Concerning a Random Encounter

Tupelo was supposed to meet the Shadow Man about a trade. If he was lucky, a cup of coffee also could be found in one of the shelters down by the vista.
The Shadow Man set shop beneath the stone bridge by the river, in the Horseman's territory. Tupelo didn't like to be there after dark. He picked his way through a narrow sliver between buildings strewn with rain soaked trash and feral cats. Cars moved by in the distance, a fleeting rush of movement and wet tires. He suspiciously eyed a heap by a dumpster, and determined it wasn't worth it.
Suddenly Tupelo turned, and there was the Ragamuffin King standing at the alley's mouth like a shadow of a rowan tree, imprinted over glistening black puddles by the flickering pole lamp. Tupelo jumped.
"Kitty Rollins is dead," the King intoned. His hands were shoved into the oiled-canvas coat. "Tell that rake her territory passes to the Lady. He should mind himself before he digs up something wanted by someone else."
Tupelo didn't answer, but fairly fled across the wet flagstones, coat tails flapping.
"Pass the news to the Shadow Man!" the King yelled after him, and then he slipped off into the oncoming night.