The Thief Lord
Page 25

Victor shook his head. "No. I was an only child. But can't brothers and sisters sometimes be a real pain as well?"
"Maybe." Prosper shrugged. "Bo and I have always gotten along well. Well, nearly always. Oh, no," he wiped his face with his sleeve, "now I'm going to start crying."
Victor cleared his throat. "Your aunt says you probably came to Venice because your mother used to tell you so much about it."
Prosper blew his nose. "Yeah," he said slowly, "she did. And everything is exactly like she said it would be. When we got off the train at the station -- Bo and me -- we were so scared that it wasn't going to be true -- the houses on stilts, the roads made of water, the lions with wings. But it's all true! 'The world is full of wonders' -- that's what she always told us."
Victor closed his eyes. "Listen, Prosper," he said tiredly, "perhaps I can talk to your aunt again ... so that she could take you both ..."
Prosper pressed his hand against Victor's mouth.
Someone was at the door. And it wasn't Mosca. He was still snoring.
"Bo!" Prosper hissed as an ink-black head of hair popped through the door. "What are you doing here? Go back to sleep!"
But Bo had already slipped inside to join them. "What's happening, Prop?" he mumbled sleepily. "Are you going to throw Victor into the canal?"
"What gave you that idea?" Prosper looked at his brother in astonishment. "Go on, back to bed."
Bo quietly closed the door behind him. "I could keep watch like Mosca does!" he said, before suddenly bumping into the tortoise box.
"May I introduce you to Paula?" Victor said.
"Hello, Paula," mumbled Bo, apparently not surprised by the strange animal. He sat down on the blanket, between Prosper and Victor. He poked his finger up his nose absentmindedly and looked intently at Victor. "You're a very good liar," he said. "Are you really going to catch us and take us back to Esther? We don't belong to her, you know."
Embarrassed, Victor stared at his shoes. "Well, children all have to belong to somebody," he muttered.
"Do you belong to someone?"
"That's different."
"Because you're a grown-up?" Bo looked curiously in the box, but he could only see Paula's shell. "Prosper already looks after me. So does Hornet. And Scipio."
"Ah, Scipio," Victor grunted. "Is he still here, your Scipio?"
"No, he never sleeps here." Bo shook his head as if Victor should have known that. "Scipio is very busy. He's very, very clever. That's why," Bo leaned over to Victor and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "he got the job from the Conte. Prosper doesn't want to do it, but I --"
"Shut up, Bo!" Prosper cut him off. He jumped up and grabbed Bo's hand. "That's none of your business," he said to Victor. "You said yourself that you're not interested in the others. So why all these questions about Scipio?"
"Your Thief Lord ..." Victor began.
But Prosper turned his back to him. "Come on, Bo, it's time for you to sleep." He pulled his little brother toward the door. But Bo resisted and snatched his hand free.
"I know!" he called. "Victor can tell Esther that we fell off a bridge and she won't have to look for us anymore because we're dead. Isn't that clever, Prop?"
"Oh really, Bo!" Prosper sighed. He pushed Bo toward the door again. "Look, no one's going to throw Victor into the canal, but we can't let him go free either. Even if he promises not to tell anyone about us. You can't trust someone like him."
"Someone like me? Thank you very much!" Victor called after them, but Prosper had already closed the door after him. Victor was left alone in the darkness with the cold tiles at his back. So they won't throw me into the canal, he thought. How very generous! Well, at least I haven't got that disgusting rag stuffed in my mouth. The tap on the basin above his head was dripping. Outside, Mosca was still snoring through his watch. Could he make Esther Hartlieb believe that the two of them had fallen off a bridge? I don't think so, yawned Victor. And then he fell into a deep sleep.
21 Baffled
"So, what are we going to do with the snoop?" Riccio asked.Prosper had bought fresh bread for breakfast but none of them could swallow a single morsel. The only ones who had slept well were Bo -- and Mosca, whose sleep had remained undisturbed until Riccio had relieved him. Hornet poured herself a third cup of coffee. Riccio was complaining. "So, what are we going to do? I haven't slept a wink all night with that guy tied up in the bathroom."
Mosca shrugged. "What can we do? We can only let him go once Scipio has found a new hideout. Scip says that with the Conte's money we could buy ourselves our own island on the lagoon, if we like."
Riccio pulled a face. "I don't want to live on an island! I want to stay here, in the city. Do you think I want to go on a wobbly boat every day? Yuk!"
Hornet interrupted him impatiently. "Tell that to Scipio." She looked at her watch. "We're meeting him in two hours, remember?"
"I'd love to live on an island!" Mosca pushed himself up with a sigh. "We could catch our own fish, grow vegetables ..."
"Catch fish -- uuugh!" Riccio wrinkled his nose. "You can eat them if you like. I'd never eat fish from the lagoon. They're all poisoned because the factories on the mainland chuck their garbage into the sea."
"Yeah, yeah." Mosca scowled at him and got up. "I'll take some coffee to our prisoner. Or will he only get water and moldy bread?"
"Even that would be too good for him!" Riccio grumbled. "Why are you all so nice to him? It's his fault we have to find a new place. This is our..." his voice faltered a little "... home. The best home we've ever had. And he spoiled it all. And now he gets coffee as a reward?"
The others were lost for words. Riccio was right. They had all felt safe here, even though the room was scary at night, and it was already so cold that they could sometimes see their own breath. But this was their Star-Palace, their shelter from the rain, and from the dark night outside. This was their safe haven. At least that was what they had believed.
"We'll find something new," Mosca mumbled while he poured the rest of the coffee into a mug for Victor. "Something just as good, or even better."
"Oh, yeah?" Riccio stared moodily at the star-embroidered curtain. "But I don't want to find something better! Why don't we just chuck him into the canal? Then we wouldn't have to worry. I mean, why was he snooping around here anyway?"
"Riccio!" Hornet looked at him in horror.
"It's true!" Riccio's voice grew shrill. He had tears in his eyes. "We're going to lose our Star-Palace, just because of that -- that -- creep! We'll never find another hideout like this! I don't care what Scipio says about an island and lots of money. It's all rotten!"
The others said nothing. None of them knew what to say. Finally Mosca murmured, "It's probably going to be really cold in here once winter comes anyway."
"So what? It's not going to be as cold in here as it is outside, is it?" Riccio sobbed. He buried his face in his arms.