by Lian Tanner
The splash came again, closer this time. The water rose around Goldie’s feet, cold and hungry.
‘Toadspit, find the door! Hurry!’ shouted Olga Ciavolga, no longer bothering to be quiet. Her voice echoed around the arches. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
Goldie ran. Her feet skidded on the treacherous bricks. A wave wrapped itself around her ankles and tried to drag her off the ledge. She clutched blindly at Toadspit, and he grabbed her arm. There was a low door in the wall in front of them. Toadspit fumbled it open. They both fell through it with Olga Ciavolga close behind them.
‘Broo!’ gasped Goldie. ‘Where’s Broo?’
She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the little dog racing along the ledge towards her – only somehow, in the fitful light, he looked bigger. Much bigger.
Goldie opened her mouth to cry out . . .
There was a flurry of movement and shouting. The door slammed shut. Goldie blinked, and looked down. And there was Broo, dancing around her feet, wagging his tail and smiling. Just a little white dog happy to see them all safe and sound.
The shadows had fooled her once again.
.
omething nasty in Old Scratch, eh?’ said Sinew when they met up with him at the end of the morning. He ran his awkward-looking fingers over the strings of his harp. ‘Dan was right, then. Ancient dangers are stirring. We’d best be wary.’
In the four hours or so since they had left the underground lake, Olga Ciavolga and Toadspit had led Goldie through room after room. She had seen stuffed dolphins and old dolls houses and little dark prison cells with the stink of despair embedded in their walls. She had walked past deep pits, and rusty metal wheels that loomed as high as a three-storey building. She had gazed up at the hulk of a sailing ship that lay tipped on its side as if it had been stranded inside the museum when the tide went out.
Each room had a name. Dauntless, Lost Children, The Tench. Old Mine Shafts, Rough Tom. And that was just the beginning. The museum was even bigger than Goldie had thought. There seemed to be no end to it.
Right now they were standing on top of a hill called the Devil’s Kitchen. It was covered with giant rocks, and the air hummed with the sound of insects. For the first time since Goldie had entered the museum there was no sign of any ceiling, and she could hardly believe that they were still inside that small stone building. The sky seemed to stretch in every direction.
‘And what of the other business?’ said Sinew. ‘What of Harry Mount?’
Olga Ciavolga nodded. ‘She felt it.’
A huge smile transformed Sinew’s serious face. He grabbed Goldie’s hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Good! Excellent!’ he said. He turned back to Olga Ciavolga. ‘Have you told her the rest of it?’
Goldie pricked up her ears. The things she had seen this morning had fascinated her, but they had not made her forget Ma and Pa and her desperate desire to help them. Ever since breakfast, her impatience had been growing.
Is this it? she thought. Are they going to tell me what I can do?
‘I am waiting for Dan,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘He is meeting us here.’ She looked around. ‘Where is Broo? He ran ahead.’
‘I think he went down the tunnels,’ said Sinew.
‘Tsk, he is too quick. Toadspit, you take Goldie and go after him. I will follow as soon as Dan comes.’
Goldie didn’t move. ‘What about Ma and Pa?’
Sinew hesitated. ‘There’s no good news, I’m afraid. They were sentenced yesterday. Four years in the dungeons of the House of Repentance.’
Goldie had been expecting it, but still her whole body went cold and weak, and she had to lean against one of the rocks or she might have fallen.
‘I thought I might be able to get a message to them,’ continued Sinew. ‘I’ve done it before. But my contacts are lying low. The bombing has scared everyone.’
Goldie hardly heard him. ‘I have to do something,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe I should go back.’
‘Do not be foolish, child,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘It benefits no one if you are also taken. You must be patient.’ She turned back to Sinew. ‘What have you discovered about the bombers?’
‘They seem to have disappeared completely. I couldn’t find a trace of them. But I’ll try again tomorrow—’
‘Well?’ said Toadspit in Goldie’s ear. ‘Are you coming?’
He pushed aside some bushes, revealing a narrow fissure in one of the rocks. He ducked his head and squeezed through it. Goldie heard the scrape of a tinderbox, and a thin beam of light shone out of the darkness. She ducked her own head and slipped through the gap.
She found herself in a small cave with a smooth rock floor. There was a tunnel leading off to the left, and Toadspit was walking down it, with a lantern swinging in his hand. Behind him the shadows were already closing in.
Goldie thought of Ma and Pa. It would be even darker than this, in the dungeons of the House of Repentance . . .
She bit her lip, and hurried to catch up with Toadspit.
The tunnel ran level for a little way, then it turned a corner and began to slope downwards. The air smelled dry and old. In the light of the lantern, the walls glittered like snakes’ eyes.
‘Where are we?’ whispered Goldie.
Toadspit didn’t reply straight away. But when he did, he answered a different question altogether. ‘It’s because you’re a thief,’ he said, over his shoulder. His voice was a little friendlier than usual, as if he too was affected by the darkness.
Just then, the floor of the tunnel dipped unexpectedly. Goldie stumbled and put her hand out to save herself. The rock wall sliced into her finger. ‘Ow!’ she yelped.
Toadspit stopped and held up the lantern. ‘What’s the matter?’
Goldie had only ever cut herself once before. That was when she was six, and Ma and Pa had rushed her off to the physician for stitches, and kept her in bed for a month afterwards. This cut was bigger and bloodier, and the sight of it horrified her. But Toadspit snorted when he saw it, and continued down the tunnel as if there had been no interruption.
‘Only a thief can find their way through the museum,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘No one’s quite sure why. And only one thief in a thousand would notice when Harry Mount turned itself around. That’s why we went there. It was a test.’
Goldie tried to concentrate on what the boy was saying. But her finger had begun to throb painfully. She did her best to think of something else. ‘Does that mean you’re a thief too?’
‘Yep.’
‘What did you steal?’
For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, ‘Myself.’
That didn’t make any sense to Goldie at all. Her finger felt as if it was on fire. Ahead of her, the tunnel went down, down into the darkness. The rock walls, when she brushed against them, were as sharp as teeth.
And suddenly, out of the blue, she was angry. What was she doing here? She should be trying to help Ma and Pa, not wandering around in some stupid tunnel listening to stupid stories that she didn’t understand. It was all very well for Olga Ciavolga to tell her to be patient. She was sick of being patient!
She stopped. Toadspit lifted the lantern so that it shone in her eyes. ‘What’s wrong now?’
‘I want to go back. I want to get Ma and Pa out of the House of Repentance.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You can’t get them out.’
Goldie stared at him. ‘You said I could! That’s why I stayed here instead of going to Spoke!’
‘I said you might be able to help. I didn’t say help them escape. No one ever escapes from the House of Repentance, not till their sentence is over. You should know that. Now come on, stop wasting time!’
Goldie shook her head in angry frustration. ‘You don’t understand! None of you do! It’s not your parents who are locked up. If it was, you’d want to do something about it. You wouldn’t just hang around here being useless!’
Toadspit stiffened. ‘You don’t know anything!’ he
snarled. Then he hunched his shoulders and began to walk down the tunnel so fast that Goldie had to run to catch up with him, or risk being left alone in total darkness.
The floor was steeper than ever now. The sides were drawing in. Here and there a black hole showed where another tunnel split off from the main one. In front of Goldie, Toadspit’s back was hard and unfriendly.
He’s sulking, thought Goldie. Because he knows I’m right. I should be doing something! He told me I could! Otherwise I’d never have stayed!
In thinking that, she made herself even angrier. Because if it wasn’t for Toadspit, she’d probably be in Spoke with Ma’s relatives by now, instead of bleeding to death in this stupid tunnel.
The glittering walls seemed to reflect her anger back at her. All she could think of was that Sinew and Olga Ciavolga and Herro Dan were keeping her here against her will. She was furious with them. And furious with Toadspit too, for making her believe she could rescue Ma and Pa when she couldn’t.
As if he had heard what she was thinking, Toadspit suddenly stopped. He wasn’t sulking now. He was smiling. ‘Your turn to lead,’ he said.
Goldie was so angry that she didn’t think twice about that odd smile. She snatched the lantern out of his hand. Ahead of her was a huge boulder. She marched around it.
On the other side was the brizzlehound.
.
t was as if the boulder itself had come to life. The brizzlehound loomed up, huge and black and terrible. Its eyes glowed red in the lantern light.
For a moment, Goldie couldn’t move or speak. Someone save me! she thought desperately. Toadspit! Help!
But there was no sound from behind her at all.
He’s gone. He’s run away and left me here.
Somehow that thought brought the strength back into her bones. And with it came the determination that she would not stand helplessly, waiting to die. She would not!
She took a shaky step backwards. The shadows cast by the lantern crawled around her. The brizzlehound opened its awful jaws – and spoke, in a voice that rumbled like a distant rockfall.
‘I have been waiting for you.’
Goldie was so frightened that she could hardly breathe. She gripped the lantern harder. If she threw it – if she threw it into the brizzlehound’s mouth . . . She was so close that she could hardly miss. She would throw the lantern, and then she would run, back up the long, lightless tunnel with her hands stretched out in front of her and her ears straining for sounds of pursuit . . .
No, don’t think about that! Just do it!
She licked her lips. ‘Say something else,’ she whispered to the great beast. ‘Open your mouth.’
The brizzlehound cocked its head.
‘Do not be afraid,’ said a voice from behind Goldie.
Goldie almost sobbed with relief. Olga Ciavolga! If anyone could save her it was Olga—
‘It is only Broo.’
‘What?’ Goldie swung around and stared at the old woman. Then she turned back and blinked at the monster in front of her. ‘Broo?’
‘Did you not know me?’ said the brizzlehound.
‘N-no!’
The brizzlehound took a huge, swaying step towards her. He was so big that his eyes were on a level with hers, and he moved with a terrible grace. He was completely black, except for one white ear.
‘Do you know me now?’ he rumbled.
‘N-not really.’
The great hound looked so disappointed that Goldie felt she must add something more. ‘I-I expect it’s b-because you couldn’t talk when you were small.’
Broo nodded thoughtfully. ‘That is the nature of brizzlehounds. Sometimes we are big and sometimes we are small. When we are small, we speak with our tails and our ears and the hackles on our backs. And when we are big . . .’
He fell silent. Goldie stared at him in awe.
Behind her, Olga Ciavolga said, ‘Toadspit? Why did you not tell her it is Broo? What is this game you are playing?’
‘It was just a joke,’ muttered Toadspit, who was still there after all. ‘Because she’s new—’
‘You were new here once,’ said Olga Ciavolga coldly. ‘And I do not remember anyone playing jokes on you. Tsk! There are dangers enough in the museum without you making more for your amusement. Go! I am ashamed of you.’
Toadspit tried to say something, but the old woman wouldn’t let him. ‘Go!’ she snapped again.
The boy’s footsteps echoed back up the tunnel. Then Olga Ciavolga was standing beside Goldie in the flickering light. ‘You see,’ she said. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of.’
‘I— I thought brizzlehounds were—’ Goldie was about to say ‘make-believe’, but that sounded rude when one of them was standing right in front of her. So instead she said, ‘I thought all the brizzlehounds were gone.’
‘And so they are. All of the great hounds gone, except for Broo,’ said Olga Ciavolga. She reached out and stroked the giant head. ‘Now lead the way, my friend. There are things we must show this child.’
The brizzlehound’s body almost filled the narrow tunnel, but he turned around in a single fluid motion that took Goldie’s breath away. As they wended their way downwards between the rocky walls, she edged closer to Olga Ciavolga.
‘Is he really tame?’ she whispered.
‘Tame?’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘No brizzlehound is ever tame. He is wild and bold and he has his own way of seeing the world. But if you treat him with respect he will not harm you.’
‘Where did he come from?’
‘I stole him from a circus.’
‘But there hasn’t been a circus in Jewel for hundreds of years!’
Olga Ciavolga gave one of her rare smiles. ‘Some of us are older than we look.’
Goldie’s head swam. She remembered what Toadspit had said. ‘Is Broo a thief too?’
‘Ah, yes. He is a stealer of lives. In the circus he killed a man who tormented him cruelly. They were going to shoot him, but I stole him and brought him here.’
It was hard for Goldie to act normally when there was a stealer of lives so close in front of her. But after a while her heart slowed almost to its normal rate and the clammy feeling in the palms of her hands went away. She gave a little hiccup of scared laughter and wished that Favour could see her, walking behind a real live brizzlehound.
It was warmer in the tunnel now, but the air was still dry. They had been going down for so long that it seemed they must be approaching the centre of the earth. And then, suddenly, the tunnel opened up, and they were walking across the floor of a cavern. Olga Ciavolga turned the flame of her lantern up high.
Goldie gasped. The walls of the cavern were lined with human bones. There were thigh bones stacked from floor to ceiling, and arm bones crisscrossed in intricate patterns. There were ribs and backbones and pelvic bones, and skulls piled one on top of the other like loaves of bread, with a lacework of finger bones between them.
‘This,’ said Herro Dan’s voice right behind her, ‘is the Place of Rememberin’.’
‘Oh!’ Goldie spun around. ‘I didn’t know you were there!’
‘Tsk, he is showing off,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘What do you think you are doing, Dan, frightening the child?’
‘She weren’t frightened, were you, lass?’
Goldie looked at the old man’s smiling face. ‘A little bit.’
‘Ah well, no harm done. Keeps you on your toes,’ he said.
‘We are not here to talk about toes,’ said Olga Ciavolga severely. ‘We are telling her about the museum.’
With that, all of Goldie’s frustration came flooding back. ‘But why?’ she burst out. ‘Why are you telling me? Why did you bring me here? Toadspit said that maybe I could help, but I don’t know what that means!’
Herro Dan sighed. ‘You’re right, lass, it’s time we told you.’ He cleared his throat as if he was about to begin a story. ‘There was a time, long ago, when the Faroon Peninsula was known as Furuuna.’
Furuunaaaa
aaaaaaa . . . The word seemed to echo around the cave and linger in the corners, as if the bones recognised it and didn’t want to let it go.
‘Back then,’ said Herro Dan, ‘the Place of Rememberin’ was sacred. Whenever someone died, their body was given to the slaughterbirds. Then their bones was brought here and stacked in rows so they’d never be forgotten, even when everyone who knew ’em was gone.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
‘The museum was built five hundred years ago,’ continued Herro Dan, ‘to hide the Place of Rememberin’ from those who would’ve destroyed it. There were only a few rooms then, and nothin’ in ’em but bronze tools and old coins. But as the years passed, and the people of the city started fillin’ up the vacant lots and banishin’ the animals, the museum started growin’.’
‘It became a refuge for all the wild things,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘All the things the city did not want.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound again. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
Herro Dan laid his hand on one of the skulls. It was yellow with age, and its eye sockets were woven shut with spider webs. ‘But you can’t hold wild things in one place. And they won’t be tied down. That’s why the rooms shift like they do. And if ever the museum or its keepers are under threat, they shift even more. This is their last stronghold and they won’t stand quiet and see it destroyed.’
The brizzlehound growled suddenly – a sound so fierce that it made Goldie’s heart skip a beat. ‘The museum is under threat GRRRNOOOOW! I can SMELL it!’
Herro Dan nodded. ‘We know there’s somethin’ comin’ – some sorta trouble. The museum can feel it. But we dunno what the trouble is or where it’s comin’ from. And that makes things tricky.’ He looked directly at Goldie. ‘You see, lass, there’s great wonders hidden in this place, but there’s terrible things too, things that shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘Like what’s in Old Scratch,’ whispered Goldie.
‘Worse than Old Scratch,’ said Herro Dan. ‘Much worse. And if the museum gets too restless, there’s a danger that some of those things’ll break out into the city . . .’
