City of Lies - Lian Tanner [72]
I am nothing … nothing … nothing …
“They gotta be ’ere somewhere,” muttered Cord. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find ’em. And when I do—”
He strode up the deck, kicking at the folded sails with his foot. When he came to the bow he turned around and glared at everyone and everything. Mouse shrank back against the rail.
“Wherever yez are, ya little snots,” Cord shouted, “I’m gunna find yez. Yez’re gunna be sorry that yez tried to mess with me.”
Suddenly the ropes around Goldie loosened. Tiny paws scampered down the mast and disappeared. The cat began to clean itself with a calm tongue.
Goldie drew in a silent breath. Toadspit was free too. She felt him slip away from the mast.
“Cord?” said Smudge, shaking his big head uneasily. “I did search ’em. I don’t think they did ’ave another knife.”
Cord ignored him. He was working his way down the other side of the deck now, poking into every corner. Goldie saw Mouse glance at the dinghy, his face a mask of terror.
“I dunno how they got outta them ropes.” Smudge rolled his eyes. “D’ya think it’s some sorta magic? Some sorta demon magic? Do ya?”
Know your enemy.
Very carefully, Goldie squatted down until her mouth was right next to the cat’s ear. “Cat,” she breathed. “We need something that looks like magic. Now.”
For a moment the cat didn’t move. Then it stood up, yawned hugely and began to stalk toward the deckhouse with its ragged tail held high.
Cord kicked over a barrel with his foot. Nothing. With a grimace of fury he strode toward the dinghy. But just as his hand gripped the tarpaulin, there was a horrified yelp from the deckhouse. “Cord! It’s lookin’ at me!”
Cord stopped. “What are ya talkin’ about?”
“The demon cat! It’s lookin’ at me!”
The cat was indeed looking at Smudge. It stalked toward him, its fierce eyes fixed on his face. He let go of the tiller and backed away, sword in hand. Goldie braced herself against the mast. The ship lurched, and Smudge fell over.
Immediately a dozen white mice swarmed out of the hatch behind him, each one with a scrap of old gazette in its teeth. They dropped the bits of paper beside his head and scuttled away again.
“Cord,” groaned Smudge. “It’s magic. I told ya.”
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Cord. “You’ve seen them mice before. They belong to the snotty, the little ’un.”
Smudge shook his head. “The cat made ’em do it. It’s magic.” He picked up one of the scraps of paper and his mouth fell open. “Look what it says. Death. And this one. Died. And this one. Dead man. It’s me fortune, Cord. They’ve told me fortune. I’m gunna die. Just like Flense.”
Cord snarled, “It’s not you who’s gunna die, idjit. It’s the snotties. Pull yerself together.”
Goldie drifted closer to Smudge. As she passed him, she whispered in his ear, “Poor Smudge, dead and gone.”
Smudge flinched and leaped to his feet. “Who said that?”
“Who said what?” growled Cord.
A shadow drifted past Smudge on the other side. Goldie heard Toadspit whisper, “Deeeaaad and goooone.”
Smudge jabbed at the air with his sword. “Don’t you come near me,” he said in a quavering voice. “I don’t want no ghostie magic near me.”
Cord strode down the deck and grabbed the big man by the arm. “What’s the matter with ya, talkin’ to thin air? You smarten yerself up, Smudge. We got a job to do ’ere, and we’re gunna do it. Now git that tiller and git us back on course or I’ll chuck you overboard.”
Smudge gulped. His eyes rolled in his head, and he gripped the sword with white fingers. But Cord’s words had had their desired effect. He took the tiller again, one-handed, and brought the Piglet back on course.
Cord watched him for a minute or two, then disappeared around the back of the deckhouse, muttering to himself and poking his pistol into every corner.
As soon as he had gone, Goldie drifted closer to the tiller. “Hooow did Smuuuudge diiiieee?” she whispered. “Hooooow did he diiiieeee?”
“Shut up,” mumbled Smudge. “I’m not listenin’ to ghosties. Cord says you’re not real.”
“Hooow