Free City of Lies by Lian Tanner Page B

fire and rubbed them together to get the life back into them. The cat bumped against her legs and then, to her surprise, settled down next to her, its scratchy purr rumbling in its throat.
    Goldie watched hungrily as Pounce took a half-loaf of bread, a jar of jam and a carrot out of a big square tin. He cut two thick slices from the loaf and smeared them with jam. Then he handed one slice to Mouse and bit into the other himself, his eyes glaring at Goldie from behind his mask.
    “I ain’t givin’ you none,” he said. Jam glinted on his teeth. “You didn’t work for it, not like me and Mousie did.”
    The white-haired boy wrinkled his forehead. Then he smiled at Goldie and handed her his slice of bread.
    “Mouse,” said Pounce. “Don’t be soft! How many times do I ’ave to tell ya?”
    The younger boy smiled again and held out his hand for the carrot. Pounce sighed, and cut it into a dozen tiny pieces. Goldie didn’t hear a signal, but the white mice came pouring out of the pram and scurried up Mouse’s back and onto his shoulders. They took the pieces of carrot from his fingers and carried them back to the pram. The cat watched them calmly, like a queen smiling upon her subjects.
    “And what does that leave you?” said Pounce. “Nothin’. You’d starve to death if it wasn’t for me.”
    He hacked another chunk off the loaf and slapped some jam on it. “There,” he muttered, handing it to Mouse. “Don’t give that one away or I’ll kill ya.”
    The bread wasn’t fresh, but neither was it stale. Goldie chewed slowly, to make it last. She could hear the mice rustling in the bottom of the pram.
    “Where ya from?” said Pounce through a mouthful of bread.
    “Jewel.”
    The boy sneered. “Ya think I’m stupid? People in Jewel got faces like dogs, and all their snotties is mad. They gotta chain ’em up or else they bites people to death.”
    Mouse was nodding seriously. Goldie swallowed a laugh. “I—um—I slipped my chains and ran away.”
    Pounce stared at her for a long moment, as if he was tryingto decide whether she was dangerous. Then he sniffed and leaned back on his elbow. “So. What’s a mad snotty from Jewel doin’ in Spoke?”
    Goldie knew that she was going to need help to find her friends and get them away from Harrow and his men. But she hadn’t forgotten the bandmaster’s reaction, so she merely said, “I’ve got a job to do.”
    “Don’t pay too well, if you ’ave to sleep in
this
grand ’otel.” Pounce waved his hand around the smoky den.
    “It’s not that sort of job,” said Goldie.
    “So what’s yer name? Yer
real
name.”
    “My real name doesn’t matter.” She hesitated, thinking of all the things she didn’t know about this city. Things she might
need
to know. “Tell me about the Festival of Lies.”
    “What’s it worth?”
    Mouse’s fingers danced. Pounce sniffed. “Yer a regular little goody-goody tonight, Mousie. Don’t reckon I’ll give ya no breakfast. That’ll learn ya.”
    The white-haired boy giggled. Pounce drew himself up in mock importance. “So, the Festival of Lies,” he said. “Lesson one, which is for simpletons, and girls from Jewel.”
    He leaned forward so that the light from the fire caught his mask. His voice lost its mockery and became serious. “Once a year, for three days, everythin’ in Spoke becomes a lie.”
    “Everything?” said Goldie doubtfully.
    “Shut up and listen. Ya can’t trust nothin’ or no one durin’ the Festival. Everythin’s turned on its ’ead. And it’s not just the people who lie.” His voice sank to a whisper. “The
city
lies too. And that’s the good bit.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Pounce’s finger began to draw circles on his knee. “Everyone’s lyin’, right? And all those lies, they sorta join together like whirlpools.” The circles grew bigger. “And the whirlpools build up into Big Lies. There ain’t many of ’em. Sometimes there’s only two or three or four for the whole