Boots for the Gentleman by Augusta Li & Eon de Beaumont Page A

questions.”
    Dissatisfied, Querry followed Reg and Frolic to the door. He looked over his shoulder and found the strawberry-blond man watching them intently. He smiled at Querry and raised his glass a fraction of an inch. Querry was just about to cross the room and speak with the man when some exiting patrons cursed him and his companions for blocking the door. Reg took Querry’s wrist to hurry him along. Once outside, the three of them parted ways. Reg buttoned his high collar against the chill that had engraved the first frosty patterns on the Badger’s dirty, little windows and headed up hill, toward the wealthy neighborhood that served as his home and prison. When he’d gone, Querry crammed his hands into his pockets, jabbed his thumb on the metal tip of the pen, and swore. His armored boot sent an empty bottle to shatter against the wall of the pub.
    “Don’t be sad, Querry,” Frolic said. “Let’s go for that stroll.”
    “I don’t feel like going anymore. And it’s cold.”
    “Let’s kiss,” Frolic suggested as he positioned himself in front of Querry. “That will raise your spirits, I daresay.”
    “We can’t. Not here.”
    “Why? I saw plenty of people kissing inside.”
    “Men and women. Two men can’t kiss where anyone might see.”
    “I don’t understand the difference.”
    “You’ll just have to take my word,” Querry said. He thrust his shoulders up so more of his coat covered the back of his neck. Beneath his feet, the cobblestones looked sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar. What had he expected, that the three of them would sail off that very night, and spend the rest of their days engaged in orgiastic bliss? Reg would never agree. Throughout the conversation, Querry had feared Frolic might say or do something and reveal to Reg that they’d been intimate. He found he didn’t want Reg, or anyone else, to know. But, watching Frolic smile at the clouds of frozen air he exhaled, Querry couldn’t deny his growing affection for the doll, either. But how would others judge a man who made love to a doll? The answer was simple: as a pervert, a deviant of the worst kind, on the same level as a man who took liberties with pigs and cattle, if not worse.
    “I’ve never given a damn what anyone thinks, and I won’t start now,” Querry said aloud. “Come, Frolic. Let’s go home. The cats will be hungry.”
    With a wide smile, Frolic skipped over and wound both of his arms around Querry’s bicep. He nestled his cheek against Querry’s shoulder as they began to walk, and Querry couldn’t chastise him. The thief smiled in spite of himself. Before him, the frost had covered the grimy, dilapidated buildings. Everything sparkled: hedges, benches, trees, and even the blankets that covered the shoulders of beggars huddled in the alleys. Flurries fell in lazy spirals, even muffling the cacophony of drunkards and whores. Querry stole a kiss from Frolic before anyone could notice, and they made their way leisurely through fat, white flakes. Just as they entered their building, Querry caught sight of his strawberry-blond stalker, watching from underneath an awning across the street.

Chapter Five

    O VER the next few weeks, both Querry and Frolic gradually forgot about their problem. No one troubled them, and they had no more news from Reg, even though Querry made a point of inquiring every few days. Frolic proved almost as adept a cat burglar as Querry himself, and they lived rather well, with plenty to eat and some spare money for clothes and entertainment. Querry almost forgot Frolic’s origins, as he felt so comfortable with him. Frolic proved the perfect partner in every way. With the money he’d stashed away, Querry even considered upgrading their lodgings. Before long, he’d probably be able to afford a small house in the merchants’ district. Maybe one day, they might even move to the country.
    But the presence of Frolic’s leather book, and the work of translating it, always snapped