The Dagger X (The Dagger Chronicles) - Plot & Excerpts
Above him the man with the cudgel withdrew a fistful of hair from the chimney opening. Fortunately for Duck the rains had not yet arrived in Port Royal, and the owner of the Royal Coffee House had not yet resumed his habit of starting an early fire to drive off the morning chill for his customers. Nor had he employed the use of a chimney sweep in at least three seasons. When Duck tumbled out onto the large brick hearth, sputtering and momentarily blinded, a cloud of black dust billowed out into the parlor with him. It was Sunday, a day for religious observation in many parts of the world, but in Port Royal it was a high time for trade. The coffeehouse was packed full of men and a few women, exchanging news and haggling over the finer points of their trades. It was a loud place that afternoon, each group raising its voices to be heard above the din. When the blackened boy appeared so dramatically at the hearth—haloed in a blooming cloud of soot dust—and got to his feet, not a single silver spoon stirred in a porcelain cup.
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