Page 71 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
"Is Mr. Lee in?" I asked some of the children hovering nearby.
Several of them nodded, others merely shrugged. One of the older ones stepped forward, and I recognized him as the boy who'd brought me the message the night before. I smiled at him, but he didn't smile back.
"Mr. Lee is out marketing, miss," he said.
"We've come to see the body of the man who died there last night," Lincoln said.
"They took it away in a cart."
Damn. We were too late. The captain had returned and claimed the body already.
"They?" Lincoln asked the lad.
The boy lifted one shoulder. "Men. There was writing on the cart. English writing. But I can't read." He drew some lines in the air.
"An M," I said.
"That's all I remember," the boy said with another shrug.
"You've done very well. Thank you." I opened my reticule, but Lincoln already had coins in hand. He gave the boy two and one each to the other children. They beamed and rushed off with their loot.
"M?" I said to Lincoln as we left the lane. "Is that linked to the captain, do you think?"
"The captain wouldn't have returned. He was too scared of both Gordon and of capture, or he would have put up a stronger fight, perhaps even shot someone. M is most likely for Mortuary. The authorities have collected the body. I know where to find the nearest one."
Seth drove us the short distance to St George in the East church, Wapping. The mortuary had been built behind the church, almost on top of a cluster of gravestones. It was unattended and the door locked. Lincoln dismissed my idea to seek out a clergyman and instead used some long pins he withdrew from his pocket. He had the lock open in a moment.
"Impressive. Did one of your tutors teach you to do that?"
He nodded. "Mr. Jack Plackett was a master thief in his time, but was an ancient cripple when he came to tutor me. He was as sharp as a knife, though. I learned more useful things from him than from any of my other tutors."
"Including your female tutor?"
"Not for lack of effort on her part."
I covered my smile with my hand. It seemed inappropriate to laugh in a mortuary.
He pushed open the door. "Do you mind if I go in first?"
"I was hoping you'd offer."
He hesitated. "You should stay out here."
"But we both know I'm not going to."
His lips flattened. "Then prepare yourself."
I stood back while he entered, then followed. I wish I'd taken his advice to prepare myself more seriously. The mortuary wasn't what I expected. Bodies didn't lie on tables and shelves but on the floor, wherever there was a space large enough. Nor were they covered for modesty; they lay naked and exposed. I wondered if the wealthier parishes treated their dead in such a shabby manner.
I counted six bodies, some quite decayed and four of them grossly bloated, their skin pulled tight over swollen bellies and faces. Those four must have drowned, a common cause of death this close to the docks. The only woman had her head smashed in, and the sixth body belonged to our man from Mr. Lee's. He was in the best condition of the lot, but was extraordinarily thin. His skin was like worn paper, and it was a miracle the bones didn't protrude through it.
I drew in a sigh when I saw him and instantly regretted it. The smell of rotting flesh was much fouler than the butcher's cellar. I covered my nose and mouth but it was too late. The putrid odor clogged my throat. I gagged.
"Charlie, are you—?"
I raced out of the mortuary and threw up in the bushes. To my horror, Lincoln's warm hand touched the back of my neck. I pulled away, not wanting him to see me like this, and certainly not wanting his sympathy. I should be used to death by now. I was a necromancer and had seen death up close numerous times; I’d even touched decomposing bodies. My weakness appalled me.
"My apologies," he said.
