Who Speaks for the Damned (Sebastian St. Cyr #15) - C. S. Harris Page 0,64
I did not know that man was in London. But let me warn you: If word of this gets out—any word at all—I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
“You can try,” said Sebastian, and left the man standing there in a narrow slice of sunlight that slanted down between the towering masses of the surrounding warehouses.
Chapter 38
J i played the dizi in Leicester Square that morning. The day was clear and warm, the crowd large. But less than half an hour into the pitch, the child saw a blind, lame woman enter the square from Green Street, a worn old hurdy-gurdy tucked up under one arm as she leaned heavily on her cane.
Ji had seen the older woman several days before, on the Strand, and for some reason he only dimly understood, the sight of her filled him with an odd combination of compassion and dread. At the time the woman had been led by a girl, but today she was alone. At the entrance to the square, the woman paused, her sightless eyes turning toward the sound of Ji’s music.
Ji stopped playing and lowered the flute.
A warm wind gusted up, carrying the scents of ale and roasting meat from a nearby tavern, along with the furtive whisperings of two dirty, ragged older boys who’d been eyeing Ji in a way the child didn’t like.
Uncomfortably aware of the two boys watching, Ji picked up the tin cup and dumped the coins in a pocket. Don’t run, Ji almost whispered aloud. Don’t let them know you’re scared.
Tucking the flute out of sight, Ji walked rapidly away toward Castle Street, then ducked into a narrow passage.
It was a mistake.
Ji heard running footsteps, coming fast. One of the boys pushed past with a snickered “’Scuse me” as he slammed both hands hard between Ji’s shoulder blades.
Ji staggered and drew up, caught between the two boys. They looked to be perhaps fourteen or fifteen, their faces gaunt and grime smeared, their tattered and patched clothes held together with pieces of twine.
And they had Ji trapped between them.
“Ho there,” said the first boy, his lips pulling back in a sneer. He was larger than his companion, his teeth so big and crooked, they didn’t seem to fit in his mouth. “That’s right. I’m talkin’ to ye. Goin’ someplace, are we, me fine lad?”
Ji was finding it hard to breathe. “What do you want?”
“What ye think we want, then? Eh, me bright little boy?”
“I don’t rightly know.”
“Hear that, Davey? He don’t rightly know.” The one Ji was starting to think of as Big Teeth shared a laugh with the other boy, eyes alight with a hatred that Ji recognized even as its origins remained unfathomable. “Ye talk real flash, don’t ye, boy?” His scornful gaze swept Ji’s coat and trousers. After days on the street, Ji’s clothes were dirty and rumpled. But compared to the rags of Big Teeth and his friend, they were very fine indeed. “Dress flash too. Don’t ye?”
Ji remained silent.
“Right, then,” said Big Teeth, reaching out one grubby hand in a mocking, beckoning gesture. “Let’s ’ave yer blunt. And don’t even think about holdin’ any of it back.”
Ji stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yer money, bright boy.”
Swallowing an ocean of rage and fear, Ji dug out that morning’s take and held out the coins.
Big Teeth scooped them up with a triumphant whoop. “Right. Now, give us the rest of it.”
“But that’s all I have!”
Big Teeth’s lips pulled back in an ugly smile. “Why don’t I believe ye?” His gaze shifted to his companion. “Take ’im down.”
The second boy, the one called Davey, hooked an elbow around Ji’s neck and jerked. Ji fell back, spine slamming hard against the ground. Winded, eyes watering, choking on blind terror, Ji felt hands groping pockets, tugging off shoes, pulling at socks. Ji kicked out desperately, uselessly.
“Ho!” called Big Teeth in triumph as the coins Ji had hidden in one sock hit the cobbles with a clatter. “Knew it.” The hands moved up Ji’s leg. “What else ye hidin’, then?”
“Please let me go. I don’t have anything else. I swear it.”
“No?” Big Teeth yanked the bamboo flute from Ji’s grasp and peered at it as if it were something strange and vaguely repulsive. With a shrug, he snapped the dizi against his knee and threw the broken pieces against the nearby brick wall.
“No!” screamed Ji.
Big Teeth laughed. Then an older woman’s voice said, “Let him go, you vile pack of mindless gallows thatches.”