“I say yes as well.” Magnus winked at me. “I want to stretch my legs.” He extended his arm, and I took it like a proper lady.
“Thank you, sir. That suits me perfectly.” Together, we strolled past a scowling Blackwood.
“A short visit,” he muttered, stalking after us.
“Here’s an idea,” Magnus said as we followed the surging crowds away from the docks. “Since you’re to be a sorcerer, Miss Howel, perhaps we should address you as one. We all use our plain surnames with one another. So, may I call you Howel?”
I wanted to be one of them, didn’t I? “All right. Shall I call you Magnus?”
“Perfection. What do you say, Blackwood? Is she Howel the sorcerer?”
“Miss Howel is a lady. One must always address ladies with proper respect.” Blackwood nodded to me, the image of politeness, but I understood. He would not acknowledge me as his equal. He did not consider me a sorcerer.
—
IN THE ROW, THE PEOPLE PRESSED so close I wondered if we mightn’t all congeal together into a quivering slab. We passed the little girls in black dresses holding trays of totems, each trying to outshout the others. I stopped before one of them, a tiny blond creature with a clean face but the dirtiest hands I’d ever seen. She offered a figure with tentacles erupting from its center.
“Please you, miss, here’s Korozoth, great Shadow and Fog, for protectin’. Save yourself and your family. Tuppence only, miss.” With a start, I recognized her from the street the day before, when she had been “crushed” by our carriage.
She gasped, remembering me as well. “There you are, miss. He told me you’d be by.”
“What? Who?” The hair along my neck prickled.
“The magician Jenkins Hargrove. Says you have to come with me to meet him, miss. He’d love to talk to you, would Mr. Hargrove.”
“How did he know where I’d be?”
“He told you to come.” She said it as though I were very silly for not understanding. “While you were sleeping.”
Yesterday, Jenkins Hargrove had spoken to me in a dream. I shook my head slowly. “That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible with Mr. Hargrove. Come on, then,” she said, grabbing my hand. “We’ll go together.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder. “There are two others with me.”
Magnus caught up with us. The girl pretended we hadn’t been having a serious conversation.
“Buy a totem for tuppence, sir,” she said to Magnus. “Ward your home and fam’ly.” Magnus handed the child two shiny pennies, which she snatched away and hid within her clothes.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Charley,” the girl said, a bit wary.
“Don’t be afraid, Charley.” Magnus crouched to see eye to eye with her. “We’re sorcerers.” He made the totem in his palm rise and wobble on a current of air. Charley clapped with delight. Magnus’s ease with her was rather sweet. I knelt beside them.
“I was just telling Charley that we came to see what life is like for her.”
“Life is very good, sir,” the child said.
“Where do you live?” Magnus asked.
“With the magician, Mr. Jenkins Hargrove. We sell totems for him, and he gives us a place to sleep at night,” Charley said. Blackwood pushed through the crowd and came up to us. When Charley saw him, she jumped. “Oh, m’lord. Didn’t think to see you again till next week.” She curtsied to him. I looked up in surprise.
Blackwood stayed perfectly still, as if a sudden movement would set off a trap. What was all this?
“How do you know little Charley?” I asked, standing.
“My family performs charity work.” He took care not to look at me.
“I thought you weren’t so keen on charity.” I raised my eyebrow.
“I never said that,” he muttered.
“He comes to see us every Friday.” Charley beamed.
“Pretty regular charity to hand over to some old conjurer,” Magnus said, studying Blackwood as if memorizing his uncomfortable expression.
“Jenkins Hargrove is the greatest magician of the age.” Charley held tight to her little wooden tray.
“What say we pay a visit to the greatest magician of the age right now?” Magnus said. I flinched. I didn’t want to meet this man with Magnus and Blackwood in tow. “Take us home to meet your master, Charley, and you’ll have a bright new guinea.”
Blackwood looked up and down the avenue for some method of escape. My stomach cramped.
“Perhaps another day,” I said to Magnus.
“Er, maybe not today, sir,” Charley muttered, though she looked tempted.
“What if I make it two guineas?” He took the gleaming coins from his pocket and showed them to the girl. That did the trick.
“Follow me.” Charley spun about and ran.
“I think it’s getting late,” I said to Magnus, trying to hide my desperation.
“You want to rob a poor little girl?” he asked with mock innocence, and walked after her, wearing a mischievous grin. Blackwood appeared to have frozen in place.
“Do you want to leave?” I said.
“No. Let’s get this over with.” He led us after the others.
Charley guided us onto quieter, more cramped avenues. On the way, we passed wreckage of burned houses and hovels, scorched buildings with broken windows and smoke-blackened walls. The smell of damp and rot permeated the air.
“Korozoth mostly attacks at night,” Charley said, happily playing tour guide. “Lot of people lost their homes.”
On the corner opposite us, a bare-knuckle boxing match was in full swing. Two shirtless fellows circled each other, punching and jabbing as the smell of sweat and blood and ale filled the air. Drunken men jeered and shouted as they watched.
“They’re animals,” Blackwood said, shielding me from view.
“They’re desperate,” I said sadly. “They feel cheap, so that’s how they behave.”
To our left, women in pancake makeup and rouge slid shawls from their shoulders to reveal pushed-up breasts and bare arms. They smiled at Magnus and Blackwood, who looked away.
Charley took us down an alleyway, past two dirty and ragged men begging with tin cups. I gave them each a coin. As we rounded the corner, I gasped.
An Unclean man huddled against the brick wall, gazing blankly at the world ahead. There was no question that he’d been touched. His right arm had ballooned to a grotesque degree, the flesh white and pale green and patched with rot. The entire right side of the man’s head had swollen to three times its normal size, so that he had to lean it against the wall in an effort not to tip over. A few wisps of hair dotted his scalp. Shiny, clear fluid dribbled out of his eyes, so foul-smelling as to make one sick. It was clear which Ancient was responsible. Molochoron, a great festering ball of mold and filth, had touched this man—touched but not killed him. I knelt before him, a handkerchief to my nose.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. The man didn’t respond. His breathing sounded raspy and soft.
“He can’t hear you,” Charley said. “He’s dead to the world.” I took the last coin I had and pressed it into his hand. Magnus gently urged me to follow the group.
We moved along a flight of rickety wooden stairs that led up the side of a brick building. There was a door at the top, which bore the painted words:
JENKINS HARGROVE
MAGICIAN AND CONJURER, TAROT AND CHARMS
NO LOVE POTIONS
Charley knocked. A little boy with a dirty face opened the door, and inside we found five other children working in a corner. A stove kept the room quite warm. The children were carving pieces of dark wood to make more totems. “This is my home,” Charley said.
Besides the mattress and the stove, the only other furnishings were a wooden table and four chairs. The table was covered with glass bottles and tin cups. Though outside it was a bright afternoon, grime caked the windows so completely that we remained shuttered in twilight. The walls were exposed brick and chunks of broken plaster. Walking around the bare space, I noticed a patchwork curtain separating a corner of the hovel into its own private area.