Dishonour Among Thieves. Paul Durham

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СКАЧАТЬ What then seemed good fortune turned black ugly luck.

       In shadows and masks, in shadows and masks,

       Beware the dread strangers

       In shadows and masks.

       They’ll promise you freedom and all that you dream,

       But look past their guise, they’re not what they seem.

       Your sons and your daughters, in bed safely tuck,

       Hold tight what you cherish for that they shall pluck.

       In shadows and masks, in shadows and masks,

       Beware the dread scoundrels

       In shadows and masks.

       My son he now stalks the dark b’yond the sea,

       Family forgotten, but what matters to he?

       So take heed my warning, of no favours ask,

       And curse the Luck Uglies in shadows and masks.

       In shadows and masks, in shadows and masks,

       Curse the Luck Uglies

       In shadows and masks.

      – ‘Shadows and Masks’,

      From Songs of Salt and Stout

       and other High Isle Favourites

      

      T WASN’T OFTEN that anyone thumped the cottage’s rusting iron door knocker after dark, but Rye O’Chanter still never expected to find three twisted, leering faces on the other side. They loomed down at her from behind flurrying snow. Rye knew what the masked figures were, if not who they were, so perhaps there was no need for alarm. Then again, Luck Uglies had never just shown up on her doorstep before. She took a careful step backward.

      Abby O’Chanter joined her, a cloak flung over her nightdress. She’d already untied her hair ribbon for the night and her dark locks fell loose past her shoulders. In her arms she held the family pet, a regal beast with thick black fur and keen yellow eyes. He was as big as a young child, and as he stretched his long forelegs, he extended sickle-like claws for the benefit of the visitors. Shady could be a ferocious guardian when motivated, which wasn’t all that often. Abby combed his luxurious mane with her fingertips and raised an uninviting eyebrow. Rye’s mother had never been one to spook easily.

      “What is it?” she demanded of the visitors.

      The tallest of the three ducked his head under the fresh evergreen garland strung along the doorframe. Shady let out an unexpected rumble from deep inside his throat, the kind he generally reserved for unwelcome denizens of the bogs. Rye saw her mother slip her fingers around his runestone collar in case he decided to misbehave.

      The masked figure hesitated, then opted to lean forward without stepping inside. The gnarled leather of a long, beakish nose jutted from under his cowl, so close to Abby’s ear it seemed it might jab her. Under Shady’s careful watch, the man whispered something that sounded like the rustle of dead leaves. He cocked his head as he spoke, and the mask’s hollow black eyes met Rye’s own.

      The figure leaned back and snow once again settled on to his cloaked shoulders.

      “He can’t come for her himself?” Abby said, an edge in her voice.

      The figure shook his head.

      “Come for who?” Rye asked.

      Abby ignored her and seemed to bite back harsh words on the tip of her tongue. Instead she said, “I’ve got porridge on the fire if you’d care for some.”

      The masked figure just shook his head again.

      “Be off then,” Abby said. She didn’t seem at all disappointed that they’d declined her invitation.

      The figure nodded by way of goodbye and vanished into the shadows of Mud Puddle Lane with his two companions. Rye squinted to see where they went, but spied only the flickering lantern lights of their neighbours’ cottages. She turned to her mother.

      “What is it?” she asked.

      “Your father,” Abby said. “He’s sent for you. You leave to meet him tomorrow.”

      “But it’s finally Silvermas,” Rye protested. “And the Black Moon. How often does Silvermas fall on a Black Moon?”

      Silvermas was Rye’s favourite tradition. Where once the holiday was intended to honour deities long forgotten, it had since evolved into a family celebration – a time for one last great feast before the chills and hardship of a long winter. Of course, in practice, Silvermas followed whatever night Good Harper actually happened to arrive in a particular village on his Mud Sleigh. This made for a great amount of speculation and excitement among the children. Rye’s mother and the other parents found the suspense to be of less amusement, particularly this year, since it was already early spring and Good Harper was only now making his way to Village Drowning.

      The Black Moon – the darkest night of every month – well, that was something else entirely. Villagers locked their doors with the Black Moon’s rise, for the men who prowled the night under the moonless sky weren’t always so benign. Three of them had just left the O’Chanters’ doorstep.

      “I don’t think your father’s timing is a coincidence,” Abby said. There was a weight on her face that Rye couldn’t quite gauge. “You’ll only be away for a day or so.”

      “He’s been gone all winter,” Rye mumbled to herself. “Why now?”

      It wasn’t that Rye didn’t want to see her father – she was just getting to know him when he’d abruptly departed to tend to some pressing matters outside the village. He had recently taught her all sorts of useful skills her mother would never approve of – how to shimmy down a drainpipe while blindfolded, how to hide a key under your tongue and still sing an off-colour limerick without slurring your words. He’d promised he would see her again as soon as he was able. But all winter she had been looking forward to meeting her friends and trading their Silvermas treats. Folly was usually willing to part with a few caramel pralines and Rye always convinced Quinn to take the green liquorice off her hands. Quinn actually seemed to like green liquorice – he was odd like that.

      “He wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important,” Abby said stiffly, then softened. She gently pushed an unruly brown lock out of Rye’s eyes. Rye had never been one to fuss over her hair – it was too short to braid but too long to ignore.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ