Museum of Thieves (16 page)

Goldie opened her mouth to retort. Then she bit her lip. She had the odd feeling that Toadspit wasn’t really talking to her.

‘Got any brothers or sisters?’ he asked, still staring at the coin.

‘No,’ said Goldie, and she looked at him curiously. ‘Have you?’

‘If you did, if you had a little sister, say, would you worry about what was happening to her?’

‘I s’pose so.’

Silence fell between them. Presently Goldie said, ‘I
have
seen you before, haven’t I? In the Old Quarter?’

Toadspit nodded. ‘I ran away last year.’

‘You can’t have!’ Goldie stared at him. ‘I would’ve heard! Everyone would’ve been talking about it.’

Toadspit laughed angrily. ‘The Blessed Guardians told our neighbours we’d moved to Lawe. They didn’t want other children getting ideas.’

‘So where are your parents?’

‘Where do you think?’

‘House of Repentance?’

Toadspit gave a brief nod. ‘And my sister’s in Care—’

He stopped. Goldie heard a faint, faraway popping sound. ‘What’s that?’ she said.

‘Guns! From beyond the Dirty Gate!
Quick!
’

Toadspit shoved the coin into his pocket, put his hand on the wall again and began to sing. Goldie copied him.

The wild music was back, surging under her hand. At first their singing seemed to make no difference to it. Their voices bobbed helplessly in the mighty current of sound. Then Goldie heard a third voice join theirs from somewhere deep in the museum. Not a human voice this time, but the song of a harp. It was Sinew, playing for all he was worth.

For a moment, nothing changed. Then, bit by bit, the wild music began to weave itself to their singing
,
and to quietness.

Goldie took her hand off the wall. ‘That popping sound,’ she said.

‘The guns?’

‘Yes. I think that’s what Herro Dan heard. Just before he disappeared.’

‘
What
?’
Toadspit stared at her in horror. ‘He must have gone past the Dirty Gate! Come on!’

And without waiting to see if Goldie was following, he began to run along the Lady’s Mile.

.

he Dirty Gate was deeper inside the museum than Goldie had ever gone before. It was made of iron – not a solid piece, but strips welded together like a giant honeycomb. It was brown with rust, and fitted into the wall so carefully that there was no gap above or below it. On the right-hand side there was an enormous keyhole.

Morg was perched on one of the iron strips. She rattled her wings when she saw them. ‘Wa-a-ar!’ she croaked. ‘Wa-a-a-a-a-r!’

A shiver ran down Goldie’s spine. ‘What does she mean? Why is she saying that?’

‘That’s what’s on the other side of the Dirty Gate,’ said Toadspit grimly. ‘The war rooms. The plague rooms. The famine rooms. All the really awful stuff that happened in the early years of Dunt. It’s still here in the museum. Most of the time it’s quiet and doesn’t cause any problems, but something must have stirred it up. You heard the guns. Come and look.’

Goldie sidled up to the gate and stared through the honeycomb holes, some of which were big enough to climb through. At first all she could see was long grass, but then Toadspit pointed to a flash of white far to the left.

‘See those tents? That’s an army camp,’ he said. ‘This is the first of the war rooms.’

‘Who are they fighting?’

‘Anyone. Everyone. I don’t know. It’s just – war.’

Goldie thought she saw a movement near the tents. She took a quick step backwards. ‘Won’t they see us? Won’t they try and break down the gate? Or shoot us or something?’

Toadspit shook his head. ‘As long as the gate is shut they can’t see it and they can’t come through.’

As he spoke, he took a folding knife and a bit of wire out of his pocket. He slid the tip of the knife into the keyhole, and pushed the wire in above it. Then he began to wiggle it carefully back and forth. Broo growled softly.

‘What are you
doing
?’ said Goldie.

Toadspit’s face was pale, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw. ‘Herro Dan should’ve come back last night.’ He spoke slowly, concentrating on the keyhole. ‘I reckon he heard the guns and went through here to see what was happening, and the soldiers caught him. They probably thought he was a spy. I’m going to see if they’ve got him. And if they have, I’m going to steal him back.’

‘Shouldn’t we go and find Olga Ciavolga first? Or Sinew?’

‘There’s no time. They might shoot Herro Dan at any moment.’

‘They might’ve shot him already!’

‘If they had, we’d know . . . Got it!’ said Toadspit. There was a loud
click
and the lock sprang open. Toadspit slipped the knife and the wire back into his pocket. ‘Are you coming?’

Think carefully
,
whispered the little voice in the back of Goldie’s mind.
Think carefully before you rush into danger
.

But Goldie didn’t want to think carefully, not if Herro Dan might be shot at any moment. ‘Of course I’m coming!’ she said.

The Dirty Gate was so heavy that the two children could hardly move it. They dragged it open just far enough and squeezed through the gap.

‘Come on, Broo,’ said Toadspit. ‘We mustn’t leave the gate open for long.’

Broo didn’t move. He stood on the other side of the gate, every hair on his little white back bristling.

‘We’ll go without you,’ said Toadspit.

Still the little dog did not move.

‘Stay here then,’ said Toadspit. ‘See if I care.’

The children dragged the gate shut, and dropped onto their bellies in the long grass. Goldie’s heart was thumping in her chest. How could a place like this be a
room
? How could it be
inside
the museum? She felt as if she had stepped into a completely different country. There was no ceiling that she could see, and the sky was pale and distant. High above her head, a dozen ominous black shapes floated in the air like specks of ash.

‘Look!’ whispered Toadspit, pointing. ‘Slaughterbirds!’

Goldie heard a soft whine, and turned her head. The Dirty Gate was little more than a shimmer in the grass behind her. She could just make out one of the honeycomb holes, and Broo wriggling through it. She hoped that he had decided to follow them after all, but instead he lay down just inside the gate and put his head on his paws.

‘He won’t come any further,’ whispered Toadspit. ‘There’s no point waiting for him.’

He picked up a handful of dirt and smeared it over his face and arms. With shaking hands, Goldie copied him.

Then the two children began to crawl towards the distant army camp.

Before they were even close to the tents, Goldie could smell smoke and sewage and beer and blood and dung, and a score of other things that she couldn’t name. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Toadspit do the same. She felt a bubble of silent laughter well up inside her. That made her feel braver, and when at last they came to the edge of the camp she peered through the long grass with almost as much curiosity as dread.

Directly in front of her, the ground was trampled and muddy, as if some huge hungry beast had crossed it in the night. There were rough tents and old-fashioned wagons that looked like something from a history book. There were ugly black cannon slung on enormous wheels, and oxen and hens and goats and pigs snuffling across the mud between them.

Next to the tents were fireplaces made out of rocks. Above each fireplace, a cauldron hung from an iron hook. But there was no sign of any soldiers. Except for the slow movement of the animals, and the
peck peck pecking
of the hens, a stillness hung over the camp.

Toadspit put his finger to his lips and wriggled back a little way. Goldie followed him, thinking about the animals and birds, and the bare ground and how they would have to cross it.

‘There are no horses,’ whispered Toadspit. ‘They must be off fighting or something. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to search the whole camp before they come back.’

‘We’ll have to be careful,’ whispered Goldie. ‘They might have left a few—’

She broke off. There were footsteps marching towards them.

‘—
sentries!
’ she hissed.

She threw herself flat in the long grass. Toadspit did the same. The footsteps slammed towards them, hard and brutal on the bare ground. Left
right
left
right
left
right
. Two men. Both of them extremely dangerous. Goldie pressed her face into the earth and tried to control her trembling.

Left
right
left
right
left
right
. The feet marched towards their hiding place. The grass quivered. Goldie’s heart raced.

LEFT
RIGHT
LEFT
RIGHT
LEFT
RIGHT.
For a moment, it seemed as if the sentries would march right over the top of them. But instead they went straight past, following the grass edge that marked the boundary of the camp.

Goldie lay still for a long time after they had gone. She had cramp in one leg and she didn’t think she would ever move again. But when Toadspit stood up in a low crouch and ran across the open ground to the shelter of the first wagon, she was beside him.

It was the strangest thing, slipping through that almost-deserted camp. Wisps of smoke rose from the fires, as if they had only just been put out. Flies buzzed around the cauldrons. Oxen stamped and shook their heads as Goldie and Toadspit passed.

As they crept from wagon to wagon, Goldie’s skin itched with the knowledge that the sentries might return at any moment. She tried to tell herself that this was a war from hundreds of years ago, that it was over and done with, that surely it could not hurt her. But the camp around her was as real as anything she had ever seen. Flies settled on her face and arms. Her feet kicked up little clumps of mud. High above her, the slaughterbirds wove a dance of death.

Many of the tents had their flaps pulled back, and the children could see straight away that there was no one in them. But as they got closer to the centre of the camp, more and more of the flaps were shut. They dared not open them in case there was someone inside, so instead they put their heads close to the canvas and listened. They heard nothing.

Silently they stole onwards. The sun beat down on their heads. Mosquitoes hovered around them and they brushed them away and kept going.

Once they heard the
tramp tramp tramp
of the sentries in the distance. They dived behind the nearest wagon until the sound faded. Then they crawled out again and dusted themselves off – and kept going.

Goldie was pressing her ear against yet another tent when she heard it. On the other side of the canvas, a man was singing quietly. ‘
Ho oh oh-oh. Mm mm oh oh oh-oh oh
.’

‘Herro Dan?’ she hissed.

The singing stopped. ‘
Goldie
? Is that
you
?’

‘Me and Toadspit.’

‘What are you doin’
here
?’

‘We’ve come to rescue you!’ whispered Goldie.

She waved frantically at Toadspit and he came hurrying back. When he heard Herro Dan’s voice he closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed, as if there was something stuck in his throat.

‘I’ve busted my leg,’ whispered Herro Dan. ‘They didn’t even bother puttin’ a guard on me. They know I’m not goin’ anywhere.’

‘But—’

‘You gotta go back. It’s too dangerous for you here.’

‘We’ll go back,’ said Toadspit. ‘And we’ll take you with us.’ He took out his knife and began to saw at the straps that held the tent door shut.

‘Now you listen to me, boy,’ said Herro Dan fiercely. ‘You go back and tell Olga Ciavolga that the war rooms are on the move.’

‘We know. We heard the guns,’ said Goldie.

‘That trouble, I reckon it’s stopped waitin’,’ said Herro Dan. ‘Now it’s gallopin’ towards us, full tilt. You gotta find out why. What’s changed? What’s different? What’s stirrin’ the museum up like this?’

‘It could be the Blessed Guardians,’ said Goldie.

‘What about them?’ The old man’s voice was sharp.

‘They’re trying to make a floor plan.’

There was a hiss of anger from the other side of the canvas. ‘No! The museum won’t tolerate that! No wonder the war rooms are movin’! The Guardians have gotta be stopped! Tell Sinew to go to the Protector—’