.

oldie raced between the tents with the heavy footsteps pounding after her. Her fingers fumbled at the biggest knot in Olga Ciavolga’s kerchief. HRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMM, it thrummed. HRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Behind her, the footsteps were gaining. The bugle sounded again. This time the notes seemed to form words. ‘Show no mercy! Show no mercy! SHOW NO MERCY!’

HRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, thrummed the knot in the kerchief. Left right left right, went the soldiers towards the Dirty Gate.

There was a shout right behind Goldie, and a hand grabbed her arm. She ducked and twisted away from it, and tore at the knot again, but it wouldn’t come loose.

Another shout. The hand gripped her arm more firmly this time. She tried to wriggle free, but the soldier had too good a hold on her. He lifted her right off the ground so that her legs kicked helplessly in the air. He reached for the kerchief.

And suddenly there was Toadspit, leaping out from behind a wagon. He ran straight towards the soldier and kicked him hard in the shins. The soldier dropped Goldie and grabbed Toadspit. He shook the boy furiously, shouting at him all the while. Another soldier came running up, his face murderous, his sword drawn. Firelight glinted off the sharp blade. He drew it back and aimed it at Toadspit’s stomach—

Goldie tore frantically at the knot. Her hands felt huge and clumsy. Her heart was leaping out of her chest. She saw Toadspit’s face, white with terror. She saw the sword, swooping towards him . . .

And, just in time, her fingers found the secret of the knot. It flew apart. The thrumming stopped. The soldier with the sword hesitated.

There was an instant of silence – and the thrumming started again. But it was no longer imprisoned in the kerchief. Now it was all around them.

From that moment everything changed very quickly. The tents, which had been sitting so quietly, began to crack and flap. One of them tore loose and flew away like a huge white bird. At the same time, the bugle and drums fell silent. The sound of tramping feet stopped. The soldier who was holding Toadspit let him go. The man with the sword turned away as if he had never had a murderous thought in his life.

Goldie grabbed Toadspit’s arm and dragged him behind the nearest wagon. He was shaking from head to toe. All around them, the flapping was growing wilder. The soldiers hurried through the camp, tying down tents and settling the horses. They took no notice of the two children, and seemed to have forgotten about the invasion of Jewel.

It worked, thought Goldie. The pressure has dropped. The war rooms are calming down.

But the Great Wind was not calming down. It poured through the camp like a river in flood. It left the soldiers alone, as if it knew that they belonged here, deep inside the museum, and must not be loosed on the world outside. But it wrapped itself around Goldie and Toadspit like a giant hand and began to blow them towards the Dirty Gate.

It was impossible to stand against it. The children half-ran, half-staggered through the camp, past the wagons, past Broo, who was surging in the opposite direction as if the Great Wind was nothing more than a breeze.

‘Broo!’ cried Goldie. ‘What are you doing? Come with us!’

‘I am going to find Herro Dan and Olga Ciavolga!’ rumbled Broo. He raised his head. His nostrils flared. ‘Ah, I have their scent!’ And then he too was gone.

Goldie and Toadspit stumbled across the grassland and through the Dirty Gate. Ahead of them, Goldie could see the Fugleman and Guardian Hope. The wind had hold of them, too, and they were trying in vain to turn back.

The wind slammed the Dirty Gate shut, and pushed the children towards Harry Mount. All around them, nails were popping out of planks with a noise like gunfire. Rooms shifted as they ran into them and shifted again as they ran out, as if the museum was shaking itself with relief. Ahead of them, Guardian Hope and the Fugleman shouted in protest as the wind drove them on, snapping at their heels.

The children ran across the Vacant Block. The water in the ditch had gone, leaving a morass of stinking mud behind it. Goldie and Toadspit slid down one side and up the other. They ran through the wide corridors, past the shattered glass cases, past the broken Staff Only door. Through the front rooms and under the stone arch into the entrance hall.

And there were Guardian Hope and the Fugleman, still just ahead of them, clinging to the open doorway while the wind tried to blow them out of the museum forever.

‘In the name of the Seven, I order you to stop!’ cried the Fugleman.

But Goldie and Toadspit didn’t even slow down. They raced out the door and down the cul de sac with the wind howling after them. Then they stumbled out into the open – and stopped in their tracks.

The city was almost unrecognisable. Black clouds scudded overhead like an endless flock of slaughterbirds, blotting out the moon. Rain pelted down in a torrent. Trees and bushes and watergas lamps thrashed about as if they were trying to uproot themselves.

‘Grab them!’ shouted the Fugleman, close behind. ‘Don’t let them get away!’

The children took off down the street with their heads bent against the fury of the storm. They dodged around one corner and then another, until they had lost their pursuers. They climbed a fence and stumbled across a private garden. The rain lashed at their faces. Somewhere nearby, roof tiles smashed to the ground.

If a Great Wind is unleashed, it will destroy everything in its path.

Goldie grabbed Toadspit’s arm and pulled him into the shelter of a wall. ‘This is going to get worse!’ The wind was so loud that she had to shout. ‘We must warn people!’

Toadspit’s eyes were dark with horror, as if the shadow of the sword still hung over him. Goldie wasn’t sure if he had heard her. She tried again.

‘We’d better find Sinew!’ she shouted. ‘He’s locked up in the House of Repentance. So are Ma and Pa. So are your parents.’ She forced herself to grin. ‘Oh, dear me, whatever will we do?’

Something flickered deep in Toadspit’s eyes. The shadow faded a little. His face was still desperately pale, but he managed to grin back at her. ‘I suppose we’ll just have to break them out . . .’

The Fugleman staggered down the hill after Hope, cursing loudly. His wonderful plans were in tatters. And now even the weather had turned against him! He had never experienced a storm like this one, and it seemed to be worsening.

He stumbled over a branch, and cursed again. The city’s lights had gone out, and everything was in darkness, except for one bright patch down in the Old Quarter, where the Great Hall shone like a faraway sun.

He heard a new sound, a distant groaning. Hope clutched at his arm. ‘Your Honour! It’s the levees!’

The Fugleman listened. So it was! He stared into the darkness, thinking hard. If the levees broke, the Old Quarter would be flooded, with hundreds of deaths. (Such a pity, especially if his sister was among those who died!) The survivors would welcome a strong hand, someone who would take control, bring order back to their lives.

And for all he knew, this storm could be raging over the whole peninsula! In which case, Spoke and Lawe would also be ripe for a takeover.

A wave of excitement swept through him. Things were not as bad as he had thought. He didn’t need those barbarians from beyond the Dirty Gate! All he had to do was make sure he survived the storm!

He wiped the rain from his eyes. Should he try and reach his temporary office? No, the roof might not hold, and he had no intention of crouching in the darkness like an animal while chaos howled around him.

But the Great Hall had its own watergas supply. Look at it, shining like a beacon! If the levees collapsed, the lower parts of the hall would flood, but upstairs beneath the dome would be perfectly safe.

He grabbed Hope’s sleeve and pointed. ‘See that?’ he shouted. ‘That’s where we’re going!’

‘But what about the children? What if they escape and tell people what happened?’

‘They’ll be heading for their homes. Where do they live?’

‘In the Old Quarter.’

‘In that case,’ shouted the Fugleman, ‘we needn’t worry about them. If they’re not dead already, they soon will be!’

The House of Repentance was a squat bunker of a building with tiny windows. It appeared to be a single storey, but everyone in Jewel knew that there were at least three levels of cells, all of them deep underground.

There were usually several Blessed Guardians patrolling out the front, watching passers-by for any sign of Abominations. But when Goldie and Toadspit fought their way through the wind and the rain to the front steps, there was no sign of the familiar black robes.

The children staggered up the steps and through the door. It was a relief to be out of the storm, although everything around them was as black as pitch and the noise was still tremendous. Windows rattled in their frames. The iron roof screeched and banged as if it was about to peel off and fly away. Somewhere in the distance there was a groaning sound that set Goldie’s teeth on edge.

She and Toadspit stumbled hand in hand through the dark hallways, searching for a staircase that might lead down to the cells. They found it by accident. They were groping their way along a wall when Toadspit’s legs suddenly went out from underneath him, and he fell down the first few steps, dragging Goldie after him.

They caught their balance and crept on downwards. Down one long flight they went, then another, until the air grew cool and the sound of the storm was left behind. After so much noise, Goldie could hardly bear the silence.

‘I saw your sister,’ she whispered.

She could feel Toadspit staring at her in the darkness. ‘Is she all right?’

‘She’s just like you. Of course she’s all right!’

They crept down another flight. ‘We must be well underground by now,’ whispered Toadspit. ‘It can’t be much further—’

He froze. Goldie heard something directly below them. Toadspit’s hand gripped hers painfully. The sound came again. It was the faint thrum of a harp string.

Toadspit jerked his hand out of Goldie’s. ‘Sinew?’ he shouted.

‘Great whistling pigs!’ said an astonished voice. ‘Is that Toadspit?’

A tinderbox scraped. A match flared. And there, just a few steps below them, were half a dozen officers of the militia. Their faces were grim and they stood shoulder to shoulder, as if they would protect whoever was behind them with their lives.

‘Here, make way!’ said Sinew. ‘It’s not the Fugleman and his cronies. It’s Toadspit!’

A long arm forced its way between the officers, followed by an awkward shoulder. And there was Sinew, harp in hand, staring up at Goldie and Toadspit in amazement. Close behind him was the Protector.

Goldie’s knees sagged with relief. Toadspit jumped down the stairs and threw his arms around Sinew. ‘We thought we’d have to rescue you!’ he said.

‘Well, as you can see, we’ve rescued ourselves,’ said Sinew. ‘The Blessed Guardians left a little while ago, when the lights went out. Once there was no one watching us, I made short work of the locks.’

He looked up at Goldie. ‘Are you both all right?’

Goldie nodded. ‘They took us to Care, but we escaped.’

‘I thought you might.’ Sinew smiled briefly. Then his face became serious again. ‘We can’t hang around here. The Blessed Guardians might come back. And we have to rescue Broo.’

‘Goldie’s already done that,’ said Toadspit.

Sinew blinked. ‘Oh. Good. We’ll go straight to the museum then. There’s no time to waste. The Fugleman must be stopped.’

‘We’ve done that too,’ said Goldie.

Sinew blinked again. Then, slowly, he began to laugh.

All this time, the officers had been lighting match after match, and whispering to each other and to the Protector. Now the Protector turned to Sinew and said faintly, ‘These are the children you were telling us about?’

Sinew nodded. There was a crash of breaking glass somewhere far above them. The Protector’s head jerked up. ‘What was that?’

‘It’s the storm,’ said Goldie. ‘You know the soldiers behind the Dirty Gate? The Fugleman was promising them slaves and silver if they’d invade Jewel and make him dictator—’

‘What?’

‘You should’ve seen them,’ said Toadspit. ‘There were hundreds of them, with muskets and pikes and drums! All marching towards the Dirty Gate!’

‘They had Olga Ciavolga’s kerchief so we stole it—’

‘You stole it,’ said Toadspit.

‘You threw the mud at the officer.’

‘Yes, but it was your idea. And it worked brilliantly, Sinew. Splat! All over his fancy coat.’

‘That’s why they were going to kill Toadspit,’ said Goldie.

Sinew looked horrified. ‘They were going to kill you, Toadspit?’

‘Stab me in the guts with a sword! But Goldie saved me. She undid one of the knots in the kerchief just in time—’

‘—and released the Great Wind,’ said Goldie.

Sinew nodded slowly. ‘That would reduce the pressure nicely. So. The rooms behind the Dirty Gate calmed down?’

‘Straight away,’ said Goldie. ‘As soon as I undid the knot.’

‘Good,’ said Sinew with great satisfaction. ‘Let’s hope they stay calm—’

Goldie interrupted him. ‘But now the Great Wind’s loose in the city!’

She stopped, watching Sinew’s face for a sign that she had done the wrong thing. But Sinew merely said, ‘We can deal with the Great Wind far more easily than an invading army or an outbreak of plague. You did well, both of you. No one could have done better.’

The Protector and the officers began to hurry up the stairs. Goldie and Toadspit didn’t move. ‘Ma and Pa are in here somewhere,’ said Goldie. ‘And Toadspit’s parents too, and some boys from Care. We have to find them.’

‘Blow me down,’ said Sinew. ‘How could I have forgotten? Here, I’ll go and look for them. You go with the Protector. She’ll have more questions for you.’

Goldie hesitated.

‘Don’t fret,’ said Sinew. ‘I’ll have them out of their cells in a trice.’ He waggled his fingers and grinned. ‘There’s not a lock that can stop me. But I’ll need a light of some sort.’

‘Here,’ said one of the officers, and he kicked at the wooden banister until several uprights came loose. He tore his shirt into strips, wrapped them around the uprights, and lit them. Sinew slipped away with a makeshift torch in his hand.

Goldie wanted to follow him, but the Protector and the officers were already throwing questions at her, so she bit her lip and told herself to be patient for a little while longer. When the officers heard that many of their fellow militiamen were dead, they shook their heads gravely.

‘And the Fugleman?’ said the Protector. ‘Where is he?’

‘In the city somewhere,’ said Goldie. ‘He and Guardian Hope were chasing us, but we lost them.’

The Protector looked sharply at the officers. ‘They’re to be arrested on sight. Particularly the Fugleman. He’s not going to get away with this.’

They were nearly at the top of the stairs by then, and the noise of the storm was back full force. The groaning sound was louder than ever.

‘That’s the levees!’ The Protector had to shout now. ‘They won’t hold against this. And if they go, the whole of the Old Quarter will flood. We have to get people to higher ground.’

‘Don’t forget Care,’ shouted Toadspit. ‘My sister’s there.’

‘Care is at the top of my list.’ The Protector’s face was grim.

‘We’ll have to clear this place before we go,’ shouted one of the officers. ‘We can’t leave folk in their cells to drown. I’ll see if I can find some keys and give Sinew a hand.’ And he took a torch and hurried away.

The next few minutes were a bustle of planning. Goldie and Toadspit found themselves edged out of the group as the remaining adults argued about the safest place to take people.

‘Take them to the museum,’ shouted Goldie. ‘It should be quiet by now.’

No one heard her. She pushed between two of the officers and shouted again. ‘The museum! They’ll be safe there!’

The Protector and the officers stared at her for a moment, then nodded to each other and elbowed her out of the way again. ‘We’ll have to split up and divide the Old Quarter between us,’ shouted the Protector. ‘We won’t get everyone out in time otherwise.’

‘Idiots,’ hissed Toadspit in Goldie’s ear. ‘They’re going to need us.’

Goldie heard a weak cry from the direction of the staircase, and turned to look. A small group of people were stumbling towards her, hanging onto each other for support. Sinew’s torch lit their faces.

Goldie’s heart almost jumped out of her throat. ‘Ma!’ she screamed. ‘Pa!’ Beside her, Toadspit’s voice echoed hers. ‘Ma! Pa!’