The Thief Taker [02] Fire Catcher by C. S. Quinn

Author:C. S. Quinn [Quinn, C. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503947887
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 25704413
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 69

‘We must get to the side of the bridge,’ said Charlie, shouting above the fire’s roar. ‘See there? On the other side of those flaming eaves? There’s a brothel that isn’t aflame. They’ll have a trapdoor to the river, for taking in wine shipments.’

Charlie’s eyes dropped to Lily’s rosary.

‘Best say a prayer,’ he added, grabbing her wrist.

They ran out, weaving through the plummeting shrapnel, coughing as the smoke grew ever thicker around them. Fug and the flame closed on them, and Lily stumbled.

‘Almost there!’ gasped Charlie, pulling her upright. ‘I can see the brothel!’

His hands hit the flat wood of the building and he groped for the door. The wooden bridge beneath them was deep in flames now and was starting to give way. A torrent of steam shrieked upwards as a section pitched into the Thames.

‘Here!’ Charlie’s hand found a doorway, then the latch. They fell into the empty brothel gasping for air. The sweaty smell of well-used beds closed in on them, and Charlie realised he’d misjudged. No trapdoor to the river. This wasn’t the kind of brothel that sold wine. In the glow of the fire Charlie could make out an obscene mural of King Charles and three naked women. The paint was flaking off in the heat.

‘You said it wasn’t burning!’ Lily was looking in dismay at the peeling picture.

Charlie looked for windows. There was one, high up and tiny with thick wooden bars. His eyes settled on a staircase.

‘This way.’

They raced up the staircase but the first two floors were the same. Tiny barred windows. No escape.

‘The roof,’ said Charlie pointing to a ladder.

They heaved themselves up on to the wooden shingled roof. All of the blazing bridge and London was laid out for them to see. For a moment they stood staring.

‘There it is,’ said Lily. ‘Blue fire again.’

It winked out across the city. And another explosion wracked London. From their height above the city, Charlie had a clear view. The Draper’s Hall had been flamed. And suddenly from the bird’s-eye vantage point Charlie saw the pattern.

On the riverfront, fire had abated until the Fishmongers’ Guild flamed. Then in the west, the Candlemakers’ Hall hadn’t simply fired. It had been blown to pieces. And now Charlie could see the tell-tale circle of gunpowder wreckage in the ruins of the Saddlers and the Drapers.

Guildhalls. Blackstone was firing the guilds.

He shot a look at Lily, wondering whether she’d seen it.

The more Charlie looked down on the blazing city the more he was sure of it.

Blackstone was using guilds to lead the fire west. Towards Whitehall. The King’s Palace. The mystery of the round robin circled in Charlie’s head again. Names in a circle. Was Blackstone using those common boys to spread flame? There was something obvious he was missing. Something about the round robin which could reveal Blackstone’s tactics.

The roof shuddered beneath them. Then a spat of glowing embers landed on the wooden shingles. Wind roused them to a quiet flame.

‘We’ll have to jump into the river,’ said Charlie, looking down at the water.

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