moss-encrusted fountain gracing its center, a mass of indeterminate litter strewn across it as though a tearing wind had swept through. Julian leaned forward.
“We must be coming close,” he said as the carriage veered sharply down a narrow street.
“There!” said Chryse after a few minutes. “This must be—” The carriage pulled up sharply, throwing her forward. Julian caught her, one hand on her shoulder, one hand on her waist, and after a brief pause, she pulled away from him. “‘Master Bitterbrew’s,” she finished, reaching out to touch Sanjay’s arm. “I remember the name. We came out of the alley somewhere here.”
The carriage door opened to reveal Kate. Several children crouched a safe distance away from her, eyeing these unfamiliar visitors.
“Goblinside.” Kate swept an elaborate bow. “At your service.” As the other three clambered out she tossed a coin to the largest of the waiting children, a hollow-faced girl. “Another if you keep good watch,” she said.
They were greeted with passing stares, but no one accosted them. It was the same mix of folk they had seen the night before—but in the daylight the shabbiness of their dress and the gauntness of their faces showed more clearly. A child stood huddled against a lamp post; with a strange feeling of familiarity in a land completely removed from her own, Chryse recognized the skewed cap and pointed face of the child who had stood there last night. Two bright eyes met her own across the narrow expanse of street. A cart blocked her view. When it had paused, the child was gone.
“Madame.” Julian offered Chryse his arm. She looked around to see that Sanjay and Kate were already wandering up the street, peering into dark openings.
But they could find no alleyway, no narrow corridor between the close buildings that would lead to an old, rickety door hiding behind it a cathedral that could not possibly be disguised amongst these tenements. They found alleys, certainly, but much too far in either direction from those few landmarks Chryse and Sanjay recalled and Julian and Kate could second.
At last they found themselves back across the street from Master Bitterbrew’s and Mistress Penty’s and the solitary lamppost.
“There,” said Chryse with a sudden decisiveness that caused her companions to look first at her and then to follow her fixed gaze. “There’s that child again. I know he was there last night.” She stepped out onto the street.
“Chryse—”
The child’s brilliant eyes fixed on hers. Chryse slipped around a wagon and pony and came up beside the lamppost. Crouching, her slender skirts caught and curled under her bent legs.
The child stood no higher than she crouched. This close, the unnatural shine of its eyes gave it a feral look, but one compounded by a child’s intelligence. It was not a human face, yet neither animal—the mouth and nose came forward snoutlike, but above the tufting of fur that arched over dark eyes rose a high, broad forehead.
“I know where you be looking for.” The child regarded Chryse with a street-urchin’s calculation. “But I got to have coin ’fore I tell.”
Chryse looked up. Sanjay had arrived, both concerned and wondering. Behind him stood Julian.
“Do you have a penny?” Chryse asked Julian. His eyebrows rose, surprise.
“Tuppence,” squeaked the child.
Julian chuckled, fished in a pocket, and brought out a silver coin.
The child’s mouth—or was it snout—wrinkled up in an almost doglike fashion. “Lady!” it swore. A tiny hand, four-fingered with the suggestion of claws, grabbed the coin out of Chryse’s hand. “You be looking for St. Crist’bell. But she’s gone now. You can’t get back in there.”
“Where has she gone?” asked Chryse.
The child shrugged. Its eyes left off scrutinizing Chryse’s yellow hair for a moment to squint at the silver in its hand. It hissed something inaudible, looked up again. “You only come out o’ St. Cee’s,” it
“We must be coming close,” he said as the carriage veered sharply down a narrow street.
“There!” said Chryse after a few minutes. “This must be—” The carriage pulled up sharply, throwing her forward. Julian caught her, one hand on her shoulder, one hand on her waist, and after a brief pause, she pulled away from him. “‘Master Bitterbrew’s,” she finished, reaching out to touch Sanjay’s arm. “I remember the name. We came out of the alley somewhere here.”
The carriage door opened to reveal Kate. Several children crouched a safe distance away from her, eyeing these unfamiliar visitors.
“Goblinside.” Kate swept an elaborate bow. “At your service.” As the other three clambered out she tossed a coin to the largest of the waiting children, a hollow-faced girl. “Another if you keep good watch,” she said.
They were greeted with passing stares, but no one accosted them. It was the same mix of folk they had seen the night before—but in the daylight the shabbiness of their dress and the gauntness of their faces showed more clearly. A child stood huddled against a lamp post; with a strange feeling of familiarity in a land completely removed from her own, Chryse recognized the skewed cap and pointed face of the child who had stood there last night. Two bright eyes met her own across the narrow expanse of street. A cart blocked her view. When it had paused, the child was gone.
“Madame.” Julian offered Chryse his arm. She looked around to see that Sanjay and Kate were already wandering up the street, peering into dark openings.
But they could find no alleyway, no narrow corridor between the close buildings that would lead to an old, rickety door hiding behind it a cathedral that could not possibly be disguised amongst these tenements. They found alleys, certainly, but much too far in either direction from those few landmarks Chryse and Sanjay recalled and Julian and Kate could second.
At last they found themselves back across the street from Master Bitterbrew’s and Mistress Penty’s and the solitary lamppost.
“There,” said Chryse with a sudden decisiveness that caused her companions to look first at her and then to follow her fixed gaze. “There’s that child again. I know he was there last night.” She stepped out onto the street.
“Chryse—”
The child’s brilliant eyes fixed on hers. Chryse slipped around a wagon and pony and came up beside the lamppost. Crouching, her slender skirts caught and curled under her bent legs.
The child stood no higher than she crouched. This close, the unnatural shine of its eyes gave it a feral look, but one compounded by a child’s intelligence. It was not a human face, yet neither animal—the mouth and nose came forward snoutlike, but above the tufting of fur that arched over dark eyes rose a high, broad forehead.
“I know where you be looking for.” The child regarded Chryse with a street-urchin’s calculation. “But I got to have coin ’fore I tell.”
Chryse looked up. Sanjay had arrived, both concerned and wondering. Behind him stood Julian.
“Do you have a penny?” Chryse asked Julian. His eyebrows rose, surprise.
“Tuppence,” squeaked the child.
Julian chuckled, fished in a pocket, and brought out a silver coin.
The child’s mouth—or was it snout—wrinkled up in an almost doglike fashion. “Lady!” it swore. A tiny hand, four-fingered with the suggestion of claws, grabbed the coin out of Chryse’s hand. “You be looking for St. Crist’bell. But she’s gone now. You can’t get back in there.”
“Where has she gone?” asked Chryse.
The child shrugged. Its eyes left off scrutinizing Chryse’s yellow hair for a moment to squint at the silver in its hand. It hissed something inaudible, looked up again. “You only come out o’ St. Cee’s,” it
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