City of Lies - Lian Tanner [31]
At last all the masks were sold. The stall owner stepped away from her table with a sigh of relief. “By the Seven,” she said, “that was even quieter than last year. They’re a well-behaved lot, the citizens of Spoke. Never create a moment of trouble for us working folk.”
Goldie laughed and handed over the rest of the coins. The woman’s teeth showed in a wide smile beneath her mask. “Whereas you, boy,” she said, “are a scoundrel. The worst I’ve met for some time.”
Her dark hair had tumbled out of its combs and she pinned it back as she talked. “Now, how can I help you? I suppose you’d really hate a tartlet?”
“No—I mean, yes,” said Goldie.
The young woman rummaged in a paper bag and pulled out two tartlets. The pastry was bright green, and the filling appeared to be made from dead spiders. She handed one of them to Goldie, who stared at it, remembering the hairy cake.
But the stall owner was biting into her own tartlet with obvious satisfaction. “Disgusting,” she murmured.
Goldie took a tiny bite. The green pastry was sweet and crumbly. The dead spider jam melted on her tongue. “Mm,” she said. “That’s—um—really horrible.”
The woman beamed at her. The cat wound its gaunt body around her legs, peering up hopefully.
“Is that gorgeous-looking creature with you?” said the woman. She dug in the paper bag and pulled out another tartlet. “Here,” she said to the cat, tearing the tartlet in half and dropping one of the pieces on the ground. “You’ll hate this. Not a drop of cream in it.”
The cat crouched over the morsel, lapping at the cream and purring loudly. Goldie tried to work out how she could ask for help, when everything she said had to be a lie.
But before she could gather her thoughts, the woman grabbed her arm. “Stay where you are! It’s not Dreamers!” And she pulled Goldie to one side, just in time to avoid three girls who were dancing down the street.
Their clothes were ragged and their faces were thin, but the girls laughed and flirted with invisible companions, as if they were at a grand ball. The air around them fizzed.
Everyone in the street stopped what they were doing and watched with looks of envy on their faces. The cat’s head turned from side to side, as if it could see things that no one else could see.
“Who are they?” said Goldie as the girls danced past.
“They’re not caught up in a Big Lie, poor things,” the young woman said with a sigh. “Someone asked the wrong question, they gave completely the wrong answer, and now look at them. For a day and a night the city hasn’t woven them into the skein of its dreams. They’ve escaped their normal life of luxury and pleasure and gone somewhere horribly boring.”
One of the girls nearly bumped into a coffin-cake stall, but the stall owner took her arm and gently pushed her toward the middle of the street. She danced away without looking at him.
“Can’t they see us?” said Goldie.
“Oh yes,” said the young woman airily. “They can see everything that’s going on around them. A Big Lie isn’t the least bit convincing when you’re in it. I’d hate to catch one, myself.”
Goldie gazed after the happy dancers. So Pounce was telling the truth. The Big Lies DO exist. And there’s one gone already.
Then the noise and the shouting erupted again, and she remembered why she was here. “I’m—I’m not looking for someone,” she said to the young woman, who had turned her back on the crowd and was beginning to dismantle her stall. “She’s not wearing a cat mask.”
“A cat mask?” said the woman, over her shoulder. “Easy. I could probably lead you straight to her. There’s only one cat mask in the whole city.”
For a moment Goldie’s pulse beat faster; then she remembered that the stall owner was lying. “She’s not wearing a bright green cloak either,” she said quickly. “And she’s—um—tall.” She tried to remember more about the woman who had shoved past her so roughly in the street. “And—and I think she’s probably really polite. And kind. And friendly.”
The stall owner paused in her work. “Mm. That doesn’t ring a bell. I’ve had a few friendly customers lately, but she was one of