The Hush

by Skye Melki-Wegner

  ‘You can’t trick me into helping you,’ Chester said. ‘For all I know, you could be lying. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You scam people – con them – and steal from them. You’re nothing but a bunch of –’

  ‘Thieves?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Chester stepped into the room. ‘A few days ago, I turned up in Hamelin with a fiddle in my hands and a hope of finding my father. Now what’ve I got? No fiddle, a bullet-hole in my arm, and a bunch of near-death experiences – all because of your gang. And now you want me to risk my neck again, just so you can nick some jewels from the Conservatori–’

  ‘The Conservatorium,’ Susannah said, ‘is responsible for what happened to your father.’

  Chester fell silent. He stared at her, mouth slightly open as it hung off the broken last word of his tirade.

  ‘This job isn’t just to steal jewels, Chester,’ Susannah said. ‘It’s about justice. You’re not the only person who’s been hurt by these vanishings.’

  ‘You lost someone too?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Chester felt a tense sort of tangle in his stomach. He took a deep breath. ‘If I prove myself, you’ll tell me everything?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you’ll treat me like a full member of your gang? Not just some tag-along for everyone to kick at?’

  ‘Of course.’ Susannah hopped down from the bed. She was remarkably steady on her feet, despite the injury. ‘If you want to be part of our gang, though, you’d be well served to start addressing your captain with a little more respect.’

  There was a long pause.

  Chester lowered his gaze. ‘Yes, Captain.’

  The word felt odd on his tongue. ‘Captain’ was a common title among only three groups in Melorian society: sailors, guards, and thieving gangs. Chester had never belonged to any of these groups. The rigid hierarchy of the gang would take some getting used to.

  ‘Well then,’ Susannah said, ‘Welcome to the Nightfall Gang.’

  They shook hands. Susannah’s hand was warm and slender and Chester found himself gripping it a moment longer than necessary. He fumbled backwards, silently cursing his own awkwardness.

  This wasn’t just an ordinary young woman. This was the captain of the Nightfall Gang. This echoship belonged to the most famous group of outlaws in the country.

  And now, he was one of them.

  Susannah stepped into the driver’s cabin, her mind churning. Once the swirls of black water had drained away, Sam had boarded up the broken window with a sheet of metal. The other windows glinted, slick with the song of a moonless night.

  ‘So,’ she said eventually. ‘You all right?’

  Sam nodded. ‘The doc fixed you up?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve had worse.’ Susannah pressed a finger to her torso. Her wound had already begun to scab over, stitched together by the Musical strength of Travis’s injections. ‘Another set of jabs tonight and one in the morning and I’ll be right by tomorrow evening.’

  The injectable healing tunes were shockingly expensive but Susannah had insisted that the Cavatina be well stocked. In such a dangerous line of work, the medicine was worth its weight in gold.

  Sam adjusted the wheel a little, turning the ship more sharply westward. On the sorcery map, the town of Linus blinked up ahead. ‘Lucky it was you not me.’

  Susannah didn’t respond. How could she? After what the Songshapers had done to Sam, he reacted badly to the mere presence of Music, let alone having a melody – even if it was a healing melody – pumped into his flesh …

  She stared at the nearest window. Her reflection stared back at her, with tangled red hair and a face pale with blood loss. The injections would heal her quickly, she knew – but her wound was only a bullet hole. There were other kinds of wounds … wounds that couldn’t be healed so easily.

  Her gaze slipped across to Sam. The older boy sat tense and quiet, his fingers tight on the steering wheel. Susannah would never admit it aloud – least of all to Sam himself – but he had been acting … strangely. More strangely than usual. He had been reckless lately: always the first to charge into danger, to throw his life on the line. And it wasn’t just the recklessness of a boy protecting his friends. It was the recklessness of someone who didn’t care anymore. Almost like he was past caring, past suffering. Almost like he just wanted it all to end.

  ‘Are you all right, Sam?’ she said quietly.

  ‘I already said, I ain’t hurt. New kid got shot, not me.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about that.’

  Sam looked at her. His eyes were blank: pale blue, almost eerie.

  ‘Sometimes …’ Susannah took a deep breath, then shook her head. ‘We’re so close, Sam. So close to getting justice.’

  ‘I know that, Captain. Only thing keeps me going, some days.’ Sam twiddled the wheel, spinning them deeper into the dark. ‘It’s getting worse, though. Like a slow sickness. Every day it hurts a bit more.’

  Susannah glanced up at the sorcery lamps on the ceiling. ‘I’ve asked Dot to change all the lamps on the ship – are you saying they’re still not –’

  ‘They’re better,’ Sam cut her off. ‘But it still ain’t like living before, Captain. I can still feel it in my head. All the time. Just the Music, running over and over and over …’ He stared into the darkness. ‘I’m gonna be the one who takes ’em down, you know. Whatever it takes.’

  Susannah watched him for a long moment, disquieted. She didn’t know what to say. Finally, she wet her lips. ‘What do you think of our new recruit?’

  ‘He’s a Songshaper, Captain. I don’t trust scum like that.’

  ‘You know why we need him.’

  ‘Don’t mean I gotta like it,’ Sam said. ‘My pa used to say that tossing your rope before you make a loop don’t catch a calf.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘It means we’d be damn fools to get ahead of ourselves.’

  ‘Dammit, Sam, we don’t have time for this! In a few weeks, it’ll be too late to –’

  ‘So what?’ There was anger in Sam’s voice now, and he stood up with a flare of ice in his eyes. ‘That don’t make it right to risk everything we’ve worked for.’

  Susannah opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. There was something … unsettling … in Sam’s anger. His muscles clenched, quivering slightly, as though his entire body was a spring about to unleash.

  ‘I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, Captain,’ Sam said. ‘But even you can’t ask me to trust a damn Songshaper.’

  ‘But we have to –’

  Sam slammed a fist on the bench.

  Without thinking, Susannah threw up a hand to defend herself. She knew that Sam would never hurt her if he was in his right mind. But the lamps were swinging overhead, and a thousand cogs and wheels on the ship were spinning with sorcery. In this wild wash of melody, Sam’s mind would be anything but right …

  ‘Sam,’ she said. ‘Sam, it’s me.’

  Silence.

  And then, one muscle at a time, his entire body seemed to collapse in on itself. He sat back down and slumped against the wheel, his breath ragged. Susannah watched, her heart in her throat, as the unnatural fury died in his eyes.

  ‘It’s all right, Sam,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘No.’ The word was almost a growl. ‘No, Captain, it ain’t.’

  Susannah reached slowly into her pocket. She retrieved a tiny lantern, stained with the familiar orange hue of Dot’s magic, and held it up cautiously for him to take. ‘Do you want …?’

  He nodded.

  Susannah pressed her fingers to the glass bauble, flaring its sorcery into life. It was one of Dot’s special lanterns, enchanted with a calming melody, and hopefully its tune would help. Sam took it from her with shaking fingers and clutched it like a lifeline, his breath still ragged.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sounding broken. ‘Damn it all, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your faul
t,’ Susannah said. ‘It’s their fault. They’re the ones who did this to you. And in just a few weeks, we can finally make them pay.’

  ‘By working with one of them?’ Sam shook his head. ‘No. There’s gotta be another way. We’ll wait another year, if we’ve got to. We’ll find some kid who’s good at music, and we’ll train him up. Not a kid who’s already got Music in his veins.’

  Silence.

  ‘Dot’s a Songshaper,’ Susannah said quietly.

  ‘That’s different. She got rejected by the rest of ’em. Makes her an outsider, like us. And besides, she never –’

  ‘Has Chester ever hurt you?’ Susannah said.

  Sam hesitated. ‘No.’

  ‘Was he trained at the Conservatorium?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So he’s not really one of them, is he? He’s probably just some street kid, trained by another bunch of criminals.’

  Sam stared down at the bauble in his hand. His breaths were slower now, lulled by the throb of the lantern’s melody. ‘He says he ain’t been trained at all.’

  Susannah shook her head. ‘That’s impossible. How else could he connect to the Song?’

  ‘Maybe he’s just a natural.’

  ‘It doesn’t work like that!’

  ‘Well, I’m not the expert, am I? Go talk to Dot about it.’

  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.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  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 ca
n 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.