“Pooh! What is that smell?”
“Don’t look at me!”
Blaize and Scarlett exchange glares. They’re in the canteen as lunchtime draws to a close. Forbidden from returning to the streets to earn a living, most crew members have cleared away their plates to practise acts of magic and illusion. A boy in a beanie hat makes a salt shaker vanish into his napkin, while the girl beside him holds a spoon between her thumb and forefinger, and appears to turn the section she’s pinching into something more like rubber. The spoon simply droops like a Mexican moustache. Unlike the girl’s mouth, which lifts into a winning smile. It’s a neat trick, as everyone on her table agrees, but now is not the time to turn street magic into money. With so many zoo animals still at large around the capital, the order remains for everyone to stay underground unless specifically instructed by the boss.
Julius Grimaldi sits alone, lost in thought. There he is in on the bench at the back. He’s hunched over a bowl of Won Ton Soup, as cooked by Billy No-Beard, and the tip of his beard is close to soaking in it. He stirs the broth with his spoon, scooping up some on occasion and then tipping it back in. Even when Livia picks up on the offensive smell, and accuses Mikhail, he doesn’t once look across at them.
“That’s right, blame me!” says the young Russian with the red spiky hair. “Just because I’m a boy, I still have good table manners.” He dabs at his mouth with a napkin, and then balls it into his empty plate. “It does stink, though,” he adds, and leans across the table so the girls can hear him whispering. “Chances are it’s coming from the galley kitchen. You know what Billy’s cooking can be like.”
“Oi!” snaps a voice from behind the serving hatch. “I heard that!”
Blaize is the first to remark upon the fact that the pungent smell is growing stronger. It’s her sister who is first to link it to the boy who steps in from the gangway.
“Yoshi, that is some personal hygiene problem!” Scarlett crinkles up her nose. “Where have you been to stink so bad?”
Yoshi shrugs and makes his way towards the serving hatch. At once, Billy No-Beard appears behind the counter, and shows his palm.
“The lunch hour is over, my friend. We finish serving at one o’clock. You’ve been here long enough to know that.” He stops there, bemused all of a sudden. “Why are your clothes dripping wet?”
Yoshi looks around the room, aware of all the eyes fixed on him. Even Julius has set his spoon down, and awaits some kind of explanation.
“I just popped out to stretch my legs,” he says feebly, “and ended up taking a short dip. Is it really too late to eat?”
“Rules are rules.” Billy reaches up to close the steel shutter. “But it’s never too early to take a bath.”
With the show over, the crew return to their magic tricks and chatter. Only Julius continues to focus on Yoshi, who stands there in a daze, it seems, until the old man beckons him over.
“You look washed out in more ways than one, dear boy.” Julius shifts his soup bowl to one side, and leans forward to meet Yoshi eye to eye. “Knowing you as I do,” he continues, “this means you’ve experienced another remote viewing. I’m no psychic, but I’ve seen how drained it can leave you.”
Yoshi can’t deny it. He toys with the unused paper napkin in front of him, and begins to shred it as he turns it in his hands. “They’re becoming more frequent,” is all he says.
“That’s because you’re approaching the peak of your powers. Aleister’s programme may have been a source of misery for kids like you, but he was right to believe that adolescence marks the moment when a psychic really comes alive. Like a candle, you burn brightly. By the time you reach your late teens, you’ll find it begins to fade considerably.”
“Which will be a relief, quite frankly.”
“So, what did you see?” asks Julius, ignoring the boy’s note of frustration. The question sharpens Yoshi’s attention. The boy sees him waiting patiently for an answer, and turns his eyes to the table. “Oh, nothing,” he says. “It wasn’t important.”
In response, Julius narrows his gaze. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Yoshi knows full well that Julius has Aleister in mind. Ever since the brute holed up within a lair that contained a critical waypoint in the Faerie Ring, the old man had become obsessed with his fate. Now Yoshi knew for sure what that was, but something stopped him from sharing the news. Julius Grimaldi had provided him with shelter in his time of need. He’d encouraged him to join the band of street magicians housed in this former military bunker, and assisted in helping him to rescue Livia and the twins from the Foundation. And yet, despite all this, Yoshi found himself growing more suspicious of Julius by the day. It was his pledge to unlock the Faerie Ring that lay at the heart of his concern. Aleister may have been just as driven to unlock it, and yet the old man had begun to display a seriously ruthless streak. It didn’t prove anything, of course, but it was enough to stop Yoshi from confirming what Julius was so desperate to know.
“I . . . I can’t be sure.”
Yoshi is lost for words, searching as he is for a way to dodge the question, but already Julius has reached for the boy’s hands. He squeezes them tight.
“You’re lying to me,” he says calmly. “I can feel it.”
The pressure is too much for Yoshi. He pulls away from the old man, facing him down now as he rises to his feet.
“What I saw was meant for my eyes only!” he snaps, but then seems to stop himself from furthering the conflict. Aware that he is the centre of attention once again, he flushes angrily and returns to his seat. “I’m sorry,” he says to Julius. “I’m just hungry and short-tempered.”
Julius sits back in his seat, and peels off his half-moon spectacles. “It’s me who should apologise. It’s just we’re so close to firing up the Faerie Ring, and yet so far away. Only you can help me now, Yoshi. You’re the only one who can deliver Jenks back to the lair.” He stops there, and polishes his lenses with his napkin. “Maybe you’ll change your mind with some food in your belly. If Billy won’t bend the rules, might I recommend you seek out Mae Lin. Chances are you’ll find her in the kitchen behind her Dim Sum store.”
“But there’s a curfew in place,” Yoshi says to remind him. “You ordered it yourself.”
“Well, you’ve already broken it once, dear boy. By rights I should be grounding you, but it seems you can handle yourself better than most. Now go grab a shower, hang your coat up to dry, and then get yourself something to eat.” Yoshi smiles faintly, and pushes back his chair to leave. “I’ll be careful,” the sure-footed young jump runner assures him. “I always am.”