Dark Stars (The Thief Taker Series Book 3)

by C. S. Quinn

  They passed a few sad dwellings. Bits of sacking and cloth that made shelters of sorts for mudlarks. But the occupants were absent – out on the river, trawling for whatever they could find.

  Piled up in mounds were their findings. It was mostly detritus from the Great Fire. Melted tankards, half-burned household goods and scorched leather had been tossed into the giant waste disposal of the Thames. Luckier mudlarks had recovered water-damaged possessions accidentally pitched overboard as Londoners scrabbled to escape the flames by river. There were bundles of part-rotted cloth and furniture swollen and cracked by the waters.

  As Charlie and Lily tracked deeper into the tunnel, evidence of the mudlark’s occupation ran out abruptly. The ground was slick with slippery tidal mud, and as the light grew dimmer, something clanked beneath their feet.

  ‘Look,’ said Charlie. ‘Things have been thrown down here. This wasn’t the mudlarks.’ He peered into the darkness. ‘Looks like . . . weapons,’ he decided. ‘Swords and spears.’

  ‘They’re bent over,’ said Lily, following his gaze. ‘Broken.’ She met his gaze. ‘Why haven’t the mudlarks taken them?’ she whispered. ‘Those little urchins will take an old stick if it floats past.’

  ‘They must think them cursed or holy,’ said Charlie uncertainly. Though it was a strange sentiment to imagine in a mudlark.

  The swords had been deliberately twisted over backwards or snapped in two, and the spears shattered.

  ‘It’s like old Norris at Dead Man’s Curve said,’ said Charlie. ‘Broken things to appease the river.’

  There was a shaft of light striking through the gloom. Charlie looked upwards. Above them was a wide bricked shaft. Judging by the quality of daylight coming through, it opened inside a building.

  ‘I think there was some kind of well up there,’ he said, ‘linking to the Thames. People must have thrown things down it.’

  They moved further into the tunnel. The road beneath them smoothed out now, and Charlie could tell by his bare feet they were on a neatly cobbled path.

  ‘It’s an old Roman road,’ he said. ‘Hidden away all these years.’ He peered up at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings. ‘We’re a good few feet below the city,’ he decided. ‘The whole of London must have been on lower ground back then, nearer the river.’ Up ahead the tunnel seemed to run out. ‘Looks like it’s a dead end,’ said Charlie disappointedly.

  ‘Maybe the Cipher lied,’ said Lily.

  But something just before the passage’s conclusion caught Charlie’s attention. Markings in the gloom. He stopped.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘There was something here. Some sign or . . . picture.’

  ‘A sign of the goddess?’ suggested Lily hopefully. She moved closer to examine the part of the wall where Charlie was looking.

  ‘It’s an old mosaic,’ she said. ‘Or was. There are still some words in Latin at the top.’ She frowned. ‘Londinium Ursa,’ she read. ‘London Bear?’

  ‘Someone’s been here before us,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s all been smashed away.’

  He knelt, searching with his fingers. A shallow stream flowed over his hand.

  ‘The tide going out,’ he said, questing in the dark waters. His fingers closed on a few fragments still holding on in the little eddy.

  Charlie straightened, examining them. ‘They’re mostly washed away,’ he said, looking at the pieces. ‘But this damage was done recently. See how the tile edges are still clean where they were broken. Even a single tide would have darkened these with silt.’ Charlie stood up, turning a fragment of mosaic thoughtfully. ‘So someone came here today,’ he said. ‘Someone who doesn’t want us to know what was here. Janus?’

  Lily bent down and fished in the little stream, her hands casting around. ‘It must have taken force to smash it,’ she reasoned. ‘Perhaps some pieces fell further than intended. Here!’ she added, her hands closing on a tiny pile that had fallen to the edge of the tunnel, free of the rising tide. ‘There are a few pieces here.’ She gathered them up. ‘Nothing much,’ she said, turning them. ‘They’re all the same. A greenish colour.’

  She showed them to Charlie.

  He was examining the fractured remains of the mosaic. It was difficult to see in the dark, but he thought he could make out the remnants of a thick ring around the edge, and tiles of the same colour Lily held at the bottom.

  ‘It could have been a map,’ he said eventually. ‘Look at the bottom edge. Those pieces look the same greenish colour as yours. They could represent the river.’

  ‘An old map of London,’ said Lily, moving closer, ‘from Roman times?’

  Charlie nodded, standing back from the shattered image. ‘The thick outline could show the London Wall,’ he said. ‘See how it breaks here to fit the old gates? Lud Gate, here,’ he said, stabbing a finger. ‘Ald Gate, Bishop’s Gate, Moor Gate . . . The Tower. I’m sure of it,’ he concluded. ‘So what about the old Roman city would someone not want us to know?’

  ‘There’s not much left,’ said Lily doubtfully. She pointed to a figure. ‘That looks like . . . it could be a building with a double roof,’ she decided.

  Charlie nodded. ‘Then these lines might be single roofs. So this would be a large building.’ He thought for a moment. ‘It’s where St Martin’s Church would be.’

  ‘But there were no churches in Roman times,’ said Lily.

  ‘No,’ agreed Charlie, ‘but there was something there. Something larger than a usual house.’

  He stared at the mosaic. A pattern was emerging.

  ‘All the large rooftops,’ decided Charlie, ‘are now churches.’ He stabbed a finger. ‘This is where All Hallows is now. And this . . . this was once St Ursula’s, before it burned down in the fire.’

  ‘Why would a Roman map have modern churches?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s not Roman,’ suggested Charlie, though the map seemed old.

  ‘What’s that there?’ Lily asked, pointing to the door of the double-roofed building. ‘It looks like part of a fork.’

  ‘That’s the site of St Olave’s church,’ said Charlie. ‘The fisherman’s saint.’

  ‘The fork could be a trident,’ suggested Lily.

  ‘For Neptune,’ agreed Charlie. ‘Neptune, God of Fishermen, became St Olave’s church.’

  He remembered what Maria had said about the religions mixing.

  ‘What if the churches,’ said Charlie suddenly, ‘mark where the old Roman temples are? The Christian and Roman religions combined,’ he said. ‘What if they merged the buildings too?’ He considered the map. ‘There’s a St Ursula’s Church next to Custom House. Perhaps Custom House was originally the Temple of the Bear – Diana’s Temple.’

  Then his eyes caught something wedged tightly into the side of the map.

  Lily was peering closer at the mosaic fragments. ‘Pity it’s so badly smashed,’ she said. ‘We could have found where Venus’s Temple was. The writing in Thorne’s camera obscura suggests there’s a ring there.’

  ‘I think that’s why it was broken,’ said Charlie. ‘Janus was here.’ He was reaching towards the object jammed into the side of the stone map. Even before he pulled it free, he felt icy fingers of fear close around his throat.

  ‘This map showed something he didn’t want us to see,’ said Charlie in a cold voice. ‘And he means for us to stop looking.’

  At his strange tone of voice, Lily turned questioningly. Then she saw the bunch of fabric in his hand.

  ‘It’s Rowan’s,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t know how. But Janus has my brother.’

  Chapter 67

  Janus looked up. He’d found his way to the old temple without realising it. Saturn’s Temple in Hyde Woods. The catacombs and temple were the remains of Roman death worship in London.

  Janus bowed his head in reverence to the powerful god. Thorne’s words floated back to him.

  We are no murderers. We only take offerings to the Thames and reassign the dead.

  He wondered if perhaps the Cipher had
died, and after all these years some other codebreaker had replaced her.

  For a few seconds Janus waited, tense, wondering on the best course of action. Then he decided. The warning knock. He drummed the complicated tattoo from boyhood. The one he’d overheard and learned so carefully when Thorne thought he wasn’t listening.

  When there was no answer, he carefully pushed the door. Janus waited a fraction of a second, and having assured himself no trap was set, he walked into the room.

  The Cipher was sitting on her usual stool, straight-backed, in the same plain dress she’d always worn. Her rounded face had hardly seemed to age in its ordinariness, and the pale eyes were the same, deadly clever and whirring.

  ‘Who are you?’ she said. Her voice was lower than he remembered but still with the same cold monotone. ‘How did you know his knock?’

  There was deep fear in her eyes. Janus realised he had frightened her using Thorne’s secret knock. Not knowing unsettled her.

  ‘You don’t remember me?’ he said, pulling down his mask.

  Her face fluttered in confusion. She stared for a long moment. Then something like recognition set into place.

  ‘Thorne’s apprentice,’ she said quietly. ‘You were Thorne’s apprentice.’

  Janus nodded.

  ‘Thorne’s apprentice,’ she said again. ‘But you died.’

  ‘I only hid for a time,’ said Janus. He wondered suddenly if she knew of the Bad Thing. It was possible, he supposed. Much information passed through her hands. ‘I’ve come back for the Eye,’ he concluded.

  Her face darkened. ‘Thorne is dead,’ she said.

  ‘I was there,’ said Janus. ‘I saw him die.’ He hesitated. ‘Thorne wanted the Eye to be found,’ he explained. ‘This year. At this time. During the lunar eclipse. I’ve tried to locate it,’ Janus added, ‘using Thorne’s old methods. Dead reckoning. The tides.’

  ‘That is clever,’ she said, though her expression didn’t match the words.

  Janus nodded. ‘I’ve calculated nothing exact,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not the mathematician Thorne was. I only know the Eye is east of the city.’

  Something flickered in the Cipher’s eyes. ‘Your shadow,’ she said. ‘Your shadow was here.’

  Janus’s breathing tightened.

  ‘Charlie Tuesday,’ she said. ‘He goes to the temple at Custom House. If he finds the ring, he may find the Eye before you.’

  The Cipher was moving towards the back of the temple, towards the scrolls.

  Janus stayed taut, ready for a false move. He knew never to trust the Cipher.

  ‘Thorne’s camera obscura,’ she said, turning to him.

  ‘I remember it,’ said Janus, wondering on the significance of this.

  ‘Thorne changed where the mirror was pointing,’ said the Cipher. ‘Just before he was captured.’

  ‘He’d had it trained on the stars,’ agreed Janus uncertainly. ‘Then he shifted the focus to watch for intruders.’

  Even as he spoke the words, Janus realised something wasn’t quite right. The story he’d been told as a child didn’t fit with his adult understanding.

  ‘But there would be no reason,’ said Janus slowly, ‘to watch for intruders in Hyde Woods.’

  The Cipher nodded. ‘Perhaps he set the camera obscura to keep safe watch on something valuable,’ she concluded.

  And just like that Janus knew. It all came together in a rush of realisation. How Thorne loved illusions.

  Looking here when you should be looking there.

  Suddenly Janus was certain he knew where the Eye was hidden.

  Chapter 68

  ‘It’s a piece of Rowan’s shirt,’ repeated Charlie, holding it tightly. ‘Irish linen. I bought it back from the pawnshop just before Rowan vanished. He was wearing it the last time I saw him.’

  The realisation was so painful he closed his eyes for a moment.

  ‘Let me see.’ Lily took the piece of shirt. She unravelled it. Inside was a copper coin.

  ‘His?’ she asked, holding it.

  Charlie recognised the amulet immediately. He managed to nod. Thick despair was gripping him. It was a worn copper coin of Neptune, with St Peter on the reverse side. The same charm his brother had pulled out to show him back in the Seven Stars Tavern. But he’d assumed Rowan had made it back to his ship and was safely concealed amongst the Dutch sailors.

  ‘I’ve only just got Rowan back,’ he said. ‘Now I’ve put him at risk. If he’s still alive.’

  ‘He’s still alive,’ said Lily. She moved to Charlie’s side and took both his hands in hers. ‘Janus is a fireship pilot,’ she said, holding his fingers tightly. ‘A tactician. The threat of a fireship is often terrible enough to make the enemy surrender. He knows this. Janus only threatens. At least for now,’ she concluded with her usual honesty.

  Charlie felt his fear ebb slightly. ‘We need to stop searching,’ he said. ‘Whoever Janus is, he knows about me. He knows my family.’ He let his hands drop from Lily’s and rubbed his temples. ‘Janus even knew we’d come here,’ he added. ‘Whatever his means of intelligence, it’s too good to risk Rowan.’

  Lily’s mouth set. ‘We can’t stop now,’ she said. ‘We’ve still got the London Goddess sign to find. If we uncover the third ring, perhaps it will lead us to the fourth.’

  Charlie was shaking his head. ‘You don’t understand. I won’t lose Rowan again.’

  ‘I do understand.’ Lily looked suddenly angry. ‘Think you I’ve not lost brothers and more? My whole family died at the hands of men like Judge Walters. Thousands will follow on his slave ships.’

  ‘I can’t—’ began Charlie.

  But Lily interrupted him. ‘Do you imagine Janus will set your brother free if you stop hunting the Eye? Charlie, Janus burns men alive.’ She was staring fiercely at him. ‘All you’ll succeed in doing is letting Janus bring the Eye to the Dutch. They’ll invade England and kill us all. And they won’t spare an English traitor like Rowan just because you’ve been fool enough to help them.’

  Charlie felt the coil of unease in his stomach grow. He knew she was right.

  ‘I could find Rowan,’ he said, ‘whilst Janus is distracted hunting the Eye.’

  ‘Where would you hunt?’ she challenged. ‘The whole of London, where he was last seen, or all of the English seas, where he was next headed? Charlie, think,’ she urged him. ‘There is only one way to be sure of getting your brother back. The Eye.’

  ‘The Eye finds things,’ said Charlie, following her train of thought. ‘You think we could use it to discover Rowan’s whereabouts?’

  ‘Even if the Eye proves false,’ said Lily, ‘you could still use it to barter.’

  ‘Janus would likely not harm my brother if he thought the Eye in jeopardy,’ said Charlie. ‘He’s taken great risks to find it.’

  Charlie had the strangest feeling, as though he knew Janus’s mind, the tactics he would deploy.

  ‘You’re right,’ Charlie admitted. ‘Finding the Eye is the best chance of getting Rowan to safety. Wherever he is.’ He studied the empty space where the tiles had been. ‘But we’re at a dead end,’ he added. ‘Without the pieces there’s no way to deduce anything else from the map. The tide has washed everything away.’

  ‘Yet we know we’re in a place linked with Diana,’ said Lily, frustration lining her features. ‘And St Ursula’s Church is nearby. It feels as though we must be close.’

  Charlie let his mind track around the vicinity. Then it hit on something.

  ‘The well,’ he said. ‘Back in the tunnel was an old well. The light coming through was too subdued to be direct daylight. I’m sure it opened into some kind of building.’

  Charlie set his mind to getting their bearings, deep under the city. His mind kept forking back to Rowan, held captive, perhaps even underground somewhere damp and old like this. He forced himself to focus.

  ‘It could open into something that was a Roman temple,’ he suggested. ‘The well might have been part of the origi
nal structure.’

  They tracked back to where the wide circle of light fell on the damp stone floor. The well shaft was just above their heads.

  ‘The bricks in the higher part are uneven enough to climb,’ said Charlie, pointing to where the plaster had crumbled free, leaving step-like troughs in the brickwork. ‘But this part is too smooth.’

  He ran a hand over the well shaft immediately above their heads, surprisingly well preserved through the centuries.

  Lily was rummaging in her skirts. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said, taking out her knives. ‘The plaster is old and loose.’

  Lily prodded with the blade of a knife experimentally. It pushed between the bricks with relative ease, sending a shower of sandy rubble to the ground. She reached up, inserted a second knife and hauled herself up.

  ‘Just one more blade,’ she said, her voice tight with effort, ‘and we can use the knives as steps.’

  Charlie watched as she plunged a third knife into the side of the well, then pulled herself up to tiptoe gingerly on the bottom blade.

  ‘There,’ she gasped, reaching upwards. ‘I’ve made it up to where I can climb.’

  Charlie took hold of the first knife as Lily’s little foot left it, pulling himself into the well shaft. He swung his body, heaved and righted himself, using the knife as a foothold. Then he began to climb.

  ‘Leave the knives!’ called Lily from above. ‘We might need them to get back out. I’ve got more.’

  Charlie could hear her panting with exertion above him.

  ‘I hope we find this ring,’ she managed through gritted teeth. ‘It’s a great risk you take for your debtor brother.’

  ‘Rowan is all I have left,’ said Charlie. ‘He hides his good nature, but it’s there.’

  ‘Is that why you save so many thieves from the noose?’ asked Lily. ‘And take work for food and favours when you could be employed for gold? Everyone says it,’ she added, pausing for breath. ‘Charlie Tuesday always finds the goods. But the thief slips away. Is it because of your brother?’

  ‘If you saw the kind of men who steal and why they do it, you wouldn’t send them to the noose either,’ replied Charlie, heaving himself up. ‘And Rowan came here to warn me,’ he added defensively. ‘Risked his life. We look out for each other. Always have, always will.’