And so now that he had to confess his crimes to her, he wasn’t totally sure his mother would be sympathetic. She hated thieves above all else. She was ruthless with those who stole from her, taking them to the local courts, demanding the harshest of punishments. Any servant who took even a crust from the stores without permission was punished.
Still, what choice did he have? He would have to confess: tell the truth and swear that he’d never steal again.
And of that he was certain. He would never steal again.
This was the crossroads. This was his choice.
No more.
Edyon submerged himself, as if cleansing himself completely of his old ways. Then he stood and turned to get a towel, and that was when he saw the girl.
She was scrawny and small, like many of the urchins who followed the fairs. But this girl was different. Her hair, for a start. She had long blonde dreadlocks, tied back in an unruly bunch. Her skin was brown, the color of dark honey from the south, but her eyes were blue, a sea-sparkling blue. He knew who she was, of course. Edyon had seen her at the fairs at Goldminster and Cheamster. She went around with the huge man, Gravell, who was rumored to be a demon hunter.
“Seen enough?” he inquired, and the girl hid her eyes, mumbled an apology, and dashed through the curtain.
With a wry smile, Edyon wrapped the coarse towel round himself and gingerly stepped out of the barrel. He felt a little better, but no more than that. He couldn’t face even patting his body dry and so just stood still and tried to relax. As he rolled his shoulders it became impossible to ignore the conversation on the other side of the curtain. The deep voice had to belong to the demon hunter, Gravell.
GRAVELL: I told you, I’m in negotiations.
THE GIRL: It doesn’t look like it.
GRAVELL: You can’t rush these things. I’m sussing out the interest. I was hoping that Southgate would be here, but he’s in Tornia. Flaxman’s around but I hate his guts and I’d rather starve than sell it to him.
THE GIRL: How long will it take?
GRAVELL: It takes what it takes. Can’t I have my bath in peace?
THE GIRL: How long?
GRAVELL: A couple more pitchers of hot water, a bit more soaking, then I’m going for dinner, and then—
THE GIRL: No, not how long will you stay in the bath! How long until you’ve negotiated?
GRAVELL: You’re turning into a nag.
Silence.
THE GIRL (quietly): Fine, well, I wouldn’t want to nag. To stop my nagging I just need a small loan.
GRAVELL: What for? Not those boots, is it?
THE GIRL (wheedling): Gravell, honestly, he has an even better pair, with fur and tassels. When you see them you’ll realize they are the most beautiful boots in the whole world.
Sound of splashing.
THE GIRL: So? Can you loan me four kroners?
GRAVELL: FOUR KRONERS?
Sounds of more splashing.
THE GIRL: It’s not so much.
GRAVELL: FOUR KRONERS? FOR BOOTS?
THE GIRL: It’s my money. How I spend it is up to me. You spend that on gambling and women.
GRAVELL: Exactly, not on boots!
THE GIRL: I just need the loan. In fact, really it’s not so much a loan as an advance.
GRAVELL: I don’t do loans. And I don’t do advances.
THE GIRL: But . . . if he sells the boots they’re gone for good.
GRAVELL: And you’ll have saved four kroners.
THE GIRL: And I’ll hate you forever.
GRAVELL: There’s a couple of cobblers here at the fair. You can get different boots. Nice boots. At a sensible price.
THE GIRL: But I want the gray suede boots.
GRAVELL: And on what occasion will you be wearing these boots with fur and tassels?
THE GIRL: Any occasion I please, if they’re mine.
GRAVELL: Then you’ll have to buy them with your money when you get it.
THE GIRL: But I’ve done the work. I’ve risked my life. It’s just up to you to sell the stuff. If you did your part of the job as efficiently as I did mine, I wouldn’t even be asking for a loan or an advance. You owe me the money.
GRAVELL: I told you, no.
THE GIRL: You’re . . . you’re . . . I hate you!
This was followed by a clatter and a splash, a growl from Gravell, a scream from the girl, and then by Gravell swearing and shouting, “Bring my boots back!”
“You can have these when I get mine.”
This was followed by more splashing and cursing and threats of the direst kind, then the sound of the curtain swishing and Gravell shouting again. Edyon peered out of his own compartment to see Gravell naked, huge, hairy, wet, and furious in the middle of the barn. The boys who worked there were watching and grinning. Gravell shouted to them, “Ten kopeks each if you get her!”
The girl replied, “He doesn’t pay! He’ll make you wait for what he owes you!”
This infuriated Gravell more than ever. “You! Besmirching my name!” And he growled and ran after the girl. The boys seemed keen on earning some money if they could, so one of them shut the small door to the back of the barn and stood in front of it with his arms crossed. The other advanced on the girl. She was startlingly fast, though. She ducked round the boy and went close to Gravell, shaking his boots at him.
Edyon wondered briefly how she and Gravell caught demons. The danger of it. The adventure. He wanted to help the girl. She should have her boots. Surely Gravell would keep his purse near his bath . . . so Edyon slipped round the curtain onto Gravell’s side as the shouts and curses carried on beyond.
Gravell’s clothes were in a pile on the floor. Edyon quickly rummaged through them and felt something warm. He snatched his hand away. Was there an animal in there? The pile of clothes didn’t move—but they glowed faintly, purple. Edyon parted the clothes and saw beneath them a large bottle with a braid round its neck. The bottle was clear thick glass, but inside was a swirling mass of purple smoke.
Edyon had seen demon smoke before, but only in the tiny quantities they sold in smoke dens. The first time he’d visited one, at the fair in Cheamster, he’d inhaled it all at once, copying a man who seemed experienced in the matter. Edyon had passed out and woken up the next morning in a back alley, without his purse. That’s how he learned that copying the smoke addicts wasn’t the wisest idea. The second time, he knew to take just a small amount, sniffing it into his nose and down to his lungs, holding it in for as long as possible and then releasing. The sensation was extraordinary, the most perfect relaxation in his life. That smoke had been pale and sluggish, barely moving in its tiny vial. The smoke in this bottle was intense and fast moving. And there was so much of it, enough for a hundred inhalations or more.
Edyon’s hand reached out and, as he touched the bottle, the smoke seemed to gather round his fingers, as if it was alive to his presence. Edyon had to have it. The bottle was in his hands now, heavy, as if full of sand, not smoke. Edyon gazed into the swirling cloud of purple. It was almost hypnotic, but he was quickly brought back to the present by a screamed warning from Gravell: “Watch her kick. Her kick! No! Don’t let her get past you!”
Edyon slipped back to his side of the curtain and wrapped a towel round the bottle, but the purple glow could still be seen. The chase was coming his way. As his curtain was whipped aside, Edyon dropped the towel-wrapped bottle into his bath, and the girl carrying Gravell’s boots ducked behind the towel ladder, pulling it over one of the boys in hot pursuit.
“Yes, you should run!” shouted Gravell, and there was a laughing answer from the girl.
“Well, at least I can run, old man.”
Edyon put the towel ladder back in place and straightened the curtains. The purple glow in his bath couldn’t be seen. It all looked normal.
The sound of Gravell’s shouting came from outside, getting louder as he returned, grumbling about the girl and how slow the boys were.
Edyon took a step up to the bath but stopped at the sound of Gravell’s roar, so loud that the curtain seemed to quiver.
“The little thief! I’ll kill her! I’ll tear her legs off!”
Then there was the sound of Gravell dressing and cursing and muttering to himself.