City of Lies - Lian Tanner [3]
He expects me to hide, she realized. And she stuck her nose in the air and kept walking.
The footsteps grew louder. Nailed boots struck the cobblestones. By the light of the watergas lamps, Goldie saw two men in long oilskin coats swaggering down the middle of the road. One of them was a huge slab of a fellow with ragged blond hair. The other was smaller, but his face was as sharp as a fishhook. As he passed the children, he peered at them like a butcher inspecting a couple of fat calves.
Fear licked the back of Goldie’s neck. But after that first intense look, the sharp-faced man seemed to lose interest. He and his companion strode across the bridge and disappeared into the darkness.
Toadspit scowled even harder. Goldie’s fear turned to irritation. She spun around and called, “You can come out now, Bonnie.”
There was a hiccup of surprise from the direction of the bridge; then a small girl with dark hair stepped into the lamplight. The hem of her nightdress showed beneath her smock, and in her hand was an old-fashioned longbow and a quiver of arrows.
Toadspit stared at his little sister. “What are you doing here?”
Bonnie’s chin went up. “I’m going to the museum with you. I followed you all the way from home and you didn’t even notice.”
“Of course I did.”
“No you didn’t, or you would’ve sent me back.” Bonnie grinned. “Goldie almost saw me once. But I hid just in time.”
“Near the terminus,” said Goldie. “When you slipped.”
Bonnie’s face fell. Toadspit turned his look of disgust on Goldie. “You knew she was following us and you didn’t tell me?”
Goldie shrugged, still angry with him. “She’s not going to come to any harm, not with us here.”
“I’d be all right even if I was by myself,” said Bonnie. She held up the bow. “I’m armed.”
“You’d probably shoot yourself in the foot,” said Toadspit. “Where did you get that thing?”
“Olga Ciavolga gave it to me. She said I had a talent for it. She said I could be a champion archer one day, like Princess Frisia.”
Toadspit looked blank.
“You know, the warrior princess of Merne,” said Bonnie. “There’s a painting of her in the museum. She lived five hundred years ago and she was really brave. Some assassins tried to kill her father the king with poisoned air, and she saved him. And she was the best archer anyone had ever seen. I’m going to be just like her. I’ve been practicing.”
Toadspit rolled his eyes. “You’re a pest, Bonnie. I bet you woke Ma and Pa up when you left.”
“I didn’t!”
“We’re going to have to take you home—”
“We haven’t got time,” interrupted Goldie. “We have to get to the museum.”
“And if we meet any enemies on the way,” said Bonnie, “I can shoot them.”
Toadspit snorted. “I bet you couldn’t even hit the side of a house.”
“I could. I could hit—” Bonnie looked around. “I could hit that wooden pole. The one with the gas lamp, on the other side of the bridge. Will you let me come with you if I do?”
“No—”
“Yes,” said Goldie. “If you hit it you can come with us.”
Toadspit bared his teeth. “Looks like you’ll be going home, then, doesn’t it, Bonniekins.”
His sister smirked. “You only call me that when you think you’re going to lose.”
“Stop it, you two,” said Goldie. “Bonnie, get on with it.”
Bonnie took an arrow from her quiver, fitted it carefully to her bow and turned so she was standing side-on to the watergas lamp, with her legs apart and the tail end of the arrow slotted between her fingers. She drew her right arm back until her hand rested against her cheek. She raised the bow, then lowered it a little.
There was a moment of complete stillness. Then her fingers twitched, the bowstring made a thunking sound, and the arrow flew across the bridge and planted itself firmly in the pole. Bonnie gave a little Hmm of satisfaction and lowered the bow.
Toadspit stared. “It was a fluke.”
“You want me to do it again? I can, ten times in a row.”
“No,” said Goldie quickly. “It’s all right, you can come with us.”
“Hang on, I’ve got to get my arrow,” said Bonnie, and before Goldie could stop her, she ran back across the bridge.
Toadspit took a step