Temple Boys. Jamie Buxton

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СКАЧАТЬ man and Flea could see him more clearly. Thin lips in a bony, clean-shaven face, curled into an empty, tortoise smile. Questioning, arched eyebrows cloaked quick, darting eyes.

      Flea squatted by a bucket of skinned sheep’s heads, trying to ignore the naked eyeballs. Maybe he can’t see you, but we can, they seemed to say.

      But the man had lost Jude. He swore under his breath and backtracked, stopping right in front of Flea, so close that the hem of his tunic brushed up against Flea’s upturned face. Flea smelled old smoke, but more importantly he saw a little pocket sewn into a fold of the garment right in front of his nose.

      Destiny! Flea thought. It would be criminal to let an opportunity like this pass.

      Flea’s hand dipped into the pocket and felt something small and smooth. He caught it between two fingers and when the man moved away, he just seemed to be left holding it. Palming it, he was about to set off again when two hands clamped down heavily on his shoulders.

      ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Jude hissed in his ear. Flea had no idea where he’d come from.

      ‘That man was following you,’ he hissed back.

      ‘The tall one? Where did he pick me up?’

      ‘Just outside the alleyway where you found the old man, the camel and the donkey.’

      Jude’s eyes momentarily widened. ‘That far away? I only just noticed him. How close did you get to him?’

      ‘Close enough to get this.’

      Flea opened his hand to show the thing he had stolen: a small, carved ivory tube, about the size of a man’s middle finger and still pocket-warm.

      ‘Not so clever. He’s going to miss it. Wait a minute: describe him.’

      ‘Wearing grey. Long neck. Looked like a tortoise. Black eyebrows. Smelled of smoke.’

      ‘Did he smile a lot?’

      ‘All the time.’

      ‘Can you get us out of here?’ Jude’s voice was suddenly urgent.

      ‘Yes, I know this area.’

      ‘Then do it – and lose that thing you stole, whatever it is.’

      Flea nodded and was off. He knew many escape routes out of the market. The one he chose took them between a soap seller and a spice warehouse into a gap so narrow even he had to squeeze sideways. Then there was a wall to climb and a view down into a tiny roofless room where dull-eyed children picked through sacks of dried lentils and didn’t look up.

      Flea led Jude across the rooftops, crossing streets where the houses came close enough together to jump the gap and on until the streets widened and the houses were built out from the hillside. They stepped from a roof straight on to a small strip of carefully terraced garden.

      Jude checked the sun. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘This is far enough. Now then, Flea. You and I need to talk.’

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