Read by Bob Eccles
Originally published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies
CORRECTION: The original file had an error midway through, which has been corrected now.
The sun had set while he’d been below—the stabbing light was the glow of a streetlamp. Pressing himself into the shadows of a carriage house, Jabey peered upstreet and down at the dark, massive forms of the istocrats’ castles.
The west hill, right. He’d never been this close before. From where he stood it was castles all the way up, or so the chatter said, castles built of diamond windows and brownstone flecked with gold, and livedolls hung from the doors instead of knockers.
Just one pretty was all he needed. One sparkling trinket to buy himself into the clubber chief’s service—and to buy his protection.
Rated PG: For Dark Deeds done in Dark Places