The Curse of Salamander Street by G.P. Taylor Page B

is astounding.’
    ‘I would love to meet a man who knows my thoughts a day before they come to mind,’ Crane said suspiciously.
    ‘Galphus is a seer and prophet beyond doubt. He has made me a happy man since I came here. For years I had a melancholy that would never leave me. Galphus soon fixed that – for not only is he a seer, but also a physician. When Galphus said you were coming I didn’t question his word. I made up the beds and strung up the hammock. Didn’t sweep the rooms. I find dust keeps the place warm and then you don’t waste on a fire.’ Pallium spoke quickly, pulling on his long brown whiskers and frowning like a cheated cat. ‘Didn’t tell me why you were coming … Don’t want any trouble, Jacob, can’t be having any trouble …’
    ‘The last thing I would want,’ Crane said as he eyed Kate and Thomas to be silent on all that had happened. ‘Just a few days’ rest until I get the Magenta back and then we’ll be to sea.’
    ‘Then,’ Pallium grumbled reluctantly and with much chagrin, ‘my home is your home.’ His eyes flickered from one to the other and back again as if he were a cornered animal.
    Thomas stared at the man, wondering why his melancholygripped him like a tight glove. Pallium appeared to be nervous of their presence, as if he were hiding some deep secret that he could share with no one. As they stood in a long and uncomfortable silence, Thomas looked him up and down. He thought Pallium to be a ragged man in dead men’s clothes. The collar of his shirt was stiffened with neck grease and draped about him like a forlorn noose of grimed cotton. His jacket and waistcoat hung from his body like a horse blanket, his breeches sagged like sash curtains about his spindly legs.
    The one thing that gave Pallium an ounce of glory was his shoes. Thomas widened his eyes as he stared at their beauty – never had he seen foot coverings so fine. In the dust and the murk they glimmered and shone like burnished jet-stones. Large silver clasps held them to his socked feet. Thomas could not help but gasp as they glinted in the candlelight.
    ‘A lad who appreciates the finer things?’ Pallium asked propitiously, breaking the long silence.
    Thomas nodded, and glanced to Kate and then to Crane and back to Pallium’s feet.
    ‘Made by Galphus and never taken from my feet in the last year. Prosperous shoes, boots of providence and a charm against the world,’ Pallium said, suddenly sparked to life. ‘Blessed me with them he did – the finest, most assiduous shoemaker in the country. Italian leather, fine silver and Mandarin cloth. Warm and soft, lad. Restful for the feet.’ Pallium sighed and sat at the chair by the table as he raised a foot in the air for all to see. ‘I never take them from my feet. Far too precious to be left for anyone to pick them up. Look but never touch.’
    ‘Shoes are shoes, Pallium. You speak of them as if they have a life of their own.’ Crane scoffed, his words tired and angry. ‘Does this hammock have a life of its own? Will it be decked in finest Mandarin cloth?’
    ‘No – hemp, and found in the room above,’ Pallium snappedas a cloud of gloom enfolded him again. Slowly, his thin smile slipped from his face. ‘If you follow the stairs you’ll find where you sleep. I won’t walk with you. I have to be about my counting. All these interruptions keep taking my mind from the task. If I were lonesome for a year and a day it wouldn’t be long enough.’ With that, Pallium turned from them and looked to the table and the neatly stacked piles of coins. Ignoring Crane, he picked a stack and began to count each coin slowly and precisely.
    Without the touch of human hand, the door to the stairway suddenly jumped from the latch and opened. It blew cobwebs and a cloud of dust from the rafters, showering the room with a crepuscular mist. Pallium nodded as he grunted and cuzzled his words like an old and wizened dog. It was if he had been expecting the door to