Rattle was a swollen bat. That was the only thing her mind could categorize it as. In truth, the leathery wings were where the similarity ended. The wings joined at the top of a lidless eyeball the size of an adult’s fist. It looked wet. Beneath the eye were six spindly legs, jittering spider’s legs; each one was at least two feet long. The pupil of the eye darted around at random while Rattle descended. It brought the blanket to the old man, who took it with some measure of disgust. The blanket was filthy and full of holes.
Without anything to hold, the spindly legs clicked together as the eye bobbed to and fro in the creature’s stationary flight. “Thank you, Rattle. Go back to reading.”
The spider-bat turned around and, after sparing a glance at Skate, floated up the stairs.
“That was Rattle,” the wizard added unnecessarily as he began to fix the holes in the blanket with passes of his hand.
“What is it?”
“He’s a—hmm. I never gave him a name beyond ‘Rattle.’ I made him. He’s a construct, a guardian. Mostly, he just likes to read. He’s a lot like me, that way.” The dirt and holes faded with each pass of the hand until it resembled something she might have stolen from a vendor in the market. “Here.” He held out the blanket for her to take, though she was too far away.
Skate didn’t move. “Why didn’t you already have the fire going?” Much had been strange since the old man had come down, but this bothered her the most. That fireplace had not been used in a good long while, and warmth was absolutely necessary this time of year. “Magic? I mean, if you’ve got magic to keep warm, why have a fireplace with wood ready?”
The corners of the wizard’s mouth twitched up into a small smile before he said, “You ask many questions for an uninvited guest.” He dropped the blanket and turned toward the stairs. “Stay here for the night. Sleep by the fire. I want to talk to you before you go in the morning.” As his feet disappeared from view, the jewelry box lifted itself off the table and floated gently up after him.
Skate turned toward the fire. She was warm. The blanket was comfortable enough, and there was a rug. She meant to go to the door, but found herself first sitting, then reclining in front of the crackling flames. Despite her confusion and unanswered questions, she soon drifted off to sleep.
Skate shot straight up. There was clicking. The horror that was Rattle was floating by.
Skate rubbed the sleep out of her eyes while Rattle moved through a door in the back of the room, carrying something. The fire still burned, and a few more logs had been added to increase the flame. She noticed with passing interest that there were no fewer logs in the holder.
Dawn was breaking through the windows. Skate’s stomach growled as she sat there smacking her mouth to try to get the stench of sleep out. It had been many hours since she’d eaten.
The door to the next room was ajar, and it sounded like the bat thing was hammering metal on metal in an attempt to rouse her from rest. “I’m up!” she shouted toward the open door. Rattle glanced at her as it passed as if to confirm her claim. It then continued on its way, doing whatever noisy task it had started.
Skate was about to yell again when she heard footsteps. The old man had made no noise last night coming down; he should have. He was old. She was good at hearing. Had he cast a spell of some sort—a muffling or silencing enchantment—before coming down the previous night? “I’m gonna go,” she said, disentangling herself from the blanket.
“You don’t want breakfast?” the old man asked.
Rattle suddenly ceased its clamor and came out of the kitchen, a pot of water dangling at the end of three legs and an empty pan in two others. It looked slowly back and forth between her and the old wizard.
“No, I don’t,” Skate said.
With a final loud clang, Rattle dropped both the water pot and the pan. Some of the water splashed out onto the stone floor. By the time the pan had settled, Rattle was almost out of view up the stairs, its legs twitching as the bat wings flapped harder than before.
“He likes to cook,” the old man said reproachfully. “Even if you’re not hungry, you could have let him do the cooking.” The old man had not changed his clothes since the previous night; living alone must have left him unconcerned with the normal social niceties of the wealthy.
“Definitely not. I don’t know where those legs have been. Besides, it can still cook for you.”
“He doesn’t cook for me.” The old man grimaced, struggling with something.
Gas, she thought, and stifled a laugh. He opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but instead closed it each time. He looks like a fish out of water. She failed to stifle the laughter this time.
“Listen,” he said at last, ignoring her snorts, “I have an idea. You’ve got no home, right?”
“Right, thanks so much for the reminder.”
“But you’re pretty good at…finding things.”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m very good at finding things.” She leaned into the euphemism, trying to make the old man uncomfortable. It didn’t work.
“Well, then, here’s a business proposition: If you can find me a new book a week, I’ll let you stay here. I’ve got a room upstairs that Rattle could clear out, one that has a vent connected to this room, so the warmth gets in there. Meals, too—and I promise, despite your protestations: Rattle’s clean enough for you.” His face had become impassive, a mask.
Skate thought for a moment. She didn’t particularly want to live with this strange man, but having an in here could make for a fantastic haul when she decided to cut and run. She guessed Boss Marshall would be happy to hear that, despite her having nothing to show for the previous night. “I ‘find’ you a book and get to stay out of the cold for a week?”
He nodded. “But it’ll need to be one that I don’t have. Finding a book I already own is useless to me. And of course, if you get caught, I’ll deny everything.”
Skate pretended to mull the offer over but had already made her choice; she’d have to be an idiot to refuse the mark’s offer to come and go as she pleased. After much feigned deliberation, she spat into her hand and stuck it out. “Deal.”
The old man did not spit in his own hand, but he took hers without hesitation. “Wonderful! And welcome, officially, to the residence of Barrison Belamy, Skate. Let me show you to your room.”
Chapter 2
In which a reunion occurs, a threat is made, and a game of darts is interrupted.
The heavy wooden door of Belamy’s house shut behind her. Skate stood in the midday sun amidst piles of snow. The familiar figure of Twitch down the road caught her eye. The shock of wiry blond hair poking out of his wrappings and rags gave him away despite his best attempts at skulking and spying on the house. At the sight of her, he tilted his head two times to the right. By the third jerk, it was clear that this was not one of his accustomed spasms, but a signal.
The mounds of snow made the streets more crowded than usual as Skate navigated through a narrow alley to the next main road. A rat scurried into a discarded basket as she passed. She and Twitch were familiar with most of the main avenues of Caribol, and they had many established meeting places around the bustling city. The one that Twitch had indicated was a walled-off alcove behind a latrine, so the rat’s nest was not going to be the most unpleasant thing she would be near today.