Page 18 of The Trick of It

He wanted to argue.

But she was right.

For a time, they walked in silence, shivering against the autumn winds as fog started to build near the shore. It was always colder the closer you got to the water. Her shop basically abutted the sea, so at least it was getting warmer as they got farther away from it.

There was a joke in that, but Rhys needed time to refine it before he spoke it aloud.

“Oh, Rhys, what’d you do to the seal?” she exclaimed suddenly, startling him up to look at her, where she was frowning down at the envelope.

Damn it.

“What do you mean?” he attempted, getting a cut of her eyes and a purse of her lips. He stifled the urge to giggle. He pivoted. “Must’ve stood too close to the kettle steam while it was in my pocket.”

“Rhys, it has your thumbprint in it,” she said, flipping the envelope around so he could see. “I know you tried to steam it open before you brought it to me. What was on the seal? It looks like … hm, like a person?”

“I’m going to be frank with you,” he said with a sigh. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. A person? Probably the patron saint of illusionists.”

“We don’t have a saint,” she replied, sounding amused despite herself. “Charlatans aren’t particularly beloved by the Vatican.”

“Nonsense,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and crouching into his scarf against a gust of wind. “We’ve got Aaron, don’t we?”

“‘Aaron’?” she repeated. “Who’s that?”

“Brother of Moses,” he said, blinking at her. “Aren’t you a papist?”

“I’m a vagrant,” she told him flatly. “Sunday school was sparse, to say the least. ‘Brother of Moses’?”

“Aye,” he said, taking up a bit of craggy branch from the path and holding it up to her. “He turned a stick into a snake to impress the Pharaoh. Water into wine … Or, wait. It might’ve been blood. Water into something red. All sorts of marvels. He was turning ladies’ dresses into bedsheets, I’m certain. He had that sort of charm.”

“Ah,” she said, blinking a few times. “And he is a saint?”

“Not a clue,” Rhys told her, holding up a hand to hop over a row of bricks. “Watch your step here. Old canal fill in.”

She hesitated, frowning, and then bunched her skirt up to mimic his hop, ignoring his offered hand. “You’d think the city would have cleaned that up by now. Surely, someone has a use for the bricks. Maybe I’ll take them.”

“As curiosities?” he asked, his brows shooting up. “It could work. Claim they’re old Roman or Nordic bricks? Oh! Barricade blocks from William’s conquest!”

“No, fool,” she said, laughing aloud, a lovely tinkling sound with not even a hint of mockery. “Just to use as bolsters and weights. But I could see the former working. I do not peddle in fakes, however, unless they are clearly labeled.”

“Why not?” he demanded, kicking down some tall, brittle grass to open up a faster route back onto the road. “Curiosity cabinets are expected to have fakes. It’s part of the appeal.”

“Well, that’s just too bad,” she said, still snickering. “It’s mine and I shall keep it honest.”

“Honesty isn’t the point,” he insisted, with a bit more feeling than he probably should have put into his voice. “People want to be tricked. It’s in our marrow. We enjoy it.”

“I know that,” she said. “Why do you think I sell the magic kits?”

“Because you are evil,” he answered immediately. “And want to spite me.”

She chuckled again, shaking her head as the wind whipped up around them. “Rhys Caradoc,” she said with a sigh. “I know this will shock you, but not everything on this spinning, blue dot is about you.”

“Nonsense,” he answered with a sniff. “It all is. And I enjoy when it tricks me properly.”

Chapter Six

They approached Starling’s Rest from the rear and side.

Seph thought that was appropriate. Rhys Caradoc was always coming at things sideways, wasn’t he?