“An important man,” I said, my fingers pinching his collar. I let my nails trail along the skin of his throat, watched his eyes glaze in satisfaction. “I suppose you translate, as well?”
He scoffed indelicately, slipped sideways from his stool, and caught himself. “In many languages, since you asked!”
“Really? How about Verian Script?”
Here, Frederick faltered. He gaped like a fish. “What?”
“Verian Script,” I said slowly. “Do you know it?”
He frowned, “Well… no one does, my dear. It’s not much needed, you see. Quite archaic.”
I kept myself from visibly deflating, hoping he was wrong.
Perhaps Frederick sensed my disappointment, felt me slipping from his fingers.
“I do knowoneperson,” he said. “Though I shouldn’t speak of it—”
“A friend of yours?” I asked, my interest reigniting.
“No—I mean, yes. That is, my friend is no longer a colleague. Quite an interesting scandal, in fact. But I’m not sure I should be talking about—”
“You are a well-connected man, then.” My hand settled gently on his knee, and he looked down at it, as though unsure of when it had arrived there. “What I wouldn’t give for an introduction. I’m so curious about you Scribblers and your work.”
Frederick seemed entranced. He stood and stuck out a wavering hand. “Then you’re in luck. Let me fulfill your dreams.” He led me then into the red-tinged gloom.
I knew Theo followed. I could feel him trailing close behind, teeth on edge, most likely.
Frederick wove me around the high-top tables, down the red carpeted steps, and around the banisters. He became waylaid by a change of song and asked me to dance. I declined.
“Your friend?” I reminded him gently, smiling. “The one you mentioned, the translator.”
He tapped my thigh with one finger, a reminder of payment. “And then to our other plans?”
I hid my revulsion with another smile and a nod.
By an exit, where white-clad servers trafficked silver platters back and forth, clustered several round card tables. Each seat was occupied by a player,spectators hovering by their shoulders. The dealers were Crafters, performing deft tricks for spare shillings in between hands.
Frederick pulled me between tables, his eyebrows lifting in an attempt of seduction. “I’d wager you’ve never seen anything like this.”
I had, actually. But there were fewer brass buttons in the brink, more lager, less money per wager.
At the farthest table in a dark corner, the patrons clustered in a state of rapture, the dealer slinging cards to five faceless players, their heads bent.
“There,” Frederick nodded. “At the end.”
He could’ve been referring to any of those five players—the gray mustached man, flipping farthings clumsily in his palm, the two top-hatted gentlemen with pinched mouths, the man who seemed, the longer I looked, to be asleep, his chin resting on his chest, or the woman who splayed her cards in her hand and looked about the group with a sobriety none of them could match.
But I knew which one Frederick would take me to immediately, and so did Theo.
He was there at my shoulder, his eyes pinned where mine were and narrowing by the second.
“Introduce me,” I said to Frederick, and it was an effort to keep from spitting it.
But Frederick suddenly turned pink, contrite. Panic dawned. “Er… well, there was a scandal, you see? I shouldn’t be seen—”
“Youarefriends, aren’t you?” I said through my teeth. “Am I not allowed to meet a friend of yours?”
“Well, we’re not exactly friends in thetraditionalsense—”
