Museum of Thieves

by Lian Tanner

  There was an iron staple in the wall above the bed, with chains and fetters dangling from it. The Blessed Guardian took the fetters down and snapped them around both Goldie’s ankles, so that her legs were held in a sort of vice and could barely move. She put a padlock through the hole in the fetters. ‘Double chains!’ she said. ‘You have been a bad girl!’

  She pulled a plaque out of her pocket and hung it on a hook above the bed, next to the iron staple. Then, with a sweep of her robes, she strode back to the door.

  ‘Night night, sleep tight,’ she said. ‘Mind the tarantulas don’t bite!’ And with one final snort of laughter she slammed the door, shot the bolt, and was gone.

  Goldie sat on the bed, clutching her compass in one hand and the scissors in the other. Her whole body felt cold and numb. The fetters on her ankles seemed to be trying to drag her through the floor. On the other side of the room, someone began to sob, a desperate, frightened sound.

  ‘Hush, Rosie,’ murmured a nearby voice. ‘There aren’t really tarantulas. You know she just says that to scare us.’

  ‘I wish there were tarantulas,’ said a different voice. ‘We could train them to bite Guardian Bliss.’

  Quiet laughter rippled across the room and was gone. Somewhere a chain clanked. The sobbing stopped.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  It was the same voice that wanted to train the tarantulas. Goldie peered around the room. The only light came from a feeble lamp that guttered and smoked as if it might go out at any moment. I feel just like that lamp, thought Goldie.

  ‘She’s a runaway!’ hissed another voice. ‘It says so on her plaque!’

  ‘A runaway? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It says so, look!’

  ‘I still don’t believe it.’

  ‘We’ve never had a runaway before!’

  ‘Do you think she’s got any food on her?’

  ‘Oh, if only! Hot banana bread!’

  ‘Mango custard and cream!’

  ‘Almond cakes!’

  The whispers darted back and forth across the room like mice. Goldie’s eyes were getting used to the dim light now, and she counted twenty-three girls sitting up in bed, staring at her. The youngest was no more than three or four, and the oldest seemed to be about fifteen. They were all terribly thin and wretched looking, but their eyes were curious and they didn’t seem unfriendly. All of them wore guardchains, and several of them also had fetters on their ankles.

  ‘What’s your name?’ The questioner was a small, dark-haired girl, four beds away on the opposite side of the room.

  This time Goldie made herself answer. ‘Goldie Roth.’

  ‘Goldie Roth.’ ‘Goldie Roth.’ The information was passed down the room, whispered from girl to girl until it disappeared into the shadows at the far end.

  ‘Did you really run away?’ The dark-haired girl seemed to ask the questions for the rest of them. She wasn’t the oldest by some years, but even in the feeble light there was something bright and stubborn about her face.

  ‘Of course she didn’t, Bonnie,’ said the girl in the bed on Goldie’s right. She was one of the older ones. ‘No one runs away, it’s impossible.’

  ‘It’s not impossible,’ said Bonnie. ‘I’ve told you before, Candour. And this proves it.’

  ‘What does it prove?’ said Candour. ‘The Blessed Guardians made a mistake, that’s all. Or maybe they’re just sick of writing “Unsafe”.’ She waved her hand at her own plaque.

  Wearily, Goldie shook her head. ‘It’s not a mistake. I did run away.’

  There was a hiss of satisfaction from Bonnie. ‘I told you!’

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Goldie. ‘I just— I was going to be Separated and then they changed their minds because of the bomb. So I ran.’

  She found herself wondering why she had bothered. It had made no difference in the end. Here she was, chained more tightly than ever. Broo was probably bleeding to death, Sinew and Toadspit were captured, there was a strong possibility that Olga Ciavolga and Herro Dan were already dead – and if Sinew was right, the rest of them were going to die very soon.

  Around her, the whispers were starting up again.

  ‘Guardian Bliss told us about the bomb. Twenty children were killed!’

  ‘And another twenty lost their arms and legs!’

  ‘And another twenty were blinded!’

  ‘Guardian Bliss said the bomber will probably come back soon—’

  ‘—and he’ll be looking for a new target—’

  ‘—somewhere with lots of children who he can kill all in one go!’

  ‘Somewhere like Care!’

  There was another anxious sob from Rosie, the little girl who was afraid of tarantulas. ‘Is it true? Is the bomber coming here?’

  Goldie didn’t want to talk any more. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘And there was only one person killed.’

  ‘See, I told you,’ said Bonnie again, looking around the room. ‘It’s like the tarantulas, we can’t believe anything they say. There’s nothing horrible coming to get us. Or at least nothing more horrible than Guardian Bliss.’

  Another murmur of laughter.

  How can anyone laugh in this place? thought Goldie. She dropped the scissors and the useless compass onto the bedside table and dragged her fettered legs up onto the bed. Then she lay down on her back, closed her eyes and tried not to listen to the flurry of questions directed at her.

  ‘So how did you get away?’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘What was it like being out on the streets by yourself?’

  ‘What did you eat?’

  ‘Yes, what did you eat?’

  ‘Did you miss your ma? Did you cry?’

  ‘I would’ve cried.’

  ‘How long were you on the loose?’

  ‘I want to know what she ate!’

  The girl called Candour laughed disdainfully and said, ‘Don’t tell me you all believe her? I think she’s making the whole thing up.’

  Goldie felt a flash of irritation. She did her best to ignore it. What was the point in being angry? She couldn’t do anything.

  ‘No one runs away,’ continued Candour. ‘The first person who saw you would turn you in. You know they would, they’re all terrified of the Guardians. I think she’s some sort of spy. I think the Guardians have put her in here to find out our secrets.’

  Goldie didn’t want to move. She wanted to lie there and feel numb and not think about anything important. But the anger was flaring up inside her again, like a not-quite-extinguished spark.

  She sat up. ‘Why should I care about your stupid secrets?’ she snapped. ‘There are things happening that you don’t know anything about! And there is something horrible coming.’

  She paused, remembering Sinew’s words. Everything on the other side of the Dirty Gate will break out into the city. War. Famine. Plague. Thousands of people will die. The city will fall.

  ‘At least,’ she said, ‘it’ll come if someone doesn’t stop it.’

  ‘What do you mean, something horrible?’ said Bonnie.

  ‘Like the bomber?’ whispered Rosie. ‘But you said the bomber’s not coming!’

  ‘And who’s going to stop it, whatever it is?’ said Candour sarcastically. ‘You, I suppose.’

  Thousands of people will die. The city will fall.

  Goldie took a deep breath. ‘Yes, me,’ she said. ‘Me and Toadspit. We have to stop it.’

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew that she was right. This was no time for despair. Sinew and Olga Ciavolga and Herro Dan would expect more from her. She must be like those children who carried their baby brothers and sisters through the night . . .

  ‘Toadspit?’ said Bonnie, with an odd expression on her face. ‘Who’s Toadspit?’

  ‘A boy,’ said Goldie. ‘Another runaway.’

  ‘What’s he look like?’

  ‘Oh, sort of smallish. And dark. Same age as me, I think. And he’s got a h
orrible temper, but he’s loyal and fierce too, which is good if he’s on your side. His real name’s Cautionary, which doesn’t suit him at all.’

  When she heard those words, Bonnie’s face opened up like the brightest of suns. ‘I told you!’ she said, beaming around at the other girls. ‘My brother is still alive!’

  .

  uardian Bliss told me he was probably dead,’ said Bonnie. ‘Or taken by Natkin Gull or Captain Roop, which is almost the same thing. But I always knew he’d be all right.’ She laughed. ‘And he changed his name, like he said he would! Toadspit! It’s just the sort of name he’d choose. Where is he? Oh, I wish I could see him!’

  ‘He’s here somewhere, in Care,’ said Goldie. ‘He was caught at the same time I was. Where do the boys live?’

  ‘Right at the back,’ said the girl in the bed to her left. ‘My brother’s there. Sometimes we see each other across the yard, but that’s all. We’re not allowed to talk to each other, or wave or anything.’

  ‘I’m going to wave,’ said Bonnie. ‘I don’t care what Guardian Bliss does to me. I’m going to wave and shout and call him Toadspit. I’m going to practise saying it so I don’t forget. Toadspit Toadspit Toadspit! And I bet he waves and shouts back at me.’

  Goldie could see the similarity between the two children now. She was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it before.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Candour, ‘but I want to know more about this danger. And how she,’ pointing at Goldie, ‘thinks she’s going to do anything about it when she’s stuck here in double chains!’

  ‘Um . . .’ said Goldie. ‘I’ll have to escape—’

  ‘Oh, yes? How?’ said Candour, sitting back with a sceptical expression on her face.

  Goldie looked at her fetters, and at the heavily bolted door and the dark, barred windows. Her heart sank. She didn’t know where to start. What would Olga Ciavolga say in these circumstances? Probably something sensible like, ‘First things first, child. Get out of your fetters, then worry about the rest.’

  Goldie wriggled her feet. The padlock on her fetters was enormous, and looked quite different from anything she had tried to pick before. She wasn’t even sure if it worked the same way.

  Somewhere outside the building, a bell began to ring. The sound was muffled by the thick walls, but it was still recognisable as the Great Hall clock. Ting-ting ting-ting. Ting-ting ting-ting. Down the scale and up again.

  There was a moment of silence, then the heavy chimes began to tell the hour. Bongggg. Bongggg. Bongggg. Goldie counted them. Four, five, six. Seven, eight, nine. Ten . . .

  She waited for the next one, but it didn’t come. It was ten o’clock. If she was going to meet up with Toadspit, she had exactly two hours to escape from Care and get to the Fugleman’s office.

  She took a deep breath and did her best to push all doubts out of her mind. ‘I’m going to pick the lock on my fetters,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a pair of scissors—’

  There was a gasp from the beds around her. ‘She’s got scissors!’

  ‘—but I’ll need something else. Something thin and tough that I can put a bend in, like a bit of wire.’

  Everyone looked at her blankly. Candour muttered, ‘And I’ll have a roast haunch of quignog on a silver platter.’

  ‘No, wait,’ said Bonnie. She peered towards the far end of the room. ‘Lamb, what happened to your hairpins?’

  Lamb was a pale-faced girl with long blonde hair. ‘Oh, Guardian Bliss took them away ages ago. She counted to make sure she’d got them all.’

  Bonnie’s face fell.

  ‘But,’ said Lamb, digging under her mattress, ‘she doesn’t count very well.’ She held something up, grinning widely.

  ‘Pass it down!’ whispered Bonnie, and the hairpin was handed carefully from one bed to the next, all the way down to Goldie.

  It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but it would have to do. She straightened it out, then pressed one end against the side of her bed to put a bend in it. It took her a while to get it right, but at last she was satisfied.

  She slid one blade of the scissors into the hole in the padlock. She turned it just a little way, and felt the inside part of the lock turn with it. Then she slipped the bent end of the hairpin into the hole above the scissors and set to work.

  None of the girls said a word while Goldie tried to pick the lock. Somewhere on the edge of her consciousness she could hear them breathing, but all her attention was focused into a tight little circle that centred on the hairpin.

  She pushed it right to the back of the lock and dragged it forwards, the way Olga Ciavolga had shown her. Then she did it again, trying to get at least one of the barrels to stay up out of the way. She poked and jabbed at them, feeling as if she was trying to find her way through a dark tunnel full of holes and traps, and all the time the Great Hall clock was ticking its way towards midnight.

  After a while, she closed her eyes. Somehow that made it easier to feel what was happening inside the padlock. She stopped dragging at the barrels and settled down to pushing on them one by one. At last she felt the first one swoop upwards – and heard a faint click.

  She grunted with satisfaction. Someone whispered, ‘Has she done it?’ Someone else whispered, ‘Sshh!’

  The second and third barrels were slightly easier. Click. Click. But the fourth and fifth wouldn’t move, no matter how hard she pressed them.

  By now her left hand, holding the scissors, was beginning to shake. Goldie opened her eyes – and realised that she hadn’t taken a breath for at least half a minute. She heaved the air into her lungs and out again. Nearly every girl in the room was watching her with an expression of astonished hope, as if it was their fetters that were under assault.

  ‘I need some help,’ Goldie whispered to Candour.

  Candour hesitated. She didn’t look as hopeful as the others, but after a minute she swung her legs to the floor and shuffled across the gap between the two beds. Halfway there, her ankle chain pulled her up short. Carefully she turned around and, keeping her chained leg stretched out in front of her, sat awkwardly on the edge of Goldie’s bed.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ she whispered.

  ‘Hold the scissors,’ whispered Goldie. ‘And keep them turned. If you let them go I’ll have to start all over again.’

  As carefully as she could, she inched her fingers back along the scissors so that there was room for Candour to grasp them.

  ‘I’ve got them,’ the older girl whispered. She grinned at Goldie, encouraging now. ‘Go on! I want to see Guardian Bliss’s face when she finds out someone’s escaped.’

  Once again, Goldie set to work. It was a little easier now that she didn’t have to think about the scissors as well, but the last two barrels of the padlock remained stiff and stubborn. She poked and prodded at them, with her teeth biting into her lip and the end of the hairpin gnawing at the palm of her hand. But still they wouldn’t move.

  She almost threw the whole thing down in frustration. Only two to go! How could this be happening? Then she remembered a trick that Olga Ciavolga had showed her.

  ‘You need to let the scissors turn back just the tiniest amount,’ she whispered to Candour. ‘Not too far!’

  Candour’s fingers shifted. Goldie pressed with the hairpin. Something moved! She pressed harder. The palm of her hand stung. A trickle of something wet ran down it. She wiped her fingers on her smock and tried again. The barrel rose up. She heard a click.

  ‘One to go,’ she whispered, and the message flew up and down the room. ‘One to go!’ ‘One to go!’ ‘One to go!’

  Now that the fourth barrel had given up the fight, the last one seemed to lose heart. It remained stubborn for a couple of minutes only, then it, too, clicked into place.

  Goldie had to keep reminding herself to breathe. She wiped her hand again – she was bleeding from the scratches that the hairpin had made – and tried to remember what she was supposed to do next. For a moment, her mind was blank. Then
it came back to her.

  ‘Now you have to turn the scissors,’ she whispered to Candour.

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘Clockwise! Wait, maybe this padlock is different! No, clockwise! I think – clockwise!’

  The knuckles on Candour’s hand were white with tension. She turned the scissors clockwise . . .

  With a loud clunk the padlock on Goldie’s fetters sprang open. One of the smallest girls squealed, and immediately everyone else hissed, ‘Ssshhhh!’

  Goldie could hardly believe that she had done it. Around her, nearly every face in the room blazed with delight.

  But Candour was shaking her head doubtfully. ‘She still has to open the door. And she can’t do that with a hairpin.’

  ‘Of course she can’t,’ said Bonnie. She grinned at Goldie. ‘So we’ll have to get Guardian Bliss to do it for her!’

  .

  oldie crouched under the bed nearest the door, stiff with tension. In her own bed, pillows and sheets made a vague girl-shape beneath the grey blanket. She wasn’t sure if this plan of Bonnie’s would work, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything better. And time was running out.

  She chewed her thumbnail and wondered whether Toadspit had escaped already. She touched the compass in her pocket and thought about Ma and Pa. Her heart ached with love and worry.

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh!’ The scream echoed up and down the dormitory. It was followed by another, and another, and suddenly nearly every girl in the room was squealing her head off. Goldie put her hands over her ears and hoped that someone would come quickly.

  Someone did.

  ‘Be quiet! Be QUIET!’ Guardian Bliss loomed in the open doorway, her face contorted with rage. Goldie hadn’t heard the bolt being shot. She could only just hear the Blessed Guardian over the screams, which were now interspersed with terrified words.

  ‘It was the bomber! I heard him at the window!’

  ‘He’s come to get us!’

  ‘He’s going to kill us all!’

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeeeh!’

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh!’

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh!’