Free The Choir Boats by Daniel Rabuzzi

.”
Stumbling over the conditional, he looked at his brother.
    “Would have?” said Salmius Nalmius.
    “Would have asked Mr. Harris and Mr. Fletcher to come inside,”
said Nexius Dexius. “It is hard cold outside. But our men must guard
out there. You were followed part way.”
    “What do they know of Yount?” asked Barnabas.
    “Enough to know how important their services are,” said Salmius
Nalmius. “Harris and Fletcher are estimable men. They work for
more than their pay. They have each their own reasons for joining
our fight. Trust them.”
    The word “trust” hung in the air. Each man sipped at his chocolate,
indulged in the warmth of the fire for a moment. Barnabas stroked
his vest (a pale yellow nankeen), cleared his throat.
    “Buttons and beeswax,” he said. “First, Mr. Sanford and I owe
you an apology, if we offended on our last visit. Events and your
rhetoric moved in unlikely avenues, caught us off balance. Second,
we also owe you our gratitude for your appearance in the alley the
night before last. A tight spot that was, not clear how we might have
fared without your help. Thank you.”
    The Naxes inclined their heads, touched their caps.
    “So now, here we are,” finished Barnabas.
    The fire crackled. Outside the wind murmured.
    “You still have questions,” said Salmius Nalmius.
    “Yes,” said Barnabas. “There’s a Cretched Man and a Wurm who
want the key in my pocket. There’s a place called Yount and you’re
from there. Sanford and I are ready to concede all that, even though
saying so much in public would have us locked up in Bedlam.”
    He paused.
    “Beans and . . .” he began. “We wish to go, make no mistake. It’s
just that this is our home, don’t you see? McDoon & Associates,
Mincing Lane, the City . . . we cannot just leave our home. Especially
with it being attacked. Running off seems like running away. No.
We won’t let them drive us away.”
    Another pause.
    “Besides,” said Barnabas. “Why can’t we send the key with you to
Yount? It’s the key they want, right?”
    Salmius Nalmius shook his head. “No, it is not just the key they
need. Or that we need. It’s the holder of the key as well. The key
and the holder, together. One without the other is useless. The
lock won’t open without both. My dear Barnabas, you must come
to Yount or all our hopes are naught.”
    “Look,” said Sanford, his Norfolk accent more pronounced than
usual. “I’m just an old moke from Mousehold Heath, but there is
more here than you reveal.”
    Salmius Nalmius sighed. “Yes, but what we hold back is for your
own good. And in truth there is much that neither I nor my brother
understand of these events. We are, like you, just small threads in
the grand weaving.”
    Nexius Dexius poured more chocolate, then paced to the window.
He stood there for some time.
    Barnabas spoke again. “The letter spoke of my heart’s desire.
What about that? How could you even know . . . ?”
    The merchant from Yount held out his palms, touched his thumbs
to the forefingers then the little fingers. His dark eyes were bright
in the firelight. “This is beyond me too,” he said. “But I know it to
be true. The Learned Doctors in Yount understand. They will make
it happen. All I know, all I have been told, is that you once long ago
had . . . a liaison . . . a connection with a merchant’s daughter in India,
a connection that was severed before it properly had a chance to
grow. Am I not right?”
    Barnabas nodded. Sanford, the “old moke,” stared straight at
Salmius Nalmius.
    “How your love — may I use that word? — for this woman is
involved in our business, that I do not know,” said Salmius Nalmius.
“Nor do I know how you are to be reunited with her. All I know is
that this is what is supposed to occur, all linked to the key and your
carriage of it to Yount.”
    “Sir,” said Sanford, with a ferrous tone. “If you jest or make false
promise or in any fashion play with us . .