City of Lies (23 page)

Just the thought of it made Pounce shiver. “Don’t you touch ’im, Flense,” he whispered. “Don’t you touch my Mousie.”

He heard footsteps and spun around. Cord and Smudge were marching toward him. Pounce caught his breath, then remembered that they couldn’t see him.

The two men marched straight past, with their hands in odd positions as if they held weapons. They seemed to be heading toward the harbor. The girl from Jewel walked behind them, waving her hand to an invisible crowd.

Flense came next, right up close, as if she didn’t want to let the girl out of her sight. And there, trotting after Flense, was Mouse, with his pets lined up along his shoulders.

Pounce felt like grabbing him right there and then and dragging him off home. He would’ve done it too, except that folk said it was dangerous to pull someone out of a Big Lie before it finished. And he’d already put Mouse in danger. He wasn’t going to make it worse.

The skinny old cat strolled behind Mouse with its nose and its tail stuck in the air. The other two visiting snotties followed the cat. And behind the lot of them strutted the big black bird.

Pounce had nearly died of fright the first time he saw that flippin’ bird. It was bigger than a dozen pigeons stuck together, and blacker than the blackest sewer. It’d keep you fed for a week if you could get past those claws and that wicked beak. But Pounce wasn’t stupid enough to try.

When they’d all passed him, he glanced up at the sky. It was just beginning to lighten, which meant that the Lie would finish very soon. And when it did, Flense, Cord and Smudge were going to chew up those visiting snotties and spit out their bones.

“But they’s not gunna chew up Mousie,” whispered Pounce. “Not if I got any say in it.”

And he turned and ran after his friend.

(Be Ready.… Be Ready.… Be Ready.…)

The little voice had been whispering in the back of Frisia’s mind ever since she woke. But as her carriage approached the waterfront, and the eastern sky lightened with the coming dawn, it grew to a shout.

(BE READY! BE READY!)

The waterfront was bustling. In the gray light, the last of the soldiers were boarding their ships. Quartermasters ticked off lists of food and weapons. Sailors licked their fingers and held them up to test the direction of the wind.

Frisia stared at everyone and everything she passed. She could see nothing out of the ordinary. But the danger was there. She could feel it. And it was getting closer.
Much
closer.

(BE READY!)

The royal procession drew up beside the
Falcon
, the king’s flagship. On deck, the captain was waiting to greet the princess. The tide had turned, and he was eager to be gone.

Frisia’s nerves were stretched as tight as the ropes that held the ship to the wharf. In the carriage behind her, Physician Hoff, who had insisted on coming to see her depart, was frowning, as if she had a headache.

(BE READY!)

There was a sudden sharp gust of wind across the harbor. Duchess Orla pulled her cloak tighter. A black feather fell to the ground.

“Don’t be silly,” Frisia told herself. “It’s just her glove.”

But the more she looked, the more she saw feathers. Now they were dropping from the duchess’s hair. As each one fell, Frisia felt a shock, as if the world she knew were trying to tear itself apart.

No one else seemed to notice. Physician Hoff was rubbing her forehead. Aunt Katerin was licking the back of her hand.

Licking her
hand
…?

Frisia shook her head. The danger was so close now that she could almost smell it. But she still did not know where it was coming from.

Grand Duke Karl had told her about times like this. “There are moments in any battle,” he had said, “when you cannot make sense of what is happening. All you can do is trust your instincts. If they tell you to run, then run. If they tell you to attack, then attack. Do not hesitate.”

This wasn’t a battle, but the voice inside Frisia was shouting.
(Run!)

Run where?

(To the ship.)

Frisia beckoned to Kord. “We will board immediately. Tell the others.”

As her bodyguard walked away, Frisia grabbed her bow
and quiver from the carriage. “Uschi,” she said. “You’re coming with us. Harmut, get her onto the ship.”

Harmut stared at her, startled. “No, she’s not going.”

“Don’t argue,” said Frisia. “I am your princess and I
order
her to go!”

Uschi poked her tongue out at her brother. “There, you see?”

“Put these in my cabin,” said Frisia, handing the bow and quiver to the younger girl. “Quickly.”

The air was getting lighter by the minute. There was an odd pain behind Frisia’s eyes, as if her thoughts were trying to twist themselves into a different shape.

(BE READY.… BE READY.…)

Ser Wilm was standing beside his carriage, surrounded by his servants. When Frisia ran toward them they swarmed around her, crying out in high voices.

“Your Highness, we want to go with him!”

“We’ve looked after him since he was a baby!”

“Who will watch out for him if we’re not there?”

Frisia was operating purely on instinct now, hardly knowing what she was going to say before she said it. “Ser Wilm. Do your servants have anything that could cut the ropes that tie the
Falcon
to the wharf?”

Ser Wilm looked hard at her. Around him, a dozen voices fell silent. A dozen pairs of eyes focused on Frisia with sudden interest. A dozen bone-handled knives slid out of purses and sleeves.

“They must do it quickly, and no one must see them,” said Frisia. She wasn’t sure who she meant by “no one,” but Ser Wilm nodded.

“Does this mean we are going with him?” whispered one of the servants.

“Yes,” said Frisia.

They tried to thank her, but she cut them off and pushed them toward the ship.

“Aunt Katerin!” she shouted. “Duchess Orla! Please get on board!”

“But I am not coming with you,” said Aunt Katerin.

“You are now,” said Frisia grimly, and she grabbed her aunt’s arm and dragged her to the bottom of the gangplank.

Back at the carriages, Physician Hoff was deep in conversation with Kord and Smutz. Frisia opened her mouth to summon them.…

(No!)

A chill ran through the princess, and for a moment she could not move. Was
that
where the danger was coming from? The castle physician? Her personal guards?

Suddenly everything made sense. No wonder the assassins had managed to get so close to the king!

She gripped the hilt of her sword and the wolf-sark rose up hot and terrible inside her. She took a step toward Physician Hoff. Her head throbbed. The eastern horizon was so bright that she could barely look at it.

(Run!)

With a great effort, she spun around and leaped up the gangplank. The captain was still standing there, but there was something bloodless and unreal about him. When she shoved past him he hardly noticed.

“Harmut, Uschi,” snapped Frisia. “Something is about to happen. Be ready.”

Ser Wilm’s servants were busy sawing through the two ropes that tied the
Falcon
to the wharf. Aunt Katerin was sitting on the bare boards of the deck, licking her hand and wiping it across her hair. Duchess Orla was climbing the rigging that surrounded the mainmast. Her black cloak flapped around her. Her bony hands gripped the ropes like claws.

Frisia felt horribly dizzy. The air around her was fizzing so violently that the whole wharf shimmered. She heard a squeak from Ser Wilm’s servants as the bow rope parted and the front end of the ship swung away from the wharf. With a loud splash, the gangplank tumbled into the harbor.

As if in a dream, Frisia saw Kord’s head jerk up. He shouted to Smutz and Physician Hoff, and the three of them began to run toward the ship.

At that moment, the first ray of morning sunlight touched the top of the mast. And the whole world burst open like a bubble.

S
he had no idea who she was. All she knew was that she lay on the wooden deck of a ship, gasping with shock. Around her, everything was chaos. A boy with a bandaged head was leaning over the rail, vomiting. A girl was crying silently. In the stern, another boy, a much smaller one, stared at his hands as if he couldn’t work out who they belonged to.

She heard a harsh croak overhead. An enormous black bird hung upside down from the rigging, its great wings fluttering helplessly. Beneath it a gray-spotted cat snarled and spat.

Who was she?

Frisia?

No …

Who, then?

She tried to stand up and the world spun. A different name presented itself to her.

Goldie.

She was … Goldie someone …

Goldie—Goldie Roth!

With an enormous effort, she dragged herself to her feet and peered around the little deck. She was on the
Piglet
! How did she get there?

And then she remembered. The Festival … Pounce’s treachery … Guardian Hope … the Big Lie!

She stumbled to the rail, half expecting to see the ancient harbor of Merne still spread out in front of her. But Merne was gone, and so were the old-fashioned carriages and the royal guards. In their place were the busy docks of Spoke.

And there was Guardian Hope, sitting on the ground, looking sick. But Cord—Cord was staggering toward the ship with his pistol in his hand and Smudge close behind him.

In the back of Goldie’s mind a voice cried,
The stern rope!

Goldie almost fell over with astonishment. That was
Frisia’s
voice! What was the princess’s voice doing inside her head?

With her thoughts whirling, she raced down the deck to
the stern of the
Piglet
. Something whacked against her leg and she glanced down. Frisia’s sword was there too!

Goldie swallowed. No time to think about it, not now! “Out of the way!” she cried, and half a dozen white mice leaped off the stern rope and dived into Mouse’s jacket.

As Goldie drew the sword from its sheath, heat surged inside her, so that she felt as if she were on fire. She raised the sword in both hands, then slashed downward. With a loud twang, the rope parted and the
Piglet
slid away from the wharf.

Too late! Cord and Smudge had leaped across the gap and were clinging to the netting.

“Morg!” screamed Goldie. “Toadspit!”

There was an answering shout as Toadspit ran toward her, with Morg flapping above him. Cord took one hand off the netting and fired his pistol twice. Morg squawked and threw herself high into the air. Toadspit dived for cover behind the deckhouse.

The fire inside Goldie burned from her heels to the crown of her head. Something
roared
in her throat, and a red mist descended upon her, so thick and murky that she no longer knew where she was. All she could think of was blood. All she could see was the enemy in front of her, flinging his leg over the side of the ship.

In a mad fury, she raised the sword again.…

Something brushed her arm. She swung around.
Who DARES touch me?

She saw Mouse’s white, terrified face and tried to stop. But the sword had taken on a life of its own. It sliced through the air toward the little boy!

Goldie fought the sword with all her strength. She fought the fire and the red mist. She
clawed
her way toward the tiny speck of normalcy that still lay deep within her.…

The heavy sword stopped, a hairsbreadth from Mouse’s neck.

For a moment Goldie could not move. Inside her, Frisia’s voice hissed furious instructions.
Kill the boarders! NOW!

With a cry of revulsion, Goldie threw the sword as far away as she could. As it clattered to the deck, Cord and Smudge surged over the rail.

Cord didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Goldie and held his pistol to her head. “Hey, Toadboy,” he shouted. “Come ’ere. And bring yer sister.”

There was a silence—a
terrible
silence. Goldie looked up in time to see Toadspit shuffle around the side of the deckhouse. His head drooped, his bandage was awry, and all the fierce stubbornness that made him who he was seemed to have drained out of him. Even when he was unconscious in the sewer, he had not looked so—so
lost
.