Free The Bone Magician by F E Higgins Page B

that it might be hot. This was notas unrealistic as it might sound. Many people carried hot potatoes in their
     pockets for warmth and, of course, ultimately to eat. But this was not cooked. It still had the earth clinging to it. And it was a most peculiar shape, greatly swollen at one end, tapering almost to a point at the other. Except for its dark red skin Pin
     might have thought it was a carrot.
    ‘I’ll be having that if you don’t mind.’
    Pin looked around at the sound of the voice, but he could see no one.
    ‘Pardon?’ he said. Then he felt a tap on his lower back and looked down to see a short, in fact a very short,
     solid-bodied man looking up at him.
    ‘Oh,’ said Pin, for want of anything better to say, and handed over the potato.
    The man took it and slipped it in his pocket. ‘Many thanks,’ he said, and he held out his right hand – in his left he
     had a pipe – and introduced himself, taking Pin’s hand with a firm grip. His palm felt rough and muddy.
    ‘Beag Hickory,’ he said pleasantly, looking Pin right in the eye albeit with his head cocked back at an acute angle.
     ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’
    ‘B-yug,’ repeated Pin. ‘How would you spell that?’
    ‘B-E-A-G. It means‘‘small’’.’
    Pin started to laugh, but when he saw Beag’s archbrowed expression he stopped.
    ‘It makes sense,’ said Pin, listening carefully. Beag had a rather pronounced accent, with rolling r’s; most
     definitely he was not a native of the City. ‘After all, you are—’
    ‘A dwarf,’ cut in Beag. ‘I am that, but for sure haven’t we all our crosses to bear in this life. Some easier of
     course than others.’ He looked at Pin, waiting patiently.
    ‘Oh,’ said Pin, suddenly realizing what he wanted. ‘My name is Pin.’
    ‘Just Pin?’
    ‘Pin Carpue,’ said Pin before thinking and then frowned, but Beag said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know about the
     disgraced Carpue family.
    ‘It’s short for Crispin.’
    ‘Crispin, eh?’ Beag mulled over the name and looked Pin up and down. ‘Interesting,’ was all he said. Then,
     nodding in the direction of the Nimble Finger, ‘Have you been in then?’
    ‘I have,’ replied Pin. ‘To see the Bone Magician.’
    ‘Ah, yes, Mr Pantagus,’ said Beag. ‘A strange trade inmy book, though some would
     say mine is no stranger. And what of the Gluttonous Beast?’
    Pin shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
    Beag rubbed his hands together and the sound was like sandpaper. He looked at Pin quizzically. ‘I should think you’ll be off
     home and out of this cold? Never known a winter like it. ’Tis uncommon without a doubt.’
    ‘I would be off home,’ said Pin, rather more pathetically than he intended, ‘but I lost my room tonight. I suppose I
     shall be on the street.’
    ‘In this city you won’t be the only one,’ remarked Beag dryly. ‘I’m waiting on a friend myself, or
     I’d be well gone. Should be here any minute—’
    ‘Hold up, my good man,’ called a voice from behind, and then there was the sound of running footsteps.
    Pin wondered whom Beag might know who spoke in such a way, distinctly northern, and he waited with interest to see who this fellow was.
     The man who came up to them was tall, significantly so, and his slim frame was accentuated by the long dark coat he wore, which was fastened up to the neck. Pin thought he looked most elegant and strikingly handsome.
    ‘Glad I caught up with you,’ he said, clapping Beagheartily on the back. ‘I
     don’t fancy being out on my own these nights. Might get thrown into the Foedus by that madman, what is it they call him? The Silver Apple Killer.’
    ‘That’s what Deodonatus Snoad calls him,’ said Beag.
    ‘And who is this young fellow?’ asked the man, as if suddenly realizing that the scruffy boy beside Beag might actually be
     with him. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’
    ‘Pin,’ said Beag, ‘allow me to present my great friend, Mr Aluph