“Edwin, meet Vince,” Robin said.
“He’s…” Edwin started, staring at the brute. “He’s your brother!”
Both men turned to look at him.
“’Alf brother,” Robin spluttered. “And ’ow did you know? I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It’s pretty obvious, Robin.”
The two men looked at each other. Side by side, the resemblance was striking to Edwin. Both of them were large, both were round faced and thick necked. They had the same pale blue eyes, the same narrow lips. They would have had the same nose if Vince’s hadn’t been broken at one point, possibly during the same beating which had cauliflowered his little jug ears. They even dressed alike. Were Robin to wear a beard, the similarity would be greater still.
“Don’t see it,” Vince snorted.
“’E’s nothin’ like me,” Robin scoffed.
“Baffling,” Edwin said, shaking his head. “Wait, how long have you known about him?”
“Only since last night,” Robin said.
Edwin was surprised Robin had managed to keep the news under wraps at all. Robin spent most of his life thinking he was alone, finding family must be thrilling for him, but evidently his concern about Duncan’s situation was taking priority.
“You two made up, then?” Vince asked.
Edwin wondered how much Robin had told him.
“Yes. Anyway, never mind that for now. A friend of ours is missin’ and you’re, well…” Robin gestured around himself, searching for the correct word.
“What am I?” Vince said, puffing on his pipe.
“The man upstairs,” Robin said.
“Well informed?” Edwin offered.
“Yes, exactly, you’re very well informed and I thought you might be able to tell us if you’d ’eard anythin’?”
“His name is—” Edwin started.
“Duncan Hunger,” Vince interrupted.
“How did you know?” Edwin asked.
“They know each other, from back when Duncan used to live ’ere,” Robin explained.
“And because Baxbary Mudge has him locked up,” Vince said.
“What?” Robin jumped to feet, knocking the table, sending several tankards crashing to the floor. Once again the noise from downstairs stopped and Edwin sensed a collective clenching coming from the regulars preparing themselves for trouble.
“Settle down. Mudge ordered my men to bring Duncan to him,” Vince said, calmly.
“You mean ’e ordered you!” Robin said.
“Not this time. He went straight to my people,” Vince replied. “Duncan’s safe. For now.”
“What do you mean, “for now”?” Robin asked. “Is Mudge plannin’ to ’urt ’im?”
Vince frowned and Edwin wondered if he was struggling to follow Robin’s particularly thick accent.
“If he is, he’ll get me to do it,” Vince said.
“Why?” Edwin asked. “If Baxbary Mudge went to your men to kidnap Duncan in the first place, why wouldn’t he just get them to hurt him?”
“Huh. Hadn’t considered it. Time was, he wouldn’t have done anything without me there.”
“Are you so far out of favour with Mudge?”
Vince just glared at him.
“Tell me where ’e is, I’ll get ’im myself!” Robin shouted.
“You don’t want to do that. Mudge is dangerous. Especially now. You can’t get to Duncan on your own.”
“Then ’elp us!” Robin said. “It’s Midwinter, a time for family to come together! And we’re family, you an’ me!”
“Family,” Vince said, tutting. “Spent most Midwinters alone in the orphanage. Mum dumped me there when I was a few days old. Didn’t take me back out until I was old enough to work. Even then, I hardly ever saw her. No gatherings at the solstice for me, no merrymaking, no celebrating.”
“Nor for me. Not after Dad died, anyway,” Robin said, softly.
“At least you had him for a few years. Always dreamt of having family round me at this time of year.
“Well, there he is,” Edwin said, pointing to Robin. “There’s your family. And believe me—you don’t know how lucky you are to have him.”
“And Duncan, well, ’e’s my family too,” Robin said.
“You said last night you used to be lovers,” Vince replied.
“We were.”
“And you’re still friends?”
“We live in a tiny village, it be’oves us to put aside past differences wherever possible. Look, I been on my own a long time, I don’t ’ave many people I’m close to, so when I take someone into my ’eart, they’re in there forever. They’re family to me.”
It was so like Robin to feel everything to its fullest extent. He’d been so happy to have Duncan back in his life, back on good terms after years of not speaking, that losing him was simply unthinkable.
“Can’t just decide someone is family, it doesn’t work like that,” Vince said.
“What? Of course I can. Family is about bond as much as blood,” Robin’s sky-blue eyes widened, his hands tensed. “Please, you ’ave to ’elp.”
“Can’t do it. I owe Mr. Mudge a lot.”
“We met him at Chase Manor,” Edwin said. “He doesn’t seem the type to repay loyalty. Do you think, for one second, he’d hesitate to betray you if it suited his needs?”
Vince sat silently as Edwin talked on.
“Half brothers or not, you obviously have doubts about what Mudge is doing or you wouldn’t even be talking to us. And it’s clear you don’t want to see Duncan get hurt. Please, will you take us to him?”
Edwin squirmed under the full impact of Vince’s imposing glare. His eyes were the same sky-blue as Robin’s but smaller, harder, sharper. Edwin wondered if he was looking at what Robin would have been without Blashy Cove. He wondered too if perhaps he was seeing a good deal of Captain Erasmus Shipp. From what he knew of the man, Robin’s father was far closer in temperament to Vince than to Robin himself. He worried about what Vince was going to say next. If he refused to help, what would they do? If anything happened to Duncan, it would be his fault for bringing him here. He nearly lost Robin because of Blackrabbit Island, because of his own failings. Was he to lose Duncan too, who had done nothing more than help him? He felt intensely guilty for what he’d said to Robin about Duncan’s motives and vowed to make up for it. He and Duncan had only been friends for a matter of months, but he realised then it was a strong and true friendship.
“Suppose I…” Vince started before suddenly breaking off.
The crowd downstairs had fallen completely silent. Edwin was about to speak when Vince held up one meaty, rough finger to stop him. Slowly, Vince crept to the door of the storeroom and peered down to the bar below. Then without warning, he launched himself over the balcony, crashing loudly as he landed. Edwin and Robin jumped from their seats and rushed downstairs to find Vince kneeling down with his hands on the heads of two unconscious men at his feet. Edwin guessed he landed right on top of them, cracking their heads against the stone floor.
Mrs. Firebrace and the patrons of the bar and were being ushered out of the door at sword point by men dressed entirely in black. With powerful fists, Vince thrashed at the men around him as they came at him with knives, coshes and brass knuckles. One fell, then two, then three. Edwin stood dumbstruck before he was pushed to safety by Robin who pummelled the man about to stab him.
The silence had turned to a deafening roar as the men in black tried to take down Vince, but he beat them with ease, suffering only minor cuts and bruises. In frighteningly quick time, only two attackers remained—a spindly man with nine and a half fingers and his young, musclebound associate. The younger man was six feet of pure muscle, as wide as Vince but half his age and without his gut. Like most men on the island, he wore a tricorne hat, though not being one of the upper classes, his was made from wool, and weather-beaten. It covered his heavy brow, and in the lantern light, it cast a shadow across his eyes which were set further apart th
an was entirely necessary.
“What’s all this, Hickory?” Vince shouted.
“Mr. Mudge’s orders,” came the reply.
“The man you feel such loyalty for,” Edwin said, dryly.
“Lying,” Vince said.
“I didn’t believe him when he said you’d gone soft,” the spindly man said. “Didn’t think you’d fallen so far. But here you are, consorting with Hunger’s friends.”
“Have a care, Percy…” Vince warned.
“Where’s Duncan?” Robin blurted, earning him a disapproving growl from his half brother.
“Oh, he’s long gone,” Percy sneered.
Vince paced over toward him, thoroughly unfazed by the way he toyed with his dagger.
“What’s he done with him?” he asked in a whisper like distant thunder.
Percy smiled, showing his broken teeth. “You know, Vince, a lot of us—me and Mr. Palk here, especially—we’re getting tired of being treated like this by you. This contempt you have for the rest of us, it upsets us, Vince. It hurts our feelings,” he said, his tone shifting from mocking to menace in a heartbeat. “And we don’t think we should have to put up with it anymore.”
Percy struck outwards with his dagger, its blade catching the light from a nearby lantern. For a moment, Edwin thought Vince had been stabbed, but the big man was shockingly fast. With one hand Vince deftly blocked the jabbing thrust, and with the other, he punched the advancing Mr. Palk in the stomach. Doubled up, the young Mr. Palk left himself open for a punishing left hook to the jaw from Robin, sending him crashing to the ground, insensible. Edwin had no taste for violence but would have to admit to being impressed by Robin’s effortless display of strength. Vince stood with his hand clamped round Percy’s bird-like neck. Percy looked to be regretting his actions.
“Listen closely,” Vince said in a bark so sharp it caused both Robin and Edwin to flinch. “Your well-being doesn’t interest me in the slightest, Percy Penhallow. You’ve been gunning for me since you joined and I’m sick of it.” Vince’s grip tightened, causing a pitiful yelp from his captive. “The only thing keeping you from a spine-cracked life of being spoon-fed, washed and wiped by carers at the hospital for the rest of your natural life is telling me what Mudge did with Duncan Hunger.”
Another little squeeze was followed by another little yelp, then he relaxed his grip ever so slightly to allow the man to speak.
“The stand. At the parade,” Percy rasped.
“What about it?”
“He’s there. Underneath.”
“What? Why?” Vince growled.
“Please…just…air...” the man said, his eyes beginning to roll back in his head.
Vince squeezed Percy’s other hand, causing him to drop his knife which Vince kicked away before letting go of his neck. Percy fell to the ground, wheezing. Vince grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and heaved him up against a wall, knocking dusty books to the floor. His feet dangled a yard above the ground.
“Why is he under the stand?”
“Because it’s where the gunpowder is,” Percy said as he rubbed his throat.
Robin looked stunned.
“Gunpowder? What gunpowder?” he asked.
“The powder was meant to go to the people of Gull’s Reach next month,” Vince said to Percy. “What have you done with it?”
“Mr. Mudge’s orders, y’see,” Percy said, finding his second wind of bravery immediately knocked out of him by a powerful blow from one of Vince’s meaty fists.
“What’s he planning? Why didn’t I know about this?” Vince repeated, notably louder.
“And here I thought you were his favourite,” Percy said, laughing.
Vince thumped him against the bookcase again.
“You’ve been getting too big for your boots, old man. Mr. Mudge doesn’t think you have the fight in you anymore. He wanted you out of the way for a while. Or permanently. No one’s going to ask too many questions about a fight in this place.”
“Don’t make me ask again, Percy,” Vince growled.
“He’s decided to move the plan forward a bit. It’s happening tonight.”
“What’s the stand got to do with the uprising?”
Edwin and Robin exchanged glances.
“He’s got someone in the parade who’s going to drop their barrel at the council stand,” Percy said.
“And then?”
“Boom,” he said with a laugh.
“Why go to all the effort?” Edwin asked.
“It’ll look like he was caught up in the explosion. No body to dispose of, no awkward questions,” Vince replied.
“You sound like you’ve done this before,” Robin said softly.
Vince turned his attention back to Percy. “Who is it? In the parade, who is it?”
“Don’t know.”
Vince raised his hefty fist again.
“I swear, I don’t know. He’s not one of us, how could he be? You think they’d let the likes of us march in the parade? Only for fine, upstanding citizens that is. It’s an honour not bestowed on us low-lifes. It’s someone Mr Mudge’s been talking to.”
A solid blow to his ribs sent him to the ground. Robin winced at the popping sound. Vince raised his boot.
“All I know is he’ll be in a jackdaw mask,” Percy croaked.
“Now will you help us?” Edwin asked.
Vince looked around him. Smashed tables and broken glass littered the floor. His assailants lay groaning faintly. He tipped back his cap and rubbed a hand over his short, silver beard.
Minutes later, Robin, Edwin and Vince were rushing across the great stone bridge. They left Percy, the still-unconscious Hickory Palk and their associates locked in the storeroom on the mezzanine. The crowds were gathering on the streets for the tar barrel parade and the stand was on the other side of town.
Time was running out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
FROM BEHIND THE glass walls of the Frost & Thaw Tearoom, the revellers were afforded a wonderful view of the bonfire. It would be lit later on by the first burning tar barrel cast upon it, but until then it remained an obelisk of timber, rags, and kindling all dusted with snow. The whole tearoom was alive with music and light as the cream of Port Knot society danced and twirled and laughed and mingled.
All the best of Blackrabbit’s small but exciting theatre scene were there, its actors, singers, and dancers, as were the politicians and business people who weren’t invited to, or refused to sit on, the council stage. Their gowns were exquisite, their suits immaculate, their masks superlative. Not for them, the simple paper or common feathers of the parade. No, theirs were of the finest fur, the rarest down. More than a few moved of their own accord. Ears twitched, snouts ruffled and bills clacked as the ingenious hidden clockwork devices worked their magic.
Outside, toned men with bravely bared chests twirled flaming batons and ate their fire even as it melted the still falling snow. Inside, topless women in brightly patterned tights and possessed of remarkable flexibility stood on table tops and contorted themselves into the most extraordinary shapes for the amusement of the guests. On a dais to the rear of the room, a woman stepped into a small glass box no larger than a lobster trap, then bent and mangled her limbs until she fit snuggly inside and finished by pulling the lid closed with her toes. The astonished guests clapped their approval.
Gaudily clad jugglers worked their way through the crowd, telling the most outrageously filthy jokes as they went, to the delight of all. A band played in one corner of the room, keeping a high-tempo rhythm going and hearts racing. There was a reason why so many in the town shared a September birthday. The winter solstice was the one night of the year when anything went and the people of Port Knot, whatever their social standing, were determined to make the most of it.
In the centre of the festivities were Eva and Iris, alongside the proprietor, Ms. Clementine Frost. Eva took the guise of an antlered red deer, with a russet gown to match while Iris wore a dress of powder b
lue paired with an otter mask. Clementine—slender, elegant Clementine—chose to wear the mask of a deathwatch beetle. Unlike the fur and feathers of the rest of the people gathered, hers was studded with a mosaic of polished onyx stones, giving it a dazzling, mysterious quality. The antennae, curling outwards from the top into small spirals, were studded with tiny gems which guests would later swear were real diamonds. Her gown was white, her hair blonde, and her face powdered to provide maximum contrast and impact. Wherever she went, Ms. Clementine Frost demanded an audience.
“I do so hope the boys will join us,” Eva said, straining to be heard over the crowd. “I’ve left word with the doormen not to turn them away.”
“Mmm, good,” Iris said.
The journey to the masquerade ball had been taken in silence. Neither woman had wanted to attend but felt obliged to, especially given their enthusiastic invitation to Robin and Edwin.
“Darling, whatever is the matter, you both look positively glum?” Clementine said as she swilled champagne from a delicate glass.
She loosely held the arm of her companion, a gentleman in a lavender frockcoat with golden-brown skin and a hedgehog mask.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing. We’re having a wonderful time,” Iris said.
“You truly are a wretched liar,” Clementine said, settling herself on the settee between Iris and her wife.
The room was a dazzle of mirrors and glass, and from their vantage point, it was possible to see almost every inch of the place. Their hostess raised her voice to be heard above the music and raucousness.
“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll end this gathering, kick all of these fine people out onto the streets and tell them it’s all your fault,” Clementine said.
“We received some bad news,” Eva said.
“Oh no. Is your father’s health declining?”
“No, I said it was bad news,” Eva replied, flatly.
“Eva, don’t,” Iris said. “If you must know, we were planning to have a child but the man we asked to be the father, well, he said no.”
The Lion Lies Waiting Page 20
