.
It was strange, Blythe decided, having someone along when she ventured out at night. Having Thomas by her side as she walked through the city streets granted her a kind of invisibility she had never had before. When she was usually out, she did her best to be no more remarkable than a mouse scurrying along the edge of the sidewalk. When she was with Thomas, she had the invisibility of a claimed woman. It rankled, but it was also damned convenient.
Whatever else might be said about the Martin heir, she had to admit that he was game. For a moment, she'd thought he was going to tell her she was insane and leave her to it, but then, even in the dim light, she saw a glint that seemed very familiar to her in his eye.
When the quiet street was completely empty, they crossed to the left of the clothes reseller shop that was their target. There was barely enough space for Blythe to walk between that shop and its neighbor, and for one hairy moment, she thought Thomas wouldn't be able to squeeze through at all.
Once in the back, she struck a match so she could see better. The light was small, brief, and hopefully innocuous enough that it wouldn't draw any attention.
"So, what are you thinking?" Thomas looked up and down the alleyway between the rows of houses and shops. It was open at both ends and only wide enough for a dog cart to get through, but it would serve if they needed to leave quickly.
"Do you know ‘Daisy I'm a Lady’?"
"The... music hall tone?"
"Yes. If you see someone suspicious coming or you see any sign that someone in the rooms above is moving about, whistle the first few bars. I think I can fit in through that window there, and I'll be able to look around. The walls in this part of town are thin, and I'll be able to hear you if something goes wrong."
"That song is terrible, and I will want to know why you know it when this is all over. But that's it. You want me to play lookout while you go into the house of people who might be actual kidnappers?"
"Don't I take you to the best places? You said you were in."
"I am. Dammit, be careful."
"Of course."
As she went after the small window that was just about at eye height to her with the pry bar, Thomas slouched against the wall, head down and arms crossed over his chest. As long as someone didn't get too close and see how fine his clothes were, they could easily mistake him for a drunk taking a moment before stumbling the rest of the way home.
The window popped open with ease, and Blythe reckoned she could squirm through without too much risk of getting stuck. She pulled herself through the window, stifling a cry when she felt Thomas grab her by the legs, offering both support and a stop in case she fell.
A tall table sat directly under the window, and she crawled onto it quietly, slipping silently to the floor before it could break underneath her. She lit another match to see her surroundings before blowing it out nearly immediately. Her memory was good enough that she could start to feel her way through the narrow rooms, and before she had gone five feet, she heard a soft murmur of children's voices.
Somewhere above, there was a creaking sound as if of feet on rickety floorboards, but when she listened, she could not hear Thomas whistling.
I might have been too confident with Thomas. He seems to think I've done this before.
She hadn't, but she moved slowly and smoothly through the house, always toward the sound of those voices. She wondered why children were up so very late, but then, close to a room that seemed to be filled from wall to wall with old rags and clothing, a sliver of light shone from a cracked door.
Blythe hesitated just beyond the light, wondering how she should approach it, when she heard a soft voice from within.
"And they flew off on the prince's horse, to a kingdom under the sea. The princess kissed the prince, for to make him... him live forever?"
"Immortal, I think."
"Yes, to make him immortal like she was. And they lived happily from their time to ours. And if they are not dead, they live still."
Fairy tales?
"That was a good one, Stasia. Will you tell another?"
"No, I am tired now, but did you finish your work?"
Work? It was hours before dawn. Why in the world were they doing work?
Taking the risk, Blythe crept a little closer, pressing her eye to the slender opening of the door.
The room was wide but low, and at the center of it was a table piled high with fabric, some made into clothes, others just loose cloth. Around the table sat four girls, their needles flashing as they talked. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale in some ways, the girls sewing away into the night.
Then she saw the chains around the girl's ankles, and Blythe couldn't help but gasp.
The girls stilled instantly, their faces turning toward the door. As they did, Blythe could see that one of the girls, gaunt and blonde, did have a dark red birthmark on her face.
"Who is there?" asked the girl who had been telling the story. Her accent made the question come out thick and clumsy. "We are good. We are working."
Blythe took a deep breath and opened the door quietly, closing it after her. "I'm a friend of Rose's mother," she said, nodding at the girl with the birthmark. "I'm here to help you."
The girls looked at her with fear and doubt, but hope as well. Good. Sometimes when she had to help people out of dangerous situations, the most difficult part was helping them escape their own overwhelming fear. This time, she didn't think she would have to do much of that.
"My mother sent you?" asked Rose.
"She did. She has missed you a great deal, Rose."
"They... they told me she didn't want me anymore. That she sold me."
Blythe felt her heart ache for the girl and also a rising fury at the man who had done this to them. "That's not true at all. Your mother is safe and living up north. She wants you, Rose, believe me."
She glanced at the other girls. "There are people who will help you as well, even if we cannot find your families or return you to them. But first, you must help me. Tell me, do you know where the key to your chains are kept?"
The girls looked at her dubiously, and she could imagine they had tried to escape before. Every attempt must have been punished to make them this nervous, and she tamped her rage for a better time.
Stasia, the foreign girl, spoke first. "There is a peg on the stairwell going to the bedrooms. The key hangs there. I saw it when they first bring me here."
"Thank you. And how do I get there? Tell me as precisely as you can."
She listened carefully to their instructions. The house was not so very difficult to maneuver, but it was cluttered, and some of that clutter would make an almighty racket if it was dropped.
"All right. I'm going to get that key. Stay as you are but be ready to run as soon as I get you all loose. If there's anything you cannot live without, grab it, yes?"
The girls nodded, and Blythe felt a sense of fierce affection for them as she went back into the darkness. Her nerves were strained to the shattering point, but she moved slowly and steadily. She felt in front of her with each foot before she took a step. Progress was agonizingly slow, but it was still silent, and soon enough, she was crossing the shabby parlor toward the stairs.
She risked lighting a match so she could see where she was going, and for a moment, her heart nearly stopped when she saw a man's shadow thrown large against the wall. She stopped the automatic shout from passing her lips, however, and a second look told her that it was only a dresser's dummy.
More importantly, Blythe could see the key hanging from its peg on a bit of twine, and she could also see that the way toward it was clear. She shook the match out and walked a little more quickly toward the key.
She breathed with relief when she felt it cold in her fingers, and then she started to make her way back. She was just maneuvering her way around a table full of leather scraps when she heard it, the opening bars of "Daisy I'm a Lady," and soon after that, she heard the heavy tread of feet on the floor above.
No time to figure out where those feet were going; no time to find a good hiding place. She walked quickly back to the room, and the whole time, her entire body was telling her to run, run, run...