Julianna stood, and so did Miss Tsing. She hugged the old woman. “Thank you, so much.”
Ovid shook Halliwell’s hand, then Julianna’s. “I wish you luck. Please, though, wait here just another minute. I will put a bag together for you, some food and water to carry on the road.”
“That’s very kind,” Julianna said.
Halliwell looked at him and the tension between them seemed to dissolve into understanding. The detective nodded, and Ovid the baker nodded in return, then turned and went back into the bakery to fetch them food for their journey.
Virginia Tsing stepped close to Julianna. “If you do not find him, or if you should find him and return this way, come and see me.”
Touched by her generosity, Julianna embraced her again, whispering her thanks.
“You’ll never find him,” said a small voice behind her.
Julianna turned, angry at the callousness of the words and the intrusion. She saw the fury that flashed in Halliwell’s eyes and worried that he would one day lose control of himself.
But not today. The voice had come from a little girl, perhaps ten years old, who had been sitting for the past half an hour or so with two others, slightly older than she. The girl was pretty, eyes wide and precocious, skin a dark chocolate brown.
“Excuse me?” Julianna said.
“Kara, still your tongue. This business is none of your concern,” Miss Tsing said.
The girl scuffed one shoe on the patio. “All right, but it’s true. They don’t stand a chance of finding their friend. Not without a guide. Not without a tracker.”
Halliwell took a step toward her and the girl flinched.
“You know someone like that?” the detective asked, crouching down beside her.
The girl executed an elegant bow. “I am Ngworekara, sir, though I’m called Kara by most. And if you wish, I would guide you myself.”
Julianna laughed softly, but not unkindly. “That’s sweet, Kara. And we appreciate it. But you can’t be…what I mean is, you’re only-”
“A child?” Kara asked, those wide eyes narrowing. “You’re Lost, miss, and so I can understand your doubt. But you’ll learn soon enough that many of the people here are more than they seem.”
Halliwell had not laughed, only studied her more closely. Now he turned to Miss Tsing. “Can she really do that? Track Oliver?”
The woman arched one eyebrow. “Who is to say? Kara has no parents. She has been here for several years and yet she seems no older. She often seems to know things others do not. If she believes she can guide you, there seems no harm in letting her try.”
Julianna looked closely at the girl’s face. The idea was insane. How could she and Halliwell, who knew nothing of this place, take care of a little girl while they were searching for Oliver? And yet if what Miss Tsing said was true, perhaps Kara wouldn’t need much looking after.
“Are you sure?” she asked the girl. “You can do that?”
Ngworekara nodded gravely. “Oh, yes. If he can be found, I will find him.”
“All right,” Halliwell said. “Let’s go.”
Staring into the girl’s eyes, Julianna felt cold again, but did not know why.
Many cities in the human world had neighborhoods that lingered from the earliest days of settlement. Often they had quaint names, but with equal frequency, the locals referred to these sections with the simplest of appellations. The Old City. The North End. The Latin Quarter.
There was a Latin Quarter in Perinthia, but it was not preserved as such neighborhoods in the human world were. At the northwest corner of the city, the Quarter consisted of buildings that had been old when Rome and Greece were young, and that had been shifted from the mundane world to the realm of the legendary when the Veil was raised. Parts of the Quarter were little more than ruins, but even the structures that were still inhabited were crumbling.
Blue Jay strode through the Latin Quarter that afternoon with Cheval Bayard and Chorti flanking him. The kelpy woman glanced around nervously as they skirted a long column that had collapsed into the street. She glanced at Chorti every few seconds, and seemed to draw courage from him, but Cheval was skittish. Blue Jay could not blame her. A gray caul of cloud cover hung over Perinthia, and a light rain fell. Even without the sunshine marking out their every movement, however, striding down the street in the middle of the day when all the Hunters were searching for Borderkind-and the authorities seemed disinterested in intervening-was about the most foolish thing Blue Jay could have imagined.
Fortunately, none of them was as famous as Frost. They were staking their lives on their lack of celebrity. Most of the city’s denizens would not recognize them as Borderkind on sight. They had entered Perinthia within view of the watchtowers and no alarm had been raised. Frost reminded them all unnecessarily that there might well be spies looking out for them, but Blue Jay chose to be optimistic for once. They slipped into the city almost unnoticed.
It helped, of course, that they went immediately to the Latin Quarter. In other sections of Perinthia it was probable that they would be discovered-that locals or even the city guard might be cooperating with the Hunters and pass on the word that there were Borderkind in the area. From the stories they had heard, the news of the Hunters’ mission had spread. Many Borderkind were in hiding now, or dead. Blue Jay figured the only Borderkind still in Perinthia would be collaborators or those who were insignificant enough to go unnoticed, at least for now. Or the oldest of his kin-elder cousins who were arrogant enough to believe that no one would dare to trouble them.
At the moment, they were right. The Hunters were occupied in the search for those Borderkind who dared to fight them, to strike back at their murderous conspiracy. For those-for Blue Jay and Frost, Chorti and Cheval Bayard, and any who would join them-nowhere in Perinthia was safe.
Except perhaps the Latin Quarter.
Strangers rarely entered the neighborhood, out of fear or distaste or both-and indeed, there were dangers there for those who were not welcome. Ancient creatures born with the empires of old lived in the ruins. Some thought they were simply beasts or driven mad by the passage of time, but Blue Jay had heard whispers amongst the tricksters that the monsters of the Latin Quarter were far from mad or primitive. They were only territorial, no different from the descendants of ancient Rome and Greece and the legends of those times that lived there.
Cheval Bayard flinched, glancing over her shoulder, peering up at the darkened doorway of a house. She swept her silver hair away from her face and paused, watching warily. Chorti sniffed the air, then grunted and urged her forward.
“Right, keep moving,” Blue Jay said, voice low. “It’s not a good idea to stand around.”
“Nothing about this is a good idea,” Cheval replied.
“We don’t have a lot of options.” Blue Jay shot her a hard look. “And you know the whispers we’ve heard.”
She sighed. “I only hope they’re more than whispers.”
Blue Jay shared that hope, but did not say so out loud. They had been in Perinthia less than an hour. The moment they had arrived, Frost had slipped unnoticed into Amelia’s, invisible, nothing more than a gust of frigid wind. The nightclub section of Amelia’s had been closed, but the bar at the front was open, and the rumors were raging. When Frost had emerged he had shared what he’d overheard with his companions.
The rumor was that Borderkind were welcome in the Latin Quarter. The old legends who lived there did not like interference and they did not like betrayal. They were perfectly willing to stab one another in the back, but looked askance at those in power murdering innocents, and so they were happy to thwart the Hunters by harboring fugitive Borderkind.