The light from Cord’s lantern seeped into the tunnel like a false dawn. Mouse’s face was white with misery. His little pets huddled on his shoulders, pressing themselves against his bare neck as if they were trying to warm him. The sound of running water was growing louder.
‘I think Morg’s forgotten about us,’ said Bonnie. She was shivering. They all were, except for the cat, which was crouched on a ledge three-quarters of the way up the tunnel wall, cleaning its paws.
Toadspit
Goldie touched Mouse’s arm. ‘Did Pounce send you?’
‘Yeah,’ growled Toadspit. ‘Sent him to trap us.’
Mouse shook his head. He mimed waking up and finding that they had gone. He pretended to be Pounce, a gleeful Pounce, counting out a pile of coins from his britches pocket – more coins than Mouse had ever seen. He mimed himself discovering the map on the wall, and running desperately down to the deserted stableyard to warn them, only to find that the trap had been sprung.
He touched the rockfall, and showed them how recent it was – how it must have happened in the last day or so.
Toadspit grunted.
‘I believe you,’ said Bonnie, glaring at her brother.
‘Does Pounce know you came after us?’ said Goldie.
Mouse shook his head.
‘I don’t understand why—’ began Bonnie.
‘Sshh!’ said Toadspit.
Goldie heard sharp footsteps on the stairs, and saw the light of a second lantern brighten the mouth of the tunnel. She quickly adjusted her mask. Guardian Hope had been gone for an hour or more, but now she was back.
‘Hey, Flense,’ said Smudge. ‘The snotties have disappeared, look. Did ya tell Harrow it weren’t me who caught ’em?’
‘Stop your stupid lies, idiot,’ snapped Guardian Hope. ‘The Festival is an Abomination in the eyes of the Seven Gods. I may wear a mask for my own holy purposes, but that is all. You will speak straight, both of you. Do you understand?’
‘No. Er. Um. Yep,’ mumbled Smudge.
‘And you, Cord?’
‘It’s no skin off my nose,’ said Cord.
‘Any sign of that bird while I was gone?’
‘Yeah. I mean, nah,’ said Cord. ‘But if it comes, we’re ready for it.’
‘Good,’ said Guardian Hope. She tugged at the gate. ‘Are you sure this thing won’t open any further?’
‘Won’t budge,’ said Cord. ‘And we can’t get through that gap.’
‘Mm. That makes it interesting . . .’ Guardian Hope raised her lantern so that the light splashed across the children. ‘Why are there so many of them? There are only supposed to be two. Who are the others?’
‘See that little snotty with white ’air?’ said Cord. ‘’E tells fortunes in the Spice Market. I dunno ’oo the one with the mask is, but ’e ’elped ’em escape last night.’
‘Who are you, boy?’ called Guardian Hope.
Goldie said nothing. A drip of water ran down the back of her neck.
‘Well, whoever you are,’ said Guardian Hope, ‘you’re going to be sorry you got mixed up in this.’
‘What are you going to do with us?’ called Toadspit, wrapping his arms around his sister.
‘Well now, we were going to send you back home. And what a joyous occasion that would’ve been.’ Guardian Hope laughed sourly. ‘The lost children back in the arms of their frantic parents. Oh, there would have been dancing in the streets. There’s nothing the citizens of Jewel care for so much as their brats.’
‘What’s the use of stealing us and then taking us home again?’ Bonnie peered out from underneath Toadspit’s arm. ‘That’s stupid.’
‘Stupid?’ snapped Guardian Hope. ‘It was a beautiful plan! His Honour the Fugleman worked it out so carefully.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Toadspit, shivering.
‘Of course you don’t. That’s because the real game is being played out in Jewel. You’re just a tool.’
Guardian Hope’s voice echoed up and down the tunnel. ‘A tool . . . a tool . . . a tool . . .’ Goldie hardly noticed. Her mind was stuck on those eight terrible words. ‘We WERE going to send you back home.’
She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself crying out. If she hadn’t rescued Bonnie and Toadspit, they would have been safe! They might even have been on their way home already!
But Hope couldn’t let them go now. They knew too much. So what would she do? Keep them locked up? Sell them to one of the slavers who roamed the southern seas?
‘You see,’ continued Guardian Hope, ‘His Honour is in Jewel at this very moment. He gave himself up, asked to be punished for his crimes. Poor shattered creature.’
She sniggered. ‘He was the one who traced you to Spoke, you know, after you were “stolen”. If it wasn’t for him you would have been lost forever. Now tell me, do you think the citizens of Jewel would let the Protector imprison the man who got their lost children back? No, of course not. They’d forgive him. They’d want him in his old job, keeping their brats safe. Because the Protector couldn’t keep them safe, could she? Why, there have been all sorts of incidents in the last few weeks. A broken leg. A near-drowning. And if this missing children business didn’t do the trick, I expect we would have had a proper drowning soon. Perhaps even a murder.’
Her voice rose angrily. ‘All the changes the Protector has made, and look what happens. Get rid of her, I say. Bring back the Fugleman! Bring back the Blessed Guardians—’
She stopped and cleared her throat. ‘But now, because of your oh-so-clever guesswork, His Honour will be forced to use his back-up plan instead. An army of mercenaries from the Southern Archipelago. How Jewel will tremble!’
She laughed. ‘As for you children, the Fugleman has sent new orders. It seems that you’re not going home to your loving parents after all.’
Goldie’s legs began to shake. Slavers. It must be the slavers.
In the back of her mind, the little voice whispered, Squeeze around the corner where she can’t see you.
‘Shut up,’ said Goldie under her breath. ‘I should never have listened to you in the first place! I should have left Bonnie and Toadspit where they were!’
Squeeze around the corner— ‘
Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up!’
Squeeze around—
‘SHUT UP!’
The sudden silence in the back of her mind was a shock. But a good one, she told herself. She had trusted the little voice, and it had betrayed her. It had betrayed all of them.
She found herself thinking about Ma and Pa, and how they had suffered because of her. A spasm of self-loathing shot through her.
On the stairs outside the tunnel, Smudge seemed to be arguing with Guardian Hope and Cord. ‘What, all of ’em?’ he said, in a puzzled voice. ‘Even the snotty with the mice? ’E told my fortune once. I don’t reckon we should—’
‘Yer not paid to reckon,’ interrupted Cord. ‘You just keep yer trap shut and do what yer told. If Harrow wants ’em shot, then we shoot ’em.’
Shoot us? The air in Goldie’s lungs turned to ice. Beside her, Bonnie, Toadspit and Mouse gasped with shock.
‘I didn’t say shoot them, you fool,’ snapped Guardian Hope. ‘I said drown them.’
‘What’s the difference? They’re just as dead.’
‘If we shoot them, it’s murder. And it will raise far too many questions when their bodies are found. But if they drown, it’s just – an unfortunate accident.’
‘How we gunna drown ’em if we can’t get at ’em?’ said Cord.
‘That’s the beauty of it.’ Guardian Hope sat down on the stairs and raised her voice so that Goldie could hear every awful word. ‘There was a time when the city used these old sewers to drown pirates. A bit of rain and a high tide, and the water comes pouring in. It fills the whole cellar. Well, we’ve had the rain, and high tide is just after sunrise. All we have to do is wait here and make sure they don’t escape.’
‘T-Too much water!’ whispered Bonnie.
Goldie’s legs were shaking more than ever. She tried to control them and couldn’t. This was her fault. This was all her fault.
‘But I don’t—’ said Smudge.
‘Quiet!’ Cord’s voice was urgent. ‘I ’eard somethin’ up near the roof. I think it’s the bird.’
Toadspit shuddered, as if he was trying to fight his way out of a nightmare. He grabbed Goldie’s hand. His fingers signed an urgent message against her skin. ‘This our best chance. Come on.’
Goldie stared at him. She felt as if a thick fog was pressing in on her from all sides. Or perhaps it was a chain, an invisible chain, wrapping its links so tightly around her that she could not move.
Her friends were going to die. And it was her fault.
‘Come on!’ signed Toadspit.
Still Goldie could not move. Toadspit stared at her, puzzled, then turned and threw himself down the tunnel, crying, ‘Morg! Morg! We’re here!’
There was a great flapping of wings outside the bars. One of the lanterns fell over, and Smudge shouted in fright. Guardian Hope screamed, ‘Get it! Shoot it! Catch it in the net!’
Goldie heard a pistol shot. ‘Aaaark!’ screeched Morg, and fell to the ground with a thump.
Cord whooped with delight. ‘I winged it. Quick, chuck the net over it, Smudge.’
‘What’ve you done to her?’ cried Toadspit. ‘Morg, are you all right?’
Morg screeched again – with fury this time.
‘Ooh, it don’t like bein’ trapped,’ said Cord. ‘Just as well the net’s nice and strong. Look at that nasty old beak.’ He chortled. ‘Nearly took your eye out, Smudge.’
‘It’s a demon bird,’ muttered Smudge. ‘Put a bullet through its ’ead.’
‘No!’ cried Toadspit. He fumbled on the floor of the tunnel, picked up a large stone and threw it through the bars.
‘Ow!’ said Cord. ‘You little—’
‘Remember what I said, Cord!’ But Guardian Hope’s warning came too late.
A second pistol shot echoed up and down the tunnel. Something clanged against the bars – and Toadspit collapsed in a heap.
The slommerkin made its stand in Forgotten Dreams. It had been running for hour upon hour, but now it turned, as if something had stung it, and came at Sinew in a rush. Its tusks dripped foulness. Its monstrous bulk swelled with rage.
The long chase had exhausted Sinew and, for the briefest of moments, he stood rooted to the spot. Then he dived to one side, fingers instinctively plucking at his harp strings. The notes of the First Song spun out around him.
It was a ridiculously feeble weapon for the circumstances, he knew that. Without Broo, he would have been dead within seconds. The brizzlehound threw himself into the path of the charging slommerkin, and the two of them disappeared in a whirl of teeth and tusks.
The sound of their battle was appalling, and it was almost impossible to see what was happening. At first Sinew thought Broo had the upper hand. He saw the brizzlehound fasten his great teeth into the slommerkin’s neck and heard a squeal of pain. But Forgotten Dreams was a room where things slipped away before you could grasp them, and the next thing he saw was the slommerkin gripping Broo’s neck, as if it had been that way all along. Then that too was gone.
He closed his eyes, knowing he could not trust them, and bent his head to his harp. His fingers ripped at the strings, trying to slide the notes of the First Song in between those awful tusks to wherever the slommerkin kept its brain.
He did not know how long he played. Once, he opened his eyes and noticed, with surprise, that his fingers were bleeding. He caught a glimpse of the slommerkin and Broo, tearing at each other’s blood-soaked bodies. He thought of Goldie and Toadspit and Bonnie, and knew that, wherever they were, they too must be fighting for their lives.
He closed his eyes again and played more furiously than ever.