hands.”
One by one, he held their grubby fingers and let his awareness slide into their minds. He sensed only a jumble of shadowy images and emotions—nothing to help him identify the man who’d released the Foul Jinn. The more confident boy had a tickle of latent power. He would send him to the Shining Brotherhood for training and the other two could pledge to Steptoe. His friend would clean them up and teach them to read and write, then maybe they could find paying work.
“Master Maddox is sick,” Turk said. “The Shining Brotherhood will treat him, but don’t worry, you three will be found a new master. I want you to stay in this room until someone comes for you. Do you understand?” They all nodded.
Turk went back to the main shop and stared down at Maddox, still rigid in his chair, unaware of anything except the fearful nightmares induced by the Foul Jinn. Turk couldn’t sense the pledge stone he’d given to Maddox. That meant the adept who’d released the evil Jinn had probably taken it and would try to extract information from the Earth Jinn in the stone. At least the poor little spirit wouldn’t be able to tell him much.
A small metal box sat on the end of the bakery serving counter. A black stain hung in the air around it and it reeked of evil. Turk fetched the oil lamp and examined the box from all angles. Earth Magic adepts usually had a favorite sigil they used to trap the spirits they raised. Scratched into the top of the tin was a crude but effective symbol for containing a Foul Jinn—a reversed Earth Blessing known by the Brothers as a curse mark.
Turk stepped back from the stink of the box and placed the lantern on the counter. This was the handiwork of a powerful Earth Magic adept. Vittorio was certainly capable of raising a Foul Jinn and using it in this way. All the other evidence pointed to him as well. If Vittorio had learned that Turk had Melba, they were both in serious trouble.
Chapter Eight
’Tis unnatural for grown men to shut themselves away without a woman in sight .
—Master Maddox
Melba lay buried underneath the bedcovers, tears leaking from beneath her closed eyelids. She hadn’t set eyes on Master Turk for two weeks. Whatever she’d done to annoy him must be really bad because he’d even stopped teaching her himself and employed a grumpy old bag called Madam Quatro to teach her dancing and deportment. Melba reached down and rubbed her bruised shins. She hated the new teacher. Every time she made a mistake, the crabby cow thrashed her legs.
She sucked in a jagged breath and pressed her face into the pillow. Master Turk had wanted her to be a girl; now she was a girl, he didn’t like her any more. To top it all she had a gutache so bad she felt like a Foul Jinn was eating her insides. She drew up her knees and pushed her hands between her thighs, gritting her teeth against another clench of pain. Her nightdress clung wetly to her fingers. With a cold shiver of foreboding, she raised her hands. An unmistakable trace of blood smeared her fingers and fear spiked through her. Master Maddox said blood belonged inside a body. Whenever it came out it was bad. She’d rather return to the Earth than tell Master Turk about the blood. But that meant she would have to ask Gwinnie for help.
***
Turk sat at the breakfast table trying to read his newssheet. Thoughts of Melba battered his mind with a storm of doubt and confusion. The shame of Gregorio’s slap to his face still rang in his ears, yet how was he to finish Melba’s training if he followed his master’s command and distanced himself from her? He should have spoken with her sooner and insisted there was no repeat of the frivolity they’d indulged in. Unfortunately, someone had followed him from Maddox’s bakery and he’d had to hide in his emergency bolt-hole.
He’d then spent two weeks spreading false information about his identity to confuse Vittorio. But with every bluejacket in the navy working as
One by one, he held their grubby fingers and let his awareness slide into their minds. He sensed only a jumble of shadowy images and emotions—nothing to help him identify the man who’d released the Foul Jinn. The more confident boy had a tickle of latent power. He would send him to the Shining Brotherhood for training and the other two could pledge to Steptoe. His friend would clean them up and teach them to read and write, then maybe they could find paying work.
“Master Maddox is sick,” Turk said. “The Shining Brotherhood will treat him, but don’t worry, you three will be found a new master. I want you to stay in this room until someone comes for you. Do you understand?” They all nodded.
Turk went back to the main shop and stared down at Maddox, still rigid in his chair, unaware of anything except the fearful nightmares induced by the Foul Jinn. Turk couldn’t sense the pledge stone he’d given to Maddox. That meant the adept who’d released the evil Jinn had probably taken it and would try to extract information from the Earth Jinn in the stone. At least the poor little spirit wouldn’t be able to tell him much.
A small metal box sat on the end of the bakery serving counter. A black stain hung in the air around it and it reeked of evil. Turk fetched the oil lamp and examined the box from all angles. Earth Magic adepts usually had a favorite sigil they used to trap the spirits they raised. Scratched into the top of the tin was a crude but effective symbol for containing a Foul Jinn—a reversed Earth Blessing known by the Brothers as a curse mark.
Turk stepped back from the stink of the box and placed the lantern on the counter. This was the handiwork of a powerful Earth Magic adept. Vittorio was certainly capable of raising a Foul Jinn and using it in this way. All the other evidence pointed to him as well. If Vittorio had learned that Turk had Melba, they were both in serious trouble.
Chapter Eight
’Tis unnatural for grown men to shut themselves away without a woman in sight .
—Master Maddox
Melba lay buried underneath the bedcovers, tears leaking from beneath her closed eyelids. She hadn’t set eyes on Master Turk for two weeks. Whatever she’d done to annoy him must be really bad because he’d even stopped teaching her himself and employed a grumpy old bag called Madam Quatro to teach her dancing and deportment. Melba reached down and rubbed her bruised shins. She hated the new teacher. Every time she made a mistake, the crabby cow thrashed her legs.
She sucked in a jagged breath and pressed her face into the pillow. Master Turk had wanted her to be a girl; now she was a girl, he didn’t like her any more. To top it all she had a gutache so bad she felt like a Foul Jinn was eating her insides. She drew up her knees and pushed her hands between her thighs, gritting her teeth against another clench of pain. Her nightdress clung wetly to her fingers. With a cold shiver of foreboding, she raised her hands. An unmistakable trace of blood smeared her fingers and fear spiked through her. Master Maddox said blood belonged inside a body. Whenever it came out it was bad. She’d rather return to the Earth than tell Master Turk about the blood. But that meant she would have to ask Gwinnie for help.
***
Turk sat at the breakfast table trying to read his newssheet. Thoughts of Melba battered his mind with a storm of doubt and confusion. The shame of Gregorio’s slap to his face still rang in his ears, yet how was he to finish Melba’s training if he followed his master’s command and distanced himself from her? He should have spoken with her sooner and insisted there was no repeat of the frivolity they’d indulged in. Unfortunately, someone had followed him from Maddox’s bakery and he’d had to hide in his emergency bolt-hole.
He’d then spent two weeks spreading false information about his identity to confuse Vittorio. But with every bluejacket in the navy working as
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