Writer of ethically ambiguous SF and fantasy for kids and teens…
A surprisingly sturdy stable occupied one side of the yard. In the remaining weedy ground, the coach with the crest scratched off its door was parked beside three others. I wasn’t even surprised — this place practically screamed Den of Thieves. Then the fear hit, and my heart began to pound.
I had found it. I should immediately go back and tell Rupert and Kathy. That was the agreement.
But if I did they’d come up with some crazy scheme to get Mistress Margaret out of there, and we didn’t have enough information for scheming.
If this was a burglary, I’d have spent a week scouting the place, figuring out their schedule, trying to spot some weakness. Well, if I’d been planning to burgle this place, I’d have waited till I sobered up and then wondered how, even drunk, that could have seemed like a good idea. Den of Thieves, after all.
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