{"product_id":"the-notorious-scarlett-and-browne-isbn-9780593430439","title":"The Notorious Scarlett and Browne","description":"\u003cb\u003e\"Stroud is a genius.\" —Rick Riordan\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe now \u003ci\u003enotorious\u003c\/i\u003e outlaws Scarlett and Browne are back in their second death-defying adventure—and this time it’s not just their \u003ci\u003eown\u003c\/i\u003e lives on the line. . . .\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlbert and Scarlett are a formidable pair. With his ability to read minds and her way with a weapon, no bank can keep them out and no jail can keep them in.\u003cbr\u003e     But their notoriety may have spread a bit too far. Now old enemies from Scarlett’s past and a sinister new threat from Albert’s world are boxing them in—and holding their friends hostage.\u003cbr\u003e     To win their freedom, the outlaws Scarlett and Browne are charged with pulling off an impossible mission.\u003cbr\u003e     And the clock is \u003ci\u003eticking \u003c\/i\u003e. . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFans of Jonathan Stroud's \u003ci\u003eThe Outlaws Scarlett and Browne\u003c\/i\u003e won't want to miss their next adventure.★ \"Stroud dishes up another headlong plot replete with cliffhangers, breathtaking feats, and all-too-narrow escapes. \u003cb\u003eRousing, swashbuckling fun.\u003c\/b\u003e\" — \u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “[A] \u003cb\u003efizzingly paced adventure. \u003c\/b\u003eFull of action, outlaws, dystopian societies, and post-apocalyptic ghouls. To say the stakes are high is an understatement, but that is \u003cb\u003eStroud at his best. Both hilarious and suspenseful.\u003c\/b\u003e\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e, starred\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003cb\u003eStroud outdoes himself \u003c\/b\u003ein this second book, finding inventive ways to amp up the thrills as Scarlett and Albert tackle more dangerous heists and confront fearsome villains from their pasts. The author displays a cinematic eye for detail in \u003cb\u003ethrilling action sequences\u003c\/b\u003e. Stroud's writing \u003cb\u003ecrackles with wit\u003c\/b\u003e. The \u003cb\u003eextremely satisfying\u003c\/b\u003e ending seems to promise yet another book in this \u003cb\u003emarvelous series.\u003c\/b\u003e\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Buffalo News\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Stroud’s inventive plotting and playful language make for a \u003cb\u003eclever, suspenseful and fizzingly paced\u003c\/b\u003e adventure.\" —\u003ci\u003eToronto Star\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"Humorous, nail-biting and rich in unexpected turns of phrase, this is beautifully constructed storytelling of the first order\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003e Sunday Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"\u003cb\u003eWitty and scary\u003c\/b\u003e.\" \u003ci\u003eFinancial Times, \u003c\/i\u003eBest books of 2022: Young adult\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"[A] rowdy, rollicking, remarkable road trip\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003e Daily Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"\u003cb\u003eFunny and gripping,\u003c\/b\u003e it will be \u003cb\u003eirresistible\u003c\/b\u003e to anyone, child or adult, who loves action movies and steampunk.\" —\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eNew Statesman\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eJonathan Stroud is the author of two internationally bestselling series: the award-winning Bartimaeus Sequence, which has been published in thirty-six languages worldwide, and the critically acclaimed Lockwood \u0026amp; Co., which is currently being adapted by Netflix. His stand-alone titles include \u003ci\u003eHeroes of the Valley, The Last Siege, The Leap,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBuried Fire.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Jonathan lives near London with his wife and three children.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat evening, with the sun setting over the ash fields and the curfew bells ringing out above the cities of the plains, three murderers gathered at a crossroads. They wasted no words in greeting. The youngest climbed the broken tower to survey the land; the oldest took up a position of concealment in the ruins beyond the ditch. The third, the bandit captain, strolled to a concrete slab that lay amid the sagebrush and black foxgloves beside the road. He lit his pipe and sat at ease, waiting for travelers to come to them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe crossroads was a good place for an ambush, which was why the bandits had selected it. The tumbled walls of the old watchhouse provided cover, while the surviving tower gave a clear view in all directions. They were close enough to the towns to guarantee foot traffic, and far enough away for the militia not to bother them while they chatted with their prisoners. Also, there was a ravine nearby where the bodies could be tipped.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit captain enjoyed his work, and waiting was part of the pleasure. He felt like a fisherman on a riverbank, scanning the surface of the water, knowing that sleek fat trout were close at hand. He sat with his leather coat open, one booted leg extended, sucking on his pipe. Through half-­closed eyes he watched the fragrant smoke twirl skyward. Yes, patience was the key. . . . Presently the fish would come.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSure enough, soon a low whistle sounded from Lucas on the tower. The captain glanced up toward the parapet and noted the direction of the boy’s outstretched arm. From the east, then: the Corby road. Traders, probably, hurrying to reach Warwick before nightfall. The captain rubbed his bearded chin and glanced at the pistol in his belt. From Corby might come spices, furs, black tektite jewels . . . A Corby haul was rarely disappointing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHow would they be traveling? On foot? In a motor vehicle? He could not hear an engine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe got to his feet unhurriedly, took his pipe from his mouth, and set it on the slab to await his return. Stepping through the sagebrush, he stood ready at the side of the road.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ash fields were soft and sugary in the evening light. Long shadows, sharp as coffin nails, stretched from the pines behind the ruins. To the east, the shadow of the tower was a slash across the red-­brown earth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd now two bicycles came into sight, making for the crossroads.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit captain frowned in mild surprise. Bicycles were not unusual in the safe-­lands, but the Corby road was long and arduous and had deteriorated in the period of the Rains. As he watched, the lead bike weaved smoothly to avoid a pothole. The one behind swerved at the last minute, teetering on the brink of disaster, righted itself, and rushed on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoth riders were heavily laden with rucksacks and packages. Despite this, and even at a distance, he could see how slight they were. If they were young, this suggested further possibilities. There was a slave market in Warwick, and the bandit captain was on passable terms with its overseer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe waited until he could hear the rattle of the wheels. Then he walked out into the dying sunlight and took up a heroic posture, legs straddling the center of the road. He flicked his coat aside and tucked his thumb into his belt, so that his palm cupped the gun hilt loosely.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmoothing back his glistening mane of hair, he held up his hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe leading bicycle came to an abrupt halt, wheel twisting, raising a cloud of thin red ash. The other nearly collided with it. With a squawk of woe, its rider veered away and skewed to a standstill too, his rucksack pitching drunkenly to the side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were young. A blinking, bewildered, dark-­haired boy. The other was a girl in a broad-­brimmed hat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe red dust settled slowly around them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis was always the best bit for the bandit captain. He liked the theatricality of the moment. Him blocking the road. Seeing the shock on their faces, the slowly awakening fear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One moment, travelers!” he called. “A word with you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Bandit,” the boy said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah?” The girl’s head tilted slightly. “I’d never have guessed.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer face was in shadow, but the bandit captain could see twirls of red hair spilling down below the angled hat. She wore a battered brown jacket and dark jeans stained with ash. She had a rifle on her back; also a rucksack with packs and tubes strapped to it. There was a pistol tucked into a slouched gun belt just inside her coat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A friendly conversation,” the bandit captain said. “That’s all I require of you. I should mention that I have armed men watching us. I must politely request that you remove your weapons and dismount from your bicycles.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe waited. The riders didn’t move.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hat,” the boy said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl lifted a hand slowly, lazily—­but not to remove her pistol, as the bandit expected. Instead, she took her hat off, propped it on the handlebars. She sat back on the saddle, one boot resting on a pedal, the other on the ground. Long red hair, dark with sweat, fell in a mess of ringlets either side of a pale and sullen face. No more than nineteen, the bandit guessed. Nineteen and healthy. Certainly worth keeping alive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut she had still not dismounted from the bicycle. Or taken off her gun. And nor had the boy moved. He wore an old gray militia jacket, which hung long and shapeless on his feeble form. He was slender-faced, dark-eyed, almost girlish in his features, and was gazing at the bandit captain with an expression of vacant intensity. A simpleton, perhaps. The main point was he carried no weapon, and the bandit instantly disregarded him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe returned his attention to the girl. “Did you hear what I said?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. “You want my guns.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So then.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’d prefer to negotiate.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m sure you would.” The bandit captain smiled suavely; he made an expansive gesture in the direction of the ruins. “Sadly, that’s not an option, my dear. You’d do well to obey me. I have five men concealed here, each a crack shot, each with a rifle trained on your heart.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl wrinkled her nose in mild distaste. She looked at her companion. “Albert?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Two men,” the boy said. “One on the tower, one at the window of the ruins.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Rifles?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pistols.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit scowled. “Enough of this jabbering. Five men, I say, who—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the girl was glancing up toward the ruins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Left and up a bit,” the boy said. “Yep. You’ve got him. The other’s at the top.” The curious thing was, he wasn’t looking at her or at the ruins but was still watching the captain with his big, dark eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Okay, that’s fine,” the girl said. “Which would I take first?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The one on the tower is the best shot. He’s the fastest. The one at the window sucks.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA muffled voice came from the ruins. “Hey!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This guy?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Was good, but his nerves are shot. He drinks too much.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit captain had run a pub before his rages got the better of him and he killed a man in a brawl. He had a thirst on him now, and he could feel his anger swelling in his belly as the conversation ran away from him. Just looking at the boy’s bland, blank face made him oddly furious. That and his disconcertingly accurate chatter. He had the sense that he was missing something, and that infuriated him too. If it hadn’t been for the girl, for the price she’d fetch at auction, he would have taken out his pistol and shot them both where they stood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Excuse me,” he said. “If I could get a word in for a moment, we’re agreed that several guns are trained on you, correct? The point is—­if you go for your weapon, we will kill you. If you try to run, the same.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Cycle,” the boy said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’d cycle. Not run. Look, we’re sitting on bikes.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Talk some sense,” the girl said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gods above us! It makes no difference!” The bandit stamped his boot upon the road. “Cycle, run, or flap your arms and fly like two toothed birds, the outcome will not change.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA breeze blew a curled strand of hair across the girl’s forehead. She brushed her face clear. She had green eyes, as bright and cold as glass. The bandit found it hard to look at them. “All right,” she said slowly, “keep your pants on, mister. No need to get upset. So what happens if we do as you ask?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit captain flicked irritably at a dusting of ash on the side of his tight black jeans. He had lost his calm, and that made him feel put out. Lucas would have seen that, and Ronan, too; they would needle him about it later. “Well,” he growled, “suffice it to say we are gentlemen of the road, and we have our own code of honor. We will look through your bags, perhaps take a few trifles, things that appeal to us. . . .” He shrugged. “That is all.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And after that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We let you go.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Albert?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They’ll kill us,” the boy said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bandit started. “I assure you—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“At least they’ll kill me. Shoot me or cut my throat, dump me in a ravine for the wolves to find. You they’ll keep alive, Scarlett. Maybe sell you to the slavers. If you’re lucky.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, dear,” the girl said. She stared at the bandit captain with her bright green eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe captain found his own gaze flickering uneasily to and fro. He adjusted his position slightly in the road. “Whatever your fate,” he said thickly, “it is ours to decide. Throw away your gun and dismount. I will not ask again.”","brand":"Yearling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301205168357,"sku":"NP9780593430439","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593430439.jpg?v=1767740750","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-notorious-scarlett-and-browne-isbn-9780593430439","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}