Curse of the Midions by Brad Strickland

and hoisted Betsy up. She slipped the iron drain cover aside, then climbed out through the falling water. She reached an arm down on the dry side. “Come on, grab hold and I’ll help you.”
    Jarvey turned his back on the rushing water, grabbed Betsy’s outstretched hand, and felt the others boosting him as he kicked and hauled himself up. Betsy was strong, and she did more than her share. Jarvey tried to keep himself curled over the Grimoire, protecting it.
    He climbed up into dim light. “Where are we?”
    â€œCourtyard. Back behind us is where some servants lives. Quiet.”
    When they were all up, Betsy led them to some protection from the spear-sharp rain, a carriage house. It had been left carelessly open, and they gratefully huddled inside, hearing the drumming of rain on its roof.
    â€œMill overseers live on this street,” Betsy whispered. “They ain’t so high-and-mighty as Toffs, but they ain’t our friends either. I know this family pretty well. They have a daughter my age, and I’ve even talked to her now and again. She thinks I’m the daughter of a chief tipper—”
    Somebody giggled, and Betsy hissed, “Stop! Quiet, now.”
    â€œAw, Bets,” someone else said. “In this rain they couldn’t hear a brass band. We’re safe enough.”
    Betsy ignored that. “We’ll stay here a bit, see if the rain eases off. It generally does by midnight. Then we’re not far from some places where we can hole up. Puddler and his bunch have gone to the safest snug, ’cause they’re the youngest. Charley’s takin’ the others to the butcheries—I know, I know, it ain’t the healthiest snug around, but Charley knows how to get ’em in and out safe. We’re going to break up, so that each of us is in a different place, but we’ll be close enough so we can get back together by night. All right?”
    Jarvey heard a general, reluctant murmur of consent. His stomach felt fluttery. He hadn’t been on his own since that first horrible night, weeks ago. And though Charley had warned him that being with the others didn’t necessarily mean he was safe, he didn’t like the thought of being on his own in Lunnon, especially not in a place so close to the Toffs.
    The pounding rain slackened gradually, and by midnight it had given way to a heavy, drifting drizzle, more of a choking fog than a real shower. They slunk out of their shelter and squelched along. Betsy sent one of the boys into an abandoned stable—“They sold their horse, and they ain’t bought another for over a year, so it should be safe if you climb up into the hayloft and keep quiet by day.” Another would hide in the attic of a small restaurant. “You can climb up onto the porch roof,” Betsy whispered to him. “Then you’ll find the ventilator cover’s loose. Be sure to pull it back after you. They never come up there, but there’s a lot of old pots and pans stacked about, so mind you don’t blunder into them. Stay quiet through the day and go out after dark.”
    Then she led Jarvey for what felt like miles. “Saved the best for us,” she muttered. “’Cept it’s the most dangerous too. We’re going to stay in a right snooty place, we are. Close to the palace itself.”
    â€œWhat?” Jarvey whispered.
    â€œLook,” Betsy said wearily, “you were right about the palace. You don’t know how to use that book. I don’t know. The only one that does is old Nibs. Somethin’ in his house might hold the key, so we’ve got to go lookin’ for it. If we’re caught, we’ll be—I don’t know. Chopped up into pieces and stewed, maybe. But if we stay out dodgin’ tippers long enough, you’re going to be taken, and then what’s the odds?”
    â€œHow far is it?”
    â€œNot far.”
    They walked some more, and