Free Ghoulish Song (9781442427310) by William Alexander

been the Floating Market. She heard nothing else. She shifted her weight, uncomfortable sitting on small, cold stones, uncomfortable with no voices or music or movement around her. She was accustomed to the bustle, warmth, and company of her family’s alehouse. The Kneecap was quiet, empty, and in every way different from Broken Wall.
    â€œCan you hear me over there?” she asked her shadow. “Say something.”
    I can hear you, said Shade. I’ve always heard you. I’ve heard every cruel and selfish thing you have ever muttered under your breath. I heard you yesterday when you tried to tell yourself that nothing was your fault. Mother failed the Inspection. Little Cob Snotfish almost had goblin curses called down on his little head. But that wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. That’s what you tried to tell yourself, and me. I can always hear you, but I don’t usually believe you.
    Kaile sat stunned and perfectly still. Her face felt flushedand warm, so she turned it away from the fire and away from her shadow. She felt seething mixtures of anger, embarrassment, shame, and annoyance. Her fingers silently worked the stops of the flute. Then she brought it to her lips.
    The first and last time she played this instrument, she had lost her shadow and found herself cast out of her home as a dead thing. She wondered what she might lose if she played it again. Maybe her hair. Maybe her toes. Maybe the music would sever her shadow so completely that Kaile would never see Shade again. Whatever it might do, Kaile decided that she didn’t care.
    She tried to play something that would have made Grandfather laugh, stomp his feet, and shout, That’s it! That will hold together! She tried to play something that Mother might sing to, even though Mother almost never sang anything. Father had the better voice. It was Father who had sung lullabies at her bedside, or walked up and down the upstairs hall singing to the Snotfish when he was still tiny and hadn’t learned how to sleep yet. But Mother would sing if the music was strong enough. Kaile tried to play something that would be strong enough.
    The flute had its own will, and its own song to play. Every note took a step sideways. They shaped themselves into the very same tune from the day before, into the song that had rendered Kaile shadowless.
    Kaile felt a quick stab of panic at the sound—but it was beautiful, and she reminded herself that she didn’t much care what might happen. She played it through to the end. The notes went out over the River.
    â€œAre you still there?” she asked Shade, once the song was done. She didn’t look to check.
    I’m still here, said Shade from across the fire.
    Kaile was surprised to notice her own relief. She didn’t want to be entirely alone, not here, not on the Kneecap.
    Are you hungry? Shade asked.
    â€œNot really,” said Kaile, “but I’m guessing you are.” She dug out the last of the pastries from home. Shade came around the fire, claimed the shadow-pastry, and then returned to her spot.
    Kaile chewed a shadowless mouthful of cold crust and spiced potato. She stared out over the River, out at the passing barges that did not stop to investigate strange music and firelight. Then a fog began to rise and roll downstream, making it very much harder to see.
    Rescuing sailors will surely find us now, said Shade.
    â€œShut it,” said Kaile. She scooted closer to the fire as the air grew thick and dark around them.

    The day cooled, grew stale, and ended. Clouds of fog and mist continued to hide both the far shore and theFiddleway upstream. Kaile could still see the glow from the Clock Tower, acting as a lighthouse beacon for sailors on the River. It felt strange to be marooned so close to the city, close enough to see and hear Zombay but still be stranded and very much outside. She added more wood to the fire, and noticed that the fire was gobbling up