City of Lies - Lian Tanner [22]
Just before midday, she gave up her vigil and set out to search the rest of the city. The streets were crowded, and she wished desperately that Toadspit were with her and that they were looking for Bonnie together. She wished too that she could talk to Olga Ciavolga, or Herro Dan, or Sinew. She felt horribly lonely and did not know what she could do in the afternoon that was any better than what she had done in the morning.
In the cellars of her mind, the little voice whispered, Missing something.… Missing something.…
The sun was already low in the winter sky when she found herself in another plaza, a smaller one than yesterday’s. There were shops all around the edges, with canvas awnings folded back, and dark interiors. In front of the shops, cinnamon, nutmeg, peppercorns and powdered ginger spilled from their sacks. There were stone jars of honey too, and coffee and cocoa beans.
In the middle of the plaza, a crowd had gathered. Goldie wriggled through it, hoping for something to eat. Instead, she found a small boy with white hair and bare feet standing next to a rickety-looking pram. The pram had a board nailed across the top of it and was filled to the brim with scraps of paper.
A man at the front of the crowd held up a coin. “Here, lad,” he said. “Tell my fortune.”
The boy, who looked to be about six or seven years old, was very thin, and his feet were blue with the cold. But there was something cheerful about him that immediately raised Goldie’s battered spirits. He took the coin, slipped it into his pocket and whistled softly.
There was a rustling sound, and the pram rocked on its springs. A moment later, a white mouse with a scrap of paper between its teeth scrambled up onto the board. It was quickly followed by another mouse, and another, and another. Before long there were twelve of them lined up, each with its bit of paper. They were all pure white with little pink eyes and pink ears, and they gazed up at the boy as if they were waiting for instructions.
He whistled again, and they dropped their bits of paper onto the board.
“Is that it?” said the man, taking a step forward.
The boy held up his hand, as if to say, “Wait.” He tipped his head to one side and stared at the bits of paper. From where Goldie stood, they looked as if they had been torn out of books and gazettes. Some of them had only one word on them; others had a whole sentence. Two of them had no words at all, only pictures, though Goldie couldn’t see what they were.
The boy moved the scraps of paper around, tossing some of them back into the pram. When he was satisfied, he nodded.
“Well,” said the man, winking at his friends, “let’s see what’s in store for me.”
He stabbed his finger at the bits of paper one by one, and read them out loud. “Cotton socklets—ah, that’ll be something to do with my business.” He nodded approvingly. “It’s a good start, lad. I don’t make socklets exactly, but you’ve got the cotton bit right. Now, what comes next? Long hand. What’s that got to do with anything? And the next one, sick one day. Is this supposed to make sense?”
The white-haired boy shrugged.
The man stared at the bits of paper, puzzled. Then his face cleared, and he turned to one of his companions, who had a snub nose and an arm in splints. “Hang on, young Spider, I think it’s talking about you! Long hand, that’s close enough to arm, isn’t it?” He beamed at the crowd. “Spider’s my accountant. Broke his arm yesterday, poor sod. Those mice are smart little beggars, aren’t they?”
The crowd peered at the young man, who flushed, as if he was too shy to enjoy such attention.
His boss poked at the next bit of paper. “Ooh, now we’re getting interesting. Do not betray me, oh my darling. Sounds like something out of a bad romance. And this next one. Five hundred thousand thalers.”
He laughed, but it seemed to Goldie that he was not quite as amused as he had been. Spider’s face had lost some of its color.
The man turned to the white-haired boy. “Is this a true fortune?”
The boy nodded.