Path of Beasts

by Lian Tanner

  “Hmm,” said Herro Dan. “We hadn’t thought of takin’ another keeper. But yes, I did hear him. Was that your idea to try him out, Sinew?”

  “Don’t look at me!” The corner of Sinew’s mouth twitched. “I thought the boy was happily playing with his mice in the corner, like any normal seven-year-old. Next thing I know, he’s out in the front hall, humming the First Song.”

  “The museum seemed to like him—”

  “Like him?” Sinew winked at Mouse. “From what I heard, he could probably make the whole place sit up and dance if he chose!”

  Mouse laughed. Goldie felt a twinge of jealousy, but it did not last for long. “Good,” she said. “That leaves Toadspit and me free to fight the Fugleman.”

  “And me!” said Bonnie.

  Olga Ciavolga cleared her throat. A silence fell over Rough Tom, as if everyone was thinking about how ridiculous it was to send three children against a man who had a mercenary army at his beck and call.

  “We can beat him,” said Goldie, hating the note of uncertainty in her voice.

  “Of course you can.” Sinew smiled at her. “And the rest of us will help whenever we get the chance. If you need anything, just tell us.”

  “Guns,” said Toadspit. “That’s what we really need!”

  In the back of Goldie’s mind, Princess Frisia whispered approval. “No,” said Goldie quickly. “We fight with trickery, not bloodshed. We’re not going to kill anyone.”

  Toadspit rolled his eyes but said nothing. The stranded ships moaned again, and their tattered rigging whispered a song of anticipation, as if the incoming tide was almost upon them.

  Under Goldie’s instructions, the children made their preparations for the night’s work. Then, as the day wore on, they rested.

  The Museum of Dunt shifted and turned around them, stirred up by the Fugleman’s threats. Rough Tom changed places with the Lady’s Mile. The black waters of Old Scratch swirled and hissed in their subterranean chamber.

  Herro Dan and Olga Ciavolga roamed the restless spaces, soothing them with the First Song. Sinew sat in the office, playing the same song on his harp and watching Mouse, who hummed as he tore up old gazettes and dropped them into a baby’s bath, where his pet mice paddled them into nests and burrows. Broo and the cat lay on either side of the little boy, pointedly ignoring each other.

  Curfew began at seven o’clock. At six, the children woke and ate, and put the things they had prepared into three old haversacks. Goldie watched as Bonnie strung her bow and strapped a leather guard to her left arm.

  “Are you sure you want to come?” she said.

  Bonnie looked up, worried. “You’re not going to say I can’t, are you?”

  Goldie was tempted. It would be dangerous out on the streets once curfew began, and Bonnie had never learned the skills of Concealment that the two older children knew.

  But for Goldie’s plan to work, they needed someone skilled with a bow. If Bonnie didn’t come, Goldie would have to do it. And pulling the bow was like drawing the sword—it woke the wolf-sark that crouched inside her, and when the wolfsark was roused, no one around her was safe.

  For just a moment Herro Dan’s words seemed to hang in the air in front of her. “As mad as a quignog . . .”

  Goldie forced a smile. “Of course you can come. We couldn’t do it without you.”

  The barracks, which should have housed the city’s militia but which now sheltered the mercenaries, were on Deathblow Canal, twelve blocks from the Treasury. A person bringing money from one to the other by handcart was likely to follow the shortest route, which went via Coffin Plaza and Needlework Bridge.

  By eight o’clock, Goldie, Toadspit and Bonnie were tucked into a dark doorway at the far edge of Coffin Plaza, with the haversacks at their feet. Their faces and hands were blackened with soot, and they had gone over the plan half a dozen times to make sure they each knew what to do.

  Goldie wasn’t sure when the handcart would come. Had the Fugleman meant that it would leave the Treasury two hours after curfew? Or was that when it would arrive at the barracks?

  She heard the blast of a Guardian’s whistle somewhere to the north and stiffened. But there was no further sound, and after a while she leaned back against the door and flexed her fingers and toes so they would not go to sleep.

  The children had been waiting for half an hour or more when Toadspit’s hand touched Goldie’s, and he tapped out a message in fingertalk. Coming. Two plus handcart.

  Immediately, Goldie slowed her breathing. Both she and Toadspit were experts at Imitation of Nothingness, one of the Three Methods of Concealment. They could hide themselves so well in a crowd, or in a patch of dappled shade, that not one person in ten thousand could see them. On a night like this, it was as easy as falling asleep.

  I am nothing, thought Goldie as the edges of her mind frayed and drifted outward. I am the fur on a moth’s wing. . . .

  She could sense Bonnie beside her, as tense as her own bowstring. And Toadspit, his heart beating with a fierce courage. She could feel a nest of sparrows shuffling their wings sleepily in the eaves above her head, and a colony of ants beneath her feet, and a thousand other tiny lives that had made their homes in and around the plaza.

  I am nothing. I am a spider dreaming. . . .

  As the handcart trundled into the plaza, Goldie and Toadspit stepped out of the doorway and crept unseen across the cobblestones.

  One of the Guardians pushing the cart was complaining loudly. “I must confess, Colleague Kindness,” she said, “that I hardly knew how to react when His Honor gave us our orders. A handcart? Could we not have had a rig for the delivery?”

  “His Honor moves in mysterious ways, Colleague Meek,” replied Guardian Kindness in his cold, high voice.

  Goldie swallowed and wrapped her hand around Auntie Praise’s brooch. These were the same two Guardians who had thrown the Protector into the Grand Canal!

  In the back of her mind, Frisia whispered, Kill them now. They deserve no better.

  “Mysterious indeed,” said Guardian Meek. Her words rang around the plaza, and she quickly added, “I am not criticizing him, you understand.”

  “Of course you are not. It is a reasonable question. Why a handcart?”

  “Have you a theory on the matter, Kindness? I have wracked my brains but am no closer to understanding it.”

  If she focused very carefully, Goldie could just see the shadow that was Toadspit. He was moving toward Guardian Meek, so Goldie slipped up behind Kindness. Despite the danger of the situation, and the bloodthirsty whispers in the back of her mind, it was hard not to laugh. The Guardians were so engrossed in their complaints that the children could have danced a jig around them and not been noticed.

  Goldie slipped her hand into her pocket and took out a folding knife. When she opened it, the wolf-sark inside her pricked up its ears and growled, and she held her breath. But the knife was so small that it hardly counted as a weapon, and after that first rumble, the battle-rage subsided.

  “As a matter of fact, I do have a theory,” said Guardian Kindness. “I believe that His Honor is putting the mercenaries in their place. They are little more than ruffians—useful ruffians, mind, but ruffians all the same—and they do not deserve to have their wages delivered in a street-rig like civilized people. A handcart is good enough for them. And if you and I must suffer for it, then so be it.”

  Goldie kept pace with the cart. I am nothing. I am the soft breath of a sleeping city. . . .

  Her hand slid beneath the Guardian’s robe, as smooth as butter. She felt the cold links of the punishment chains, and a bunch of keys. And, hanging on a cord next to the keys, a whistle.

  She held the cord steady. Then, with one quick movement, she sliced through it and caught the whistle as it fell.

  “I think you are right,” said Guardian Meek, smirking. “It is a subtle insult. A little too subtle, do you think, for such crude minds?”

  “Perhaps we will say something when we
arrive, to drive the message home,” said Guardian Kindness. “Here, this is our direction.”

  They turned out of the plaza onto Rough Rind Street. As the houses drew in around them, Goldie drifted back to the doorway and touched Bonnie’s arm.

  “Is that you, Goldie? Did you get it?” breathed Bonnie.

  “Yes,” Goldie whispered in her ear, and picked up one of the haversacks. A moment later, Toadspit joined them, letting the Nothingness slip away just far enough to show them a second whistle. He picked up his haversack, nudged Bonnie and whispered, “Your turn now, pipsqueak. Come on. Make sure they don’t see you.”

  This time the children crept after the Guardians together, keeping to the shadows. Bonnie was not as silent as the other two, but she was quiet enough for their purpose, and the man and woman ahead of them heard nothing.

  The handcart passed a corner that the children had scouted earlier and trundled toward a pool of light cast by a streetlamp. As the Guardians stepped into the light, Bonnie fitted an arrow to her bow, aimed carefully, and loosed it.

  The Guardians were talking so loudly that they didn’t hear the soft thunk of the bowstring. But they couldn’t miss the arrow that flew past their elbows and buried itself in the wooden handcart.

  With a squawk of alarm, they dived behind the cart, fumbling for their whistles and trying to see where the arrow had come from. But Bonnie had ducked back around the corner, and Goldie and Toadspit were still Concealed. The narrow street appeared to be empty.

  Goldie crept closer until she could hear the Guardians whispering to each other.

  “My whistle is gone! Quickly, blow the alarm, Meek!”

  “Yes, yes, I am already— Wait! Mine is gone too! What is happening? Are we under attack? Who is it? What do they want?”

  “The money, of course. But they won’t get it. We will shout for help. One of our colleagues is sure to hear us. Come now, we must shout together.”

  “But perhaps if we shout they will attack more ferociously! We don’t know how many of them there are.”

  Goldie pressed herself against the wall of the nearest house and took a stone from her haversack.

  “It will be one or two renegades, that’s all,” whispered Guardian Kindness. “Once they realize we are not going to hand over the money, they will crumble like biscuits. You’ll see.”

  Goldie tossed the stone underarm. It sailed in a high arc over the handcart and crashed against a door several paces beyond the Guardians. Their heads jerked, and in that moment when they were looking the other way, Bonnie stepped around the corner, loosed another arrow and disappeared again.

  The second arrow thudded into the side of the cart. Guardian Meek yelped. “We are surrounded! They can pick us off whenever they choose. And see! There is a message tied to this arrow! What does it say?”

  Guardian Kindness’s pale hand reached from behind the cart and tore the paper from the shaft of the arrow. “Wrap your cloaks around your heads and lie facedown on the ground.” He snorted. “What nonsense is this?”

  “There’s more! Read the rest of it!”

  “Do not make a sound or the next arrow goes through your heart.”

  “I told you that we must not shout,” whispered Guardian Meek. “Perhaps if we do as they say, they will not kill us.”

  “We are not giving in, Colleague,” hissed Guardian Kindness angrily. “Think of what His Honor would say if we lost the payment!”

  “His Honor is not lying here with his life in jeopardy! If he was, he would do what I am about to do. We can get the money back later, and take our revenge at the same time!”

  And with a cry of “Don’t shoot!”, Guardian Meek threw herself out from behind the cart and lay facedown on the cobblestones with her cloak wrapped around her head.

  Guardian Kindness swore under his breath. Then, with a grunt of disgust, he crawled from his hiding place, covered his face with his cloak and joined his colleague on the ground.

  Goldie checked to make sure that neither of them was looking; then she let the Nothingness slide away and waved to her friends.

  Toadspit became visible again, and he and Bonnie ran toward the Guardians.

  “Don’t hurt us!” mumbled Guardian Meek into her cloak. “Please don’t hurt us!”

  The children said nothing. Bonnie pressed the tip of an arrow to Guardian Meek’s neck while the other two took ropes, blindfolds and gags from their haversacks. When Guardian Kindness was trussed so firmly that he could not move or see or speak, they did the same to his colleague.

  Kill them and leave no witnesses, whispered Frisia, in the back of Goldie’s mind.

  Quickly, the children loaded the first payment, which consisted of four bags of coin, into their haversacks. Bonnie collected her arrows, and before they hurried away, Goldie pinned a note to the back of Guardian Meek’s robe, where it would not be missed.

  She had thought very carefully about the wording on that note. It was the first step in her campaign to convince the Fugleman that there was indeed resistance in the city— resistance that had nothing to do with the museum.

  But more than that, it was an irritation, a play on words a challenge. It was time to let the Fugleman know that his secret identity was a secret no longer.

  The Hidden Rock will blunt the Harrow.

  The promise

  Despite the dangers of being out after curfew and the weight of coins they carried, the children could not contain their glee. As they trotted through the dark streets of the Old Quarter, Bonnie imitated—very quietly—

  Guardian Meek’s terrified squawk. Toadspit hissed, “We are not giving in, Colleague!” and pretended to fall flat on his face.

  Goldie laughed under her breath, trying not to think about Princess Frisia’s bloodthirsty whispers. But they lingered in the back of her mind, as if a part of her were still in ancient

  Merne, where death and violence were commonplace. Kill them and leave no witnesses.

  Too late, she realized that there was someone behind her.

  She felt something press between her shoulder blades, and a familiar voice said, “What’ve yez done with Mousie?”

  Bonnie spun around, beaming. “Pounce! Where did you come from? Guess what we did! Look at all the money we’ve got!”

  Goldie and Toadspit turned more slowly. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” said Toadspit.

  “Well, ’ere I am.” Pounce scowled and took a couple of steps backward so that they could see the pistol in his hand. “Money, is it? Good. Gimme one of them bags.”

  Bonnie’s smile faded. “Pounce, it’s us!”

  “I don’t care if it’s Bald Thoke’s granny,” said Pounce. “Give us the money or I’ll shoot ya in the gizzards.”

  Goldie shrugged. What did it matter if they gave away one of the bags? At least the mercenaries wouldn’t get it.

  But Toadspit didn’t like to be threatened. Especially not by Pounce. “No,” he said.

  Goldie stared at him. “Toadspit—”

  “It’s the spoils of war, and we’re keeping it.”

  “But he’ll shoot you!” squeaked Bonnie.

  “If he does,” said Toadspit, “he’ll never see Mouse again.”

  “Course I will,” sneered Pounce. “I don’t need you lot.” But there was an uneasiness in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “If he doesn’t shoot me,” continued Toadspit, “we’ll take him to the museum. I’m sure Mouse would be pleased to see him.”

  Pounce glared, but it was clear that Toadspit had won. Goldie leaned toward Bonnie and whispered, “We are not giving in, Colleague!” and they both laughed shakily.

  After that, the night became almost normal again. Pounce stuck the pistol in his belt and swaggered along beside the other children, forgetting his threats. But when they turned into the cul-de-sac and walked up the steps of the museum and under the stone arch, he stiffened, and a wary look crossed his thin face, as if he could feel the museum’s restlessness and did
not know what to make of it.

  He’s a thief, thought Goldie. Of course he can feel it. The cat met them outside the office, bumping against Goldie’s legs and curling its tail into a question mark. “Hoooow?” it said.

  “Is that scruffy old bag of bones still around?” said Pounce. “I thought someone woulda turned it into a sandwich by now.”

  “They’d better not try,” said Bonnie.

  Goldie stroked the cat’s arched back. “It went well,” she whispered. “We got the money, and they didn’t see us.”

  Although it was late, the light in the office was still on. As Toadspit pushed the door open, Goldie heard Sinew say, “Mouse, would you please wait until I have read the day’s gazette before you dissect it? There is barely a scrap of news left!”

  Mouse giggled. Then he saw Pounce and sprang to his feet with a wordless cry of joy.

  Pounce flushed and muttered, “Don’t go all soft on me, yer little idjit.” But at the same time he hugged his friend tightly and whispered something in his ear that Goldie couldn’t catch.

  Sinew was sitting at the desk, holding a gazette that was more holes than paper. “How did it go?” he said, ignoring Pounce and raising an eyebrow at Goldie.

  Goldie dropped her haversack on the floor beside the cat. “It was good.”

  “It wasn’t good,” said Bonnie. “It was perfect!”

  “I wish you had let me come with you,” rumbled a gravelly voice. “It is a long time since I tasted a Blessed Guardian.” And Broo stepped from behind the door, his eyes glowing like rubies.

  Pounce’s mouth fell open. “Bloomin’ ’eck, it’s the Black Ox!” And he jumped backward, dragging Mouse with one hand and fumbling for his pistol with the other.

  But the pistol was not in his belt. He took his eyes off Broo for long enough to glare at Toadspit. “I shoulda known I couldn’t trust ya,” he said bitterly. Then he swung back to the brizzlehound, his skinny body as tight as a wire. “I won’t let ya take Mouse, ya nasty old Black Ox. And I won’t go easy, neither!”

  Goldie had never imagined that anyone might mistake Broo for the dreaded Black Ox, who was sent by the Seven Gods to carry away evildoers. In the back of her mind, the warrior princess stirred. Trickery and deception . . .