A Conspiracy of Ravens (17 page)

After what seemed like an eternity, Dylan pulled up in front of a house Serafina recognized.

“This is where Lorenzo and Gyp live,” she said.

“That’s right. Come on in.”

“You think they’re having a service?”

“Not likely this time of the morning.” The two had attended a service in this house, which had surprised her, for both Lorenzo and Gyp were reformed criminals. They had become active and very vocal Christians, Lorenzo at least. Gyp was a silent man who said little but beat on his tambourine fiercely during moments of excitement in the services.

Even before Dylan could knock on the door, it opened, and the bulky form of Lorenzo Pike stood before them. He was a huge, burly man with florid, blunt features. His merry blue eyes almost disappeared when he smiled, as he did now. He threw his arms around Dylan, hugging him until Dylan felt his backbone give. Lorenzo exclaimed in his usual fashion, “Well, hallelujah and glory be to God and the Lamb forever! My friend Brother Dylan and—and you, Sister Trent.”

“It’s us all right.” Dylan grinned. “Where’s Gyp?”

“He’s inside fixing breakfast. Come in, and we’ll have it together.”

“Well, we don’t want to impose.”

“How can one fellow believe we can impose on one another? You ought to have better theology than that, Brother Dylan. Come in now.”

They stepped inside, and the ceiling was so low that Lorenzo had to duck. The smell of fresh-cooked meat was in the air, and Gyp turned to smile at them.

“A pair of pilgrims looking for a bite to eat, my brother.”

“Hello, Dylan, and you, Lady Trent.” Gyp was a lean, dark-complected man, actually a gypsy. His real name was Yago, but everyone simply called him Gyp. He had a gold ring in his right ear, and his teeth were white as he smiled at them. “Sit yourselves down there, and you can start blessing the food, Lorenzo, while I finish cooking it.” He laughed aloud, his dark eyes laughing too. “I always give Lorenzo a head start on the blessings, they’re so long.”

Indeed, Lorenzo did pray a rather long blessing, but the breakfast was worth waiting for. It consisted of porridge, bacon, deviled kidneys and sausage, plus a mountain of hot, buttered toast and cups of steaming tea. Serafina ate hungrily and praised the food. “You are a fine cook, Gyp. Come and work for me.”

“Can’t do that, ma’am.” Gyp flashed a gleaming smile at her. “Lorenzo would starve to death without me.”

As they drank tea, Serafina listened to Dylan explain their mission. She could not help but see, even in clothes that were far gone, he still had a certain elegance about him. She was always somewhat shocked at how black and glossy his hair was, how his eyes were large and well-shaped, and his lips full and mobile.

“So,” Lorenzo said, “you want to find a chap named Durkins.”

“It’s very important. We don’t have much of a lead, but we’ll pay handsomely if you’ll join in the search.”

“Yes,” Serafina said, leaning forward, “and five sovereigns if you find him.”

“What about this woman, Meg Anderson?”

“Well, as I mentioned,” Dylan said, “she died in prison. All we know about her is that she had a son eighteen years ago, and she lived for a time with this man Durkins. I don’t know his first name, but we heard that he was in Seven Dials. Put the word out, will you, fellows? With a nice reward for those who come up with the man.”

After the two agreed, Serafina left with Dylan. “Where to next?” she asked.

“Going to the Montevado family. You remember them?”

“Yes, I do. You and I last visited them after the trial. The mother was still very sick.”

“She’s doing much better now. The medical care and the medicine you paid for, Lady Trent, worked miracles.”

“They’re beautiful children.”

“Yes, they are. I worry about them sometimes. It’s hard for a young girl and a young boy to grow up in a place like this.”

They said little as Dylan wound his way through the labyrinthine streets, and finally they arrived at the shack that housed the Montevado family. Dylan leapt out, helped Serafina to the ground, and then the two approached the door.

“It’s you!” The speaker was a young girl just at the point of becoming a woman. Callie Montevado’s father had been Spanish; her mother was English. She had an olive complexion and striking eyes, almond-shaped with long lashes, the colour of lapis lazuli, a rich azure blue. She had the beginnings of a womanly figure and had already begun to carry a knife to fight off any men who would abuse her.

“How are you, Callie?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Wot you two doin’ ’ere?”

“We need to talk to you and Paco.”

“Mama ain’t ’ere, but Paco is. Come on in.”

The two entered, and once again Serafina was shocked at the poverty the room revealed. Accustomed to the finest furniture and spacious rooms, she thought their place resembled the den of an animal.

Paco came running in from outside, and Dylan reached out and rubbed his head. “Hey, Paco, how are you, young man?”

“Did you bring anything to eat?”

“No, I thought we’d give you some money to let you and Callie go buy your own eats. All right?” He held out a florin, which Paco took at once. “All right!” he said, his black hair falling into his brown eyes. His dark complexion gave him a handsome appearance.

“We have a job for you.” Serafina smiled at the two.

“Wot kind of a job?” Callie asked at once. “Does we get paid?”

“Yes, you get paid,” Serafina said. She explained that they were looking for a man named Durkins, and a young man who would be about eighteen.

“Wot’s ’e look like?” Callie demanded.

“We don’t know about the young man, but there couldn’t be too many men called Durkins in Seven Dials. And if you find him, we can find the young man. Here, here’s a down payment. I believe you two are the best detectives in London.” Dylan smiled.

“We’ll find ’im,” Paco said. “We’ll ask everybody.”

“That’s the idea!”

“’ow do we find you?” Callie demanded. “Where do you live now?”

Dylan said, “I’m staying with a policeman.”

“I don’t want no coppers,” Callie said instantly.

“Yes, you do. He’s a very nice man. His name is Matthew Grant.” He told her how to get to Grant’s place. “Leave word with the landlady if you find out anything. We’ll check with you from time to time. Come now, Serafina, we have to go.”

“Good-bye, Callie. Good-bye, Paco,” Serafina said. The two left, and Serafina was quiet for a time as they drove away.

“What are you thinking about? You’re so quiet.”

“Am I a noisy woman, then?”

“No, not actually, but something’s troubling you.”

Serafina looked down at her hands. She had taken off the expensive rings she wore, and she had been thinking of how the worth of one ring could have worked miracles with the Montevado family. “It’s so sad seeing the poor boy and girl like that.”

“They’re better off than some. You see the Street Arabs everywhere. They’re the ones I feel sorry for.”

“Street Arabs? What are they?”

“Just young boys and girls, most of them with no parents, wandering and stealing to live. Get caught sooner or later and wind up in prison. Either that or they have to go to the workhouse.”

“I wish I could do something for them.”

“Why, you can. You have, for those two and their mother. You’ve made good friends out of them, and we’ll keep our eye on them.”

For three days the pair donned their old clothes and searched the district. They checked every day with Gyp and Lorenzo and also with Paco and Callie. As they were walking along the street, Serafina stood back while Dylan questioned one of the costermongers who sold his wares from a small wagon. She suddenly felt a hand run over her back and startled; she turned and saw a man grinning at her.

“’Ow about it, sweetheart, me and you? We go ’ave a little fun, right?”

“Take your hands off me!” Serafina said, her eyes flashing.

“Oh, ain’t we ’oity-toity now! What makes you so special?” The speaker was a short man with gaps in his teeth. Those that were not gone were yellow, and his eyes were rheumy. He smelled strongly of alcohol.

“Go away and leave me alone.”

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, cursing. “Come on, girlie.” He grabbed her arm, but he quickly found himself lifted in the air. Dylan had come up behind him, grabbed him by the upper arms, and simply picked him up. He set him down so hard that the man’s remaining teeth jolted.

Dylan said calmly, “Okay, on your way. You’re not wanted here.”

When the man scurried away, Dylan turned and saw that Serafina was staring at him. He took her arm and said, “Come on. We’ll check again with Callie and Paco. Maybe they found out something.”

“That man put his hands on me!”

“That’s the way it goes here in Seven Dials. Don’t ever come here alone, Serafina.”

The two made their way to the Montevado home, and Callie and Paco were waiting for them. “We’ve been waitin’ fer ya,” Callie said, her eyes bright. “We done found ’im—Durkins! That’s the one you wants, innit?”

“Where is he?”

“We’ll show you.”

The two followed them out, and they all squeezed into the carriage. Paco asked, “Can I drive?”

“Sure you can.” Dylan was holding Paco in his lap and let the boy hold the reins. “Tell them to get up.”

“Get up!” Paco yelled, and Serafina said, “Dylan, that horse might run off.”

“He’s got all the runaway beat out of him. He’s just barely got energy enough to walk.”

Callie directed them. When the streets narrowed, Dylan had to navigate the carriage carefully through the clusters of people buying, selling, and begging. The cobbled streets were often marked by open gutters filled with the night’s waste. The jettied houses leaned far out over the streets, some so close at the top as to block out the daylight. The wood was pitted where sections were rotten and had fallen away, and the plaster was dark with stains of old leakage and rising dampness from the stones. People stood in doorways, dark forms huddled together, faces catching the light now and then. An old man lay flat on his back, his mouth open, perhaps dead. A prostitute looked up at Dylan, her skin pasty and her hair lusterless and full of knots. She was drunk, for she sat down abruptly in the middle of the street, muttering curses. When they finally arrived at a back street, they entered an alley and found a pair of rickety steps.

“This is it,” Callie said. “’e’s up there.”

“How’d you find him?” Dylan asked.

“We asked everybody,” Paco said, his eyes shining. “’E’s there all right. When do we get the reward?”

“Here. We’ll give you an advance right now,” Serafina said. She had a deep pocket in the dress, and reaching in, she pulled out two golden coins and handed them to him. “There. You be careful now. Don’t let anyone see this or they might take it away from you.”

“Not likely,” Callie said. She pulled the knife from where she kept it hidden and said, “I’d cut ’is bloody throat if ’e tried to steal our sovereigns!”

“That’s a good idea, Callie. You hang on to it. Come along, Lady Trent. You two wait here and yell loudly if you need me,” Dylan said. He got out, helped Serafina down, and the two walked up the rickety steps and knocked on the door. A faint voice said, “Wot do yer want?”

“Looking for Durkins,” Dylan called out.

“Well, ’e ain’t ’ere.”

Dylan ignored this and shoved the door open. He stepped inside and waited for Serafina to follow him. She had almost ceased to be shocked at immense poverty, but this was worse than anything she had seen. A man lay in a bed with several empty bottles surrounding him on the floor. He was obviously ill, for his cheeks had bright red patches, and his eyes were bright with fever. “Wot do you want with me? You a rozzer?”

“No, we’ve come to do you a big favor, Durkins.”

“Now that ain’t bloody likely.”

“I’m going to give you some money if you help us.”

“I can’t ’elp nobody.”

“You remember Meg?”

Durkins stared at him with sudden interest. “’Course I remembers Meg. What about ’er?”

“We’re trying to find her son.”

“Roland? Wot’s ’e done now? That’s a bold one, ’e is. Wot yer wants wif ’im? ’E do you a bad turn?”