There he was, grinning broadly at her, waving so extravagantly, he almost knocked a pint glass from a burly trader’s hand. Sashaying forward, he narrowly avoided colliding with the serving boy, tripped over the feet of a girl playing dominoes, and with a flurry of nudges, near misses, and stammering apologies zigzagged precariously to her table.
He plopped himself down opposite. “Phew! Made it. Hello, Scarlett. How was your bed? I dozed off and slept like a happy, tousled log. Then I found the shower, only I forgot to lock it, and a woman came in while I was bending over to pick up the soap, and she got a little startled, so I followed her down the corridor to try to calm her down, only I’d forgotten to put on my towel, and she began whooping like an ape and shut herself in her room. I’ve been banging on her door ever since, but she hasn’t come out yet. It’s been quite an evening. Well, this is a nice place. A bit busy, but I don’t mind crowds when I’m with you. What are we having to eat?”
He took a breath at last. Scarlett stared at him. Without words, she took the piece of paper from her pocket and set it on the table before him.
Albert blinked at it. “Ooh, that’s me,” he said.
Scarlett said nothing.
“Not my best side,” he added. “Where did you get it?”
“I got it,” Scarlett said, “in the little metal briefcase I found in the bus. Remember that? I expect you do, as you said it belonged to one of your fellow passengers. What you didn’t tell me was that this passenger was traveling with you.”
She watched his eyes flick side to side as he considered what to say. “Well, not exactly with me,” he said slowly. “Two men got on the bus at a stop after mine. They sat down close, got talking to me. Asking lots of questions. I wasn’t that keen on them, to be honest. They’re dead now, anyway.”
“Yes, they are, aren’t they? And there are some sentences written on this paper, Albert. Can you read them, or do you need me to do it for you?”
He hesitated. “I can read.”
When he’d finished, Albert sat back in his chair as if using the muscles of his body for the first time.
“Well,” he said.
“Well.”
“Well, I knew those two guys didn’t like me. I noticed they gave me some pretty funny looks from time to time.”
“They were going to execute you, Albert! Or capture you and send you back to this Stonemoor place, or wherever it is you’re from! They were Faith House operatives! Do you know how tough they are? What the hell did you do?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I did nothing.”
Scarlett gazed at him. “I see.” She reached beneath the table. “OK, let’s try another tack. Maybe you can tell me what this is for.”
She brought out the metal ring, the bands clipped together to form an oval shape. Albert made a slight hissing noise between his teeth; he flinched as if he had been struck.
“That’s not kind,” he said. “It’s not kind of you to show me that. Do not ask me to wear it, Scarlett. It hurts. It isn’t good for me.”
Scarlett leaned across savagely, grabbed him by the wrist. “I didn’t say anything about wearing it, did I? What is it, that’s what I want to know. No bleating, no lies. Now’s the time to answer, or I walk out of that door.”
“It’s a restraint.” His voice was faint. He spoke close to her ear. “A mind restraint.”
“Yeah?” She pulled him closer. “Keep going. What does it do?”
“Hey there!” Out of nowhere, the serving boy had materialized at their table. “Welcome to the Heart!” He was a very small individual, narrow-boned, hirsute, and of uncertain age. “Can I get you two lovers a bottle of wine? If you’re hungry, we also do couples’ platters of fresh Thames eels, arranged in a hearts motif. Plus two little forks, so you can link arms and feed each other.” He snapped his fingers twice for emphasis and winked at Scarlett. “Very cute, it is. Romantic. So what do you say, pretty girl? Eels and wine for two?”
A muscle in Scarlett’s cheek twitched. She detached her hand from Albert’s wrist and moved it to her belt. Albert was staring at the boy. He spoke thoughtfully. “Do you think this is the tiny kid who climbs across people’s ceilings at night to steal their valuables?”
“I hope not,” Scarlett said. “Because I’m a light sleeper, and if I get disturbed, I tend to do this.” She whipped her knife from her belt, tossed it spiraling upward, caught it in midair, and slammed it, with a vicious thunk, blade-deep in the table.
The serving boy stared with bulging eyes at the quivering hilt. “It sure as heck’s not me.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now listen. No wine. No lousy eels. We want your best coffee, right now, and even better fish and chips. And you can put the bill on our rooms.”
The kid departed, rather faster than he had come. Scarlett transferred her glare to Albert. She tapped the knife meaningfully. “Now’s the time. Tell me who you are and what you can do. I’m waiting.”
Just for a moment, she thought he was going to bluff her, string her along again. His gaze sidled sideways, momentarily mesmerized, as she had been, by the old man and the child, who were still working their idiosyncratic way through their steak. But then he sighed; his attention snapped back to her.
“It’s as I told you,” he said. “I have been kept at Stonemoor always, as long as I can remember, with the other guests. The restraints are used to keep us quiet. At night they gave us pills to sleep, but I used to palm them, hide them under the floorboards, because I liked to stay alert. Well, one night I discovered a way out. I waited till they thought I was dozing, then left the house. I walked for two days, looking for a town, but all I saw was woods and hills. I was getting pretty hungry—I only had some bread I’d taken from the kitchens—but then I found a road, and by great good luck there was a bus coming along. So I flagged it down and paid for a ticket, and that was all right, but—”
“Wait,” Scarlett said. “Paid with what? You were a prisoner. How’d you have money?”
There was a fractional hesitation. “Oh, I’d found a few coins in the house somewhere. I can’t recall just now. So I was on the bus, and feeling really happy because it was taking me far away from Stonemoor and Dr. Calloway, when these two men got on. They were scanning the passengers, and when they saw me, they sort of strolled over and sat either side. They asked who I was and whether I had any papers. It made me rather uncomfortable, I must say.”
As a story, there were more holes in it than in Scarlett’s socks. Whether a single scrap of it was true she couldn’t say. She placed her bandaged hand flat on the table. “And the bus? How did you crash it? And don’t bloody lie to me, because I know you did.”
“I didn’t want it to crash,” Albert Browne said. “I wanted to get off. But the men and I got into an argument. There was a lot of shouting, a disturbance. Everyone got involved. I got upset. The driver was distracted. He lost control at a crucial moment. We hit the barrier, went over the edge. The rest you know. Why are you smiling in that horrid way?”
“I’m smiling because you still refuse to tell me the key thing. There’s a reason why you were locked up in that place, a reason why they’re after you. A reason why they like to put this metal thing on your head, or dope you up, or whatever it is they do. And I got to say I’m real excited, because you’re going to tell me the truth with the very next words that pass your lips.” Scarlett’s hand strayed to the knife hilt. “Aren’t you?”
He hesitated. “All right. Yes, I can do something.”
“Good. What is it? Speak up.”
“I will tell you, Scarlett, because I trust you and respect you. Also, I think you are likely to punch me senseless if I do not.”
“Correct in every detail. So?”
“I can read minds.”
Scarlett stared at him, her own mind suddenly blank. Somewhere on the other side of the bar,
somebody laughed. The child at the next table caught a chip in her open mouth. All the sounds of the room—the talking and the laughter and the clinks of glass and fork—faded out. She heard a voice speaking. It was her own.
“You read minds?”
“Yes.”
“What, anybody’s? Any time?”
“Mostly anybody. It depends.”
“You could do the people here?”
“Well, it’s a bit noisy here, too much going on. It’s hard to separate the images. But that old man next to us,” Albert said. “Right now, he’s thinking about getting passengers for his next boat journey downriver. The child is hoping for the last bit of steak. The woman at the table beyond is thinking that she’s going to win the game with the little tiles.” He gave Scarlett a shrug. “See?”
“It’s called ‘dominoes,’ ” Scarlett said. “And, no, I don’t see. Not at all. You could be making all of that up.”
He nodded wisely. “Ah, you’re doubtful. I can tell that too.”
“Yes! That’s because I just said it! And because you can see my lip curling and my fingers drumming on the table! You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Really?” He scratched his nose. “OK. I can tell you’re hungry. You’re tired. You’re irritated with me. Is that any good?”
“No.”
“Also, you haven’t a clue how you’re going to rob the Lechlade Municipal Bank. Probably you could get in through an upstairs window, but there’s got to be some kind of high-level security in the basement, and you’re concerned about committing yourself when you don’t know what it is, particularly when your hand’s still bad. But then again, you’ve got to get the money or else the nasty men you owe it to are going to be awful angry, and besides, you can’t even pay for our rooms.” He sat back. “Now you’re basically just shocked. Oh, look, and here’s our food.”
As in so many things, Albert was right. The serving boy had corkscrewed out of the crowd, carrying a tray. It had a pot of coffee and two plates of fried fish, curved and crisp and golden, balanced on nests of chipped potatoes and meadow peas. He set them before Scarlett and Albert with a flourish, then hovered at their table. His face was pale.
“Excuse me, miss and sir. May I say something?”
It took Scarlett a moment to focus on him. “Well?”
He hesitated. “You don’t mind me speaking? I don’t want that knife coming out again.”
“It’s not coming out. The fish looks good. What is it? We’re having a conversation.”
“The militia’s just been in, spoken to Mr. Minting. I’ve got to go around and tell everybody.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just…you might want to be cautious about leaving the inn tonight. There’s been killings.” He gazed at them helplessly. “Maybe a beast got into the town. Maybe the Tainted. No one’s sure.”
“Killings? In Lechlade?” Scarlett sat back and stared at him. On the other side of the table, Albert was busily surveying the food.
“Three people—they think,” the serving boy said. “It’s hard to know, they’re in so many pieces. Slavers, they were, respected citizens, up in the middle of town. They’ve been torn apart. It’s a terrible business. They got the center cordoned off, but there’s no sign of nothing, and for all we know the creature could be anywhere. Could be out there, looking in on us now.” He indicated the black garden beyond the windows. “Heaven knows how it got past the land walls…. But Mr. Minting says anyone who wants can spend the night here in the taproom. I got to spread the word.”
Scarlett nodded. “Thanks. We have our rooms. But we’ll be careful.”
The boy drifted away to talk to the old man and the child. Scarlett looked back at Albert, who was prodding his peas with a fork.
“Look how beautifully green these are,” he said. “Can we eat now?”
“No. Albert, how do you know—” She lowered her voice, leaned in close. “How do you know about…about the bank? I’m not even thinking about it.”
“Not now. But you were earlier, when you met me at the bench.”
“And you read my thoughts?”
“It’s more I just saw them. It’s not like words, or anything as concrete as that. I see pictures, get feelings. They flit past quick, so I don’t always sieve them right. If I’m tired, I don’t see anything at all. But if someone’s cross or fixated, the picture comes through strong. You’re cross and fixated quite often, Scarlett.” He smiled at her. “That makes it easy to sieve you.”
She rubbed her hand across her mouth. “Are you sieving me now?”
“I’m trying not to. It doesn’t seem polite.”
“Holy Shiva, what else have you seen?”
“In you? Not much. Nothing bad. You needn’t worry.”
“Good.”
“Just all the stuff about robbing banks, a few corpses, you know.”
“Yes, all right! Will you keep your voice down?”
“And that time you considered selling me into slavery,” Albert added. “That was a bit off.”
Scarlett gave a start in her chair. “I never actually thought that!” She felt herself blushing; she rubbed agitatedly at her hair. “Well, OK. Maybe I did. Briefly. But not in a bad way. We’d only just met, hadn’t we? I’m not thinking of doing that now.”
“I know you’re not. Though you have been idly wondering whether you can sell me to Dr. Calloway to make a quick profit. It’s not a good idea. I wouldn’t be very happy, and that would make you sad. Also, Dr. Calloway would only kill you. She’d kill me, and then kill you, and that would be such a waste of a good partnership, don’t you think?”
It took Scarlett a moment to absorb all this. Then indignation overcame her confusion. “A partnership?” she said. “Is that what you call it? What have I got out of this? You’ve lost me my money! You’ve almost had me killed! See this hand? That’s your fault, remember?”
“Yes, it is. And I’m sorry.” The big dark eyes regarded her. “I know that I owe you my life, and I want to repay you. Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, “I’ve really got to try one of these chips.”
Scarlett sat mutely, stiff and tense, as Albert began his meal. She watched him spear a chip, dunk it in mayonnaise, inspect it with the fixed attention of a prospector sifting for gold. She watched a smile of perfect pleasure spread across his face as he put it in his mouth. A thin and ragged boy in a too-big jumper. A boy who could do things. She imagined him opening her mind up and casually looking inside. It gave her a cold and crawling sensation.
“Yes, it frightens people for some reason,” Albert said. He took a forkful of peas.
She shuddered. “Too right it bloody does. Don’t do it on me.”
“Sorry.”
“The other people at Stonemoor have these powers?”
“Yes. Or similar.” He indicated the head restraint, lying at the edge of the table. “Dr. Calloway always said we were dangerous. Most of the time I had to wear that thing. Something in the metal stops me seeing images. It blocks them somehow. She didn’t like me seeing stuff. Said it was wicked. It upset her.”
“I bet it did if she was working for the Faith Houses.” Scarlett glanced around at the mass of men and women in the taproom, at their open, laughing mouths, the lips and teeth, the hot faces shining under the electric lights. No abnormalities, no deviations. If they knew about Albert, he wouldn’t leave the room alive. “Albert, listen to me,” she said. “The people who are after you, the High Council of the Faith Houses, they run all the houses across the Seven Kingdoms. They don’t rule the towns—that’s the local families—but they do make the laws about what makes a proper healthy person. Like I said, birthmarks, extra fingers…none of those genetic quirks are smiled upon. A deviation like yours…well, frankly I’m surprised they haven’t killed you long ago. No offense meant, obviously.”
“
None taken.” He was trying a piece of golden fish.
“Now,” Scarlett said, “it so happens I’ve got no love for the Faith Houses. Fact is, I have reason to hate them. So anyone who irritates or upsets them is OK by me. That’s why I’m not waltzing off to collect the reward for you right now…. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy to have been drawn into your problem. You put me in danger too. And I still don’t think you’re fully leveling with me about what you truly are.”
He nodded, pushed his plate aside. “All right. Then I’ll tell you something else. I want to get to London.”
“London?”
“Yes indeedy.” His face was as serene as if he’d asked her to pass the ketchup.
“I told you already. London is gone. It sank long ago. It doesn’t exist.”
“There are islands—”
“No. I’ve been that way. I’ve taken the motor roads to Anglia and Mercia. I’ve been as far as the estuary, where the Thames opens into the lagoon. There’s nothing there, just some massive ruins sticking out of the water. Also seabirds and whirlpools and storms and bloody great fish that’ll chomp your boat in half for breakfast. It’s not a great spot. Some would even say it’s the arse end of England. Why would you want to get out there?”
“Because there’s a community on those islands,” Albert said. “It’s a place where someone like me might go. It’s not part of Wessex, or, or—was it Anglia, you said?”
“Anglia, Mercia…But, Albert, this is nonsense. There’s no community out there. Just ruins and a few mad fishermen in huts around the lagoon. Where did you hear this tosh?”
“The Free Isles, they’re called. They don’t have any restrictions on who you are or what you can do. They welcome people who are…different. Different in whatever way. They’re not like the towns. Not like Stonemoor.” His expression became wistful. “I’d be safe. I’d be far away….”
The Outlaws Scarlett and Browne Page 12
