City of Lies - Lian Tanner [42]
“Even when we’re talking to each other?” whispered Bonnie.
“Not when it’s just us,” said Goldie. “But when there are other people around I think we’d better. Unless we’re touching an animal. Then we can tell the truth.”
The cat led the way into the tunnel, which was even darker than Goldie remembered. She gritted her teeth and felt her way along the slimy walls, with Bonnie clinging to her jacket and Toadspit bringing up the rear. The dripping sound was louder tonight, and she could hear water gurgling through underground cisterns somewhere nearby.
When she thought they had gone approximately halfway, she stopped and called out softly. “Pounce? Mouse? Are you there?”
There was no answer, but Goldie thought she could hear someone breathing. “Pounce?” she said. “Is that you?”
“Nah,” said Pounce’s rough voice. “It’s the bogeyman.”
A tinderbox scraped, and a yellow light sprang up. Directly in front of the three children, hanging in midair like a phantom, was a hairy snout, with long silver tusks and little wicked glinting eyes.
Bonnie squeaked with fright. Toadspit leaped forward to stand in front of her.
“I know that’s not you, Pounce,” hissed Goldie.
There was a moment’s silence; then Pounce moved the lantern so that Goldie could see his skinny arms. “What do ya think this is, a boardin’ouse?” he said. He turned his back on them and began to walk up the tunnel.
Goldie hurried after him. “I knew you’d be pleased to see us.”
“Yeah,” muttered Pounce. “Whoopee.”
They turned the corner, and he lifted the blanket to one side. “No one there, Mousie,” he said. “Just ghoulies and gobblings.”
Mouse smiled when he saw Goldie, and the cat rubbed itself against him, purring. Toadspit and Bonnie eyed the two boys uncertainly; then Toadspit pushed his sister toward the fire and crouched next to her.
There was an old kettle perched on the edge of the fireplace. Mouse wedged it in among the coals, dug out two tin mugs and put a trickle of brown powder in each one.
Pounce leaned against the wall with his arms folded. “You give ’em everythin’ we got, Mousie,” he said sourly. “They’re welcome guests, they are. They can stay as long as they like.”
Mouse grinned. Goldie said, “We’ll be here for weeks, Pounce, you’ll see. We’ll be back tomorrow night, sure as anything. We’re never going home if we can help it.”
Pounce shrugged. Mouse took the kettle off the fire and poured hot water onto the powder. The smell of chocolate filled the little room. He grimaced at Goldie as if to apologize for the fact that there were only two mugs, then gave one to Bonnie and the other to Toadspit. They wrinkled their noses at the steam and gulped the hot chocolate thankfully. The cat leaped up onto the stones beside them and closed its eyes, soaking in the warmth of the fire.
“It’s the cat from the ship,” said Bonnie. “I didn’t realize.”
“You mean it’s not the cat from the ship,” said Goldie.
“Oh,” said Bonnie. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean—” She shook her head in confusion.
The cat yawned. Its wet spotted fur was plastered to its body, and for the first time Goldie saw the length of its legs, the enormous paws and the deceptive stillness.
Just like an idle-cat! she thought. Then she laughed at herself, because idle-cats were many times bigger than this and had been extinct for hundreds of years. And besides, if this were an idle-cat, it would certainly have killed them all by now.
Still, there was something uncanny about the creature, and she was amazed that she had been bold enough to pick it up.
When Toadspit finished his hot chocolate, Mouse made another one for Goldie. Then he whistled. There was a rustling sound from the pram in the corner, and the mice peeled over the side like a breaking wave and scurried up onto the boy’s shoulders. He crooned softly to them. Two of them trotted down his arm to his hand.
Bonnie leaned forward, wide-eyed. The mice sat up