City of Lies - Lian Tanner [64]
Pounce had nearly died of fright the first time he saw that flippin’ bird. It was bigger than a dozen pigeons stuck together, and blacker than the blackest sewer. It’d keep you fed for a week if you could get past those claws and that wicked beak. But Pounce wasn’t stupid enough to try.
When they’d all passed him, he glanced up at the sky. It was just beginning to lighten, which meant that the Lie would finish very soon. And when it did, Flense, Cord and Smudge were going to chew up those visiting snotties and spit out their bones.
“But they’s not gunna chew up Mousie,” whispered Pounce. “Not if I got any say in it.”
And he turned and ran after his friend.
(Be Ready.… Be Ready.… Be Ready.…)
The little voice had been whispering in the back of Frisia’s mind ever since she woke. But as her carriage approached the waterfront, and the eastern sky lightened with the coming dawn, it grew to a shout.
(BE READY! BE READY!)
The waterfront was bustling. In the gray light, the last of the soldiers were boarding their ships. Quartermasters ticked off lists of food and weapons. Sailors licked their fingers and held them up to test the direction of the wind.
Frisia stared at everyone and everything she passed. She could see nothing out of the ordinary. But the danger was there. She could feel it. And it was getting closer. Much closer.
(BE READY!)
The royal procession drew up beside the Falcon, the king’s flagship. On deck, the captain was waiting to greet the princess. The tide had turned, and he was eager to be gone.
Frisia’s nerves were stretched as tight as the ropes that held the ship to the wharf. In the carriage behind her, Physician Hoff, who had insisted on coming to see her depart, was frowning, as if she had a headache.
(BE READY!)
There was a sudden sharp gust of wind across the harbor. Duchess Orla pulled her cloak tighter. A black feather fell to the ground.
“Don’t be silly,” Frisia told herself. “It’s just her glove.”
But the more she looked, the more she saw feathers. Now they were dropping from the duchess’s hair. As each one fell, Frisia felt a shock, as if the world she knew were trying to tear itself apart.
No one else seemed to notice. Physician Hoff was rubbing her forehead. Aunt Katerin was licking the back of her hand.
Licking her hand …?
Frisia shook her head. The danger was so close now that she could almost smell it. But she still did not know where it was coming from.
Grand Duke Karl had told her about times like this. “There are moments in any battle,” he had said, “when you cannot make sense of what is happening. All you can do is trust your instincts. If they tell you to run, then run. If they tell you to attack, then attack. Do not hesitate.”
This wasn’t a battle, but the voice inside Frisia was shouting. (Run!)
Run where?
(To the ship.)
Frisia beckoned to Kord. “We will board immediately. Tell the others.”
As her bodyguard walked away, Frisia grabbed her bow and quiver from the carriage. “Uschi,” she said. “You’re coming with us. Harmut, get her onto the ship.”
Harmut stared at her, startled. “No, she’s not going.”
“Don’t argue,” said Frisia. “I am your princess and I order her to go!”
Uschi poked her tongue out at her brother. “There, you see?”
“Put these in my cabin,” said Frisia, handing the bow and quiver to the younger girl. “Quickly.”
The air was getting lighter by the minute. There was an odd pain behind Frisia’s eyes, as if her thoughts were trying to twist themselves into a different shape.
(BE READY.… BE READY.…)
Ser Wilm was standing beside his carriage, surrounded by his servants. When Frisia ran toward them they swarmed around her, crying out in high voices.
“Your Highness, we want to go with him!”
“We’ve looked after him since he was a baby!”
“Who will watch out for him if we’re not there?”
Frisia was operating purely on instinct now, hardly knowing what she was going to say before she said it. “Ser Wilm. Do your servants have anything that could cut the ropes that tie the Falcon to the wharf?”
Ser Wilm looked hard at her. Around him, a dozen