Page 68 of Hawk & Sparrow

“A few more blocks farther down,” said Vesper. “I didn’t want a fancy coach blowing our cover.” She turned, and for the first time surveyed Maximilian’s full attire. He was wearing plain gray trousers, a white button-down shirt, and a busboy cap. She squinted.

“What?” asked Maximilian.

“What’s on your shirt?”

“Oh.” The sorcerer grinned. “It’s shoe polish. I had Bisan smudge it up for me to look authentic. I told her tonight’s theme was urban distress.”

Vesper rolled her eyes. Leave it to Maximilian Kite to treat a high-stakes infiltration mission the same way he treated a themed luncheon. She gave him a sidelong glance. Reluctant as she was to admit it, the new attire did add a certain roguish quality to his person. It seemed he’d skipped shaving; a dark shadow of stubble dusted his jawline in a way she found almost intriguing. Abruptly, she shook her head, refocusing.

“You ready?”

Maximilian nodded. “Let’s go.”

Pike Lane was empty at this time in the evening, but Vesper couldn’t ignore the feeling she and Maximilian were being watched as they headed down the road. Every few seconds, she glanced at the sorcerer, and the longer they walked, the more uneasy he looked. When several rats darted across the road and he jumped, she stopped and frowned at him.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” said Maximilian with unconvincing levity. “Shalescreek just has slightly more … personality than I’d anticipated.”

Vesper smiled grimly. “This is how the other half lives, rich boy. Welcome.” She knew she really had little room to talk. Her own neighborhood had been solidly working class, but it had been nowhere near as desolate as this. Everywhere she looked, Pike Lane’s gutters were clogged with detritus and waste; the windows of most of its buildings were blackened with soot. She glanced to her right, and noticed a harried-looking woman in a shabby dress shepherding four small children into one of the tenement buildings. Her heart sank.

“Those units should be condemned.” Maximilian had followed her gaze. “They can’t possibly be safe to live in.”

“They’re not,” said Vesper, unable to keep some of the bitterness from her voice. “Around places like this, some tenement units hold as many as three families. They split the rent.”

Maximilian frowned. “That can’t be legal.”

“It’s all they can afford,” said Vesper. “The landlords don’t care, as long as their money comes in every month.” She nodded down the road. “I think that’s the pub up ahead.”

The building they were approaching was situated on a street corner, crammed in between dilapidated buildings in an uncomfortable way that reminded Vesper of a mouth crowded with too many teeth. Her eyes flicked up to the small sign swinging above its door. Thally’s Pub.

“Not a very subtle group, are they?” asked Maximilian wryly.

“In this part of town, they don’t have to be,” said Vesper.

They approached the pub’s door together. She didn’t bother waiting for him to hold it for her—formalities like that didn’t exist in Shalescreek—so she ducked right inside. At once, she was hit with an overwhelming smell of old beer and cigarettes that made her want to gag.

At this point in the evening, Thally’s Pub was almost full, occupied mostly with working-class men clearly having just finished their shifts. They gathered at round tables playing cards, shooting dice, or talking with their heads bowed. Vesper moved among them carefully until she spotted a small vacant table at the far end of the room and gestured toward it. Once she and Maximilian had taken their seats, he leaned in.

“I thought you said the Rousers ran a market,” he said. “Where is it?”

“We’re in it,” Vesper murmured. “Look around.” She discreetly pointed to two old women a few tables over. They extended their arms and exclaimed as though enjoying a reunion, then hugged each other. When they separated, their hands were clasped together. Vesper caught a glint of gold, the purple of a few bills, before they walked away from each other. She gave Maximilian a meaningful look. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then they were interrupted as a young barmaid appeared at their table.

“Drinks?”

“A white wine if you have it,” said Maximilian with a genteel smile. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a red either.”

The barmaid stared.

“He’ll have a beer,” said Vesper. She smiled brightly. “As for me, I’d like something…” She flashed the brooch. “Sweeter.”

Understanding touched the barmaid’s expression. “Coming right up.”

She turned and headed back to the bar. Once she was gone, Vesper glared at Maximilian.

“Wine?”

Maximilian shrugged. “Call it wishful thinking.”