Название: Dishonour Among Thieves
Автор: Paul Durham
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007526932
isbn:
Abby removed a small metal object from the box. It was a hair clip in the shape of a dragonfly, its silver so tarnished it was almost black.
“Someone gave this to me long ago, but it seems you could best use it now,” she said. She pushed Rye’s unruly hair from her eyes and clipped it back. “Much better.”
Quinn arrived and placed two mugs of plum cider on the table along with his handmade helmet. His eyes widened and he stared slack-jawed at the realistic, life-size mermaid carved into the tabletop. Abby strategically slid the helmet across the table to afford the mermaid some degree of modesty.
Bramble joined them with goblets for himself and Abby. “What do you have here?” he asked Rye, examining her hand staff on the table. “May I see it?”
“My walking stick? Sure.”
Bramble felt its heft in his hands. He squinted and examined its polished features.
“A walking stick, you say?” He sounded amused. “This, my dear niece, is a High Isle cudgel. Made from the hardest blackthorn ever felled. I haven’t seen one in years.”
Abby raised an eyebrow.
“Like a club?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, like a club,” Bramble said. “But nastier.”
With two lightning-quick strikes, he brought the cudgel down against Quinn’s helmet on the table. Rye, Abby and Quinn all jumped at the sound. Shortstraw fled under a chair. The rest of the inn hardly noticed.
The steel crown of the helmet was crushed as if pummelled by a boulder. Rye was relieved nobody’s head was in it.
Bramble chuckled and handed the cudgel back to Rye. “This is a rare find. Guard it closely until you learn how to use it.”
Quinn stared at his bashed handiwork.
“Apologies, Quinn,” Bramble said. “I’ll buy you another.”
Rye noticed Quinn’s fallen face and didn’t think that cost was the point.
“Your uncle and I need to discuss a few matters,” Abby said to Rye while shooting Bramble a reproachful look. It always amazed Rye how a glare from her mother could give pause to even the most dangerous of men. “Why don’t you and Quinn go find your sister? She’s made herself quite at home here so I can’t say where she is … in trouble, no doubt.”
There was a heavy thud in Rye’s lap and a warm furry mass stretched across her like a blanket.
“Shady!” Rye hugged him around his thick neck.
“Obviously someone else has missed you too,” Abby said. “He’s taken a liking to the inn himself. The twins guard the door well, so he’s stopped trying to escape.”
Shady’s kind were known as Gloaming Beasts – mysterious cat-like creatures who could go years hiding in plain sight. Rye had always taken him for a simple house pet. That is, until he revealed his true nature by helping Harmless thwart a clan of ruthless Bog Noblins. Gloaming Beasts were the bog monsters’ only natural predator. They were also renowned for their wanderlust, which was why Abby kept him under lock and key.
Rye set him on the floor and she and Quinn headed off to find Lottie. Shady snaked in and out of Rye’s gait as she walked, rubbing his back against her legs.
The freebooters were still hard at the grog and their gambling.
“Round six!” barked a man at the centre of the crowd.
His thick hair was the colour of steel and tied into a ponytail that stretched down his back. One eyelid sagged at half-mast, a hollow, empty socket peeking out from under it. He held six fingers in the air.
“Get your bets in now,” he shouted. Gold grommets and silver shims began to change hands. “All right, spin the lads six times apiece!”
Leathery hands grabbed each blindfolded fighter and began to turn them in circles.
“Wait!” he called out, and Rye started in alarm.
The ringleader pinched his dead eye shut and used the other to examine Rye, Quinn and Shady.
“What’s going on around here? I’ve never seen so many children or animals in one tavern,” he grumbled. “And not one looks to be of the edible sort. Animal or child.”
Rye took a step back.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m looking for a little girl.”
“Is Fletcher Flood running an orphanage now?”
“She has red hair. Carries a pink rag doll wherever she goes. She’s loud—”
“Wait a moment. Pickle?” he asked.
“No, her name’s Lottie,” Rye began, “although I can see why someone might—”
“Yes, yes, Pickle. You know her?” the man asked.
“Er, yes,” Rye said, shocked. “She’s my sister.”
“Why didn’t you say so? In that case, come, come.” He waved a hand. “Out of the way, you deck rats.”
As the sailors moved aside, Rye spotted the three-year-old on the shoulders of a hulking brute at the back of the crowd, her perch giving her a bird’s-eye view of the fighting. Lottie’s face beamed when she spotted Rye and she slapped the sailor on his bald head with Mona Monster until he lowered her to the floor.
Lottie rushed forward and threw her arms around Rye’s waist with such force she nearly knocked her down. Rye kissed Lottie on her tuft of hair that always smelled like straw and syrup drippings, and for a moment it brought her back to the bed they shared on Mud Puddle Lane.
Lottie pulled herself away and demanded, “Come,” tugging Rye by the sleeve to be sure there was no misunderstanding.
She picked up a wire birdcage and hurried to the Mermaid’s Nook, placing it on the table in front of Abby and Bramble.
“My baby blue dragon,” Lottie announced proudly as she opened its little door and reached inside.
Rye and Quinn exchanged curious glances.
“Lottie was very proud to finally learn to use her chamber pot,” Abby explained. “So for Silvermas we got her this … a baby blue dragon. As promised.”
Lottie extended both hands. “Newtie!” she proclaimed.
A rather small speckled lizard cocked its head and looked up at them. It seemed perfectly at ease in her hands.
“It’s so little,” Rye said.
“And brown,” Quinn added.
“Him’s just a baby,” Lottie said with a roll of her eyes, as if she’d explained this a dozen times already.
“Yes, СКАЧАТЬ