“I trust you have my money, Shackle,” said a voice . . . one she knew!

It was Dudley Remp’s father!

“Always, Marster.” There came the chink of coins. “There be some goods too, as usual.”

“And as usual I give you leave to dispose of them.” Of course, Remp would have no idea how or where to dispose of stolen goods, and the few coins to be made out of them were not worth his time or effort.

“The rats been givin’ me some trouble, Marster,” Shackle continued. “Reckon ye c’n spare a word to ’em?”

A heavy sigh. “If I must.” Remp cleared his throat ostentatiously. “Listen, you miserable little brats. You know who I am. Allow me to remind you why you are here. You are here to work off the debt your parents have to me. That means they owe me money, and I could have many bad things happen to them because of it if you don’t obey. Now, you can do what Shackle tells you to, and at the end of the Fair, you can go back to your parents, and your parents will not be wandering the streets without a home. Or you can be ungrateful little wretches, disobey, and your families will find themselves sleeping in alleys with nothing more than what they have on their backs. And that’s if they’re lucky and I am feeling generous. If they’re not, and I’m angry at your disobedience, they’ll find themselves in gaol for debt, or in one of my workhouses, and once in one of those, they will never leave, you will all be separated, and you will never see each other again. Do you understand me?”

Silence, which seemed to be what he wanted.

“Very well then,” Remp said, sounding bored. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Nothin’ Marster,” Shackle began. But he never got farther than that.

“Stand where you are! This is the Watch!”

The call came from somewhere near the front of the tent—and of course obeying that order was the very last thing that Remp was going to do. But Mags was no fool, as his children knew very well. They were already on their feet and scrambling out of the way as three Watchmen rushed for the back of the tent, and as Remp ran out a back flap, he ran straight into their arms.

•   •   •

“An’ we got all th’ littles back t’their families,” Mags concluded, as Amily and Perry gathered up the supper dishes and left them outside the door to be collected. “Thet’s what I call a good day’s work. Abi, iff’n ye hadn’t spotted thet all them littles was dressed alike an’ runnin’ a cantin’ crew on th’ same bung nipper, nobody’d have known it was organized. Well done. Perry, you an’ Abi run a fine bait-an’-trap. An’ Larral, good trackin’.”