by Matt Whyman
“I meant to do that,” he says feebly, and nods at the bed of rubbish on board. “I just needed to get cleaned up.”
The pilot sizes up his curious catch. He’s impressed by the kid, despite it all, and not a little startled to see a snake pop its head from one pocket, as if to check that all is well with its master. Then his attention is drawn towards the commotion at the base of the London Eye. All this time they’ve been watching the drama onboard the boat. Until, that is, someone points out the vultures circling high overhead. It’s a startling sight here in London, but understandable today given the situation at the zoo. Normally, you’d only see such scavengers hovering over fresh kills, waiting for the predators to clear away so they can begin their feast. All of a sudden, the pilot feels a sense of responsibility. He’s not a bad man. A little bit smelly at the end of each day, but decent all the same.
“Whatever you’ve done,” he tells the boy, and lowers his attention back to him. “I think you’ve earned a second chance.” The pilot’s muscular forearms swell as he heaves the boy back onto the girder, and then unhooks him from the gaffe. “Just be sure to shower when you get home. Without a good scrub with hot water and soap, everyone will know where you’ve been!”
14
The lunch hour is over
“Pooh! What is that smell?”
“Don’t look at me!”
Blaize and Scarlett exchange glares. They’re in the canteen as lunchtime draws to a close. Forbidden from returning to the streets to earn a living, most crew members have cleared away their plates to practise acts of magic and illusion. A boy in a beanie hat makes a salt shaker vanish into his napkin, while the girl beside him holds a spoon between her thumb and forefinger, and appears to turn the section she’s pinching into something more like rubber. The spoon simply droops like a Mexican moustache. Unlike the girl’s mouth, which lifts into a winning smile. It’s a neat trick, as everyone on her table agrees, but now is not the time to turn street magic into money. With so many zoo animals still at large around the capital, the order remains for everyone to stay underground unless specifically instructed by the boss.
Julius Grimaldi sits alone, lost in thought. There he is in on the bench at the back. He’s hunched over a bowl of Won Ton Soup, as cooked by Billy No-Beard, and the tip of his beard is close to soaking in it. He stirs the broth with his spoon, scooping up some on occasion and then tipping it back in. Even when Livia picks up on the offensive smell, and accuses Mikhail, he doesn’t once look across at them.
“That’s right, blame me!” says the young Russian with the red spiky hair. “Just because I’m a boy, I still have good table manners.” He dabs at his mouth with a napkin, and then balls it into his empty plate. “It does stink, though,” he adds, and leans across the table so the girls can hear him whispering. “Chances are it’s coming from the galley kitchen. You know what Billy’s cooking can be like.”
“Oi!” snaps a voice from behind the serving hatch. “I heard that!”
Blaize is the first to remark upon the fact that the pungent smell is growing stronger. It’s her sister who is first to link it to the boy who steps in from the gangway.
“Yoshi, that is some personal hygiene problem!” Scarlett crinkles up her nose. “Where have you been to stink so bad?”
Yoshi shrugs and makes his way towards the serving hatch. At once, Billy No-Beard appears behind the counter, and shows his palm.
“The lunch hour is over, my friend. We finish serving at one o’clock. You’ve been here long enough to know that.” He stops there, bemused all of a sudden. “Why are your clothes dripping wet?”
Yoshi looks around the room, aware of all the eyes fixed on him. Even Julius has set his spoon down, and awaits some kind of explanation.
“I just popped out to stretch my legs,” he says feebly, “and ended up taking a short dip. Is it really too late to eat?”
“Rules are rules.” Billy reaches up to close the steel shutter. “But it’s never too early to take a bath.”
With the show over, the crew return to their magic tricks and chatter. Only Julius continues to focus on Yoshi, who stands there in a daze, it seems, until the old man beckons him over.
“You look washed out in more ways than one, dear boy.” Julius shifts his soup bowl to one side, and leans forward to meet Yoshi eye to eye. “Knowing you as I do,” he continues, “this means you’ve experienced another remote viewing. I’m no psychic, but I’ve seen how drained it can leave you.”
Yoshi can’t deny it. He toys with the unused paper napkin in front of him, and begins to shred it as he turns it in his hands. “They’re becoming more frequent,” is all he says.
“That’s because you’re approaching the peak of your powers. Aleister’s programme may have been a source of misery for kids like you, but he was right to believe that adolescence marks the moment when a psychic really comes alive. Like a candle, you burn brightly. By the time you reach your late teens, you’ll find it begins to fade considerably.”
“Which will be a relief, quite frankly.”
“So, what did you see?” asks Julius, ignoring the boy’s note of frustration. The question sharpens Yoshi’s attention. The boy sees him waiting patiently for an answer, and turns his eyes to the table. “Oh, nothing,” he says. “It wasn’t important.”
In response, Julius narrows his gaze. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Yoshi knows full well that Julius has Aleister in mind. Ever since the brute holed up within a lair that contained a critical waypoint in the Faerie Ring, the old man had become obsessed with his fate. Now Yoshi knew for sure what that was, but something stopped him from sharing the news. Julius Grimaldi had provided him with shelter in his time of need. He’d encouraged him to join the band of street magicians housed in this former military bunker, and assisted in helping him to rescue Livia and the twins from the Foundation. And yet, despite all this, Yoshi found himself growing more suspicious of Julius by the day. It was his pledge to unlock the Faerie Ring that lay at the heart of his concern. Aleister may have been just as driven to unlock it, and yet the old man had begun to display a seriously ruthless streak. It didn’t prove anything, of course, but it was enough to stop Yoshi from confirming what Julius was so desperate to know.
“I . . . I can’t be sure.”
Yoshi is lost for words, searching as he is for a way to dodge the question, but already Julius has reached for the boy’s hands. He squeezes them tight.
“You’re lying to me,” he says calmly. “I can feel it.”
The pressure is too much for Yoshi. He pulls away from the old man, facing him down now as he rises to his feet.
“What I saw was meant for my eyes only!” he snaps, but then seems to stop himself from furthering the conflict. Aware that he is the centre of attention once again, he flushes angrily and returns to his seat. “I’m sorry,” he says to Julius. “I’m just hungry and short-tempered.”
Julius sits back in his seat, and peels off his half-moon spectacles. “It’s me who should apologise. It’s just we’re so close to firing up the Faerie Ring, and yet so far away. Only you can help me now, Yoshi. You’re the only one who can deliver Jenks back to the lair.” He stops there, and polishes his lenses with his napkin. “Maybe you’ll change your mind with some food in your belly. If Billy won’t bend the rules, might I recommend you seek out Mae Lin. Chances are you’ll find her in the kitchen behind her Dim Sum store.”
“But there’s a curfew in place,” Yoshi says to remind him. “You ordered it yourself.”
“Well, you’ve already broken it once, dear boy. By rights I should be grounding you, but it seems you can handle yourself better than most. Now go grab a shower, hang your coat up to dry, and then get yourself something to eat.” Yoshi smiles faintly, and pushes back his chair to leave. “I’ll be careful,” the sure-footed young jump runner assures him. “I always am.”
15
Food for the soul
If your stomach is rumbling, in any city a
round the world, you can be sure its Chinatown quarter will serve up the perfect feast. Hemmed into a web of cobbled streets and passageways here in London, this one offers chop houses, restaurants and noodle bars. The choice can be overwhelming, as is evident from the number of tourists who simply come to eat up the heady oriental atmosphere. For the boy in the hooded top, walking with his head down under the strings of banners and paper lanterns, he might as well be blinkered to it all. Only when he finds the door of a popular dim sum establishment does it become clear that he knows precisely where he’s heading.
For such a short, slight, unassuming Chinese woman, it might come as a surprise to learn that Mae Lin is behind many of the most popular eating establishments around here. First thing in the morning, when only the residents are around, her market stall takes centre stage. Her reputation rests on her food. Judging by the aromas slipping through the bamboo screen behind the counter now, something mouth-watering is on the boil in her kitchen.
“Hey Yoshi!” She claps her hands together as he enters, an expression of delight on her face. “Look behind you!”
“What?”
He spins around, sees nothing unusual.
“Oh, shame. You missed it.”
“What?”
“The zebra,” she says matter-of-factly. “It’s the second time I’ve seen one trot past in the last hour!” Mae Lin hurries around her only customer, and locks the door behind him. “There’s something fishy going on today, big boy. What’s with all the wild animals, huh? Are you kids behind it? Is this one of your street tricks? If it is, I’m impressed!”
Yoshi attempts to answer every question as she asks it, but her breathless pace leaves him lost for words. Mae Lin has a kind face, with long black hair tied back in a bun. Every time she smiles, which she does a lot, laughter lines fan from the corner of her eyes. Yoshi might not remember anything about his background, but if his mother were anything like Mae Lin, he’d be happy enough.
“The zoo animals have come to visit us,” he tells her when she falls quiet. “I am sort of responsible,” he adds, “but please don’t tell anyone. I’d get into big trouble, and I have enough to worry about as it is.”
“What’s on your mind?” Mae Lin returns to her place behind the counter, and climbs onto a tall stool there. Yoshi draws breath to speak, upon which a muffled explosion from the kitchen causes both of them to duck instinctively. “Oh rats!” Mae Lin slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I let the pressure cooker boil dry. Follow me, Yoshi. You can tell me all about it in the kitchen while I conjure up some fresh dim sum.”
“Thanks,” he replies, but already his host has vanished behind the bamboo screen.
Mae Lin listens as she works. Her kitchen is arranged around an open trapdoor. Every now and then, she drops down the ladder to collect provisions from her store. Yoshi doesn’t need to follow her to know that the store is just one small section of a sprawling labyrinth. Chinatown’s first settlers from the Far East were known to hide out down there to escape from persecution. Over time, it had been used as a hideout for opium addicts and ivory smugglers, and acquired little touches that reminded them of home. Now, traders like Mae Lin used the tunnels to keep their produce cool, while musicians filled the air with harp song and martial artists perfected their techniques. You could lose yourself down there, amid the water features, rice sacks, jade statues and vases. Right now, however, Yoshi is perched on the work surface, concerned only with what to do for the best.
“Julius and Aleister are bitter rivals,” he explains. “The trouble is, I don’t know who to trust any more. I always thought Aleister was the bad guy, but the way Julius has been with us lately makes me think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“And where is this Aleister now?” asks Mae Lin. She’s rolling pastry, with her back turned to the boy.
“In a bad place,” is all the boy will say. “But even if I knew how to get to him, how can I be sure that I’m not releasing a monster? I’ve already set free a bunch of wild animals by accident. I don’t want to make the same mistake again!”
“Well, you won’t find out unless you look him in the eyes,” she tells him. “Eyes reveal everything. Mark my words.”
Yoshi sighs to himself, and considers the fate of the blind wretch called Jenks. If Aleister was to be believed, the threat to his little friend had died along with the elder. It meant that he was free to return home, but there was a catch. For if Julius showed them how to access the lair, he might also insist that Jenks fired up the Faerie Ring.
“It’s hopeless,” he says eventually. “To get there I need a guide, and Julius is the only person I know who can travel around under London without getting lost.”
“That’s crazy talk!” Mae Lin turns around now, her hands dusted white with flour. “You never asked me! Where do you want to go? Wherever it is, I can show you the way.”
Yoshi sits up straight, unsure if this is her idea of a joke. “Have you ever heard about the lost tribe of slaughtermen?” he asks eventually.
“Oh sure,” she replies breezily. “You’re talking about the pig keepers. Isn’t that an urban myth?”
The boy shakes his head. “They really do exist in a section of tunnel deep beneath the church of St Luke’s in Old Street. If you wade along an underground river, eventually you reach a chasm where the water spills away. The tribe inhabit the other side, along with the pigs they raise.”
Mae Lin regards the boy now with some caution. A half smile plays around her lips, as if she can’t decide whether to laugh out loud or ask him to leave. “OK, this is the deal. I’ll take you and your little friend anywhere you want under London, but we travel my way.”
This time, Yoshi looks unsure. “Do you really think you can get us inside the lair?”
Mae Lin reaches for her rolling pin. “Go fetch your little friend and meet me back here in an hour. Frankly I’m surprised you need someone to hold your hand, but I’m a nice lady, big boy, and I like you.”
She beams broadly, causing Yoshi to blush. He turns to leave, only to come around full circle at her calling.
“What is it?” he asks, upon which Mae Lin presents him with a bag of fresh dim sum. Out of nowhere, it seems.
“Be sure to eat them up,” she instructs him. “It’s food for the soul, and you look a little hungry right now.”
16
Stand behind the yellow line
If you lived your life hiding out underground, you’d be understandably reluctant to venture onto the streets. The very prospect of breathing fresh air, and feeling sunshine on your face, would be a challenge in itself. For little Jenks Junior, descended from a band of refugees from London’s Great Fire, this is the first time he has ever experienced the city at ground level. Looking at him now, as he struggles not to drop down on all fours to move beside Yoshi, he might as well have come from another planet entirely. It isn’t just the way he sniffs the air in wonder, but the fact that under the hoodie that Yoshi has loaned him to hide his shining aura, he looks more like an alien.
Evolution is behind Jenks’ stunted height and loping gait, his thick pink skin, his vaulted ears, snub nose and searching nostrils. Three centuries back in time, the group of butchers and their wives who escaped the flames by descending into the sewers would not have looked so startling. But with each generation to be raised down there, in the dark, cold and cramped conditions that became their world, such developments were critical for survival of the community. Jenks’ milky, sightless eyes might be no use to him behind those shades that Yoshi has made him wear. But beneath the surface, a sharpened sense of smell and hearing are all that is required, as is the ability to move on hand and foot. Even without his wiry red hair, pulled tight into a curly tail, this wretch could easily be mistaken for a hog, not a human. Every time he draws breath to speak, those soot-cloaked lungs of his cause every word to come out as a squeal.
“Can we trust her?” he asks Yoshi now, as they cross the market street for Mae Lin’s dim
sum house. “Jenks doesn’t want any trouble!”
“Mae Lin has a kind heart,” the boy replies, as the spry-looking woman appears at the door. “I’m surprised she knows her way around underground, but if it means we can find a way to take you home it has to be a risk worth taking.” Jenks grunts in response, struggling not to scrabble too much as instructed.
Yoshi had spent some time convincing the wretch that he was safe to return. The elder who had made Jenks’ life a misery, singling him out on account of his aura, could no longer hurt him. From now on, the boy explained, Jenks could be proud of his psychic sense. All he had to do to begin his journey home was hit the streets very briefly to reach Mae Lin. Jenks had no reason to fear being seen, Yoshi had assured him. This was London, after all. A melting pot for people from all walks of life. You could head out naked except for a traffic cone on your head and nobody would pay any attention. Yoshi is certainly brave enough to wear a white mink coat that’s several sizes too big for him and damp around the edges. It might seem out of character on a boy of his age, but somehow to him it seemed fitting for the task ahead. What’s more, as he had finished in his bid to persuade Jenks to join him, it was only a short crossing to reach Mae Lin. As soon as they hooked up with her again, chances are she would take them down into the labyrinth and out of sight from the world above.
Which is why it comes as some surprise to the pair when Mae Lin steps out from her dim sum store to meet them, and locks the door behind her.
