Museum of Thieves (3 page)

A man pushed past him, his black robes torn and dirty, his face streaked with blood. ‘Disaster!’ he cried. ‘Murder! The children—!’ And he fell to the floor in a dramatic faint.

.

he people in the audience surged to their feet and pressed towards the fallen man, all shouting at once.

‘What is it?’

‘
Who
is it?’

‘What children?’

‘Don’t tread on him; watch what you’re doing!’

‘What’s he mean, murder?’

‘Get him a chair! Get him water!’ shouted the Protector, and she thrust the scissors into the lieutenant marshal’s hand, jumped down from the stage and began to push her way through the crowd.

Ma hugged Goldie close. Pa wrapped his arms around both of them. ‘The children,’ he whispered. ‘What’s happened to the children?’

Goldie’s left wrist felt as if it was on fire. She put her other hand in her pocket and her fingers closed around the little blue bird.
Hurry
, she thought.
Hurry up and finish this so we can get back to the Separation
.

One of the militiamen carried a jug of water through the crowd and poured a little of it over the intruder’s head. He groaned and sat up. Someone gasped, ‘It’s the Fugleman!’

Goldie stared down at the dishevelled figure in amazement. His Honour the Fugleman of Jewel, leader of the Blessed Guardians and spokesman for the Seven Gods, was a tall, handsome man who never appeared in public unless his black hair was as smooth as a raven’s wing and the silver braid on his robes gleamed.

But now his robes were in tatters and his forehead was covered in blood. Beneath the blood, his face was white with ash and horror.

The crowd fell silent. The Fugleman looked around as if he didn’t know where he was. ‘There was— There was an explosion,’ he croaked. ‘The children—’

He stopped, unable to go on. Goldie remembered the faint
whump
she had heard. An explosion!

‘Great Wooden preserve us!’ whispered Ma, flicking her fingers and tightening her grip on Goldie.

‘Give him a drink,’ ordered the Protector.

The Fugleman gulped at the water until the jug was empty. He wiped a bloody hand across his mouth. Then, shaking uncontrollably and stopping every few words to catch his breath, he told the horrified crowd what had happened.

‘An excursion . . . this morning . . . just four children with their Guardians . . . I had invited them to visit my office before the Separation ceremony. The Seven Gods forgive me.’

His voice was little more than a whisper, but it seemed to Goldie that it carried from one end of the hall to the other.

‘We were in the . . . library . . . showing them the portraits . . . the Fuglemen who have gone before me . . . great men all of them . . . serving the Seven, taking care of the city’s children—’

He stopped again. For an awful moment, Goldie thought he was going to weep. A single tear ran down his face, cutting a channel through the ash. He wiped it away and continued.

‘It was like . . . being hit by a great blow. My Guardians . . . threw themselves across the children to protect them. None of us understood what had happened. We were deafened . . . the noise, the falling plaster . . . the walls collapsing about us. The children—’

A groan broke from Pa. Ma was sobbing openly, and she was not the only one. The Protector held up her hand for silence.

‘When we could see again,’ said the Fugleman, ‘we found that the children were safe – shocked but safe. All except one – a young girl from—’

He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘A young girl from . . . Feverbone Canal. She was . . . dead.’

There was instant uproar in the hall. Goldie could hear her own cry of horror echoing from every throat. Ma and Pa clutched her even tighter. Dead?
Dead
?
A
child
? In
Jewel
? It was as if everyone’s worst nightmare had come true.

The Protector’s face was as white as paper, but again she held up her hand for quiet. ‘When you came in,’ she said in an almost-steady voice, ‘you cried
murder
.’

‘I thought—We thought it must have been a watergas explosion,’ said the Fugleman. ‘An accident. But a witness saw . . . two men running away. Strangers. And my Guardians found the remains of a . . . device. By the Seven, Your Grace, it was no accident. It was . . . a bomb.’

The next few minutes were a blur of noise and shouting. Goldie felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. She saw the Protector wave the lieutenant marshal to her side. He seemed to be arguing with her. The Protector snapped at him, and he marched back up onto the stage and stood next to Goldie, his face a stiff, angry mask.

The Protector hurried out of the hall with the rest of the militia close behind her. The crowd parted to make way for them. Everyone’s face carried the same shocked expression. A
bomb
? In
Jewel
?

‘Impossible,’ muttered Pa over and over again. ‘Impossible!’ Ma’s tears soaked the shoulder of Goldie’s smock.

Down in the body of the hall there was a flurry of movement as the Fugleman rose wearily to his feet. People rushed to help him, but he waved them away and dragged himself up onto the stage.

‘My friends,’ he began in a heavy voice.

Gradually the crowd became quiet again, although many of them were still sobbing.

‘My friends. Danger is all around us. Who can tell where it will strike next? We must beg the Seven to shield us.’

Goldie murmured a quick prayer, and flicked her fingers.
Don’t protect us, Great Wooden! Don’t shield us, Weeping Lady! You’ve done enough! Go somewhere else! Please!

‘The Grand Protector has gone to deal with this tragedy,’ continued the Fugleman, ‘as is her duty. But if she was here, I’m sure she’d agree with me. The wishes of the Seven Gods are clear. Now is not the time for change. This Separation is hereby cancelled.’

For a moment, the Fugleman’s words didn’t make any sense to Goldie. She had been waiting for this day all her life. It couldn’t be cancelled. Not even for a bomb and a dead girl. It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Her hand – the one that held the little flying bird – felt icy cold. At the same time, there was a heat inside her, as if someone had kindled a fire in her innards. ‘Pa?’ she whispered, trying to control her voice. ‘Can the Fugleman do that?’

It seemed that he could. He was already beckoning the whitesmith back up onto the stage.

Pa sighed. ‘Dearling, it’s too dangerous to go ahead with it now. Perhaps next year the Protector will try again.’

‘Or the year after,’ said Ma, trying to cuddle Goldie and push her towards the whitesmith at the same time.

The heat in Goldie’s innards was getting worse. In the back of her mind, the little voice whispered,
You can’t wait that long. You have to Separate today.

‘I can’t wait that long!’ said Goldie. The words seemed to burst out of her. ‘I have to Separate
today
!’

Guardian Hope’s head snapped around. ‘Unnatural
child! There’s been a murder!
Where’s your fear? Where’s your trembling?’

‘She’s upset, that’s all,’ said Ma quickly. She put her hand on Goldie’s forehead. ‘It’s the shock. She’ll feel better soon.’

‘I
won’t
feel better!’ said Goldie. She knew that she was making things worse, but she couldn’t help it. ‘They promised we could Separate today! They
promised
!’

Everyone in the hall seemed to be looking at her now, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she couldn’t bear to have the silver cuff fastened around her wrist again, and the guardchain snapped into place.

The Fugleman was staring at her. ‘Who is this child who questions the holy will of the Seven?’

Guardian Hope smirked. ‘Her name’s Golden Roth, Your Honour. Always a troublemaker. I’ve only just taken the punishment chains off her.’

‘Then perhaps you should put them back on,’ said the Fugleman. ‘Until she has learned her lesson.’

‘She hasn’t done anything wrong!’ cried Ma. ‘She’s just a little upset.’

‘
Upset
?’
The Fugleman spat the word out.
‘Your daughter is not
upset
, Frow. Your daughter is
foolish
!
Wicked!
If she does not obey authority, then she
deserves
to wear the punishment chains.’

‘No!’ said Goldie, who seemed to have lost all control of her tongue.

‘Unless of course,’ said the Fugleman, ‘you would prefer that we take her into
Care
.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Pa. Goldie could feel him shaking, but his voice was calm. ‘My wife didn’t mean to complain, Your Honour. Our daughter will wear the punishment chains, won’t you, dearling? There now, of course you will. That’s settled then.’

Guardian Hope climbed up onto the stage with the heavy brass chains in her hand. The Fugleman turned back to the crowd and drew himself up to his full height. ‘This tragedy makes one thing clear,’ he said loudly. ‘We need more Blessed Guardians in this city!’

No!
thought Goldie.

‘We must have a Resident Guardian in every public building!’ cried the Fugleman. ‘Someone who can protect our most precious possession, our children!’

A cheer rose from the crowd.

‘Remember,’ cried the Fugleman. ‘When We Endanger Ourselves, We Endanger Others.’

‘It Is Our Duty to Be Safe!’ Guardian Hope chanted the age-old response, and the crowd joined with her in a full-throated roar.

Something wild took hold of Goldie then. She didn’t want to be safe. She wanted to be free! The silk ribbon seemed to tighten around her wrist. The high glass dome of the Great Hall pressed down on her, so that she felt as if she might suffocate.

Look
, whispered the little voice.
Look at the lieutenant marshal. Look behind him.

Goldie ducked her head. The lieutenant marshal of militia was standing right next to her. Behind him, at the back of the stage, was a small door.

‘Danger Can Strike from Any Direction,’ cried the Fugleman. ‘It Lurks Amongst Us and Does Not Sleep.’

‘It Is Our Duty to Be Cautious!’

Goldie swallowed. The sound was so loud in her ears that she was sure everyone else must have heard it. Her heart was beating right up in her throat. The tips of her fingers tingled.

She squeezed the blue enamel bird.
Maybe Auntie Praise WASN’T taken by slavers
, she thought.
Maybe she ran away because she couldn’t bear living here any more.

‘Beware of the Bold and the Foolhardy for They Will Bring Disaster upon Us All!’ shouted the Fugleman.

‘It Is Our Duty to Be Afraid!’

As the last word of the chant died down, Guardian Hope cried, ‘Three cheers for the Fugleman, holy servant of the Seven! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!’

The noise rose around Goldie like a tidal wave. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Favour was watching her.

Goldie tried to smile, but she couldn’t. Without taking her eyes off her best friend, she let go of the blue bird and slipped her hand into the lieutenant marshal’s pocket.

Favour stared. The crowd cheered on and on. Goldie sifted her way past a kerchief, past a bunch of keys, her fingers as light as a breath of air.

And suddenly, there were the scissors. She slid them out of the lieutenant marshal’s pocket and into her own.