to echo around the cave and linger in the corners, as if the bones recognised it and didn’t want to let it go.
‘Back then,’ said Herro Dan, ‘the Place of Rememberin’ was sacred. Whenever someone died, their body was given to the slaughterbirds. Then their bones was brought here and stacked in rows so they’d never be forgotten, even when everyone who knew ’em was gone.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
‘The museum was built five hundred years ago,’ continued Herro Dan, ‘to hide the Place of Rememberin’ from those who would’ve destroyed it. There were only a few rooms then, and nothin’ in ’em but bronze tools and old coins. But as the years passed, and the people of the city started fillin’ up the vacant lots and banishin’ the animals, the museum started growin’.’
‘It became a refuge for all the wild things,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘All the things the city did not want.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound again. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
Herro Dan laid his hand on one of the skulls. It was yellow with age, and its eye sockets were woven shut with spider webs. ‘But you can’t hold wild things in one place. And they won’t be tied down. That’s why the rooms shift like they do. And if ever the museum or its keepers are under threat, they shift even more. This is their last stronghold and they won’t stand quiet and see it destroyed.’
The brizzlehound growled suddenly – a sound so fierce that it made Goldie’s heart skip a beat. ‘The museum is under threat GRRRNOOOOW! I can SMELL it!’
Herro Dan nodded. ‘We know there’s somethin’ comin’ – some sorta trouble. The museum can feel it. But we dunno what the trouble is or where it’s comin’ from. And that makes things tricky.’ He looked directly at Goldie. ‘You see, lass, there’s great wonders hidden in this place, but there’s terrible things too, things that shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘Like what’s in Old Scratch,’ whispered Goldie.
‘Worse than Old Scratch,’ said Herro Dan. ‘Much worse. And if the museum gets too restless, there’s a danger that some of those things’ll break out into the city . . .’
On either side of him the bones seemed to shiver in the lantern light. Goldie swallowed, trying not to think of Ma and Pa trapped in the House of Repentance with terrible things stalking through the streets towards them.
‘This is why we do our best to keep the rooms calm,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘Sinew plays his harp. Dan and Toadspit and I sing. We protect the museum, and we protect the city as well. But despite all our efforts, things are getting worse. The museum knows that something bad is coming.’
‘The bombing?’ said Goldie.
‘We think that is a part of it,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘But there is a greater danger that is still hidden from us. Sinew is doing his best to track it down.’
‘And when he finds it,’ said Herro Dan, ‘well, then we fight. That’s where you can help us, lass.’
‘To fight ?’ squeaked Goldie. ‘I don’t know how!’
‘There’s fightin’ and there’s fightin’,’ said Herro Dan. ‘How many folks d’you know who question what the Blessed Guardians say?’
‘Lots of people,’ said Goldie. ‘Everyone I know moans about them in secret.’
‘Oh, in secret! We’re all bold in secret. But to do it out in the open, that takes rare courage.’
Goldie wanted to believe the old man, but she couldn’t. ‘It wasn’t courage,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t bear it any more. The way they try to squash everyone into the same shape. The way everyone talks so meekly around them, and never dares say what they think. I hate them.’
‘And so you became a runaway,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘And a thief.’
‘Yes.’ Goldie blushed. ‘Toadspit said that only a . . . a thief can find their way through the museum.’
‘That is true,’ said Olga
‘Back then,’ said Herro Dan, ‘the Place of Rememberin’ was sacred. Whenever someone died, their body was given to the slaughterbirds. Then their bones was brought here and stacked in rows so they’d never be forgotten, even when everyone who knew ’em was gone.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
‘The museum was built five hundred years ago,’ continued Herro Dan, ‘to hide the Place of Rememberin’ from those who would’ve destroyed it. There were only a few rooms then, and nothin’ in ’em but bronze tools and old coins. But as the years passed, and the people of the city started fillin’ up the vacant lots and banishin’ the animals, the museum started growin’.’
‘It became a refuge for all the wild things,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘All the things the city did not want.’
‘The hill keeps them,’ rumbled the brizzlehound again. ‘The hill keeps everything.’
Herro Dan laid his hand on one of the skulls. It was yellow with age, and its eye sockets were woven shut with spider webs. ‘But you can’t hold wild things in one place. And they won’t be tied down. That’s why the rooms shift like they do. And if ever the museum or its keepers are under threat, they shift even more. This is their last stronghold and they won’t stand quiet and see it destroyed.’
The brizzlehound growled suddenly – a sound so fierce that it made Goldie’s heart skip a beat. ‘The museum is under threat GRRRNOOOOW! I can SMELL it!’
Herro Dan nodded. ‘We know there’s somethin’ comin’ – some sorta trouble. The museum can feel it. But we dunno what the trouble is or where it’s comin’ from. And that makes things tricky.’ He looked directly at Goldie. ‘You see, lass, there’s great wonders hidden in this place, but there’s terrible things too, things that shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘Like what’s in Old Scratch,’ whispered Goldie.
‘Worse than Old Scratch,’ said Herro Dan. ‘Much worse. And if the museum gets too restless, there’s a danger that some of those things’ll break out into the city . . .’
On either side of him the bones seemed to shiver in the lantern light. Goldie swallowed, trying not to think of Ma and Pa trapped in the House of Repentance with terrible things stalking through the streets towards them.
‘This is why we do our best to keep the rooms calm,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘Sinew plays his harp. Dan and Toadspit and I sing. We protect the museum, and we protect the city as well. But despite all our efforts, things are getting worse. The museum knows that something bad is coming.’
‘The bombing?’ said Goldie.
‘We think that is a part of it,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘But there is a greater danger that is still hidden from us. Sinew is doing his best to track it down.’
‘And when he finds it,’ said Herro Dan, ‘well, then we fight. That’s where you can help us, lass.’
‘To fight ?’ squeaked Goldie. ‘I don’t know how!’
‘There’s fightin’ and there’s fightin’,’ said Herro Dan. ‘How many folks d’you know who question what the Blessed Guardians say?’
‘Lots of people,’ said Goldie. ‘Everyone I know moans about them in secret.’
‘Oh, in secret! We’re all bold in secret. But to do it out in the open, that takes rare courage.’
Goldie wanted to believe the old man, but she couldn’t. ‘It wasn’t courage,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t bear it any more. The way they try to squash everyone into the same shape. The way everyone talks so meekly around them, and never dares say what they think. I hate them.’
‘And so you became a runaway,’ said Olga Ciavolga. ‘And a thief.’
‘Yes.’ Goldie blushed. ‘Toadspit said that only a . . . a thief can find their way through the museum.’
‘That is true,’ said Olga
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