Sebastian looked up and stood. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. His figure was uncommonly slim even for his age, which could not be more than thirteen; and the looseness of his garb made him appear thinner than he was in reality. Lucy spotted Michelle and Missy, who were in the middle of the theater talking to a group of boys, one of which appeared to be the widely coveted Josh Durkin. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. Sebastian observed coolly, savoring the outline of Lucy’s feral figure hunching over Michelle’s gradually diminishing body. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell.
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