Liars and Thieves (A Company of Liars short story) by Karen Maitland Read Free Book Online Page A

still out there in the forest, as was Zophiel, and it was Zophiel who’d known about the power of the stone. But would he really kill for it?
    What about the rest of us? Jofre believed his mother had died of the pestilence in Venice. Was the boy so terrified of the fever that he’d kill for the cure that might save him? I found my gaze straying to Osmond. He’d fight a dragon with his bare hands to defend his beloved Adela from harm. Would he commit murder for her?
    The same thoughts had evidently been occupying Pecker as we trailed silently back to the camp. He crouched down over the fire pit, rubbing his hands over the blaze.
    ‘One of yous must have seen Jack take the stone and reckoned to have it for yourself. Only thing that makes sense. Unless his Highness took it. He’s not shown himself.’
    ‘You also have a man who is missing,’ Rodrigo growled. ‘His trade is robbery and murder. Why do you not go after him?’
    ‘Weasel could steal the grunt from a pig,’ Dye said, scowling. ‘But he don’t kill, never has. Can’t bring himself to do it. ’Sides, he wouldn’t have to. If he’d wanted to get the stone, he could have taken it without Jack even knowing he’d been touched.’
    Pecker nodded towards Narigorm, who alone still seemed to have an appetite and was digging into the cooking pot, hunting for fragments of flesh.
    ‘She can tell us who stole it. She can read it in her runes. If it was one of you  . . .’ He left the threat hanging in the air, but I knew he was thinking that the gullet would soon be swallowing another victim.
    Narigorm did not look up, but I caught the faint ghost of a smile on her face. I knew she must not be allowed to do this. She would make worse mischief, and she had already done enough harm last night.
    ‘But if the child said it was Weasel, you wouldn’t believe her,’ I said. ‘She’s one of us. How would you know she’s not lying?’
    I could feel Narigorm’s fury burning into me like a wasp’s sting. I’d been right. She was planning something. I felt a tiny surge of triumph that I had thwarted her.
    Dye nodded, scowling.
    ‘Can’t trust the brat. Look at that white hair of hers. It’s not natural. Looks like a ghost-child. I reckon she’s a changeling.’
    Dye had evidently not forgotten, or forgiven, Narigorm’s performance the night before. ‘In the village where I was raised,’ she continued, ‘if something went missing, they put a black cockerel under a pail and every person who was suspected took turns to lay their hand on the pail. Cock crowed when the thief touched the pail.’
    ‘You got a black cock hidden somewhere, have you?’ Pecker said acidly, making a show of staring round the ruins. ’Cause last cock I seen ended up in that cooking pot and that were three moons since. But maybe if the thief puts his hand to that pot it’ll spring out alive and start crowing.’
    Adela glanced at Osmond.
    ‘I heard  . . .’ she began, then trailed away, staring down at her hands.
    ‘What?’ Pecker demanded. ‘Cough it up.’
    ‘Someone  . . . told me that if you draw an eye on a wall and everyone turns their backs while a nail is driven into it, then the guilty one will feel a sharp pain in their eye and cry out  . . . Osmond could draw  . . . He’s a fine artist.’
    ‘What colour eye?’ Pecker asked suspiciously. ‘’Cause if it were blue and the thief’s eyes were brown, he’d not cry out.’
    ‘If he draws it in charcoal,’ I said, ‘it would work on anyone.’
    A grin spread across Pecker’s face.
    ‘Best make sure it’s a right eye he draws then. You don’t have a left ’un, old man, and if you’re the thief I don’t want you cheating your way out ’cause you can’t feel the nail.’
    I returned the grin, knowing there was neither mockery nor pity in his words, for I guessed we’d both suffered under the scourge of those twins.
    I had no fear of this test. I was certain that even if one among us had