City of Lies - Lian Tanner [71]
The rigging above their heads rattled. The covered dinghy squawked in its cradle. The cat peered out from behind it and hissed.
Cord picked up a bucket and thrust it into Mouse’s hand. When the boy flinched away from the smell, Cord whacked him across the ears. “Toss that muck over the side,” he said. “A bit at a time.”
Mouse didn’t move. Cord took out his pistol and tapped it against the little boy’s cheek. “Or if you’d rather,” he said, “I could toss you over.”
Slowly Mouse dipped his fingers into the bucket, pulled out a handful of fish guts, and flung them over the ship’s rail. Cord’s jaw did a furious little dance, as if he was disappointed not to have an excuse to kill someone. The cat slunk out from behind the dinghy and crouched at Goldie’s feet. The mice renewed their assault on the ropes.
Goldie felt a spot of rain on her face and looked up. The clouds were drawing in and the morning was growing darker. In the back of her mind, Frisia’s voice whispered, Sometimes the best place to hide is in the midst of the enemy’s camp.
“What?”
Sometimes the best place to hide …
Goldie looked at the clouds again, at the way they shadowed the deck. Oh, she thought. Of course!
She leaned toward Toadspit. “Imitation of Nothingness,” she breathed.
Toadspit stared at her. “But what’s the—” Then he too understood.
At first, Goldie found it almost impossible to settle her mind. Fear needled at her. The ship surged up the face of a wave and plunged down the other side. Her ropes twitched under the onslaught of half a dozen tiny sets of teeth.
Then, just as her mind was at last becoming still, something scraped against the side of the ship. Mouse yelped and leaped back from the rail.
A red spot showed on each of Cord’s cheeks. He laughed viciously. “Looks like the nice sharkies are keen to make yer acquaintance, boy. Why don’t ya say ’ullo to ’em? Go on. Lean over the rail and send ’em yer best regards.”
Mouse cowered away from him.
“I said, lean over the rail!”
The little boy shot a look of sheer terror at Goldie. She looked back helplessly. Beside her, Toadspit shifted his weight as if he was bracing for a fight. “Go on, Mouse,” he called. “Tell them we’re going to have shark stew for dinner tonight.”
“Brave words, Toadboy,” sneered Cord. “I betcha don’t sound so clever when you’re slidin’ down a shark’s gullet.”
Mouse took a shaky step toward the rail and leaned over the side. “Now,” whispered Toadspit. “While Cord’s watching him.”
Goldie closed her eyes and did her best to block out everything—the ship, the sharks, Mouse’s fear, her own dread of what was coming. She drew in a deep breath and let it out again.
I am nothing. I am the wind in the rigging.…
Her mind began to drift outward. She could feel the quick heartbeats of the mice, like sparks encircling her body. And the cat, glowing like a hot coal on the deck beside her.
I am the smell of the sea. I am the taste of salt water.…
She could feel Bonnie, crouched in a corner of the hold, her mind fierce and bright. And Toadspit, and Mouse, and Cord and Smudge—
And—and someone else! There was someone else on the Piglet! Someone hiding in the dinghy. But who was it? And why …
Another shark scraped against the hull. Goldie could feel its hunger, as pitiless as a sword’s edge. She shuddered. And opened her eyes.
Toadspit was no longer there beside her.
Or at least, he was there, but not one person in ten thousand could have seen him.
Smudge’s shocked cry came sooner than she expected. “Hey, Cord, they’re—they’re gone!”
Goldie felt Toadspit quiver beside her. She forced herself to breathe so slowly that the air itself hardly knew she was there. As Cord’s boots pounded across the deck, she stood as still as death.
I am nothing. I am the memory of nothing. I am the smell and taste of nothing.…
Cord skidded to a halt some distance away. His pistol was in his hand and his teeth were bared. “They musta had another knife. You idjit, Smudge! I told ya to search ’em.”
“I did, Cord. I promise I did.”
Cord’s