No one moved for a long time. The Piglet drifted. The clouds frayed and blew away. Goldie thought she might cry, and then she thought she might laugh, and then she clamped her lips together and did her best to think nothing at all.
Toadspit’s face was blank; his arm was tight around Bonnie’s shoulders. Mouse crouched on the deck behind them, shivering, while his little pets cleaned his face and groomed his hair, trying to comfort him. Smudge stared at the horizon, his eyes wide with horror.
The bluebird brooch
It was Pounce who jolted them out of their shock. He strolled to the rail and spat loudly into the water. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say. Hey, Smudge, any of them pastries left? I didn’t get no breakfast this mornin’.’
Smudge blinked at him. ‘Ya— Ya can’t ’ave ’em. They’re Cord’s. He don’t like no one takin’ his stuff.’
‘Don’t reckon he’ll be needin’ ’em,’ said Pounce. He grinned at the cat, which was sitting beside the rail with a satisfied look on its face. ‘Don’t reckon he’ll be needin’ this boat, neither. I could sail up and down the Southern Archipelago and make me fortune. Cap’n Pounce. How does that sound?’
He tilted his head in a challenge and stared around the circle of faces. Slowly Goldie’s mind started working again. ‘It sounds fine,’ she said, ‘as long as you take us home first.’
Pounce’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’ll cost ya.’
‘We’ve already paid,’ said Goldie. She nodded towards Mouse. The white-haired boy was still shivering, but now he crooned to his mice as they trotted up and down his arms.
Pounce flushed. ‘Yeah, I s’pose ya have.’
Toadspit shook himself as if he had only just noticed what was going on. ‘You’re not going to trust him, are you?’ he muttered to Goldie.
‘No,’ said Goldie, not bothering to lower her voice. ‘He’d still sell us to Harrow if it suited him, wouldn’t you, Pounce?’
Pounce shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I pays me debts too. Ya saved Mousie from the sharks. So I’ll give yez a ride ’ome in me ship.’
Toadspit bristled. ‘Who says it’s your ship?’
‘I says.’
‘I bet you can’t even sail it.’
‘Can you?’ said Pounce.
Bonnie had been listening to all this with Frisia’s bow held loosely by her side. Now she rolled her eyes at Pounce. ‘Of course he can. My brother can do anything.’
‘Shut up, Bonnie,’ mumbled Toadspit.
‘Listen,’ said Goldie, losing patience with all of them. ‘None of us know how to sail this ship except for Smudge. So it doesn’t matter who calls themselves captain. It’s going to be Smudge telling us what to do.’
The big man shook his head. ‘Not me. I’m not gunna help yez. Harrow wouldn’t like it.’ Behind him, the cat stretched and showed its claws.
‘Harrow won’t know,’ said Goldie.
Smudge glanced nervously over his shoulder at the cat. He lowered his voice. ‘Harrow knows everything.’
‘You can be captain,’ said Goldie.
Smudge hesitated, and Goldie could see the temptation working away inside him. But his fear of Harrow was too great. He shook his head again.
Goldie sighed loudly. ‘In that case we’ll just have to make you help us.’
‘Make me?’ Smudge laughed uncertainly. ‘How ya gunna do that? Yez are only little. An’ I’m big.’
Goldie turned her back on him and winked at Bonnie. ‘How many arrows have you got?’
‘Lots. Do you want me to shoot him?’ said Bonnie. She was only wearing one shoe, and now she kicked it off and stood eagerly in her stockinged feet.
‘Hey!’ said Smudge.
‘Not all at once,’ said Goldie. ‘Just a bit here and there. Start with his kidneys.’
Bonnie took an arrow from her quiver and fitted it to the bow.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Smudge.
Bonnie raised the bow and began to circle the big man. ‘Where are his kidneys?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Goldie. ‘There, I think.’ She poked Smudge in the back. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Just keep trying until you hit them.’
‘All right, all right!’ said Smudge. ‘I’ll help yez.’
Bonnie made a disappointed face. ‘Can I shoot him anyway?’
‘Only if he doesn’t get the ship on course for Jewel right now,’ said Goldie.
Smudge ran to the tiller, and the Piglet was soon heading steadily westward. Goldie sank to the deck and closed her eyes, trying very hard not to think about Cord.
Instead, for the first time in days, she let her thoughts turn to Ma and Pa. How she longed to see them! She wished she could make the ship move more quickly— ‘Goldie.’
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. Bonnie and Toadspit were squatting in front of her, with Frisia’s bow and sword in their hands. Bonnie must have retrieved her own bow from the dinghy, because she held that as well. Morg sat on Toadspit’s shoulder, her black feathers rustling in the wind.
‘Ffffowl,’ muttered the cat in a half-hearted fashion, from its spot near the rail.
Without a word, Bonnie laid the two bows on the deck. They were the same length, but apart from that they looked nothing at all alike. Frisia’s bow was almost new. It had a leather grip, with a small carving of a wolf cub just above it, and it was painted in intricate patterns of red and black. The tips were inlaid with silver rings.
In contrast, Bonnie’s bow was so old that it had surely forgotten it had ever been part of a living tree. The original grip was missing, and there were scrapes and scratches all over the wood. If it had ever been painted, there was no sign of it now.
But then Bonnie pointed to the tip, where the bowstring looped around it, and said, ‘Look. You can see where the silver rings used to be. And here, just above the grip. It’s the wolf cub.’
Goldie peered at the old bow without touching it. Certainly there had once been something carved there. But it had been hacked away with a knife long ago, and she could not tell what it was.
‘Toadspit reckons I’m imagining things,’ said Bonnie.
‘I didn’t say that,’ grinned Toadspit. ‘I said you were mad.’
‘Well, I’m not. The two bows feel the same, Goldie. They really do.’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Goldie slowly. ‘Frisia’s bow could have ended up in the museum somehow.’
‘And Olga Ciavolga kept it safe and gave it to me!’
‘Which makes Olga Ciavolga the mad one,’ said Toadspit. Then he added quickly, ‘But don’t tell her I said so.’
Bonnie picked up the beautiful new bow. Her fingers caressed the leather grip. ‘Were we really there, in ancient Merne?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Goldie. ‘It felt as if we were.’
Over by the rail, the cat inspected a paw that had once been adorned with velvet and rat-skins. ‘Gggggown,’ it murmured.
Bonnie sighed. ‘It was fun being the Young Margravine. And Goldie, you were a good Frisia. Much better than I would’ve been.’
She stroked the bow one last time, then held it out. ‘This is really yours.’
Toadspit cleared his throat. ‘This is yours too.’ His hand lingered on the hilt of Frisia’s sword, as if he didn’t want to let it go.
‘Yo-o-o-o-urs,’ croaked Morg.
Goldie sat up. The silver rings on the bow winked at her. The sword lay still and waiting. Her fingers clenched. ‘Um— I’ve forgotten how to use them.’
She saw the beginnings of disbelief on Toadspit’s face, and hurried on. ‘I lost the skill when the Big Lie stopped. I don’t know why. It just went. You may as well keep them.’
The cat gazed at her, its eyes dark and knowing.
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ said Bonnie.
Toadspit laughed. ‘We saw that.’ Then his face grew serious again. ‘I haven’t forgotten either. It doesn’t seem fair.’
Goldie forced a smile. ‘I don’t mind. Really.’
She was glad when they snatched the weapons up and carried them away. She was glad too when the cat fell asleep on a coil of rope. She wished she could sleep, but she was wide awake now.
It wasn’t easy to fool Toadspit. She had only been able to do it because he wanted the sword so much. She hadn’t forgotten how to use it. She hadn’t forgotten a thing that had happened during the Big Lie. Her hands and mind and heart remembered every skilful movement of sword and bow.
Even now a part of her wanted to jump up and snatch the weapons away from her friends. To wrap her fingers around the hilt of the sword, and feel that glorious weight in her hand . . .
Frisia.
The Lie had ended, but the princess’s voice was still there inside her. And so was her love of war and fighting.
Goldie gritted her teeth. There were things she admired about the princess, but the love of war was not one of them. As far as she could see, the main thing that happened in war was that ordinary people had their lives torn apart for no good reason.
But Frisia’s fate-telling had been meant for her as well, she knew that now. The fire was the Fugleman. The household that he threatened to destroy was Jewel. And she must not hold back.
The trouble was, the princess’s love of war wasn’t the only thing that she carried hidden inside her. The wolf-sark was there too, ready to blaze up as soon as she drew the sword. She had nearly killed Mouse because of it. Who might she kill if it happened again?
She shuddered. It was better to give her weapons away.
‘Hey, Princess,’ shouted Smudge, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Am I really the captain, like you said?’
He had been holding the tiller on a steady course for some time, and had apparently accepted what had happened. But Goldie knew they would have to watch him. Just as they would have to watch Pounce. She would not let herself be betrayed again.
‘I’m not a princess,’ she shouted.
‘What are ya then? Who are ya?’
Goldie drew in a long breath. She didn’t know what they would find when they reached Jewel, but if Guardian Hope had told the truth about the mercenaries, it seemed likely that there would be a war of one sort or another. And she and Toadspit and Bonnie would be caught up in it.
She would not glory in it, like Frisia did. She would not wield a sword or a bow if she could possibly help it. But neither would she hold back. She would fight the Fugleman in her own way, and with all her strength.
Who was she? What was she? She wrapped her fingers around her bird brooch. There was only one possible answer.
‘I'm Goldie Roth,’ she cried. ‘I'm Fifth Keeper of the Museum of Dunt!’