City of Lies - Lian Tanner [21]
The scratching sound came again. The cat’s bony hindquarters began to tremble. It inched across the floor on silent paws. It sprang. There was a squeak of terror, then nothing.
Goldie swallowed, trying not to think about what might have happened to her friends. The cat sidled past her, a small, limp corpse dangling from its jaws.
“He wants what?” said the Protector.
The captain of militia cleared his throat. “He wants to help, Your Grace. Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but one of the guards told him about the children going missing, and he reckons he might be able to find them. I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
The Protector pushed her hair out of her eyes. She should have been in bed hours ago, but she could not sleep for worry about the missing children. And now there was this ridiculous offer from the Fugleman. “He’s in a prison cell!” she snapped. “How could he possibly find anything? Except perhaps for bedbugs.”
“He says he’s got contacts, Your Grace. People he’s worked with all over the peninsula, and in the Southern Archipelago too. They’re not a nice bunch—he admits he’s been a bad boy. But that’s all the better, Your Grace. If it’s criminals or slavers who’ve taken the children, then who better to find them than other criminals and slavers?”
The Protector felt the old anger welling up inside her. “Tell the Fugleman—the ex-Fugleman—that we do not need—”
She forced herself to stop. Perhaps she should not be so hasty. After all, Sinew’s inquiries had come to nothing, and so had hers.…
“Why is he offering this?” she said. “What does he want? Money? Or is he trying to worm his way back into favor?”
“He claims to be genuinely remorseful, Your Grace.”
The Protector laughed grimly. “I am sure he does. But what’s his real reason?”
“Maybe—maybe he’s hoping for a lighter sentence.”
“Mm. I suppose that could be it.”
“If he’s genuine, Your Grace, there’s no harm done. And his villainous friends might just be able to help.”
“And if it’s a trick?”
“Then we need to expose it as soon as possible.”
The Protector pushed her chair back. “What does he need?”
“He wants to send out lots of semaphore messages, that’s all. He says he can do it from the House of Repentance if you’ll let him into the office and give him a runner.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“He’ll be under close guard, Your Grace. And we’ll make sure that the messages are read before they are sent. We won’t give him a chance to get up to any of his nonsense.”
“I suppose—” The Protector sighed. She was feeling old. “If there’s a chance it will help find the children, then I must allow it.”
“You won’t regret it, Your Grace,” said the captain.
“I do hope not,” said the Protector. “I really do hope not.”
Goldie spent the rest of that miserable night curled up next to the chimney of an underground kitchen. She dozed fitfully, and when the sounds of clattering saucepans echoed up from below, just before dawn, she crawled to her feet, pulled her torn jacket close and went back to the bread shop. The air was colder than ever and the hunger was as sharp as flint in her stomach.
She could see movement in the back of the shop, but the doors weren’t yet open, and the only people around were other ragged children scouring the cobblestones for crusts.
Goldie joined them and found enough to take the worst edge off her hunger. She also found the wheel marks from the horse and cart and followed them for two blocks before they were lost under a hundred other such marks.
In the back of her mind, the little voice whispered, You’re missing something.
Goldie returned to the shop and watched it for most of the morning, mingling with the passersby. There was no sign of the cat, and nothing happened that would lead her to her friends.
But in the back of her mind the little voice whispered again, Missing something.…
She did her best to work out what she might have missed in her midnight search. But there was nothing, she was sure of it. Not