Shadow Apprentice

Chapter 3

Rare beams of sunlight broke through the clouds and bathed the buildings in a warm golden glow. It would have been beautiful if Ermin and Colin hadn't also been simultaneously lit up, so that they were little more than moving targets. They ran past yards where rows of moon cabbages grew at the bases of ancient dung heaps. Sweet smoke from resinous rock ember combined with the reek of rotting vegetables from numerous cellars. Loud shouts erupted from the doors of a tavern as patrons staggered out, some with their arms draped around brightly dressed street walkers. No matter how far Ermin and Colin ran or which way they turned, the trilling cries pursued them.

Sweaty and out of breath, they stopped to rest against one of the original log cabins built by the settlement's first immigrants. Ermin was a fair runner, but even she couldn't keep up the pace. "They're tracking us from the rooftops."

Not only that, but their escape had led them to the refuse fields behind St. Andrew's market, where grocers dumped the old or spoiled leavings from their shops. They'd come to the very heart of Wharf Rat territory, where Rory Smythe, their rat-faced leader, ruled with an iron-tipped cudgel. "They're herding us."

"Are they?" The tips of Colin's fingers flared red.

He didn't even need to chant the conjurement out loud. He disappeared, winking out of existence as if he'd never been. It was a disorienting experience for Ermin to look down and find herself invisible, with no physical limbs to anchor her in space. It was hard to tell whether she was standing or floating. How could she move without any legs? Not until hoarse whispers crept down the walls, and several pairs of Rat boots thudded down, did Ermin discover that her invisible legs worked just fine. She slipped past the four Rats who'd fanned out to search the street. She passed right under the dark silhouette of a fifth Rat who watched from the roof. Not one of them noticed her.

It wasn't until she reached the end of the alley that she even dared to whisper. "Colin?"

A spoiled squash rolled across the road, bowled by an invisible hand. It hit the signpost for Ink Street and burst open, its bright orange guts splattering everywhere. Ermin felt her invisible lips curve into a smile. Rustman's shop was located in Ink Street. She set off at a run toward whatever trouble lay ahead.

***

Ink Street was a riot of paper. Discarded flyers swirled through the air. They stuck to Ermin's legs as she and Colin morphed from smoky outlines in just a few steps. Colin must have used a timed conjurement. Only when Ermin stood beneath a wooden sign engraved with the rust-colored image of a pincer printing press did she bend down to peel the wet sheets away, relieved at the sight of her own hands. She didn't know what she'd do if she ever lost them.

Sunday, December 13, 1829

Come one, come all to the Magistrates' Ball!

7 p.m. at Frank's Hotel on Lake Street

Ermin flung the flyer away in disgust. Who were they kidding? Only those who could pay the hefty entrance fee to the ball were welcome, and you had to be able to afford all those fancy clothes besides.

Colin appeared at her side, his hands brushing away the clinging sheets. "Do we go in?"

Despite the rain and cold, the door to Rustman's Print Shop stood open. The wrongness of it shivered across Ermin's skin like a frosty gust. "We'd best take a look around outside first."

She strolled past the shop's windows. Each mullioned pane had been rubbed with thick streaks of soap to obscure the interior of the shop from curious passersby, especially any stray news hawkers looking to make a quick penny. Old Rustman didn't want anyone stealing his stories before he had a chance to release them. Cobwebs had hardened in the corners of the windows like blackened strands of spun sugar. Ermin circled back, checking for any Magistrates who might be patrolling the area. That she didn't see any didn't mean that Georgie was in the clear. Her boot slipped on a card lying underfoot: a black card with a white lightning bolt. She jumped back as if the bolt had struck her.