The River of No Return

ready for them. Why did that readiness feel so much like happiness?
    Julia. That was the answer. She had come to him in the cupola and he had drawn out her sighs like spun sugar. Nick surrendered to lascivious thoughts. Why not? He was home again, London was filthy and dangerous again, he was alive. What better way to celebrate than to imagine the delicious deflowering of Julia Percy?
    For a while Nick and Arkady walked in silence. The streets were dark but they weren’t sleeping. Here and there small groups of men were making their way homeward. Now and again a woman, leaning in a doorway, made clear what she was offering. A dog barked and was answered by another, and out of the corner of his eye Nick saw a rat slip over the cobbles in the shadow of a crumbling wall. When they reached the Strand, the street grew more crowded. Down side streets to the south they could see the Thames—it was at low tide, and the night-fishing boats, each with its dancing lantern, crowded the center channel. The long, sloping banks were dotted here and there with people, some tending small fires, others combing for treasure among the rocks and bones and broken pipe stems that littered the mudflats.
    Out of nowhere, a clutch of children appeared, scarcely older than infants. They trotted at Nick and Arkady’s heels, begging for money. The stars ignited their hungry, hopeful eyes. Nick was about to toss them a few coins when he remembered that to do so could well make him a target of older children or even adults, watching and waiting in the shadows.
    Nick looked sideways at Arkady, the man who had brought him back here. The Russian’s smile was as tranquil as the slender moon. He turned a ragged child gently aside with his stick. He did it expertly, lifting it slightly under one thin arm and redirecting its steps. It was as if the child were a cat that had sidled up, hoping to be stroked. The child turned to try again, its little face lifted up, but Arkady’s stick was in the way and Nick watched as the child’s face lost its look of hope and closed in. The children fell behind, their pleas turning to shrill little curses as the two tall aristocrats strode out of their lives forever.
    “You ask no questions,” Arkady said, breaking the silence. “That is unusual for you.”
    “I have learned that I will receive no answers.”
    “Yet I have told you I am taking you to a rendezvous far from gracious Mayfair. I lead you into the dark City, to meet strangers. You are either very brave or very stupid, my friend.”
    “That’s easy. I am very stupid.”
    “Don’t you want to know where we are going and why?”
    “Oh, no.” Nick waved a hand. “Lead on! You see, I have realized that I am but a humble pawn. I play on several different chessboards, it’s true, but I am always a pawn.”
    “What other chessboards? There is only one. The Guild’s.”
    Nick smiled. “You have brought me home, Arkady, to this sunset of the aristocracy. You have given me back my name, however temporarily. So unless you’re going to tell me that the Prince Regent is a time traveler, I’m afraid I’m bound to play on his chessboard, too. Did I not tell you? He sent me a Writ of Summons. I am to appear in the House of Lords tomorrow.”
    “Was that what you were going on about at dinner? My priest, how dreary!” He laughed. “Maybe it is the sunset of the aristocracy, but money—it is always high noon with the money! That is why the Corn Bill—it passes. People suffer. Decades later it is struck down, but oh dear—it is too late to save the Irish!” Arkady yawned. “This is the foolery of Naturals. It has nothing to do with you, and there is nothing you can do that could change it.”
    “I was planning to vote for it.”
    That wiped the smile from Arkady’s face. He stopped walking and stared. “What? But you know it is terrible, this bill!”
    “Ah.” Nick twitched his cuffs. “I thought you said it didn’t matter what I did. I thought you said the bill was boring.”
    Arkady’s stare softened. “You are pulling the leg! You trick me!”
    “Perhaps.” Nick smiled. “You’re afraid that things can be changed, Arkady, admit it. That the Ofan can change things. That I might change things. You don’t want me to think for myself in case I screw up the future.”
    “Is that what you think?” Arkady set out walking again with a jaunty swing of his stick. “That you could change the world? I laugh at you.”
    “All right, but