys four suppers, and you has seven shillings left.”

“So we won’t starve anyway,” said Blaise. “But I hope we won’t be here long enough to need twenty-eight more suppers.”

“Aye, but grub ain’t your only expense. You pays for your sleeping places. And other special costs perchance.”

“Magicians,” said Sunni.

“Good point,” said Blaise. “When do we start magician hunting?”

Sleek knocked his pipe against the bench. “After dark.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to wear these things again,” Blaise told Sunni back in the Nook that evening as he threw the filthy white stockings into a corner for someone else to find and use. After a slow afternoon of eating and dozing, he was anxious to get going.