City of Lies (27 page)

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 halfhearted 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.” Toadspit grinned. “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 skillful 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
Goldie
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!”

T
he Fugleman was being unchained from the desk for the last time. His guards, of course, did not know that it was the last time. He took care not to let them see the smile of anticipation that flickered across his face.

They
were not smiling. There had been no further messages from Spoke, and it was clear that something had gone wrong with the rescue. The children were lost, perhaps even dead. The guards muttered among themselves, trying to decide who was responsible.

They blamed the mysterious Harrow. With a little
encouragement from the Fugleman, they blamed the Protector. They blamed everyone except the Fugleman himself.

Which was exactly as it should be.

When the first shots sounded in the distance, they almost fell over with astonishment. The Fugleman could see it on their faces.
Gunfire?
In
Jewel?

“Don’t mind me,” he murmured. “I’m sure it is your duty to go and see what is happening. Just lock me in my cell and I’ll be here when you return.”

They did as he told them, fools that they were. He waited until he could no longer hear their voices; then he strode to the middle of the cell and, for the first time in days, drew himself up to his full height. The mask of false humility fell away. He raised his fists in the air—and laughed. He was the Fugleman, the leader of the Blessed Guardians and spokesman for the Seven Gods!

Soon his mercenaries would fight their way to his side. The moment they freed him, he would go and visit his
dear
sister.

He laughed again, glorying in the thought of what was to come. This was surely the end for the Protector! But for him it was just the beginning.…

Discover Where It All Began in

M
USEUM
of
T
HIEVES

Welcome to the tyrannical city of Jewel, where impatience is a sin and boldness is a crime
.

Goldie Roth has lived in Jewel all her life. Like every child in the city, she wears a silver guardchain and is forced to obey the dreaded Blessed Guardians. She has never done anything by herself and won’t be allowed out on the streets unchained until Separation Day.

When Separation Day is canceled, Goldie, who has always been both impatient and bold, runs away, risking not only her own life but also the lives of those she has left behind. In the chaos that follows, she is lured to the mysterious Museum of Dunt, where she meets the boy Toadspit and discovers terrible secrets. Only the cunning mind of a thief can understand the museum’s strange, shifting rooms. Fortunately, Goldie has a talent for thieving. Which is just as well, because the leader of the Blessed Guardians has his own plans for the museum—plans that threaten the lives of everyone Goldie loves. And it will take quite a daring thief to stop him.…

Many thanks once again to Peter Matheson for his feedback on the various drafts of
City of Lies
—and for the idea that Frisia’s sword might come out the other end of a Big Lie.

Thanks also to the talented and enthusiastic people at Delacorte Press, particularly editor Michelle Poploff, designer Kenny Holcomb, publicist Dominique Cimina, and Lauren Flower, who oversaw the creation of the stunning series website.

Jon Foster painted another of his beautiful covers for this book, and Sebastian Ciaffaglione’s internal illustrations gave Goldie, her friends and enemies an extra dimension. Eva Mills and Susannah Chambers from Allen & Unwin kindly worked with me on the structural edit.

And finally, I am indebted as always to my two agents, Margaret Connolly in Australia and Jill Grinberg in the United States.

Thank you all.