A Riddle in Ruby Read Online Free PDF

and gone like a fierce cat, tossing the vessel back and forth on the waves but losing interest after a few hours and bounding off to pounce on some other ship.
    The narrow passage into the lower level of the Thrift was quiet in the aftermath of the storm. Most of the crew were dead to the world in their hammocks in the hold after the night’s exertions. This hallway led downonly to the galley and the two small passenger cabins. The waning moon cast little light down through the hatch above.
    A panel in the wall at the bottom of the stairs disappeared soundlessly, and Ruby eased her head into the gloom. She pulled herself into the hallway and closed the panel behind her. On bare feet in her work shift, dusty from the crawl through the hidden passage, she crept to the door of Lord Athen’s cabin.
    She put her ear against it, listening for breathing, or muttering, or she didn’t know what. The servant boy, Cram, was bunked with the crew. Ruby thought for a moment about opening the door and going in there and . . . what? Knock him on the head? Truss him up like a prize calf and have Gwath throw him overboard? Neither would probably go over well with her father.
    Something about this Athen just set her teeth on edge. Why didn’t he reveal her secret? What did he want from her? What was in all that luggage? Clothing? Could any boy be so vain?
    She turned on cat feet and crept to the galley door.The storm latch was set, but latches had never been a problem for Ruby. She slid the thin blade of her knife through the gap between the frame and the door to pop it open without a sound.
    She floated into the room and secured the door. Gwath was there, up to his armpits in a pot of stew.
    â€œGwath,” she whispered.
    â€œI’m busy,” he said.
    Gwath fished around at the bottom of the stewpot, shoulder deep in the rich red mixture of garlic, beans, spices, tomatoes, tubers, and who knew what else that made up his specialty, Goats in the Bilge. No one knew the list of ingredients, and Gwath would never let anyone in the galley when he cooked it.
    â€œThat is scalding! Are you all right?”
    â€œDo I seem to be in pain?”
    He didn’t. She leaned back against the wall next to the stove, close enough to whisper.
    â€œOut,” he whispered.
    â€œI need your help.”
    Gwath remained silent, sniffing at the bubblingsurface of the stew and looking as if he’d lost his favorite spoon at the bottom of the pot.
    â€œGwath.”
    â€œBusy.”
    â€œListen, last night right before the storm there was—
    â€œPirate Queen,” he warned.
    Ruby bit her lip. He never called her that unless he was sore with her. She changed strategy. “Why do you have your arms in the Goat?”
    â€œYou have to massage it. Otherwise it won’t set right.” His brows narrowed, “Give me a moment. Can’t rush a good stew.” He sniffed at the pot, grimaced, and hoisted one muscled arm out of the brew. It was completely dry.
    Gwath Maxim One: “Gwath Is a Mystery. Do Not Try to Solve Him.”
    He teased a leaf out of the leather pouch he always wore around his neck and crushed it, plunging the bits deep into the depths of the concoction. He took one more sniff, nodded, and then pulled both arms out of the pot dry as a sun-baked shore.
    â€œHow did you do that?” she breathed.
    â€œWhat?” he said, grabbing a wooden bowl from the stack in the corner. He ladled out a steaming bowl of the Goat and passed it to her. She took it, but she knew he was trying to distract her.
    â€œWe don’t have time to stuff our faces, you mound of meat,” she said.
    â€œEat. Maxim Thirty-two: ‘Food Feeds the Wise, and Hunger Makes for a Fool’s Errand.’”
    She snorted and flopped down on the ground but still tucked in with a vengeance.
    â€œThis is good, but I’m not going to sigh like some alderman’s doxy and forget my own name,” she