Page 9 of The Hood and his Thief

Bruce’s gaze darted back and forth from the brown paper packets in Rhosyn’s hands to the shop door, clearly fighting a losing battle between hunger and responsibility.

“I won’t let Mr. Corvey get you in trouble,” Rhosyn assured. “It’ll just be a minute.”

As soon as they were both seated on the stoop, Bruce tore into the offered pasty, biting into it with the ferocity of a rabid dog. Rhosyn set to hers at a more restrained pace, but not by much.

Rhosyn swallowed as Bruce chewed a particularly large mouthful. She used the opportunity to ask, “So I hear there’s a new big gang in town?”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed in suspicion, but Rhosyn just took another bite of her pasty. She used the back of her hand to wipe the flaky bits of pastry from her lips, making a point not to use her better manners.

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t know much.”

“Really?” Rhosyn snorted. “Even I’ve heard about the Foxes. The others at Granny’s must be talking.”

“I don’t know any runners for them or anything, honest.” Bruce talked around a large mouthful of spiced meat. “But some of my friends did just get work with Mr. Barrett. Seems he’s got more to sell these days.”

Rhosyn nodded to herself. Mr. Barrett was a well-known fence in the lower city. If the Foxes were supplying him, then he would be able to give her more intel. He would be a tough nut to crack, as his reputation in the gangs as a safe merchant to sell to kept him in business. Mr. Barrett had given Rhosyn reliable information on a few occasions when the situation was serious. She would just have to convince him that this was one of those situations and assure him nobody would ever find out he turned nose.

“Thanks, Bruce.” Rhosyn rewrapped the remaining half of her pie and handed it to him. He snatched it up eagerly despite not having finished his own yet.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

Rhosyn stood and turned back down the street, pleased with herself even as her heart sunk. It pained her how easy it was to get the children of the lower city talking just by distracting them with the promise of a full belly. She could only hope more Talented children secured a place in a home with regular meals through a sponsorship.

The walk to Mr. Barrett’s shop took her across the lower city, right to the border between the poorest neighborhoods populated by the gangs and the neater but still cramped houses of the middle city. Here, Mr. Barrett could still be easily accessed by his “suppliers” while catering to a slightly wealthier clientele.

The light tinkle of a bell on the door signaled Rhosyn’s entrance, causing Mr. Barrett to look up and instantly scowl at her uniform. Then again, Rhosyn got the feeling that Mr. Barrett scowled at everybody.

“I don’t have time for you to be breathing down my neck today.” He turned his back to her and stomped away to the far end of the counter.

“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” Rhosyn’s tone was easy as she walked further into the shop. She stopped casually before the counter, pausing for a moment as if to peruse the cases filled with the more valuable trinkets.

Mr. Barrett folded his arms, lines around his eyes and mouth deepening. “Ain’t friends with no Royal Police officers.”

It was Rhosyn’s turn to frown. “What are friends if not people who help each other out once in a while?”

Mr. Barrett glanced around his shop as if to make sure they were alone. Only the two of them stood among the shelves of odds and ends.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, tone furtive.

“The Foxes…have you heard anything about them?” Rhosyn leaned over the counter as she spoke, keeping her voice low in case any prying ears paused at the doorway or open windows.

It also gave her the advantage of being able to closely observe Mr. Barrett’s body language—the way his knuckles whitened where they gripped the edge of the counter and the slight irregularity in his breathing as the name of the Foxes left her lips.

“Haven’t heard of them.” Mr. Barrett shrugged. “Are you sure your intel is good?”

Rhsoyn’s eyes narrowed. “Come now, if I’ve heard the whispers of a new gang in town, you must have too.”

Mr. Barrett turned away to fuss with some merchandise, as if he needed to do something with his hands. “Listen, if you want to waste your time investigating a gang that doesn’t exist, then be my guest.”

Rhosyn sighed internally. She had worked with Mr. Barrett enough times to know that he wouldn’t change his mind if it was made up, and badgering him would only make him less inclined to cooperate on her next case.

“Maybe it’s just people telling tales,” she suggested, also turning away. As she did, the thin sunlight flashed on something silver in the glass case below the counter. She hesitated, leaning in to get a closer look.

The sparkle that had caught her attention came from a dramatic hat pin, the ornamental end wrought in the shape of a silver flower with a large green gemstone in the middle. She didn’t spend much time around people who would wear such a decoration, but something about it rung familiar.

“Where’d you get this?”

“You don’t strike me as the type for such a shiny thing,” Mr. Barrett deflected. “Although the green might look good with your hair.”