Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) Brad Magnarella (the red fox clan TXT) 📖

harbor. I looked over at Caroline. Though her face remained serious, her eyes gleamed with interest.

As we circled the southern tip, considerably narrower than in the present thanks to the later addition of landfill, the people of New Amsterdam began to appear through the snowfall. I remarked that they looked like a cross between pilgrims and swashbucklers. “The majority are going to be Dutch and French,” Caroline said. “Some Germans, some English. A couple hundred slaves and freemen. We may encounter natives, but they’ll be here on business. No one will expect us to speak.”

“Good thinking,” I replied.

Buck teeth or not, she’d glamoured us well.

We made our way toward a large wharf, rowing past anchored ships, and pulled up to a pier. While one of our Dutchmen secured the boat, the other returned with a large handcart. I followed their lead and began unloading the beaver pelts. Caroline stood to the side, scanning our surroundings. Despite the weather, the waterfront was active with merchants and sailors porting cargo between boats and warehouses.

When we’d loaded the cart, the larger Dutchman took the handles and wheeled it down a muddied, snow-trampled road. Caroline and I followed. We hadn’t gone far when a sharp whistle sounded.

“Oy! How much for the squaw?”

I glanced over to find a group of men huddled outside the door of a corner tavern. Their shirts were open despite the weather, and by their slouching, wavering stances, I could see they were already three sheets to the wind.

Brilliant.

“Oy! Chief!” the same one cried in a crude English accent. He was talking to me. “I’ll give ya’ a nice wampum for her.”

The rat of a man dug into his pocket and pulled out a string of shells that looked like they’d been recovered from a pit toilet. When I realized he was proposing to swap them for Caroline, my hands balled into fists.

“Keep walking,” Caroline said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

The man staggered after us, holding out the dirty wampum. I returned a deadly stare.

“Aw, don’ take offense, Chief. We’re good mates, jus’ off the ship. Cold and lonely is all. We’ll go gentle on her.” The other three men guffawed and stumbled after their spokesman in a slovenly trail.

Caroline had our Dutchmen speed their pace until we were turning the corner onto a street that ran along a deep canal. If I wasn’t mistaken, this would one day become Broad. According to Malachi, Seay’s place was only two blocks along the canal on the left. I was more anxious than ever now to get there.

“They’ll lose interest,” Caroline assured me.

She was right to ignore them, of course. A confrontation with the drunks would only draw attention. “Next time give yourself a set of buck teeth too,” I told her, relaxing my hands. But Rat Face’s boots crunched into a jog behind us.

“I’m tryin’ to barter with you,” he called irritably. “You know that word, don’ cha, Chief? Barter?”

When we ignored him, his boots scuffed to a stop. Then, in a burst of resolve, he broke into an all-out run.

“Give us the squaw whore!” he cried.

I wheeled and met him, slamming the heel of my palm into his throat. He doubled over and seized the place in both hands where I’d felt cartilage crunch. When the others rushed up, I uttered a Word and swept my glamoured cane. A wall of hardened air broadsided them and sent them tumbling into the canal.

I leaned down until my lips were beside the gasping man’s ear.

“Keep away from us,” I said over the shouting and splashing below. “Or the next time, I’m gonna wear your scalp like a fucking cap.” I pinched a greasy strand of hair atop his head and plucked it free. “Do you understand?”

He squealed and nodded desperately.

“That was subtle,” Caroline said as we left him.

“I don’t think anyone saw.”

I glanced around the intersection to make sure. Fortunately, the steady snowfall seemed to be keeping the settlement’s residents indoors. Most of the activity was off to the west, toward the fort. The people looked like little moving impressions, too busy and distant to have observed us.

But now I made out three stationary figures, one stout, the other two lean. Whether they were facing toward us or away, I couldn’t tell, but something about them made me itch. I lengthened my strides until we were beyond their view.

“Something wrong?” Caroline asked.

I shook my head, not even sure what I’d seen.

The Dutchmen turned a corner and parked the cart in front of a storehouse. A clothing shop stood immediately beside it, both buildings part of a larger estate with a sizeable garden and additional housing. The brightly-colored buildings with their neat trim suggested fae. The faint currents of magic sealed it.

“This is it,” I whispered to Caroline, anticipation pumping inside me.

The door to the storehouse opened, and two men whom I immediately recognized as Seay’s friends waved us in.

Pelts of various sizes and colors filled shelves and stood in neat stacks on pallets. Natural light glowed through high windows, while lanternlight entered through a doorway in back, where I could hear voices. Probably the workshop where the pelts were fashioned into clothing. I knew nothing of the trade, but this had the look and feel of a successful operation.

While the half-fae inspected the haul and talked with the Dutchmen, I pushed power into the bond on my hand. The lines of the symbol came to life, and a moment later, I had a connection. Seay was here.

I nodded at Caroline, then instructed the bond to summon our target. As the signal went out, I wondered if it could still compel her to respond. With the time distortions, there was no telling how long she and the others had been here. Judging from the operation, at least a year, maybe more.

Now I picked out a familiar voice among several coming from the workshop. A moment later, a woman appeared in the doorway. She said something over her shoulder and then faced the storeroom. Though