The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(35)

She found a hook to hang the lantern on and settled down on a pile of sacking. Best to get some sleep, if she could. The more miles they could put between themselves and Grey once they landed, the better.

Despite her best intentions, Coby did not fall asleep straight away. What if Grey caught up with the ship before it sailed, or managed to blockade it? She lay awake listening to the creak of timbers, until at last the nameless vessel began to move. How the skraylings could possibly navigate in such darkness she did not know, but perhaps their cat-like eyes could see as well by night as humans could by day. Distracted by these musings, she at last drifted off to sleep. When she woke the hold was empty of her companions, but she could hear voices overhead. She pulled on her shoes and hurried up the ladder onto the gun deck. And stumbled to a halt, her companions forgotten.

In the pitch blackness last night she had not noticed the guns, but now with the late morning sun shining down through the hatch they were an extraordinary sight. Though shaped much like English cannons, they were not of bronze or iron but some peculiar glassy stuff that gleamed with an unearthly opalescence. As for the shot, it consisted of equally strange spheres of what appeared to be glass, partially filled with a liquid that sloshed around inside. What use they would be in battle, she could not imagine. They looked like they would sooner explode than trouble an enemy.

Shaking her head over these strange artillery, she climbed up to the deck. The sun was high in the sky, or as high as it got this early in the year. To the west lay the Kent coast, with its ploughed fields rising gently above the shoreline. A blur on the eastern horizon must be France. At this rate they would be at Calais long before dark.

"Good afternoon, sleepy-head!" Gabriel called out to her.

She went over to join him at the rail.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner?" she asked.

"And deny the skraylings the pleasure of your snoring? Not likely."

She pulled a face at him.

"Careful, the wind might change, and then you'd be stuck like that," he said. "Would you like some breakfast? Hennaq seems well supplied; there's cornbread, some kind of fish fritters, and plenty of aniig."

He produced a plate and jug, seemingly out of nowhere, and Coby sat down on the deck with her back against the gunwales. The fritters were cold and a bit greasy, but she wolfed it all down and licked her fingers clean. Gabriel leant back on the rail, watching her with an amused smile.

"What's so funny?" she said at last.
"Not very ladylike, I must say."
"What?" She felt herself flush. "What business is that of yours? I thought you'd given up female roles."

"I have." He grinned again. "Have you?"

She jumped to her feet.

"Have you been rummaging through my belongings?"

"You brought a great deal of baggage on board, much more than you arrived in London with. That made me curious."

She looked around in case anyone was listening. Few skraylings spoke English, but Tradetalk was similar enough for them to pick up the gist of many a conversation. Fortunately the crew were all some distance away and busy at their posts.

"And?"

"And it occurred to me, as it apparently has to you, that if we are to be sure of evading Grey then a few disguises may be in order."

Coby forced herself to breath slowly. "You're right. I should have told you earlier."

"That you're a girl?"

"No, I meant the disguises. Where's Sandy, anyway?" she said, hoping to change the subject.

"Off talking to the captain, I believe. So you're not a girl, then?"

"No."

"Hmm. Well, Ned always was prone to lie about such things."

"Ned? How did he find out?" she muttered, more to herself than Gabriel.

"Oho, so it is the truth!" Gabriel looked smug. "Does Walsingham know how easily you confess your secrets?"

Coby sighed. "Is there anyone who doesn't know?"

"Are you accusing me of spreading gossip?"

"Well, have you?"
"No, of course not. I know how to keep a secret. Besides, I'm hardly in a position to lecture any man on how he should live a virtuous life. Or woman, for that matter." His mischievous grin faded, and he leant closer. "So, does your master know you're a girl? Mal, I mean."

"Mal's known for a long time," she replied. "Since before we left England together."

"Oh."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Suit yourself," Gabriel replied with a shrug. "It's no business of mine."

"You seem to have made it your business."

Gabriel sighed. "Let us not quarrel, my dear. We are in the same boat, you and I, if you'll forgive the pun. Placed in peril of our lives by the actions of yon holy fool."

Coby nodded. She couldn't blame Gabriel for being scared and angry, not after what had happened yesterday.

"There is something I would like to ask you, now that you know." She cleared her throat. "You used to play women's parts, and then when you were too old for that, you managed to change over to men's roles. It must have been difficult."

"It was, at first. I had to unlearn everything I had been taught about acting. How to walk, how to speak, even how to think of myself."