City of Lies - Lian Tanner [18]
He turned back to Goldie. “Now, what were we talking about, lad?”
“Um—Harrow,” said Goldie.
The bandmaster screwed up his face, as if he was thinking. “Noooo, can’t say I’ve ever heard the name. Is he a local man?”
“I don’t know.”
“There you are, then. He’s probably from Lawe. A most disreputable city, Lawe. All the worst criminals come from there.”
He took out his pocket watch again. “Oops, we’re late. Pick up those chains,” he roared at the band. “Double-time! Hup two three four, hup two three four!”
As they jogged off, he glanced over his shoulder at Goldie. “So pleased to meet an honest lad,” he cried. Sweetapple waved again, and Dodger winked. Then, with a great deal of noise, they were gone.
Goldie stood unmoving in the middle of the street. Despite the roast mutton, a hollow feeling had opened up inside her. As a trained liar, she could tell when someone else was lying.
The bandmaster did know Harrow. And the name struck fear into his heart.
“Over the last few days,” said Sinew, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, “I have tracked a hundred different rumors. I’ve learned that the citizens of Lawe are plotting against their government, that Old Lady Skint has a new slave ship and that the mercenary army that was terrorizing the Southern Archipelago has left for unknown shores. But about the children I’ve discovered nothing.”
In the basket by the stove, little dog Broo whimpered in his sleep.
“Whoever has taken them,” said Sinew, “has covered their tracks too well. I need to go and search for them myself.”
The sharp-eyed old woman who sat opposite him shook her head. Despite the warmth of the stove, she wore a blanket over her shoulders, as well as two knitted jerkins and four or five skirts. Her feet were thrust into militia boots. “We cannot spare you, Sinew.”
“But we can’t simply leave them—”
Sinew’s protest was cut off by the third person at the table, an old man with a broad brown face, and brass buttons down the front of his jacket. “Olga Ciavolga’s right,” he said. “We need you here, lad. The rooms are gettin’ restless again.”
The Museum of Dunt was never entirely quiet—there was so much wildness contained within its walls that its rooms regularly shuffled back and forth like a giant pack of cards.
But ever since the children had gone missing, that shuffling had grown worse. Even now, in the middle of the night, the gallery known as Vermin whispered and twitched, and the ancient dangers of war, famine and plague, locked away deep inside the museum, woke from their dreams and looked around with bright, vicious eyes.
“This place don’t like it when its friends are in trouble,” said Herro Dan.
“All the more reason,” said Sinew, “for me to go and look for the children! The sooner they’re back here, the better for everyone.”
Olga Ciavolga nodded. “That is true. But think on this, Sinew. Right now there are three children in peril. If you go, and Dan and I lose control of the museum, every child in the city will suffer a terrible fate. And so will the adults.”
Sinew leaned back in his chair and blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re right, of course. It’s just—we know these three! They are our friends. And I can’t help worrying about them.”
Olga Ciavolga raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you are the only one who is worried?”
“No, of course not. But what have we done, apart from chasing useless rumors? Nothing! They must think we’ve deserted them—”
“What about Morg?” interrupted Herro Dan. “She’s a good finder, our Morg. We could send her to look for ’em.”
There was a whir of wings from the rafters overhead, and an enormous black shape swooped down and landed on the old man’s shoulder. “Mo-o-o-o-org,” croaked the slaughterbird.
“Yes, I’m talkin’ about you,” said Herro Dan. He smiled and scratched the bird’s chest fondly; then his face grew serious again. “Do you reckon you can find ’em for us? I dunno where they might be.”
Sinew leaned forward. “Look out to sea, Morg. Try and find the ship that took them. And if you don