City of Lies - Lian Tanner [47]
“Where can we go?” said Bonnie.
Toadspit scowled. “Back to the sewers. I’m going to wring Pounce’s neck.”
“We could still try the wharves,” said Goldie. “Maybe there really are ships leaving for Jewel. Maybe that bit was true.”
“How will we know if they’re safe?” said Bonnie.
Goldie and Toadspit looked at each other. “We won’t,” said Toadspit. “Not if Harrow’s really got people all over the place.”
“We’ll have to go by land,” said Goldie. “It’ll take a lot longer—”
“You want us to walk?” Bonnie’s voice rose in a squeal of disbelief. “All the way to Jewel?”
“Shhhhhhh!” hissed Toadspit and Goldie together.
But it was too late. In the still of the night, Bonnie’s voice rang out like a signal. There was a shout from inside the stableyard—and feet pounded out the gate toward them.
The children turned and ran. Back past the empty houses with their gaping windows. Around a corner. Across a gushing stream—a leap almost too much for Bonnie. Past a junkyard, past a row of boarded-up shops, with the cat galloping beside them, its tail high, its ears flat against its skull.
As they ran, a single question rattled in Goldie’s head like a pebble in a tin. What was Guardian Hope doing here?
Most of the streetlamps in this part of town were broken, and there were places where it was so dark that Goldie could barely see five steps in front of her. Once she nearly ran straight into a wall. Watch out! cried the little voice, and she swerved just in time, with a cry of warning to the others.
They ran down street after street. They ducked around corners and dived through alleyways. But try as they would, they could not lose their pursuers. Before long, Goldie’s heart felt as if it might explode in her chest.
She saw a narrow lane between two buildings. The cat leaped into it, and the three children followed. Behind them, someone howled with excitement, like a dog that has sighted a hare.
At the end of the lane, Goldie looked around wildly. “Which way?” she said to the cat.
In the wall beside her, a battered tin door swung open. A small hand beckoned urgently.
“Mouse!”
Toadspit grabbed Goldie’s arm. “No. We can’t trust him.”
“They didn’t go this way, Cord,” shouted a voice from the mouth of the lane. “I’m not right on their tail. Woohoo!”
Goldie wrenched her arm out of Toadspit’s grasp and leaped for the doorway, with Bonnie right behind her. Toadspit hesitated, then jumped after them.
They raced through the derelict rooms and down a flight of stone stairs to a small damp cellar. In front of them was the entrance to a tunnel with a barred gate across it. Goldie could hear running water.
“Another—old sewer?” gasped Toadspit.
Mouse nodded.
“Is there a way—out—the other end? No lies!”
The little boy nodded again.
The gate was rusted into position, but there was a gap that Bonnie and Mouse could slip through easily. It was more of a struggle for the two older children. Goldie heard Smudge’s heavy feet pounding down the stairs toward them.
“Quick,” she said, and she squeezed through the gate after Toadspit.
The tunnel was pitch-black and narrow. The children felt their way down it, sliding their hands over the brick walls and brushing spiderwebs from their faces. They had not gone more than ten paces when the tunnel turned a corner. They hurried around it—and ran straight into a rockfall.
Mouse yelped. Toadspit and Bonnie shouted with the shock of it. Goldie fumbled at the pile of rocks and broken bricks, trying to find a way past them. But they filled the tunnel from top to bottom. There was no escape.
She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Toadspit turned on Mouse. “It’s a trap,” he snarled. “You brought us here on purpose.”
Somewhere near Goldie’s feet, the cat hissed a warning.
“Listen,” whispered Bonnie. “It’s Smudge. He’s trying to get through the gate!”
Smudge grunted and swore, but the gap was too small and the gate would not open wider to let him past. After a minute or two he gave up. Goldie heard him shout. “Hey, Cord. I think I ain’t got ’em trapped.”
There was an answering shout