‘You must come with us,’ Cara said at once.
Sea-gypsies had been badly stigmatised over the years for thieving, double-crossing and casting spells over people — a reputation the facts suggested they did not deserve. But Lex had known that mention of an unwarranted accusation would strike a chord with Cara and might get him passage on board her family’s ship.
‘When do you leave?’ Lex asked. ‘They’re looking for me. I must get out of the Wither City as soon as I can.’
‘In the morning,’ Cara said. ‘But you can stay in one of the wagons until then if you want. They’ll be empty now because everyone else is out on the stalls.’
She took a key from one of the pockets on her dress and handed it to him.
‘Are you sure it’s all right?’ Lex asked. ‘Your family won’t mind me coming along? I can pay my way.’
‘You’re more than welcome, Lex.’ She shook her head and added, ‘You, the Shadowman! Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything more ridiculous in my life! Everyone knows what a hard-working, upstanding citizen you are. I mean you don’t even drink or smoke or anything.’
Lex nodded and looked pathetic. ‘I’ll go back to the wagon later. I have some things I need to get in the market first.’
CHAPTER THREE
It was straight to the seedy, less respectable area of the markets that Lex went, away from all the gimmicky, tourist stalls. This was for several reasons, one of which being that the more dangerous and unique goods could be found at that end. But mostly it was for pragmatic purposes because Lex needed buyers who were not going to ask any inconvenient questions about where exactly his goods had come from. He had plenty of money tucked away in his money belt with which he could have made his purchases but he didn’t want to tap into that if he could help it. The belt was his nest egg, his backup — light, easy to carry, easy to grab in a hurry and easy to run with if necessary. The goods he carried, on the other hand, were heavy, bulky and likely to slow him down. Besides which, a bulging bag would make him a target for thieves. He needed to lighten the load a little whilst he still could and the markets were the perfect place in which to do it.
There is always a dark area of any town and it was the same with the midnight markets all over the Globe. There was the bright, bustling part next to the docks, filled with merchants and sailors and tourists and honest men. And then there was the dark area on the outskirts frequented by enchanters and criminals. Decent people stayed away from these stalls, not wanting to know what things were being traded in the squalid dimness or what whispered words were pouring poison into ears and minds.
Lex was not afraid to move among such company. In the clothes of a mere cabin boy, no one was likely to pay him much attention anyway. From the look of him he certainly had nothing to steal. He always had his mouth, which had never let him down yet. And of course, Lady Luck was on his side. She always had been, really, even before he joined her church. It was just that, as an honest farm boy, Lex had not had the opportunity to discover his talents for fast-talking, quick-dealing and pick- pocketing before he left home two years ago. He had always had the capacity for it — always been ambitious with a strong craving for adventure and a disgruntled discontentment with his mediocre life on the farm. He’d known that he was destined for something more.
It had all started when, one fateful day just a week after running away, he had gone to one of the Games to bet his last penny out of sheer desperation. He’d never been to a Game before because his grandfather did not think they were suitable for children — what with the fact that at least one player usually came to a sticky end or lost a hand or a foot or some other limb before the Game was over. After all, it was a Game of the Gods so it was bound to be dangerous. But Lex found it all thoroughly exhilarating. He loved the huge circular stadium with the bustling noise and the activity of hundreds of spectators placing bets before taking their seats to watch the next round being broadcast in the gigantic crystal ball in the centre. The Box of the Gods, suspended high above it all and commanding the best view, was where deities could lounge about eating grapes and watching the Game.
There were always three Gods who each had one human player who would be put through three dangerous, exciting rounds. The winning God would experience an increase in popularity — oftentimes gaining a few more followers from other churches. For, once you made an oath of allegiance to a God, that oath was not for life and you were free to pick another God whenever you liked. The Gods were flexible and realistic about such things. As for the winning human… they got glory, fame, adoration… everything they’d ever wanted in fact. The only problem was that this only tended to last for a few minutes before everything more or less went back to normal. They’d sign a few autographs, pose for a few pictures. And then everyone would forget them. For the Games simply occurred too frequently for everyone who played in them to be some sort of superstar.
Lex handed over his penultimate penny to get admittance to the stadium — although it was standing room only by that time, which was just as well for Lex could not have afforded a seat anyway. The Game that day was between Haarii, God of Abundance, Jessope, Goddess of Fertility, and Manneron, God of Hunting. Each Game consisted of three rounds that each lasted for an hour or two, spread across a period of about three weeks. This Game was only just beginning and people had gathered that day to watch the first round. As Lex walked through he stopped to look at the souvenir carts selling t-shirts, lollies and lunch boxes, each emblazoned with the face of one of the competing Gods. There were flags for the kids too, Lex noticed, for — despite his grandfather’s feelings on the matter — there were quite a lot of children in the audience.
Lex bet his last penny on Haarii. As it happened, Jessope won that round and Lex lost the bet, but he strolled out of the stadium with three fat wallets in his pocket. He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d turned up fully expecting just to stand there and watch the Game with everyone else. But then he’d noticed a wallet sticking out of the pocket of the man in the top hat in front of him. Really it would have been stupid not to take it. It slid out as though it had been greased and soon it was buried away in Lex’s coat. And that was when he first discovered that he had light fingers.
With the money he stole on that first occasion he went straight out and purchased a set of fine clothes for himself. He had noticed a few people shoot him suspicious looks that first time in the stadium because he looked exactly like what he was — a farm boy and a poor, dirty, hungry, desperate one at that. So he bought himself a ridiculous-looking waistcoat and top hat and gloves and a shiny black stick with a golden knob at the end. Dressed like that no one would imagine for a moment that he was really a pickpocket in disguise. They wouldn’t be on guard around him and — if someone were to discover that their wallet had gone and raise the alarm (as, in fact, happened on more than one occasion) — then Lex could simply stroll out of the stadium, twirling his stick between his gloved fingers without any worry that the guards would try to stop him.
But, of course, there was more to it than clothes. There was another week to go before the second round so Lex bought himself a mirror and then rented a small, basic room in a local inn where he spent hours practising various different facial expressions ranging from haughty to superior to smug to self-righteous — basically any expression that a young toff might wear depending on how he was feeling. After only a few days he had it down pat. He was quite delighted to discover that he was a born natural at this sort of thing and he didn’t even have a mentor telling him what to do and showing him the ropes. Lex did not fall in with a bad crowd who were a corrupting influence on him — seducing him to the dark side. Nor did a more experienced criminal take him under his wing and teach him all he knew. Rather it all came from within himself as if the predisposition had been there all along just waiting to come out. He instinctively knew what to do and he was good at it.