The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(101)

A little heartened by having some food in his stomach, Kit looked around properly for the first time. The sun was above the horizon now, on their right hand side, which meant they were travelling north. Quite where they were, though, he had no idea. A sea of reeds stretched in all directions, and the water their boat moved on was wreathed in mist. Little birds twittered all around them, like grasshoppers in a meadow. Craning his neck, Kit could just make out low hills on the western horizon, and a dark smudge that might be London. His throat tightened and he tugged the rough blanket closer about his shoulders. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t.

But as the city slipped further behind them, his vision blurred. Please, Uncle Sandy, it’s your turn to come and find me this time. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it comforted him a little.



Sandy and Gabriel were waiting for them on Deptford Strand. As the boat bumped against the jetty and Sandy realised that Kit was not with them, he let out a pitiful wail. Mal leapt ashore and took his brother in his arms.

“We’ll find him, I swear,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to Sandy’s and opening his mind willingly to the storm of grief.

It felt like hours later when Coby gently prised them apart, though the sun still hovered on the horizon so it could not have been more than a few minutes. Sandy was calm at last, but Mal felt as if the marrow had been scoured from his bones, leaving him hollow.

“Come on,” she said quietly, “we can’t stand around here all morning. We know where they’re taking Kit, so we just have to catch up with them.”

“How? They have a head start.”

“I don’t know how, but we have to try.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Could Sandy find him, once we’re away from the other guisers?”

“Perhaps. But I don’t want to overtax him. You said they were taking Kit and the other boy to Cambridge.”

“Yes, but… Oh. Shawe.”

“Indeed. I don’t know what the bastard is up to, but I cannot think it bodes well for our son. And we may need every ounce of strength that Sandy and I have if we are to overcome our enemies’ magic.”

“Well you can’t cross the river here,” Ned said. “Not unless you know your way across the Isle of Dogs and through the marshes to the Great Cambridge Road. And you can’t go anywhere near the Tower, that’s for sure.”

Mal let out a growl of incoherent frustration. “And the city gates will all be watched. Henry must know by now that we know Kit has been taken. How the hell are we to get to Cambridge?”

“Leave it to me,” Ned said with a wink.



Southwark was stirring by the time they got back to the Sign of the Parley. Ned unlocked the gate and ushered everyone inside, glancing nervously up and down the street. Just when he thought he and Gabriel might be able to forget about the guisers, the bastards went and did something like this. Poor little mite, stolen away from everyone he knew!

He shut and bolted the gate behind them and joined his friends in the kitchen.

“So, what’s this plan of yours?” Mal asked.

Ned gestured to Gabriel, who was grinning like a child with a secret.

“Burbage has been thinking of sending the Prince’s Men on the road,” Gabriel said, “since the theatres are all closed now. You can travel with us until we’re safely out of London, then ride ahead to Cambridge and we’ll catch you up when we can.”

“And Burbage can furnish you with disguises as well,” Ned added. “Wigs, false beards, the lot.”

“That’s perfect,” Coby said, and turned to Mal. “Isn’t it perfect?”

He nodded cautiously. “How soon could you get the players together? We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I’ll have them rounded up before noon,” Gabriel said.

“Noon? That’s too long,” Mal muttered.

“You’ll be of no use to the lad if the prince claps you in irons.” Ned went over to the hearth and got out his tinderbox. “Besides, you can’t leave without some breakfast inside you. You look fit to faint, the pair of you.”

Mal glanced at his brother, who sat hunched over at the far end of the table, head in his hands.

“Very well.”

“I’ll be off then,” Gabriel said, rising from his seat.

Sandy looked up abruptly.

“Can we trust these actors?” he asked. “We still don’t know who all the guisers are, or their lackeys. What if Burbage, or Shakespeare, or–”

“Of course we can trust them,” Ned said. “Shakespeare helped get me and Gabriel out of the Marshalsea, remember? If he’s a guiser, I’m a Moor. And Burbage is too much the drunken whoremonger to be of any use to anyone.”

“I’ll go with you,” Coby said to Gabriel. “I can pick out some costumes for disguises and run errands.”

“No.” Mal caught hold of her sleeve. “We stay here, the three of us. I won’t risk you being caught.”

“And you think here is safe? It’s the first place they’ll look.”

A long silence whilst they all pondered this likelihood.

“She’s right,” Mal said at last. “Forget breakfast, Ned. Let’s gather our belongings together and get out of here. Gabriel, we’ll meet you, Ned and the Prince’s Men at the Globe at noon.”