Fortune's Slave by Fidelis Morgan

Author:Fidelis Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fidelis Morgan

Wrythening—moulding with a twist

Alpiew used up the rest of her time in Garraway’s washing up the many dishes used by the men who had mobbed Cupid. Once the gaggle of men had left, proudly clutching their portfolios, the only customer remaining was the quiet man with the newspaper.

‘Interesting what you said earlier about Van Loon,’ said Alpiew with a casual air. ‘It’s a dog-eat-dog world, isn’t it? Hating his own partner.’

‘Frequently the way of things. I don’t know that he hates him, but it’s certain he don’t trust him. They seem to be friends, as far as either could be friends with anyone. But Van Loon suspects Sir Richard. That I know.’

‘Suspects him of what?’

‘Who knows, but why else does he pay some boy to spy upon him?’

‘Really! A spying boy?’

‘One of the dusty boys. The City Black-Guard they call themselves. Ragamuffins one and all. You must have seen them about. Cutpurses and pick-pockets by trade, they pride themselves upon not taking public money from living on the parish. They roam around in small gangs, always grey with dirt. They do anything for money, and are well known for their linguistic party tricks.’

‘How do you know about this boy?’ Alpiew wondered if this was anything to do with the messages regarding the Cassandra and her cargo. ‘When did it start?’

‘A few days ago. I saw one of the Black-Guard boys talking through the sash of Van Loon’s chair. I was surprised because the Dutch fellow is so crazy he thinks the merest whiff of someone’s breath will kill him, and yet he let a filthy urchin stick his head right into the chair. I witnessed the boy take money too.’

‘But how do you know what Van Loon was paying the boy for?’

‘My interest got the better of me. I was out walking to take the air. It was one of those balmy nights last week. I had nothing better to do, so, out of mere curiosity I followed the boy. And the boy followed old man Dainty home from the Exchange. And whenever Sir Richard went inside anywhere, the boy set up camp outside until Sir Richard came out.’

‘When did you last see the boy—or Sir Richard, and it come to that?’

‘I saw them both yesterday afternoon. The boy followed him out of here after the false news of the Cassandra sinking. Naturally Sir Richard has kept a low profile since then. He made a lot of money out of that bogus intelligence. I have to wonder whether he had any part in issuing the information about the ship going down.’

‘Where would I find this boy?’

‘I don’t even know that I’d recognise him again. Except for the dust. And look at how many dusty boys there are. You’ll see them roaming the streets at holidays and wherever a crowd gathers. And every night, after the taverns spill out the last rob-able drunks, they slink away to their night quarters, one presumes to share out their booty and plan their next attacks.

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