The Orphan and the Thief

Chapter 4: Problems in Passadomo

A night Toad had been sure could not become any more unsettling had taken a jarring left turn. So he couldn't get the ingredients as easily as he'd expected. He was able to shrug that off. So what if it took time to get them. Toad felt that snatching up this odd girl had been the first thing to go right all day.

Dawn was steadily creeping over the rooftops of the houses as they walked. Toad glanced at her. She was scrawny and her yellow-blonde hair was long and braided, wispy, brittle ends poking out at odd places. She was as plain as a broom with her second-hand clothes. He had been surprised to discover her to be so drab, what with her owning a Spit-Fire (they were common, but still costly) and being such a fluent reader. Then again, Wilson could read so that didn't say much.

"What's your name?" asked the girl.

"Toad."

She covered up a laugh with a snort.

"What?" Toad demanded, stopping and facing her, early morning risers already moving around them on the street.

"Well — it's just, you don't look anything like a toad," she said, awkwardly.

Toad shrugged and continued walking. "My dad's got a sense of humor."

"Oh. I'm Melena Snead and this is Hazel."

Toad nodded gruffly, shooting a somewhat annoyed look at Hazel, and kept walking.

"So, who's this man that we're getting the ingredients for?" asked Melena.

"A gent named Owl — know him?"

Melena shook her head.

"Well, he wants 'em bad —"

"And he's going to pay us for them?"

"Yep," Toad nodded.

Beside him Melena fell silent. Toad kept his face impassive with difficulty. She had not only bit but swallowed his hook. Fifty thousand gorents? He had shouted it out of desperation. He hadn't expected her to believe him. Not really. He didn't have a clue where to get Mirg water or moonflowers or whatever else was on that blasted list. He needed somebody to take him and she seemed like a good enough candidate. Toad shot another covert glance at her and couldn't stop himself from saying, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, "Twenty-five thousand is enough to be getting on with, don't you think?"

"Yes," said Melena. Her brow knitted and her gaze became suddenly firm. Focused. "More than enough."

"You sick of them Whosits?" asked Toad, tucking his thumbs in his coat pockets.

Melena looked at him. "Very much so," she said fervently. "But that's not the reason I want the money. I want to hire a private detective to find my brother."

Toad felt he'd missed a step and eyed her in confusion. "Your ... brother?"

Overhead, the little green dragon flapped from lamppost to lamppost.

"Our house burned down ten years ago," said Melena. "It was part of the Miggens Street Fire, ever hear of it? It burned for days, it was all in the paper. Mom and Dad died in it, but I know Milo didn't. No matter what anyone says. I know it."

"So where is he?" asked Toad.

"That's just it. I haven't a clue. He vanished during the fire. I ended up in St. Brenda's Orphanage and Milo's been missing ever since. That's why I agreed to help you. With the money, I'll be able to hire that private detective on Walden Street. I'll finally find him."