The Thief Taker by C.S. Quinn Page A

someone he recognised, a fellow ex-foundling. Changing direction he made for the familiar face.
    ‘Oliver!’ He began to raise his hand in salutation, but his old friend shook his head.
    Confused, Charlie drew closer.
    ‘What are you doing here Charlie?’ hissed Oliver in a whisper. ‘Do you not know you are a wanted man?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It is all over London,’ said Oliver. His stall held a few pitiful cages, and he settled himself down onto his haunches in the dust, gesturing Charlie did the same.
    ‘The Mayor himself has got funds from the King to bring you in,’ Oliver explained.
    Charlie felt his stomach plummet in fear.
    ‘They say you are connected to a witch-murder,’ continued Oliver . ‘And they are careful to put down such things quickly, for you remember how things were with Cromwell.’
    ‘I am innocent,’ said Charlie. ‘You do know I am innocent?’
    ‘Of course.’ Oliver rested a hand briefly on his forearm. ‘But your description has been put about at every checkpoint in the city.’ He shook his head. ‘It is a shame you are so good at your thief-taking Charlie. Many know your face. And with the fear of witches and plague in the city they will not hesitate to turn you in.’
    Oliver glanced about nervously. ‘This part of town is worst of all for dark rumours,’ he said. ‘The physicians are here, and they are all in fear. They say something is happening with the bodies.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Bodies are not being buried where they should be. And some of the physicians say there are more bodies than dead people. They think something dark has come to London,’ he added.
    ‘Oliver,’ said Charlie, keeping his voice in a low whisper. ‘I am trying to clear my name. So I am come for information.’ He hesitated , thinking of the easiest way to phrase his question.
    ‘Would a witch buy feathers for a spell?’ he asked finally, opting for the most straight-forward question.
    Oliver frowned.
    ‘Some silly girls did come for dove feathers and the like,’ he said. ‘But that was long ago. No woman should risk her neck for a love spell.’
    ‘What of . . . A different spell?’ pressed Charlie. ‘A dark magic?’
    Oliver visibly shuddered.
    ‘Think you such a thing takes place in the City?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ admitted Charlie.
    ‘Then they would not use feathers from the bird market,’ replied Oliver with certainty. ‘They would use an evil bird. A rook or a raven. We do not sell such things’
    Charlie felt disappointment run through him.
    ‘People used to buy ravens to clip their wings and leave them at the Tower of London,’ continued Oliver. ‘But no one bird seller will keep ravens since the plague. They are a bad omen. And unless you are allowed in the Tower,’ he added, ‘You cannot keep a raven in the city.’
    ‘Why not?’ Charlie couldn’t imagine why the bird couldn’t stay hidden.
    ‘They are not like a starling or a nightingale Charlie. Ravens make a horrendous noise. When you cage them, they are loud enough to raise the dead. And you must know they are terrible luck. A neighbour would hear and make some complaint if you kept one.’
    Charlie considered this.
    ‘You must beware, if it is dark magic you track,’ warned Oliver. ‘There is all talk from the astrologers that some evil thing has arisen,’ said Oliver. ‘Signs and portents have been seen. Comets. Things of that kind.’
    He squinted up into the summer sunshine.
    ‘London is an ancient city,’ he added. ‘She holds bound in her belly the bones of giants and her soul is of old magic. Some wicked thing is abroad with this plague Charlie, all of us feel it. Perhaps something terrible has arisen with the King’s return. A long- sleeping demon awoken and now stalking among us.’
    Charlie considered this. Many peasants and poorer sorts turned to witchcraft for treatment. Particularly now plague made them desperate.
    He thought of Maria and her country family and their dislike of