They wandered through the stalls of the Shadow Market. Brother Zachariah was searching for one warlock in particular, who had sent a message saying that he might be of some help.
“Does Uncle Will know you are in London?” asked Matthew. “Are you going to see him? If Uncle Will finds out you were in London and did not come to call, and I knew about it, that will be curtains for me! Young life cut off in its prime. A bright flower of manhood withered untimely. You might think of me and my doom, Uncle Jem, you really might.”
Might I? asked Brother Zachariah.
It was fairly obvious what Matthew was angling to know.
“It would also be very kind of you if you refrained from mentioning that you saw me at the Shadow Market?” Matthew wheedled, with his engaging smile and a distinct air of apprehension.
Silent Brothers are terrible gossips as a rule, said Brother Zachariah. For you, though, Matthew, I will make an exception.
“Thanks, Uncle Jem!” Matthew linked his arm with Jem’s. “I can see we are going to be great friends.”
It must be a horrible contrast for the Market to behold, Jem thought, seeing this bright and happy boy hanging so carelessly off the arm of a Silent Brother, hooded and cloaked and all but shrouded in darkness. Matthew seemed blissfully unaware of the incongruity.
I believe we will be, said Jem.
“My cousin Anna says the Shadow Market is tremendous fun,” said Matthew happily. “Of course you know Anna. She’s always tremendous fun herself, and has the best taste in waistcoats in London. I met some very agreeable faeries who invited me, and I thought I would come see.