.

oldie was asleep when it happened. The song of the harp had lulled her so well and she was so tired that, despite everything, she had slumped down next to Sinew, closed her eyes and drifted off into a dream.

She was in the Great Hall of Jewel, and the air above her was full of clockwork birds, every one of them as blue as the distant horizon. But instead of twittering sweetly, the way they were supposed to, they squawked, ‘Pla-ague! Pla-a-a-ague!’ Then they tumbled out of the air and lay broken on the floor.

She bent down and picked one of them up. Its eyes were bright with fever. ‘There are strangers in the back rooms,’ it growled.

And then the growling was all around her, and someone was shaking her awake. ‘Goldie! Goldie!’

She sat up quickly. Toadspit was kneeling beside her. Above him loomed Broo, as big as a bear and as black as night. The growling came from deep within him.

‘THERE ARE STRRRRANGERS IN THE BACK RRRRO-O-OMS!’ he said again, in a voice that rumbled like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

Sinew was already on his feet with his harp slung over his back. ‘It must be the Blessed Guardians. Quickly! We must—’

But before he could say more, there was a great creaking and groaning of hinges, and the Dirty Gate swung open.

Goldie, Sinew and Toadspit threw themselves against it. But although there was no one on the other side, they couldn’t force it shut. It seemed to be pushing against them, like an animal that has tasted freedom and refuses to go back in its cage. It was only when Broo added his great weight to theirs that the gate creaked back into place.

Sinew took the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. ‘I did this before,’ he muttered. ‘I know I did. How could—?’

‘How could it open by itself?’ whispered Goldie.

On the other side of the Dirty Gate, the long grass surged and rattled. Sinew shook his head in frustration. ‘The Protector should have acted by now! I told her how important it was!’

‘We cannot wait for her any longer,’ growled Broo.

‘No,’ said Sinew. ‘We must stop these intruders ourselves.’

They ran back through the dusty rooms even faster than when they had come. Morg flew ahead, crying, ‘Sto-o-o-op them! Sto-o-o-o-op th-e-e-e-em!’ in a voice like the scraping of dry bones.

Broo was only seconds behind the slaughterbird. He would have outrun them all, but Sinew shouted, ‘Broo! Wait!’

The brizzlehound slowed just enough for them to catch up.

‘I want you to stay out of sight,’ panted Sinew. ‘All of you. I’ll deal with this on my own.’

‘No!’ said Goldie.

‘We’ll all go!’ said Toadspit.

‘The children are RRRIGHT, Sinew,’ growled Broo. ‘The Guardians play with the lives of everyone in the city. I will SHAKE them like RRRRATS. They deserve no better.’

Sinew shook his head. ‘Toadspit and Goldie mustn’t be seen. And I’d rather they didn’t know there’s a brizzlehound in the museum.’

They argued with him as they ran, but Sinew wouldn’t change his mind. And so, just before they came to the Staff Only door, Goldie and Toadspit ducked behind a cabinet. They took Morg and Broo with them, although the brizzlehound shivered and growled in his desire to defend the back rooms against strangers.

Sinew strode forward alone, unslinging his harp. Goldie peeped around the side of the cabinet. What she saw made her gasp in dismay.

Beside her, Toadspit muttered, ‘I’m going to kill them.’

The Staff Only door hung half off its hinges. Its frame was crisscrossed with planks, nailed into place to stop it shifting. Guardian Hope, Guardian Comfort and their young assistants were milling triumphantly through it.

Sinew strode towards them. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘You must go no further!’ At the same time, he played a string of notes on his harp. The combined sound seemed to freeze the Blessed Guardians in their tracks.

In the sudden quiet, Sinew spoke – and played – again. ‘There are things in this museum,’ he said, ‘that are more terrible than you can imagine. If you keep going, you will all die. And so will your brothers and sisters, your mothers, your fathers and your children.’

The young Guardians stared at him, open-mouthed. So did Guardian Hope and Guardian Comfort, but only for a second. Then Guardian Hope’s face twisted into a sneer. ‘Lies!’ she cried. ‘He’s just trying to protect his little secrets.’

‘He’s trying to protect you!’ whispered Goldie. ‘He’s trying to protect all of us!’

‘I’m going to kill them,’ muttered Toadspit again.

‘We are on the Seven’s business!’ said Guardian Comfort loudly. ‘We won’t be stopped by these pathetic threats!’

‘Indeed we will not!’ snapped Guardian Hope. ‘Advance!’

The young Guardians looked at each other uncertainly. None of them moved.

Sinew’s fingers plucked a ringing note from the harp strings. ‘It’s true that there are secrets here. But they won’t bring you wealth or fame or glory, if that’s what you’ve been told. They’ll only bring death, to you and to everyone you love.’

‘Rubbish!’ screeched Guardian Hope. ‘Abomination! Don’t listen to him!’

‘Turn back now,’ said Sinew. ‘Turn back and you’ll be safe.’

‘Turn back,’ whispered Goldie.

‘No!’ Guardian Hope’s face was purple with rage. ‘Move forward at once! I order you! Anyone who doesn’t move forward will suffer the awful displeasure of the Seven!’

The young Guardians began to mutter among themselves. Even Guardian Comfort looked uneasy.

‘Silence!’ shouted Guardian Hope.

The muttering grew louder. Feet shuffled nervously. Eyes darted from Sinew to Guardian Hope and back again.

‘It’s working,’ whispered Goldie. She turned to Broo and Toadspit. ‘They believe him!’

She was right. One by one, the young Guardians put down their hammers and nails. They turned their backs on Guardian Hope and Guardian Comfort. They began to retreat . . .

‘Stop – right – there!’ cried a deep voice.

Goldie’s head jerked up in dismay. She saw the young Guardians shuffle to one side, leaving an open pathway.

Through it strode the Fugleman.

He swept up to the Staff Only doorway like a sum- mer storm. He carried a sword in his hand, and he jabbed at the display cases as he passed, as if he was afraid of nothing.

In his wake trailed a string of gazetteers, clutching notebooks and pens. When they saw the dust and cobwebs that lay beyond the broken door, they rolled their eyes in dismay and muttered to each other.

The Fugleman didn’t seem to notice the dust at first. He stopped in the doorway, his handsome face serious. ‘It is my painful duty to inform you all,’ he said loudly, ‘that Her Grace the Protector is unwell.’

There was a gasp from everyone listening. The gazetteers unscrewed the lids of their portable inkpots and began to scribble in their notebooks. From behind the cabinets, Goldie saw Sinew’s face turn white.

‘I’m sure that I speak for the whole city,’ continued the Fugleman, ‘when I say that I hope she will be better soon. May the Seven hold her in the glorious cup of their hands.’

Goldie flicked her fingers so hard that it hurt. Beside her, Toadspit was doing the same. One of the gazetteers called out, ‘Your Honour, can you tell us what’s wrong with the Protector?’

‘My physician is with her now,’ said the Fugleman. ‘He will report back to me soon. We should have an answer in time for tomorrow’s gazettes.’

Another gazetteer raised her hand. ‘Sir? Who’s running the city?’

‘Her Grace has given me the honour,’ said the Fugleman. ‘And in the short time that I have been in charge—’

The rest of his words were drowned out by a roar of approval from the Guardians.

Goldie stared at the Fugleman’s handsome, lying face. ‘What’s he done to the Protector?’ she signed to Toadspit.

‘Listen!’ signed Toadspit.

The Fugleman was talking again. ‘In the short time that I have been in charge,’ he said, ‘I have uncovered a terrible plot. The blackguards who set off the bomb in my office, who so callously destroyed a young life, came from very close to home.’

He pointed his sword at the high ceilings and the cobwebs. ‘As you can see, this building contains venomous insects. I suspect that there is disease as well.’

The gazetteers shuddered.

‘But,’ said the Fugleman, ‘there is something even worse, something that defies belief. I have proof of it here.’ He took a thin blue book from his pocket and waved it in the air. ‘This museum harbours a secret army – an army that plans to take over our city!’

The uproar this time nearly deafened Goldie. The gazetteers and the young Guardians pressed towards the Fugleman, shouting questions. Even Guardian Hope and Guardian Comfort looked startled.

Only Sinew and the Fugleman remained calm. Sinew played a loud thrum on his harp. It cut through the shouting like a knife. ‘Listen to me,’ cried Sinew. ‘The museum had nothing to do with the bombing—’

‘It is true, is it not,’ interrupted the Fugleman, ‘that there is a place within these walls called the Dirty Gate?’

‘Yes,’ said Sinew. ‘But—’

‘And is it also true that on the other side of the Dirty Gate there is an army of ruthless killers?’

‘Well, yes. But—’

‘You hear him!’ trumpeted the Fugleman. ‘Condemned by his own words!’

‘Stop interrupting! Let him explain!’ Goldie whis- pered.

‘You’re making a terrible mistake,’ said Sinew. ‘Talk to the Protector! She’ll tell you—’

‘Aha!’ cried the Fugleman. ‘It was the Protector herself who insisted that I deal with this awful danger! “You are the only one who can save us, Fugleman!” she said. “You must act quickly before we are all destroyed!”’

‘The Protector would never have said that!’ cried Sinew.

The Fugleman ignored him. He raised his sword in the air. ‘Guards!’ he shouted.

There was a tramp of feet and a squad of militia pushed through the crowd. The Fugleman pointed his sword at Sinew. ‘Arrest this man!’

The militiamen cocked their rifles. They eyed Sinew warily as if he might be one of the ruthless killers himself. They began to walk towards him.

No! thought Goldie.

‘No!’ said Toadspit.

‘NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

The sudden roar, right in Goldie’s ear, almost deafened her. ‘Broo, stop!’ she cried, but she was too late. The brizzlehound had leaped over her head and was bounding towards the militiamen, bellowing his fury. His teeth were bared and his hackles stood up like spikes. Above his head flapped Morg, a black harbinger of death.

When they saw those twin awful sights bearing down on them, most of the militiamen froze in their tracks. Only the lieutenant marshal seemed to keep his head. His hand shook, but he raised his rifle. Goldie saw his finger tighten on the trigger.

‘No!’ shouted Sinew, and he threw himself at the lieutenant marshal. The gun went off. The bullet flew harmlessly past Broo’s ear.

The sound of the shot seemed to bring the other militiamen to their senses. They raised their guns. But before they could take aim, Broo was upon them, his great teeth snapping.

He mowed the militiamen down like grass. They screamed and tumbled over one another trying to escape. But Morg was waiting for them, with her sharp beak and her tearing claws and the shadow of her wings falling across them like a shroud.

‘Broo! Morg! Don’t hurt them!’ shouted Sinew. Goldie could only just hear his voice above the chaos.

And then, suddenly, she heard another shot. It echoed strangely, cutting through all the shouting and screaming. Time slowed down. The bullet seemed to hang in the air for many seconds before it hit its mark.

Goldie felt herself stand up and walk out from behind the broken cabinets. She could see the Fugleman. In the midst of all the scrambling, he was completely still. His sword was sheathed and he held a militia rifle pressed against his shoulder. He was smiling.

She began to run. Toadspit was running beside her, but the air was as thick as treacle, and they couldn’t move fast enough.

She felt a cry of despair well up in her chest. She saw Sinew’s mouth open in a horrified shout. She saw Morg flap frantically up towards the rafters, leaving a dozen feathers drifting through the air like black snow.

She saw Broo flinch – and falter. She saw him snap one last desperate time at the nearest militiaman.

She saw him fall.