City of Lies (4 page)

With a shudder, the Protector picked up her pen and dipped it in the inkpot. “I’ll get those ships traced immediately, and send out names and descriptions of the children.”

“Descriptions, yes,” said Sinew. “But let us keep their names to ourselves for now. I will ask their parents to do the same.”

The Protector nodded toward the door. “Because of our prisoner?”

“Yes. He has good reason to hate Goldie and Toadspit. I know he’ll be locked up, but still—the less he knows, the better.”

“He claims to be humble and repentant.”

“Does he indeed?” said Sinew. “Perhaps he is repentant, I cannot tell. But humble? No. The overwhelming pride is still there, just below the surface. I would watch him if I were you. I would watch him very carefully.”

He touched his finger to his brow in an informal salute and was gone. Outside the window, Broo howled as if it were the end of the world.

G
oldie was so cold and stiff that she could hardly move. The end of Bonnie’s bow poked into her ribs, and the salty air had stuck her eyelids together. She thought that she had slept a little, but she wasn’t sure.

She and Toadspit had found this hiding place last night—a tarpaulin-covered dinghy, halfway along the deck of the fishing boat. Now the edges of the tarpaulin let in a glimmer of daylight. It was morning.

Goldie licked her dry lips. Ma and Pa would have woken up by now, and found her gone. Her heart ached at the
thought. How would they manage without her? What if her disappearance made Pa’s nightmares worse? What if Ma’s cough turned into a fever?

Beside her, Toadspit lifted the edge of the tarpaulin, just far enough to see out. Goldie squirmed up to the gap and peered through it, grateful for the distraction.

The deck of the boat was covered with nets and barrels and ropes, and a pile of glass floats like huge green bubbles. In the stern, the sharp-faced man from the night before was standing beneath an open-fronted deckhouse. His legs were braced and he held a heavy upright pole that moved back and forth with the movement of the sea. His oilskin coat flapped in the wind.

As Goldie watched, he leaned toward an open hatch and shouted, “Hey, Smudge.”

A muffled reply came from somewhere below.

“Bring the snotty up,” shouted the sharp-faced man. “Let’s see ’er in daylight.”

Heavy footsteps crossed the lower deck; then a second man, the big one with the blond hair, clambered out of the hatch with Bonnie in his arms and dumped her on the deck next to the mast. Her wrists were tied and there were bruises on her forehead.

In the dinghy, Goldie felt Toadspit tremble with rage.

The big man fumbled behind one of the barrels and pulled out a flat piece of wood. “Um, Cord?” he said. Despite his
enormous size, there was something childlike and eager to please about him. “You want me to change the name of the boat before someone sees us?”

“Yeah, go on.”

The ship heaved and slapped against the waves. As Cord worked the tiller, the sleeve of his coat fell back, and Goldie saw a bloodstained bandage.

Beneath the tarpaulin, her hands twitched out a message in the silent code of fingertalk.
That’s who Bonnie stabbed with arrow
.

Toadspit nodded. His eyes flickered back to his sister’s bruises.

When Smudge returned, he was carrying a different piece of wood. He held it up for Bonnie to inspect. “It’s a fake nameplate, see?” he said, as happily as if she were a friend, rather than a child he had stolen. “When we was in Jewel we was the
Black Bob
, but now we’s the
Piglet
. Ain’t that clever? Who’s gunna think of lookin’ for the good old
Piglet
? No one, that’s who.” He grunted with satisfaction. “It were my idea, weren’t it, Cord?” he shouted to the smaller man.

Out of the corner of her eye, Goldie saw something move. She nudged Toadspit. The gray-spotted cat that had darted across their path on the wharf was slinking around one of the barrels. It was a huge, gaunt, wild-looking creature with torn ears and a bony skull, and when it saw Smudge, it bared its fangs in a silent hiss.

Smudge leaped backward, an expression of horror on his face. “Where’d that thing come from? What’s it doin’ on the
Piglet
?”

“Musta come with us from Spoke.” The sharp-faced man, Cord, sniggered. “What’s the matter, Smudge? You’re not scared of that old fleabag, are ya?”

“Course not,” said Smudge quickly. He retreated another step, tucking his fists into his armpits. “It’s just—um—you remember Harrow’s fightin’ dog? Great big monster of a thing? A coupla months ago he set it onto that cat, for a bit of a laugh. And—” He lowered his voice. “And the cat killed it! I seen it with me own eyes! They reckon—they reckon it’s a demon cat. They reckon it can see things that ain’t there.”

Cord’s snigger turned to a snarl. “Don’t be more of a idjit than ya have to. Find out the snotty’s name.”

Without moving, Smudge mumbled, “Hey, snotty. What’s yer name?”

Bonnie sat up very straight. “My name is—Princess Frisia.” In the dinghy, Toadspit smiled bleakly.

Smudge made a clumsy bow, still keeping an eye on the cat. “Pleased to meet ya, Princess.”

“Oh, for Bald Thoke’s sake!” shouted Cord. “You’re a moron, Smudge. What are ya? A moron. Find out ’er
real
name.”

“That
is
my real name,” said Bonnie. She glared up at
Smudge. “Why did you steal me? My father the king will be very angry.”

Smudge looked confused for a moment. Then Goldie saw a cunning expression slide across his big face. “We
didn’t
steal ya. Yer ma and pa sold ya to us.”

“That’s not true!” cried Bonnie.

“Well, course it’s not,” said Smudge, sounding surprised at her protest. “I’m practicin’ for the Festival.”

Under the tarpaulin, Toadspit’s fingers flashed a message.
What festival?

Goldie shook her head.
Don’t know
.

“If she won’t tell ya her name,” Cord shouted, “take ’er below.”

Bonnie pressed herself against the mast. “I’m not going back down there.”

“You have to,” said Smudge. “ ’E’s the boss, so ya gotta do what ’e says.”

“He’s not
my
boss,” said Bonnie. “And
I
like it better up here.”

“Aw, come on, Princess. You’ll get me into trouble.” The big man took a step toward her, but the cat hissed at him and he quickly backed away again. “Um—Cord?”

Cord jerked his head in disgust. “Do I ’ave to do
everything
meself? Yeah, course I do.” He beckoned furiously to Smudge, who lumbered over to take the tiller.

Beside Goldie, Toadspit gritted his teeth.

Cord was clearly not the least bit afraid of the cat. He marched straight past it, aiming a kick at it on the way. But the cat was not afraid either. It twisted away from the kick and leaped up onto the nearest coil of rope. Its back bristled. Its long claws snaked out and raked Cord’s hand.

Cord swore loudly. “Scratch
me
, would ya? Ya little—!”

“Told ya it was a demon,” shouted Smudge.

“That ain’t no demon,” hissed Cord, snatching an iron bar from a nearby barrel. “And I’ll prove it.”

There was a flurry of movement as Bonnie scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him. “Don’t you
dare
!” she cried, kicking his ankles and punching his chest with her bound fists. “Don’t you
dare
hurt that poor cat!”

A chill ran through Goldie. Cord swore again and dropped the iron bar. He grabbed Bonnie by the scruff of the neck, his thin face purple with fury. “Ya little ratbag,” he snarled. “It’s time ya learned some respect!”

“Careful, boss,” said Smudge uneasily. “Harrow won’t like it if ya damage the goods.”

“Harrow told us to get a snotty, and we did,” growled Cord. “It’s not our fault if she gets a bit
mashed up
on the way ’ome!” And he raised his fist.

Goldie had almost stopped breathing. She grasped the edge of the tarpaulin, ready to leap out of the dinghy.

But Toadspit’s hands were again flashing in fingertalk.
Stay here. Need someone they don’t know about. Keep this for me!

He thrust his folding knife into her pocket. Then he pushed past her and tumbled out onto the deck.

To the two men, it must have seemed as if he had dropped from the sky. He leaped over the barrels and tore his sister away from Cord before the sharp-faced man knew what was happening.

“Toadspit!” cried Bonnie, and she threw her bound hands around her brother’s neck.

To Goldie’s relief, the sudden appearance of a fourth person shocked Cord out of his mad rage. He leaned back against the rail, breathing heavily. “Well, well, looks like we got
two
snotties, Smudge, instead of one. We’ll ’ave to search the bilges. There might be a whole gaggle of ’em down there, hatchin’ out like goslings.” He chortled nastily. “You and me’s gunna be in Harrow’s good books.”

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” snarled Toadspit.

“I don’t see that ya got a choice in the matter,” said Cord. “Unless ya fancy a
very
long swim.”

He swaggered toward the boy. Goldie sucked in a sharp breath, but Toadspit backed quickly out of reach.

Bonnie stuck her tongue out at Cord. “You might as well give up now,” she said. “My brother
kills
people like you.”

“Shush, Bonnie!” hissed Toadspit.

“Bonnie?” said Cord sarcastically. “I thought she was some sorta princess.”

Goldie huddled in the dinghy, clutching her bird brooch and shivering with helpless anger. She saw Smudge tie the tiller in place. She watched as he took a brown bottle from his pocket, poured liquid onto a kerchief and crept up behind Toadspit. She caught a whiff of something cloying and strong.

Toadspit must have smelled it at almost the same time, because he let go of Bonnie and whirled around. But he was too slow. Smudge wrapped his big arms around the boy and clamped the kerchief over his nose. Toadspit struggled and kicked, then went limp.

“What’ve you
done
to him?” shouted Bonnie, and she attacked Smudge, trying to drag her unconscious brother from his arms. Goldie’s muscles ached with the desire to leap out of the dinghy and help, but she did not move.

“Here, gimme that muck, Smudge,” said Cord, grabbing Bonnie from behind. “I’ve ’ad enough of snotties. We’re gunna keep ’em asleep for the rest of the voyage.”

He held the kerchief over Bonnie’s face until she too went limp. Then he handed her to Smudge, who slung both children across his shoulders and carried them below. The cat watched from behind a barrel, its tail whipping from side to side.

Slowly, Goldie let the edge of the tarpaulin fall back into
place. A drop of salt water trickled down her forehead, and she wiped it away. She was still shivering, but her anger was beginning to wear off, and she felt stunned by what had just happened.

She was all alone now. No one knew where she was. If Toadspit and Bonnie were to be rescued, she must do it entirely by herself—and the only thing she had to help her was a folding knife.

The thought was almost too much for her. What could she do against a man as violent as Cord? Where were her friends being taken, and why? Who was the mysterious Harrow?

And how will Ma and Pa get on without me?

Something twisted painfully in her chest. She could not turn back, she knew that. She must try to put her parents out of her mind until Toadspit and Bonnie were safe again.

But as the
Piglet
plunged through the waves, heading for an unknown destination, Goldie felt as if a part of her were trying to fly in the opposite direction.

I
n a narrow street in one of the poorer parts of the city of Spoke, two boys were sitting on a stone step, watching the shop opposite. The older boy, Pounce, had his scabby arms wrapped around his knees, trying to keep out the cold wind that was blowing up from the harbor. He would have given up ages ago if it wasn’t for the money that Harrow’s underling, Flense, had promised him.

“One thing I’ll say about Harrow’s mob,” he whispered to his friend, “is that they pays well. Not like
most
people.
Most
people try and fob us off with a two-week-old pie that’d ’ave
us spewin’ in the gutter if we was thick enough to eat it.
And
they expect us to be grateful.”