Lex also practised the posh accent to go with the clothes, which came in very handy when he went back to the stadium a week later for the second round, and a lah-didah lady in a ridiculous hat towering with waxed fruit turned round to catch Lex with his hand practically in her handbag.
‘Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?’ she demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. If he’d been scruffily dressed she would have been shrieking accusations of theft at him already but his posh clothes and the way he held his chin so haughtily high threw her temporarily.
‘Oh ai say, ai’m most dreadfully sorry but ai fear you have just been robbed by some miscreant,’ Lex said, adapting a nasal drawl as he discreetly slipped her purse into his pocket. He gazed round until he found what he was looking for — a young, scruffy-looking boy with big, helpless eyes and wearing dirty clothes who was apparently there on his own — probably from the local orphanage — looking rather like a lost puppy and just a few aisles away from them. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. ‘Yaas, it was him over thereyah.’ Lex pointed with his gloved hand. ‘Ai just saw him with his hand in your bag and thought ai’d better do mey duty and come and inform you at once, you know-’
The frightening woman with the obscene hat was already storming towards the unfortunate young boy before Lex had even finished his sentence. Deeming it wise not to linger in case her suspicions should return to him once she discovered that the scruffy boy did not have her wallet after all, Lex slipped out of the stadium, sniggering to himself in satisfaction at his effortless escape from what could have been a most unpleasant situation. He was utterly gifted, there was no doubt at all about that. And to think how much time he had wasted embroiled in the toils of honest work… Slaving away on his grandfather’s farm like a sucker! His older, wiser, more experienced self practically shuddered at the recollection.
The third and final round of the Game was on a week after the second. The gaps between the Games varied but they tended to be at least a week apart for the simple reason that each round took place in a different location and the players needed time to get there. Besides which, the delay gave the spectators time to book days off work, obtain babysitters and so on, so that they could attend the stadiums.
Lex went to every round of that first Game, as well as the Winner’s Ceremony where the winning human was given a cup and some prize money before being able to escape gratefully home. By the time it was over, Lex had accumulated quite a respectable amount of cash and fine, leather-lined wallets. Then the stadium was empty during the day but Lex was bored with pickpocketing by that time anyway. It kept him in money well enough but it wasn’t exciting. He wanted an element of human interaction. Something to make it fun. Something to make him feel exhilarated and alive. Something to make it dangerous and risky. So he moved on to the next town, found another inn to stay at and started devising scams. They required careful planning and preparation but they were glorious fun and Lex enjoyed himself immensely, even when he was caught out and had to flee with what he had on him. Perhaps even especially then…
Lex walked through the midnight market and approached a few stalls until he found people who were looking to buy as well as sell. Over the next hour he purchased all the provisions he would need and sold some of the antiques and works of art he had stolen, insisting on a fair price and payment in mirror-gold rather than Withian dollars. M-gold was a universal currency that could be used anywhere on the Globe and Lex wasn’t sure how far he would have to go before he would find a town that would suit him. He was careful never to sell more than one or two pieces at each stall before moving on as he didn’t want anyone to see just how much wealth he was carrying in the grubby pack on his back.
Most of the traders in the dark part of the market carefully kept themselves to themselves but there were some who were decidedly pushy. The magical people, for instance, were, by nature, predators, moving among their non-magical prey. Which wasn’t to say that the entire magical population on the Globe was evil. But those frequenting this kind of place had to be at least a little unsavoury and Lex would have done well to stay away from them. But the enchanters fascinated him.
They were very tall men and they always seemed to be old. Lex had often wondered where all the young enchanters were. Was there even such a thing? For all the ones Lex had seen had been very tall, silver haired with long silver beards and bushy eyebrows. Most of them had dark blue robes stitched with silver stars and grand pointed hats although Lex was sure that this was just for effect and to make the magical men seem even taller than they really were. As a conman himself, Lex could recognise showmanship when he saw it.
He was bothered by crones a couple of times but when he protested that he had no money they lost interest pretty fast. But there was one old witch who wouldn’t be dissuaded. She appeared out of nowhere and gripped Lex’s wrist with a gnarled, crooked hand. ‘H’s waiting f ’r us!’ she hissed in Lex’s ear.
‘Pardon?’ Lex asked.
The crone gestured over her shoulder to the black velvet tent that stood sullenly behind her. It was so cloaked in shadows that Lex hadn’t noticed it.
‘He ’as great magics in there. We will sell them to you.’
‘No, thank you,’ Lex said politely, tugging at his wrist. ‘I don’t need any magics at the moment.’
It was well known that magical people very rarely allowed anything of real supernatural significance to fall into the hands of laypeople. Giving such powers to the unskilled was the last thing they wanted and was frowned on by the magical community. But it did happen on occasion and Lex was always on the lookout for such an opportunity. Enchanters were dangerous people. What greater thrill could there be than to steal something from one of them? But tonight was not the night for such recklessness. Lex was on the run and there was enough danger already.
Crones served the enchanters and didn’t tend to be dangerous in themselves but, if she did become violent, Lex was sure he would be able to knock her over and run for it. In the markets they were sent out to find customers and bring them back to the stall or tent at which their master was waiting. A lot of traders in the dark area had tents rather than stalls in order that business could be conducted more privately. Crones had some magical powers of their own but they tended to be unbalanced or, at the very least, dim-witted, with child-like minds that made them virtually powerless without the protection of an enchanter.
The crone barely came up to Lex’s shoulder and walked with the aid of two sticks. Various drably-coloured shawls were draped around her hunched form and the tiniest movement made her jingle softly with the many charms and amulets that hung about her. She was a crooked old woman, from the hunch of her back to the uneven lengths of her knobbly fingers.
‘Maybe some other time,’ Lex said, making another attempt to free his wrist from her surprisingly tight grip.
At that point, the crone started to get agitated; her voice rose and took on a cackle-like edge and she dropped her walking sticks to grip Lex’s collar and pull his head down closer to her level.
‘He knows! He watches everyone! You must come with me, little boy-’
‘Hey, I’m not a little boy, all right? I’m seventeen! I’m just small for my age, that’s all.’
‘Come. Come with me,’ the old witch insisted, still tugging doggedly at his collar.