Dark Stars (The Thief Taker Series Book 3)

by C. S. Quinn

  The Cipher’s eyes lifted to Lily, as if seeing her for the first time. She took in Lily’s open-shouldered red dress, the charms at her neck, glossy black hair, caramel skin and beautiful features.

  ‘A gypsy,’ she said in her strangely monotone voice. ‘They used to hang them.’

  Lily’s face darkened.

  ‘I cannot leave,’ continued the Cipher, making no indication she realised she’d given affront, ‘until I’ve completed the work.’

  There was a definite edge to her flat tone now. As though speaking about this particular subject made her anxious.

  ‘What work?’ asked Charlie.

  Her eyes shifted to the back of the room. ‘The scrolls,’ she said. ‘They must be read. All of them.’

  ‘Codebreaking?’ guessed Charlie. ‘The encrypted papers intercepted from Dutch spies?’

  The woman frowned. Her hand began twitching uncertainly. ‘That’s only part of it,’ she said. ‘The ancient wisdom must be deciphered.’

  She was passing her sewing agitatedly back and forth in her hands now.

  Charlie looked at the great library of scrolls. It would take a lifetime to read them all, even for a genius.

  So this was how they’d trapped the great Cipher, thought Charlie. She was clever enough to escape any prison. But something in her nature couldn’t let the scrolls go unread.

  Lily’s face suggested she was making the same deductions.

  ‘Did you try and escape?’ asked Charlie softly. ‘Years ago? With Thorne?’

  ‘They must be completed,’ said the Cipher. Her voice had risen in volume now. Her hands made claws that clenched and unclenched. ‘But every day they bring more.’

  Charlie didn’t know whether to feel angry or sad. The Cipher had been tricked into staying in this strange old library. But he couldn’t imagine her in the outside world either.

  The Cipher flicked a glance at Lily. ‘She doesn’t speak it?’ she guessed, reverting to heavily accented Dutch.

  ‘No,’ said Charlie.

  The Cipher assessed him carefully. ‘You’re a clever man,’ said the Cipher, again in Dutch. ‘I like cleverness. But perhaps your skills end with her.’ The Cipher eyed Lily coolly. ‘She,’ she concluded, ‘is not to be trusted.’

  Charlie stared at the Cipher in confusion. He couldn’t be sure if she knew Lily or had simply taken an irrational dislike to her. It wasn’t uncommon for women to take issue with Lily’s courtesan appearance.

  Opting for loyalty to his friend, Charlie switched to English.

  ‘We have a . . . a riddle you might help solve.’

  Charlie took out his ring. The Cipher’s eyes opened a little wider.

  ‘Why, this was his invention,’ she said. ‘Thorne’s. It’s one of the codebreaker rings.’

  Chapter 58

  The Cipher was turning the ruby ring in her hand. It looked as though the memory of the old ring pleased her.

  ‘You know it’s a codebreaker,’ said Charlie. ‘Do you know how it works?’

  Her eyes gave nothing away. Even Charlie’s practised card sharping could glean no clue from her expression.

  ‘You have the others?’ she said after a moment.

  Lily hesitated. Charlie nodded, and she reached into her dress and handed the second ring over.

  The woman fitted them together with a satisfied smile. ‘Only two?’ she asked.

  Charlie nodded. ‘We want to know,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘what code they might break.’

  The Cipher pursed her lips. ‘They were Royalist things,’ she murmured. ‘We don’t use them now. I cannot tell you what they solve.’

  Charlie’s heart sunk. There was a long silence.

  ‘Might you take a guess,’ he suggested eventually, ‘at what code they might have been used for?’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t make guesses.’ She hesitated, turning the rings, apparently reluctant to relinquish the puzzle.

  ‘What about this paper?’ asked Charlie, tugging free Thorne’s Chart of All Hallows’ Eve. ‘Might you know anything of this?’

  Her pale eyes flared suddenly. She took the paper carefully in her hands.

  ‘Thorne’s work,’ she breathed. Her eyes roved the workings delightedly. ‘He never came back,’ she added. ‘He was the only one who was ever kind to me. He told me about the Roman ways. How they had different ideas to Christians. There was a Goddess of Wisdom. Unmarried, yet men respected her.’

  The Cipher’s face darkened as if at some black memory.

  ‘You and Thorne were lovers?’ suggested Charlie, but as soon as the words left his mouth he knew it wasn’t the right assumption.

  To his surprise the Cipher gave an eerie laugh.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘not Thorne. He took no woman for a lover. It was said not even his own wife.’ Her eyes dropped to the key at Charlie’s neck and twitched away again.

  Charlie had a sudden picture of the man in his dream. Thorne, with his mother standing at his side.

  ‘Thorne took an apprentice,’ added the Cipher, ‘to inherit his wisdom. The two-faced boy.’

  ‘Janus?’ said Charlie, his mind whirring. ‘Did Thorne call the boy Janus?’

  The Cipher gave a slight nod.

  ‘What was the boy’s real name?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘I only know he was of great bloodline,’ said the Cipher. ‘Thorne hid him away, close and secret. Not even I could break the code of where. Though they tried to make me.’

  Her eyes had a haunted look.

  Charlie felt sorry for her then. He saw the Cipher as a pawn of war. A woman too intensely clever for her own good, trapped in this strange temple by her own compulsions.

  ‘Thorne was so very clever,’ said the Cipher. ‘He discovered things in his secret workshop. Things that could win the war.’

  ‘It’s real then?’ breathed Charlie. ‘The Eye?’

  The Cipher smiled coolly. Charlie realised suddenly that she’d told them nothing whilst seeming to tell them what they wanted to know. She was tricky. And he had a bad feeling she didn’t really want to help them.

  ‘It is real and it isn’t,’ she said enigmatically. ‘The Eye of Heaven is what men make it. But it is powerful. And if the Dutch find it, London will fall.’

  ‘I think Thorne’s old apprentice is looking for the Eye,’ said Charlie, trying to appeal to her patriotism. ‘If Janus finds it, he means to give it to the Dutch.’

  The Cipher blinked in amusement. ‘Janus may play at helping the Dutch. But that isn’t why he truly seeks the Eye.’

  ‘Then why does he look for it?’ asked Charlie, confused.

  ‘I think to destroy you,’ said the Cipher, ‘Tobias Oakley’s son.’

  Charlie felt icy fear in the pit of his stomach. Was she raving?

  ‘Janus is always one step ahead of the spymasters,’ she added, glancing at the codebreaking on the wall. ‘But they try to catch him and cut off his head,’ she added without emotion, ‘as they did to Thorne.’ She was watching Charlie’s face with interest. ‘As they will do to both of you,’ she concluded. ‘You have broken the rules by coming here,’ continued the Cipher. ‘My temple is under royal protection and it is treason to enter uninvited.’

  The Cipher gave a satisfied nod. ‘You will both bleed on the executioner’s block, just as Thorne did.’

  Chapter 59

  Cornelius knocked carefully on De Ryker’s cabin door. The night was dark, but a soft glow shone from the thick windows. He waited as the ship creaked beneath him, wishing he was back in his swaying hammock with the men below.

  ‘Come,’ De Ryker’s gravelly voice sounded.

  Cornelius opened the door. Inside, De Ryker was poring over ship’s charts. Maps and compasses covered every corner of his great desk. A half-drunk glass of wine was by his elbow, but no empty plate.

  De Ryker never ate in the nights before a battle.

  ‘How goes it?’ De Ryker looked up.

  ‘Calm,’ said Corneli
us. ‘England is in our sights.’

  De Ryker gave a twisted kind of smile. ‘All Hallows’ Eve tomorrow. When dawn breaks on All Saints’ Day, they’ll know something is awry,’ he said. ‘But Janus will bring us the Eye, and then it will be too late for them.’

  ‘You really have so much faith in him?’

  ‘No,’ said De Ryker, ‘but I’ve a talent for spotting wounded men. I know how they work and how they can be manipulated.’

  ‘Janus is wounded?’ Cornelius was momentarily confused.

  ‘Something very bad happened to Janus,’ said De Ryker, ‘when he was a boy. I asked him of it; he pretended there was nothing to tell. But I have heard him shouting in his sleep about “the Bad Thing”. And always he speaks in perfect English.’

  Cornelius knew better than to try and deduce what this might mean.

  ‘Janus claims to have been Thorne’s apprentice,’ said De Ryker, ‘so he must have been important. Noble. But I know what kind of apprentices Thorne took. The boy was likely subjected to horrors.’ De Ryker paused. ‘The English are dread brutes,’ he decided. ‘Throwing children into the Thames is part of their history. I should not be surprised if the old King revived such a practice to avoid his fate on the executioner’s block.’ His eyes dropped back to the charts.

  Cornelius saw the famous Thames river, wide at the mouth, where it flowed into the sea.

  ‘No one has ever conquered her,’ said De Ryker, following Cornelius’s gaze. ‘We shall be the first.’ His salt-scabbed finger followed the winding path and stopped at London. ‘We shall be the first,’ he repeated. ‘And the English shall bow to a Dutch king.’

  Chapter 60

  The Cipher snaked out a hand and pulled at a cord that had been hidden in the darkness. Above them a loud bell clanged in the rooftop.

  She was sounding the alarm.

  The clang of the bell must be echoing across all of Hyde Woods, Charlie realised. Whatever guard was assigned to her protection would be here in moments.

  Lily drew a knife and in a single snake-like movement had the Cipher pinned to a wall.

  ‘Tell me,’ she demanded, ‘what code the rings solve. I know you know.’

  The Cipher shook her head defiantly. ‘He is the son of Tobias Oakley,’ she whispered. ‘I recognise his key. His father was a traitor, and I’ll not give Thorne’s treasure to Oakley’s son.’

  Lily leaned close. ‘I’ve four more knives in my skirts,’ she threatened. ‘And I’ve time enough to use them all. So tell me what you know, or you’ll be trying to solve codes with no fingers.’

  The Cipher’s face was flat, devoid of expression. Her mouth stayed shut.

  ‘It won’t work,’ said Charlie, reading her emotionless features. ‘She doesn’t fear knives.’

  ‘Then what does she fear?’ demanded Lily. ‘We have only moments.’

  Charlie’s attention swung to the library of scrolls. He ran towards them.

  Instantly the Cipher’s calm demeanour shifted.

  ‘Stop!’ she demanded, her voice strangely high. ‘You must not touch the work!’

  Charlie pulled free a scroll, and the Cipher gave a terrible shriek.

  ‘Tell us!’ he demanded. ‘What do the rings solve?’

  The Cipher’s eyes were fixated on the scroll, her body twitching agitatedly. ‘You already have it,’ she babbled. ‘You already carry the code.’

  It took Charlie a split second to work out what she meant.

  ‘Thorne’s Chart of All Hallows’ Eve?’ he said. ‘The rings solve it?’

  The Cipher nodded.

  ‘How?’ asked Charlie.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, I swear it. Only Thorne and the other ring bearers knew. Return the scroll!’ The Cipher’s eyes were twitching back and forth.

  ‘Where are the other rings?’ demanded Lily.

  ‘No,’ said the Cipher. ‘I won’t betray Thorne.’

  Charlie took out a tinderbox from his coat and sparked the flame. The Cipher jerked bodily.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘or I’ll burn it.’

  ‘You would not,’ whispered the Cipher. ‘You couldn’t. Not the old wisdom.’ Charlie moved the flame higher.

  ‘Wait!’ shrilled the Cipher. ‘Wait!’

  ‘Then tell me now,’ he said.

  The Cipher was looking upwards, as if remembering. For a moment it seemed she wouldn’t answer. Then she spoke.

  ‘Thorne gave me a ring,’ she said finally. ‘He made me a ring bearer. But the ring wasn’t safe here and I couldn’t leave. So he hid it for me.’

  ‘Where?’ urged Lily.

  ‘The sign of the goddess,’ she blurted. ‘The Goddess of London at Custom House. Take away the flame.’

  Charlie ignored her.

  ‘What London goddess?’ he asked. He’d been to Custom House and never seen anything approximating it. He pictured the large building. It was a vast space in which to hunt a little ring.

  Lily turned to the Cipher. ‘What sign of the goddess?’ she pressed. ‘What goddess is there at Custom House?’

  ‘I never went there,’ said the Cipher. ‘I only decoded pictures and maps. All I know is there’s a secret passage at Little Bear Steps.’ Her eyes shifted to Charlie. ‘I’ve told you everything,’ she pleaded. ‘Please. Return the scroll.’

  In answer Charlie pushed the roll of paper back into its previous place on the shelf.

  Lily was still holding the Cipher firm.

  ‘Let her go,’ said Charlie. ‘We need to leave. Now.’

  With some reluctance Lily released her hold. The old woman fell to a sitting position and backed away from them. As they raced for the door, she put her head in her hands and rocked.

  ‘They’ll catch you,’ she muttered as Charlie and Lily sped from the strange temple. ‘They’ll cut off your heads.’

  Chapter 61

  Janus dropped easily into the old tunnel under Custom House. There was a long-lost ancient entrance here. Only a few knew of it.

  Little Bear Steps.

  The steps hid the original Roman gateway into London. The door of the goddess. Janus took in the muddy ground with satisfaction.

  The thief taker hadn’t been here. But Janus thought it possible he’d hunt the third ring here. Time to remind Charlie Tuesday what he was risking.

  His beloved brother.

  Janus found himself at the old stream, past the broken things. There was Roman road beneath him now. A lost section buried long ago deep beneath the city.

  Then he stopped by an old mosaic on the wall. The tide was coming in. Water ran over Janus’s feet.

  Carefully he placed his warning. If Charlie Oakley made it here, he would see it. If the thief taker was as soft-hearted as Janus hoped, a threat to his brother would be enough to stop him searching.

  Or would it?

  Janus realised he couldn’t truly be certain of the thief taker’s love for his brother. Best be sure. He regarded the map.

  The mosaic was of London as it had been as Londinium, hundreds of years ago. It was faded, made in thick tiles. Each little building and temple was drawn in two dimensions, surrounded by the thick London Wall.

  Thorne had loved this old map. It had survived hundreds of years. It seemed such a shame to destroy it, but he couldn’t take the risk. The map showed the Temple of Venus – hidden, but a clever man might still discern it. The smuggler’s words drifted back.

  Charlie Tuesday is famed for his cleverness.

  Janus picked up a large cobble from the old road. Then he swung his hand, smashing it into the mosaic. The ancient tiles splintered and fell. He swung again, smashing apart the image.

  Coloured fragments dropped to the floor and were washed away in the tidal flow.

  He looked at the destruction. Dusty plaster and crumbled ancient stone.

  For a moment a pain seared through him. He could imagine Thorne’s face. But it was better this way. Safer.

  A strange emotion surged. Fear, Janus realised. He
dreaded Thorne, even now after all these years. The memories of being kept in the dark had a power over him manhood hadn’t shaken.

  A sudden possibility came to him. He hadn’t yet been to all of Thorne’s old places. There were demons yet to be faced.

  Hyde Woods. The Cipher.

  Could she still be there? In her old hiding place? If she was alive, Janus thought the Cipher would stay in the strange prison of her own making forever.

  She was a ring bearer. She may even know where Thorne hid the Eye.

  Janus hadn’t seen the Cipher for nineteen years. But something told him she’d want to help Thorne’s old apprentice.

  Chapter 62

  Amesbury’s face was tight with horror as the Loyal London limped into the dock. Even from this distance he could see that the vessel was less than half manned. The sails hung slack, the deck rotten; a secondary mast was broken.

  She floated painfully slowly into the harbour. Amesbury saw the toothless red-eyed sailors. Their lips were misshapen, soft with scurvy, and they were covered in bloody ulcers. Many could barely walk the gangplank as the dockers secured the ship.

  A man in ragged, filthy officer’s clothing was helped on to shore. Amesbury moved forward. The officer’s legs buckled on dry land, and Amesbury caught him before he fell.

  ‘Here.’ Amesbury urged a tankard of wine into his hand, manoeuvring him to an upturned barrel to act as a seat. The man grasped it gratefully and sat, his legs shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘Your captain?’ asked Amesbury gently.

  The man only shook his head and drank more wine.

  Amesbury shifted his gaze back to the deck. Rotting bodies lay all over it. He guessed the men hadn’t the energy in the final days to throw the corpses overboard.

  A strange memory of Thorne filtered back, days before he met his end. Amesbury could still vividly picture the devastation on the astrologer’s face as he explained that the Church had refused to bury his condemned lover. The executioner had hung what was left of the burned man in chains for the mice and rats to gnaw on.

  Amesbury reflected on the things that changed men’s natures. A beloved’s corpse subjected to indignity and horrors. Thorne hadn’t the resilience to bear such barbarity.