The Hush (14 page)

Susannah frowned. As far as she knew, it took years of training to conjure Music – let alone to touch the Song itself. It wasn't enough to be a talented musician. You had to learn the sorcery, to weave your own tune upon the magical rhythm that underscored the world …

‘I don't believe it.'

Sam shrugged. ‘Guess he's lying, then.'

A hill loomed in the darkness ahead. Sam pocketed the lantern and wrenched a nearby lever. The echoship shuddered up the slope. Darkness streamed across the window as rain swirled past in a blur of unnatural droplets.

‘How much does he know?' Susannah said.

‘Never even heard of the Hush.'

‘Plenty of low-grade Songshapers haven't heard of the –'

‘No idea how to wake up a doped pegasus, either. Not until I told him. And he would've been killed by an Echo if I hadn't told him the tune-reversal trick.'

Susannah considered this. ‘He could just be acting,' she said. ‘Playing the fool. Trying to hide his true talents until he's sussed us out better.'

‘If he is, he's a damn good actor,' Sam said darkly. ‘Better than Travis, even. He's impulsive, Captain, and he's damn immature. He put his pride above his life in that saloon. And he shouted out the recital in the Hush, too – brought a whole pack of Echoes down on us. I sure ain't ready to trust him.'

Outside, the darkness swirled.

‘Do you trust me?' Susannah said.

Sam wrenched his head up, visibly pained. ‘Come off it, Captain. You know I do.'

‘Then I'll make you a deal,' Susannah said. ‘For now, we'll assume Chester can't be trusted. We won't tell him about the plan, or our real goal.' She paused. ‘But let me bring him on the Linus job. We'll see if he's reliable and if he's good enough to work with. If he proves himself, we tell him the truth about the Conservatorium.'

‘And if he fails?'

‘If he fails,' Susannah said, ‘I'll let you deal with him.'

Sam stared at her for a long moment. Then he gave a slow, deliberate nod. ‘All right, Captain,' he said. ‘You got yourself a deal.'

The world beyond the window was black. Susannah had a sudden urge to reach out and grab it – the mist, the rain, the darkness – and shake it all in frustration. She was so close to achieving justice. To pulling off the greatest job in the Nightfall Gang's history. To spitting in the face of the Conservatorium leaders, to making a real difference and showing the world that tyrants could be beaten.

But to do that, she had to be able to trust this new boy. To understand him. To use him. And she couldn't do that yet. She still wasn't sure if he had his own agenda.

For now, she just had to watch. To wait. To pay very close attention to the mystery that was Chester Hays.

Once Chester's wound was patched up, Dot volunteered to give him a guided tour of the
Cavatina
. She smiled and pointed excitedly at everything, steering his gaze towards particularly interesting parts of the echoship.

Unfortunately, Dot's idea of ‘interesting' didn't entirely mesh with Chester's.

‘Oh, I've always loved that sorcery lamp! Look at the shine on the globe – it took me three hours to blow the glass that neatly. Oh wow, do you see that doorknob? Lovely, isn't it? Best parts of the ship, if you ask me: the doorknobs and latches. Sometimes you get these awful swinging handles that are such a pain to open when you've got your hands full of clothes or teacups or something, but this one's very practical, you see …'

At first Chester wondered if Dot was being sarcastic, but she was so cheerful and seemed so genuinely enthralled by lamps and doorknobs that Chester eventually gave in and went with the flow.

‘So,' he said, trying to sound casual, ‘how'd you end up joining the gang?'

Dot froze.

It was only a moment – a stilted break in a step – before she regained her stride. She replastered her usual cheery expression across her face and shrugged. ‘I got kicked out of my old life, so I found myself a new one.'

‘Yeah,' Chester said, ‘but most people go to the city or something to start a new life. They don't join a gang of thieves.'

‘Susannah recruited me,' Dot said. ‘We knew each other when we were little, you see. My family used to spend our summers in Delos, where Susannah grew up. We used to sneak away and play on the docks together. So when Susannah told me what she'd been through and how she wanted to –'

‘What she'd been through?'

Dot hesitated, realising she'd said too much. ‘Hey, look over there! I really like the floorboards in this corridor. Mostly we've got carpet, but it's fun to scoot along these boards in your socks when no one's looking … Oh, and this is your cabin!' She threw open a door at the end of the corridor. ‘Smallest one we've got, I'm afraid, but we've already snagged all the better ones.'

Chester's eyes widened, his questioning interrupted by a sudden glimpse of comfort. The cabin was long and narrow, like a good-sized saloon bar. The wallpaper was a rich crimson patterned with tiny black dots, and the ceiling was painted a dusky cream. A weak blue sorcery lamp hung from its centre, casting dim light across the room. Finally, the bed looked plush and comfortable, with a heavy blue blanket atop a squishy mattress. All in all, it was better than many places he'd slept of late.

‘I always liked these old lamps,' Dot said, staring up at the weak globe. ‘But this is one of the last ones left; I've been replacing them all over the ship.'

‘It's not very bright,' Chester said.

‘True,' Dot said. ‘But it reminds me of the moon. We don't get a moon here in the Hush. When I first joined the gang, I used to lie in my room with a sorcery lamp and pretend I was looking at the night sky.'

Chester stared at her. ‘Um …'

The lamp didn't look much like a moon to him. Just a faded old lantern, stuttering out its last few flickers of light. But Dot looked so wistful as she stared at it, her eyes as wide as globes themselves, that Chester thought it best not to argue. Then a thought struck him. ‘Hang on –
you've
been replacing sorcery lamps? You know how to make them?'

‘Oh yes,' Dot said. ‘They're one of the first things you learn in training.'

‘You're a real Songshaper!'

Dot looked at him. ‘Yes, of course. Didn't you know?'

Chester shook his head. ‘But if you're a Songshaper, what the hell does your gang need me for? You're much more advanced than me if you made all the lamps on this ship …'

‘Oh, lamps are easy,' Dot said. ‘I can teach you, if you'd like.'

‘But if the gang's already got a –'

‘We need an
unlicensed
Songshaper. Someone who can audition without being recognised.'

‘You'd be recognised?'

Dot let out a bitter laugh. It was odd, coming from a girl who usually sounded so cheerful. ‘Oh yes. My name is on their records; I could never audition again. I'm sure they'd all remember me.'

There was a pause. Then the full meaning of her words hit him and Chester almost choked. ‘Again? You mean – you studied at the Conservatorium?'

Dot turned away, refocusing her gaze on the moon globe. ‘Yes. I studied at the Conservatorium.'

‘What was it like?' Chester said. ‘I always wanted to study there but my father couldn't afford it. Did you learn to play new types of music? Did they teach you real Music right away, or just normal playing? Was the sorcery hard to learn, or –'

‘I don't want to talk about it. They …' Dot sucked in a quiet little breath, and her voice rose an octave. ‘They didn't treat me too well, towards the end.'

There was a long pause.

‘But hang on – if you studied at the Conservatorium, shouldn't you still be there?' Chester frowned. ‘Seven years of training. You're too young to have graduated …'

And with a cold start, he realised the truth.
I got kicked out of my old life
…

Dot had been expelled from the Conservatorium.

No wonder they needed him to audition. Dot could never go back there – not with her name on the records, and her face in the teachers' memories. What on earth had she done? It must have been bad …

‘If I asked what you were expelled for,' he said, ‘could you tell me?'

Dot's gaze lingered on the globe. ‘I could.'

Silence.

‘So …?' Chester said.

‘I
could
,' Dot said. ‘Not
would
. There's a difference.'

She gave him a quiet look, with something hard in her eyes. Chester squirmed a little, suddenly uncomfortable. He had a strange feeling that Dot was trying to read him in the same way that he had been trying to read Sam earlier, to test something about him and his attitudes that he could barely interpret himself. He straightened his spine and tried to look a little more trustworthy.

‘What I
would
tell you,' Dot said quietly, ‘is that it was a moonless night, and I was young and stupid, and I was betrayed. I got caught. I got expelled.' She took a sharp breath. ‘And I learnt to put my trust in things like moons and doorknobs, and not in people.'

She turned to leave.

‘Wait!'

Dot turned back, raising an eyebrow. ‘Yes?'

‘I …' Chester hesitated. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business.'

Dot stared at him for a long moment. Then she nodded. ‘You're allowed to be curious, Chester Hays. I'm curious about things, too. That's why I study. That's why I develop theories.'

‘Do you have a theory about me?'

‘All of us have theories about you,' Dot said. ‘Sam doesn't trust you. Susannah thinks you'll be a handy little stooge in this job.' A flicker of her smile returned. ‘Travis thinks you have appalling taste in shirts.'

‘And what about you?'

‘I think,' Dot said, ‘that I can't judge what a thief will be like until I've seen him on a job. I like evidence, you see. Data, statistics, observable results. And as luck would have it, we're due for a job in Linus. Should be a simple little burglary – nothing too dangerous.'

Dot turned away, tossing the last few words over her shoulder. ‘And a good trial run for our newest recruit.'

That night, Chester sat alone in his cabin. He knew the others were in the kitchen, chattering about the Linus job and readying pots and pans for dinner. But a quiet nausea churned his stomach.

The recital.

In the real world, it was likely approaching sundown. During the day, in the rush of action and exploration, Chester had almost forgotten about his withdrawal symptoms. But now his body cried out for relief. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. The jabs inside were hot and hard. It was like a knife being turned around through the slit of his belly button, carving a circle of pain. He half-expected to see blood when he pulled away his fingers, but there was nothing. Just the pain and the silence.

Chester curled his knees up to his chest so that he lay in a foetal position. There was a faint sound of music in his head now, a forgotten tune. A drumbeat and a set of fingers on banjo strings, a sting with every twang.
Pluck,
pluck, pluck
… The tune flicked pain into his belly and music into his skull.

There was a knock at his door.

‘Yes?' he managed.

The door swung open and a head of bright red curls slipped inside.
Susannah
. Chester stared up at her, blinking at the influx of colour in his cabin. He hadn't expected the captain herself. He'd thought maybe Dot or Sam or Travis …

‘Are you all right?' Susannah said.

Another wave of pain hit and Chester curled up tighter. His pain vied with embarrassment, as he suddenly realised he was curled up like a baby in front of the captain. He tried to straighten his limbs but they refused to extend. It was like trying to bend a rifle with his fingers.

Susannah didn't look scornful, though. She dropped onto the bed beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. ‘No fever,' she said, after a moment. ‘That's good.'

‘Recital,' Chester managed.

‘I know,' Susannah said. ‘You should've seen me when I went through withdrawal. Cried for five hours straight.' She bent down to look at him, her eyes intense. ‘You'll get through this. It only lasts a few hours, as long as you don't fall into a fever. If you can beat it tonight it should be over for good.'

‘I heard of an old woman …' Chester faltered, curling beneath the weight of his pain, which pulsed through his body in waves. ‘I heard of a woman who suffered for days. Lost her mind …'

Susannah shook her head. ‘Just stories to keep you compliant. So long as your temperature stays stable it's just a few hours of pain. We've all been through it.'

‘Why?' Chester whispered, his voice hoarse. ‘Why can't we keep doing the recital? Why bother with this …'

‘This pain?' Susannah looked down at her fingers, steepled in her lap. ‘Because the Songshapers teach us the recital is necessary. They teach us it's what keeps us alive, what keeps us healthy. They tell us we'll go mad without it.' She looked up, expression set. ‘And they're lying.'

‘So?'

‘So they're lying for a reason.' She shook her head again. ‘I don't know what the recital is for – to control people, to track people, or to keep us compliant. I know it hurts like hell to withdraw. But I also know life goes on afterwards. Everyone on this ship has withdrawn from the recital, just in case. And if you want to be a part of this gang – if you want our help finding your father – you've got to pull yourself through this.'

Chester fought back another ripple of nausea. ‘Why … why are you here, Captain?'

‘Here in the gang? Or here in this room?'

Chester nodded. He didn't care which question she answered, he just needed the distraction of talking. Of listening. Of filling his head with something that wasn't agony.

‘I'm here in this room,' Susannah said slowly, ‘because you're in my gang now. This pain is because of my orders. I wouldn't be much of a captain if I didn't try to help you through it.'

As she spoke, the pain hit again. Chester let out a staggered breath. He wanted to say,
It hurts
, or,
Make it stop
, but he couldn't afford to look even weaker in front of the captain. He could see that as a Songshaper he was valuable to them, but their information was just as valuable – if not more – to him. If they decided he was too weak for the job, he might never learn the secret of the vanishings …

‘I know,' Susannah said. ‘I know it hurts.'

Chester cracked a weak smile. ‘You a mind reader, Captain?'

‘Just someone who's been there.' Her teeth were very white, Chester noticed. A gleam of white beneath a sea of red.

‘Are you okay?' he said. ‘After the bullet, I mean? You're … healing?'

Susannah nodded. ‘It's amazing what Travis can do.'

‘Travis knows medicine,' Chester said, ‘and he's good at acting. Dot knows Music and mechanics. Sam's big and tough, and he seems to be the best at flying the –'

His sentence broke midway as he was hit by a clench of agony in his chest. Chester curled into himself, scrunched his eyes shut and breathed through the pain.
Convince the world you're strong
…

As the pain faded, he forced his eyes open and continued through gritted teeth. ‘Sam's the best at flying the echoship. And you're the leader.'

Susannah nodded. ‘And I do the climbing and burgling places.'