Free Fever Crumb by Philip Reeve Page B

fields around the city were being melted down and remolded. They crossed one and then another of the slimy timber bridges which spanned the streams flowing into the marsh. People coming the other way stood aside for the Skinner, bobbing bows and curtsies, and he nodded back and rested one hand on Charley's shoulder, letting the town know the boy was with him.
    Charley was getting used to his new life by then. He liked the way people called out to wish Bagman luck, and parents pointed him out to their children, and the children stared round-eyed at the old man stalking by, and stared at Charley, too, because, although he was no bigger or better dressed than most of them, he was lit up by some of the Skinner's glory.
    At last Bagman stopped at a tall, shabby warehouse with a painted sign above the door. "Wormtimber's historick curios," he read out, for Charley's benefit. "We'll have to teach you to read, son, if you're to be a Skinner's boy."
    Inside the place was more like a cave than a shop. Stacked with old car parts and barrels of machine scraps, Ancient technology heaped up against the walls and dangling from the rafters. The owner popped out of a secret lair among the clutter and blinked at them. "Bagman ...
    Charley knew the man, of course. Knew him by sight, at least, for Thaniel Worm timber was one of Ted Swiney's cronies, and could be found most evenings propping up the Mott and Hoople's bar. He was small and walnut brown and dirty and he had large, watchful, yellow eyes.
    "Charley," the Skinner said, "this here is Master Wormtimber. He's the New Council's Master of Devices, but I believe he won't be above lending us a helping hand."
    "Always happy to help the Skinners' Guilds, Master Creech," replied Wormtimber, rubbing his little mittened hands over and over each other, like a cat washing its paws. His head twitched forward and those weaselish eyes looked hungrily at Charley. "Oh, always happy, Master Creech. Ted Swiney at the Mott and Hoople told me you were hunting again, but I didn't dare imagine that I might be of any use."
    "You keep an eye on the digs around town, I believe? You keep the Council abreast of who's digging where and what they're finding?"
    "Oh, yes, indeed, Master Creech, that is one of my duties."
    "What do you know about an archaeologist called Solent?"
    Wormtimber blinked cautiously. "Kit Solent? He's nothing much. He married old Chigley Unthank's daughter. The daughter's dead, too, now, I believe. Solent's never found anything of much note. What makes him Skinner's business, Master Creech?"
    Creech said nothing for a moment. Charley sensed that the old man was uneasy about sharing what he'd found with the Master of Devices. But he coughed, and then said, "Solent's hired a new Engineer. A girl."
    Wormtimber nodded. "Crumb's foundling. I've heard of her."
    "What do you mean, foundling?"
    "Why, I mean what I say, Master Creech; that she was found. In a basket, on the Brick Marsh somewhere. Fever Crumb ... He stopped, and his eyes seemed to light with a pale fire. "I say, Master Creech -- you don't suspect she's one of them? "
    "It ain't proven neither way," said Creech. "I've had a look at her, but I can't be certain. I need to get in and check her over without actually getting in and checking her over, if you take my meaning. I heard you're the man to come to for the old machines."
    "Oh, yes, Master Creech, sir," said Wormtimber, nodding, rubbing his hands, smiling so much that his eyes folded themselves away into deep creases. "I do have some most interesting devices at my disposal. Say what you will about the Patchskins, they left behind some lovely toys. Old-tech weapons, sir, and spyware. As Master of Devices it's my task to maintain such things for the New Council, but between ourselves, the post pays poorly, and so to make ends meet I do sometimes rent out or even sell the more useful pieces. Though, of course, I'd not dream to expect a rental fee from you, Master Creech. I'm always