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The two Proudfoots took a table in a corner of the store’s backroom. They watched a small army of clerks unload cart after cart that arrived and departed like clockwork.
“We’re in the last of our Parade Night rush,” Big Jim explained.
“I’m chuffed to see you still doing well,” Bingo said. He sipped tea from a chipped brown mug. It was as sweet and strong as he remembered.
Big Jim took out a pipe and lit it with a match. He offered his bag to Bingo, who declined. It was one of many habits he’d never picked up. “It seems like every merchant and farmer on the island wants to get one last shipment in before the city freezes. And where do they think I’ll store it, I ask you. Am I a mage? My sons will have my hide if they catch me smoking back here, so let’s keep this between us,” he said conspiratorially. “Now, why don’t you show me one of those presents everyone has been whispering about?”
Bingo hesitated before reaching into his coat and producing a fledge. It seemed a small thing, resting on the chipped tabletop. But was probably worth more than most of the goods in the stockroom put together. Jim whistled around his pipe appreciatively, but made no move to take the object. “That’s the genuine article, alright. Why don’t you put it away before someone sees?” Bingo gave him an appraising look as he disappeared the object into a hidden pocket.
“And what makes you so sure, Mr. Proudfoot? I always thought you were a legitimate businessman. Can you spot such elicit goods with a glance?”
“First of all, call me Jim. You’re well past your coming of age. And I know because there has been little talk of anything else around town. You’d know that if you stuck closer to the ground.”
“I’ve been out of town.”
“On assignment for that Bywater witch?” Bingo grimaced.
“I don’t work for Glory. We’re a part of a team.”
“Are you sure about that? Mages are crafty, and women, well they can be worse. Especially for a man of your age. I’d hate to see you get out from one woman’s thumb to only be led around by another.”
“It’s not like that. We work together, is all. She’s useful.”
“My mistake. I assumed you had an interest, but maybe I shouldn’t have. You were awfully close with… what was the lad’s name?” Bingo slammed his mug on the tabletop, harder than he’d meant to, but he kept the steel in his grimace as he stared down the old man.
“That was a long time ago, and I got out.”
“So you say, so you say,” Big Jim made a placating gesture. “But now Madame Rosemary’s found a way to stir it all up again. And with not just one fledge, but two? She’s got you over a barrel, no mistake.”
“Your ear for gossip is better than I’d expect. A re you on The Five?” Bingo asked almost before he could stop himself. Unlike traditional Hillfolk clans, the exact membership of the council of elders was kept strictly secret, for safety.
Big Jim gave him a wicked grin from behind his pipe. “I hear things, is all. But never mind about me. What are you going to get Miss Rosemary in return?”
“That isn’t possible.”
“The adventuring business can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”
“She didn’t commission those expecting an exchange. She means to shackle me with them.”
“Well, surely a clever boy like you can find a way out of a snare as simple as that.”
“There’s nothing I can give her that would come close to clearing that balance. The whole town’s already in an uproar! I may have to bend the knee to her just to save my skin.”
Big Jim chuckled. “And here I thought you the boy that bought himself out of clan debt when nobody else could. A gift isn’t the wrapping it comes in. It isn’t something that you buy, it’s something you feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“If this is a trap, outthink her. You can’t give Rosemary Proudfoot what she expects. So you’ll have to give her something she doesn’t know she wants.”
Bingo took a deep breath. He’d been running since he’d unwrapped the fledges. He’d been trying to protect himself. Jim was right. He needed to slow down and take stock of his situation. But this was a new depth for him. He’d been trained as a thief. Giving wasn’t a part of his nature. As he looked around, all he saw was the trimmings. The tinsel and the stockings and the oranges. The parts of the feast that he’d dreamed about when he was eating gruel and listening to fireworks, the bonfires he’d longed for while he was huddled in bed, pretending to sleep as the chill of winter fell over the city.
And suddenly, all at once, he found the answer. It would be expensive, and it would be dangerous, but he’d managed to sneak out of the Proudfoot home when he was still in training. It was considered a right of passage. Surely breaking in couldn’t be that hard. He grinned.
“Jim, I think I have something, but it’ll be a big order.”
It was nearly sunset whenBingo returned home. He had a stack of packages under his arms and a phalanx of delivery boys and girls trailing in his wake. After making a brief stop to settle accounts with Mr. Gannet, and to give him a little something for his trouble, Bingo marched upstairs and oversaw the stacking of boxes in the sitting room.
Joachim and Glory sat by the hearth. The warrior was darning his chainmail while the mage frowned over a thick tome. They paused to watch the proceedings with interest. When the last crate was delivered, making a pile that nearly reached the rafters, Bingo gave each of his helpers a copper rat and sent them on their way.
“Rent’s sorted,” he said by way of greeting, and tossed each fo them a jingling bag.
“We ate, but there’s some soup and bread left if you’re hungry,” Joachim said, and went back to his work. Glory eyed the pile of goods with an arched eyebrow.
“What is all this?” She asked.
“Oh, just a few odds and ends. For Parade Night, you understand.”
Glory set down her book and examined the stack. “Candied oranges, tinsel, holly, an entire storefront window of toys, and that a ham? What did all this cost you?”
“Most of my share. I’ll be eating light until spring, but it won’t be a problem.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Joachim asked.
“I’ve been thinking about my predicament, and I’ve come up with a solution. It’s not just a way to get clear, but maybe do some good for once, too. You remember that I said I never had a proper Parade Night celebration?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the kiddies at the orphanage are going to get the Parade Night of their lives this year!”
“From what you told me of your mentor,” Glory said, digging into a box of sugar biscuits. “She will hardly stand for this act of generosity.”
“Those aren’t for you,” Bingo snatched the tin away from her. “But you’re bang on. I guess I’ll have to sneak in. If only I had a set of top of the line burglary tools, eh?”
“Well, it sound like you’ve got it all figured out,” Glory said.
“There is one thing,” he asked.
“Looking for helpers?”
“I’ll handle the distribution, but I’m going to need away to carry it. You wouldn’t be able to magic me up a bottomless sack to carry all this loot, would you?”
“If you only need it for a day, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’d be happy to help.”
“Butter on bacon! Joachim, I do have a spot for you in this little heist too.”
“Oh?”
“Grab a good spot on the Bridge of Blessings and start celebrating early.”
The big human smirked. “I suppose.”
“Don’t get too pickled. I’ll need you to keep a lookout. Can you and Glory send me a signal when the urchins are on their way back?” The pair nodded.
“Magic. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this feast in the oven in time for tomorrow’s festivities!” Bingo set to work, looking happier than his companions could ever remember seeing him.