Free Poison by Chris Wooding Page B

her long hair back behind one ear and felt her throat, where the knife had left a mark. “You were willing to let them walk off with all my money. And all of yours . What about your dream being ‘a risk worth taking’?”
    Bram scowled darkly, hunching his broad shoulders forward. “What possessed you to try something like that anyway?”
    â€œThe prince and the tigers,” she replied. “An old story Fleet used to tell me back in Gull. The prince had to walk through a room full of hungry tigers. He did it by pretending to be a bigger tiger.”
    Bram snorted. “That’s just a story,” he said. “He’d have been tiger food.”
    Poison shrugged. “Story or not, the point is the same. People don’t know how to react if you don’t do what they expect. It doesn’t matter what you are, it’s how you appear .”
    Bram’s expression made it clear what he thought of that idea. “Well, we know one thing about Lamprey, at least,” he said. “People are afraid of him. So we should be too.”
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    The encounter with the thieves seemed to have taken the sting out of the streets, and they reached Lamprey’s den unchallenged after that. It was an innocuous door in the middle of a dimly lit terrace, hunkered beneath enormous lintels and buried under a mass of balconies. Bram recognized it by the insignia on the door, a mark with two circles interlinked by a slash. There seemed to be nobody outside. The street was eerily quiet.
    â€œHere it is,” Bram said uncertainly, drawing the grint to a halt. He felt terribly exposed out here on the street.
    â€œYou should stay by the cart,” Poison said, picking up her pack. “We can’t leave it here unattended.”
    â€œYou can’t go in there on your own!” he protested.
    â€œAnd you can’t afford to lose your cart and your grint,” she said. “I don’t think anyone will bother you outside this Lamprey’s place.” When Bram still looked doubtful, she said: “You’ve earned your second sovereign. You don’t need to do any more.” Then she smiled wanly at him. “I would appreciate it if you’d give me a ride out of here when I’m done, though.”
    She was clambering down from the cart when she felt him lay his massive, gloved hand on her shoulder. “Be careful,” he said.
    She put her fingers over his in thanks, and then she went to the door of Lamprey’s den and knocked on it.
    The door was unlocked and unlatched. It swung ajar on the first rap. Poison looked back at Bram, who was watching her from beneath the brim of his hat. Then she pushed the door open and looked inside.
    A long set of wooden stairs led downward, with soft lanterns illuminating framed paintings all the way along. The paintings were of underwater coral, or fish, or storm-lashed seascapes. Poison voiced a cautious “Hello?” down the stairs, but there was no response. There was a curtain of beads and glass crystals at the bottom of the stairs.
    Well, she had come this far; she could not very well turn back now. Slipping inside, she shut the door behind her and went softly down the stairs. She called again midway down, but once again she was met with nothing. Not knowing what else to do, she pushed aside the bead curtain and looked through.
    The room inside was surprisingly plush, rich with reds and purples and golds. Stuffed sea creatures were mounted on plaques high up against the lacquered walls, squids and sharks and other creatures that were too outlandish for Poison to recognize from Fleet’s descriptions. A great bulb-shaped, brass-coloured stove had a fire glowing in the grate, and an exquisite armchair was placed before it with its back to her.
    â€œAh,” said a voice, soft as a whisper and yet seeming as loud as if the speaker were right next to her ear. “Poison.”
    Poison jumped involuntarily,