his own boot. Chevie simply nodded and balled her fists.
“Then begin!” called Malarkey.
The Rams were expecting the little lass to be brim-full of vinegar and take a run at Skelp, possibly causing him to fall down laughing. They were prepared to berate their comrade good-naturedly as he was eventually forced to tap the girlie on her noggin in order to claim his winnings.
They were utterly unprepared for what actually happened, and several burst out laughing, presuming that it was some manner of jape orchestrated by King Otto for a bit of a giggle. Before the echo of Malarkey’s words faded, Chevie rushed in low, used a basic judo disarming maneuver to twist the club out of Skelp’s grasp, then unleashed an out-of-the-ballpark uppercut with the man’s own beloved bludgeon that knocked out three of his teeth and sent him flying into a gaggle of his comrades. The whole lot went down like ninepins.
“Next,” said Chevie, which was a bit melodramatic, but no more so than the entire situation.
A silence followed Chevie’s victory, the like of which hadn’t been heard in this arcade in twenty years, not since Gunther No Nose Kelly earned his nickname during a rat-eating contest. “Wait for it,” said Malarkey out of the side of his mouth. When the assembled Rams realized that their invested chink was in serious danger of disappearing beyond their grubby grasp forever, the short-lived silence was shattered by a collective moan that rose like an ululating wave and crashed in a sea of objections.
“Hold on there!”
“Unfair! Unfair!”
“Will you beat a man with his own club?”
“She ain’t no female. She’s a witch.”
Malarkey silenced the clamor with a bellow through his trumpet, then addressed the stunned congregation.
“You fellers seem a mite surprised by my little whirling dervish here. I warned you, but no—you fine gentlemen knows better than yer beloved regent.”
Malarkey rubbed Chevie’s head as though she were a favored puppy and even instructed Riley to relax in his throne. “Here,” he said, tossing a purse of gold to Riley. “A share for the Injun princess, even though that were not part of the deal; but I am a fair and benevolent monarch.”
Malarkey faced his subjects.
“Listen, my gallows-bound busters, there is another twist to this tale. You have witnessed what my champion can do, so maybe yer regretting monies wagered. So I offer you one chance to retract yer wager without penalty. But if you leave yer ill-gotten gains in the kitty, then among the benefits that will accrue to you are shorter odds, a free toddy, and the admiration of your peers. And who steps up to spill the blood is your affair. You coves have leave to select the burliest muck-snipe from among your ranks to set against my little girlie. Choose whomsoever you fancy, so long as he bears the mark.” Riley found his discomfort swelling with every passing second. This was a fine penny-show for the Rams, but Chevie and himself were sitting ducks. If Garrick had managed to dump his carcass into the tunnel-of-time, it wouldn’t be long before some tidbits concerning a battling squaw dropped into his ear hole. And then the Thames water rats will be raking two extra floaters out of the dawn currents.
Riley perched on the throne’s cushion.
“Chevie,” he whispered, “do the business quick as you like, then we can make ourselves scarce. My skin is crawling with the feeling that Garrick is coming.”
“Roger that. We need to be on our way,” said Chevie.
Every one of Riley’s Garrick is coming hunches had been bang on the money so far.
Malarkey overheard the exchange. He plucked Riley from the throne, depositing him at his feet like a royal puppy, or jester. “Don’t worry about Albert Garrick. My best team of murdering scum have been lying in wait for him at his digs, their time bought by the very same fancy gent who ordered your deaths. As to you two foundlings being on your way, I think you have misremembered our arrangement.”
Chevie punched her fist into her palm and several large men jumped backward. “What arrangement?” she asked. Riley’s chin dropped to his breastbone, and he answered the question for Malarkey. “We are fighting our way into the Rams, the alternative being a sudden case of violent death— yours and mine. Once we are in, then we are Malarkey’s for life.” Malarkey pointed at Riley. “A shilling to the boy for keenness. You fight for the very breath in your lungs, little lady.