The Mudlark's Lament

The child before you – for, improbably, a child she appears to be, and not some imp risen from the silt – is spectacularly grubby. She has levered a long, wooden stick from the mud and now uses it as a sword, battering the empty air. “Everyone else is scared. But I 'ent scared.” She grins a fierce, snaggle-toothed grin. “I’m gonna be a monster-hunter!”

There is a beast in the sewers beneath the Fifth City – or so the urchins believe. But the Precocious Tosher has no fear, and a good, honest monster-battering is the only thing standing between her and the ballads of urchin legend. All she needs is an expendab— ahem, a dependable longshanks to bear witness to her heroism.

What terrors – and what treasures – might be found in London’s mucky depths? There’s only one way to find out, and it doesn’t smell good.