Read Online The Devil's Mask by Christopher Wakling - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Wakling
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that was when they went, and the yellow leaves and red rocks sheâd seen on the way down the side of the gorge had been like looking through your fingers at a fire.
Which didnât make up for the fact that she was knee deep in grey mud now, with a bucket digging into the crook of her forearm, wet and bored and cold and tired.
âIâm going home,â Kitty said.
âJust five more minutes.â
âYou said that twice already.â
âYes, well. Itâs an investment. We came all the way down here and we canât go back until weâve made it pay. Itâs a golden opportunity â¦â
âItâs sludge and worms,â Kitty replied.
âYou need to envision.â Edmund squatted to prod at the mud again with his special stick. There was an oval of slime on his backside. Kitty had an urge to kick it.
âWell, Iâm going even if youâre not,â she said. âItâll be dark soon anyway.â
As she said this she realised Edmund would know that she didnât want to walk back up through the woods in the dark alone, and sure enough he turned to grin at her. He was infuriating. âHow do you think that lot got where they are?â he asked her, jerking his thumb at the fine buildings which crested the other side of the gorge.
âI donât care.â
âWell I do and I can tell you it wasnât from going home early. A proper merchant doesnât give up on his profits when theyâre already half made.â
âIâm not a merchant. Iâm cold and Iâm covered in mud.â
âThatâs exactly it. You canât be afraid of getting your hands dirty if you want to succeed in business. Just a few worms more and that will do. The tide is coming back in anyway.â
âIâm going,â she said, and although they both knew it wasnât true, she walked off along the curve of the river bank to make it seem like it might be. The glimmer had gone out of the water, now; it looked the same flat grey colour as the slime. Only it wasnât entirely flat because up there was something half afloat nudging the mud-bank a little way round the curve. Maybe it was something worth having. Kitty was filthy and sopping wet anyway, so she decided she might as well wade out to investigate, and that seemed a good idea right up until it turned into a bad idea, and by then it was too late, because by then she knew what the thing was, and even though it made her want to turn and run back to Edmund, her legs kept taking her towards it, daring it to change into a valuable sea-trunk or a rotten log or anything normal; it didnât have to be anything good any more, just so long as it wasnât a drowned body.
At first Kitty thought the darkness cloaking the corpse was the fault of the river or the approaching night, but by the time Edmund had reached her â he had heard her shouting although she hadnât heard herself â she realised it wasnât silt or the dusk that had turned the woman black. Edmund drew her away and told her to mind the buckets, which was maddening, since worms couldnât matter now. Then he astonished her further by dragging the body, inch by horrid inch, clear of the high water mark. When she asked him why heâd done that, he said that even though it was a blackamoor there might still be a reward.
Fifteen
The springs on Carthyâs coach were definitely shot. Even the worst of the townâs hackney carriages gave a smoother ride. I had tried to persuade my employer to walk the short distance to the Dock Companyâs headquarters, but Carthy, whose attachment to his carriage is as unwavering as it is unfathomable, insisted otherwise. The man is cross-stitched with perverse streaks. Although the cobbles were relatively smooth, the coach gave them square edges. Carthy used the journey as an excuse to update me about Anneâs âfrankly phenomenalâ progress with her
Which didnât make up for the fact that she was knee deep in grey mud now, with a bucket digging into the crook of her forearm, wet and bored and cold and tired.
âIâm going home,â Kitty said.
âJust five more minutes.â
âYou said that twice already.â
âYes, well. Itâs an investment. We came all the way down here and we canât go back until weâve made it pay. Itâs a golden opportunity â¦â
âItâs sludge and worms,â Kitty replied.
âYou need to envision.â Edmund squatted to prod at the mud again with his special stick. There was an oval of slime on his backside. Kitty had an urge to kick it.
âWell, Iâm going even if youâre not,â she said. âItâll be dark soon anyway.â
As she said this she realised Edmund would know that she didnât want to walk back up through the woods in the dark alone, and sure enough he turned to grin at her. He was infuriating. âHow do you think that lot got where they are?â he asked her, jerking his thumb at the fine buildings which crested the other side of the gorge.
âI donât care.â
âWell I do and I can tell you it wasnât from going home early. A proper merchant doesnât give up on his profits when theyâre already half made.â
âIâm not a merchant. Iâm cold and Iâm covered in mud.â
âThatâs exactly it. You canât be afraid of getting your hands dirty if you want to succeed in business. Just a few worms more and that will do. The tide is coming back in anyway.â
âIâm going,â she said, and although they both knew it wasnât true, she walked off along the curve of the river bank to make it seem like it might be. The glimmer had gone out of the water, now; it looked the same flat grey colour as the slime. Only it wasnât entirely flat because up there was something half afloat nudging the mud-bank a little way round the curve. Maybe it was something worth having. Kitty was filthy and sopping wet anyway, so she decided she might as well wade out to investigate, and that seemed a good idea right up until it turned into a bad idea, and by then it was too late, because by then she knew what the thing was, and even though it made her want to turn and run back to Edmund, her legs kept taking her towards it, daring it to change into a valuable sea-trunk or a rotten log or anything normal; it didnât have to be anything good any more, just so long as it wasnât a drowned body.
At first Kitty thought the darkness cloaking the corpse was the fault of the river or the approaching night, but by the time Edmund had reached her â he had heard her shouting although she hadnât heard herself â she realised it wasnât silt or the dusk that had turned the woman black. Edmund drew her away and told her to mind the buckets, which was maddening, since worms couldnât matter now. Then he astonished her further by dragging the body, inch by horrid inch, clear of the high water mark. When she asked him why heâd done that, he said that even though it was a blackamoor there might still be a reward.
Fifteen
The springs on Carthyâs coach were definitely shot. Even the worst of the townâs hackney carriages gave a smoother ride. I had tried to persuade my employer to walk the short distance to the Dock Companyâs headquarters, but Carthy, whose attachment to his carriage is as unwavering as it is unfathomable, insisted otherwise. The man is cross-stitched with perverse streaks. Although the cobbles were relatively smooth, the coach gave them square edges. Carthy used the journey as an excuse to update me about Anneâs âfrankly phenomenalâ progress with her
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