Accidental Heroes Read online

  Also by Lian Tanner

  THE KEEPERS

  Museum of Thieves

  City of Lies

  Path of Beasts

  THE HIDDEN

  Ice Breaker

  Sunker’s Deep

  Fetcher’s Song

  First published by Allen & Unwin in 2017

  Copyright © Lian Tanner 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 76029 352 9

  eISBN 978 1 76063 936 5

  For teaching resources, explore www.allenandunwin.com/resources/for-teachers

  Cover and text design by Joanna Hunt

  Cover and internal illustrations by Sher Rill Ng

  Set by Joanna Hunt

  CONTENTS

  1 NO MORE SCHEMES

  2 CADET SNUFFIGATOR

  3 OUR OLD ENEMY

  4 TOOTH AND CLAW

  5 AN UNWANTED GIFT

  6 THE HOME DEFENCE

  7 LORD RUMP

  8 DISGRACE

  9 AN ILL WIND

  10 A LETTER HOME

  11 DO YOU CONSORT WITH SPIES OR ASSASSINS?

  12 THE STRONG-HOLD

  13 THE MARGRAVINE

  14 CAN YOU SWING A SWORD?

  15 A FAINT WHISPERING

  16 ONE CHANCE

  17 OBSERVATION AND VIGILANCE

  18 EVERYONE SEES THINGS DIFFERENTLY

  19 IRON TEETH

  20 TO TRAP A BEAST

  21 THE RAASHK

  22 STEPS FORTH THE HEIR

  23 UNNOTICEABLE

  24 COUNCILLOR TRIGGS

  25 NONE OF OUR BUSINESS

  26 WHO CAN WE TRUST?

  27 THE HUNT

  28 ONLY A FOOL WOULD TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

  29 WHAT DID YOU DO?

  30 A BOY WHO CAN WALK THROUGH WALLS

  31 A HIDDEN CONVERSATION

  32 THE SAFEST PLACE

  33 OTTE’S GOT SECRETS

  34 A DIFFERENT DIRECTION

  35 WHEN DANGER APPROACHES

  36 AN ARRANGEMENT

  37 I KNEW IT WAS EVIL

  38 AN AMAZING TALENT

  39 WHERE IS MY CANE?

  40 BAD THINGS

  41 TWO BOYS

  42 STINK ROSE

  43 THE TRIAL

  44 THE VERGESSEN

  45 MAY THEIR SOULS FIND REST

  46 THE HEIGHT OF FIVE MEN

  47 IF YOU WISH TO LIVE

  48 IF THE REST OF US CREEP QUIETLY AWAY

  49 THE SNARE

  50 WOLVES

  For Dali and Erie, readers and

  adventurers of tomorrow

  NO MORE SCHEMES

  Duckling’s grandpa had the sweetest smile you could imagine. It made him look like the sort of person who would rescue a kitten from a drain, or nurse a wounded sparrow back to health. It made him look kind-hearted and trustworthy and good.

  But Duckling knew better. That smile meant trouble – and she’d thought they were finished with trouble.

  So instead of smiling back at him, she asked, ‘What do you want?’

  Grandpa’s face fell. ‘It would be so much nicer, my dear, if you said, “Can I help you with anything, Grandpapa? A small errand, perhaps? Yes, of course, Grandpapa.”’

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Duckling again.

  The man who called himself Lord Rump slid a finger into the pocket of his silk waistcoat and drew out three copper miseries. ‘An excursion to Tooth and Claw market. Here, buy yourself a pie on the way.’

  Duckling looked at the coins but didn’t take them. ‘Where’s the catch?’

  ‘So young and yet so cynical,’ cried her grandpa. ‘Why, there is no catch at all, just a simple trip there and back—’

  Duckling interrupted him. ‘No more Schemes. That’s what you said when we came here. You said you were going to retire. You promised!’

  ‘And so I will, after one last—’

  ‘You said we were going to settle here in Neuhalt, like ordinary people.’

  Grandpa repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. ‘Ordinary? We are not ordinary, my child! We are the bright comet that shoots across the sky, leaving lesser folk gasping with admiration.’

  ‘They’re not gasping with admiration,’ said Duckling. ‘They’re gasping because you ran off with their rings and brooches. And I don’t want you to do that anymore. It’s like living on the edge of a cliff, and never knowing if we’re going to fall off.’

  ‘Of course we will not fall! I have got us out of every sort of difficulty in the past, have I not? My brilliance has carried us through. Why stop now?’

  ‘Because I’ve had enough. Please, Grandpa.’

  Lord Rump stared at her. At his feet, the gas fire hissed feebly. ‘You really want me to retire?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I shall retire.’ And he sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his ample belly.

  Duckling narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t like Grandpa to give in so easily. What was he up to? ‘So I don’t need to go to Tooth and Claw after all?’

  ‘Oh, you must still go to Tooth and Claw. If I am to retire, we will need money.’

  ‘We’ve got money. We’ve got plenty.’

  ‘No. We did have plenty, but—’ Lord Rump spread his hands. ‘You know how these things happen. A friendly game of cards – I swear the other fellow was cheating.’ He shook his head. ‘So was I, of course, but that was no reason for him to do so.’

  Duckling felt as if the bottom had fallen out of her stomach. ‘You lost our money? All of it?’

  ‘Dear me, no, I would never be so careless. I kept back enough for three weeks’ rent and a bribe or two.’

  ‘Oh, Grandpa.’ Duckling sat down on the overstuffed sofa with a thump. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Lord Rump beamed at her. ‘We will just have to carry out one last Scheme—’ He took a closer look at her face and his expression became apologetic. ‘I do not like it any more than you do, my dear. But what other choice do we have?’

  Duckling knew better than to trust any of her grandfather’s expressions. ‘How dangerous is this Scheme?’

  ‘Not dangerous at all.’

  ‘Tell me the truth!’

  ‘That is the truth. Would I lie to my own flesh and blood?’

  Yes, thought Duckling. Often. ‘Are we going to have to run for it?’ she asked. ‘Like we did from Spoke?’

  ‘Hush, child, don’t mention that ungrateful place. We are not from Spoke; we are from – ah – the Spavey Isles, due west and halfway around the world. The ruler of the Spavies is my – why, I do believe he is my second cousin.’ Lord Rump’s chair creaked as he spun a brand-new history out of thin air. The handsome gold watch chain that stretched across his stomach glinted in the gaslight. ‘And I am his ambassador.’

  He held out the coins again.
‘As for running for it –that is such an ugly expression. We do not run, you and I. We merely stay several steps ahead of trouble. Now, go to Tooth and Claw and find me a boy.’

  Duckling sighed inwardly and took the coins. She might argue, but in the end she always did as she was told. Grandpa was the only family she’d ever known, and she owed him her life. ‘What sort of boy?’

  ‘Strong. Not too bright. Tell him we will give him a good contract, protection from slavers, blah blah blah. And—’ Lord Rump looked around cautiously, as if there might be someone hiding behind the sofa. ‘And make sure he is alone. No parents in the city. No fond aunties to make a fuss if something happens to him.’

  ‘You want a disposable,’ said Duckling.

  ‘Nicely put, my dear. You have hit the whatsit firmly on the thingamajig. Yes, I require a disposable boy.’

  CADET SNUFFIGATOR

  Pummel was trying to walk casually, as if this wasn’t his first proper day on the job. But behind his Snuffigator mask he was a-shiver with pride and nerves.

  If only Ma could see me, he thought, grasping his iron-tipped staff. On patrol, with Principal Captain Rabid himself taking an interest in me. Wouldn’t she be pleased!

  All around him, Berren – the capital city of Neuhalt – roared like a great river. Gas-fuelled omnibuses blew their horns to announce their importance. Street-rigs and butchers’ carts rumbled over the cobblestones, racing each other to the next corner. Bells rang, gazette-sellers shouted, men and women hurried down the footpaths, talking loudly.

  Pummel had been in Berren for nearly three weeks, but he wasn’t yet used to the noise. He shrugged his backpack into a more comfortable position and tried to concentrate. ‘Observation and Vigilance,’ he whispered. ‘Be Alert but not Alarmed. The Snuffigators are here.’

  For all his vigilance, he didn’t notice the odd little spiral of pebbles that lay in his path. He was about to walk over it when Captain Rabid grabbed his arm and hauled him back, crying, ‘Stand off! Stand off! Snuffigator business! Stand off!’

  The passers-by reacted instantly. Some of them stared from a safe distance, others turned their faces away, or darted across to the other side of the road.

  Captain Rabid pointed his staff at the spiral and shouted, ‘That is a Snare, Cadet. Didn’t you learn about Snares in your first week of Snuffigator school?’

  Pummel had been so homesick during his first week of Snuffigator school that it had passed in a blur of misery. He could have been taught a hundred things in that week, and he wouldn’t remember ninety-nine of them.

  But he did remember the second week. So he said, ‘They taught us to Observe, Principal Captain. To be Alert but not Alarmed. And they demonstrated the grabbers and flyers. They said we’d learn the rest on the job.’

  The captain sighed, and the double row of medals on his chest clinked and chimed. ‘I don’t know how they expect us to train you youngsters and get the work done at the same time,’ he muttered. ‘But if we must, we must.’

  He thrust his staff into the spiral, knocking the pebbles in all directions. Then he inspected the ground carefully, and cried, ‘All clear! All clear, I say!’

  There was a round of applause from the onlookers, but the captain was already striding up the footpath, his eyes glued to the ground. When Pummel caught up with him, he shouted, ‘Why did I scatter the pebbles, Cadet?’

  ‘Um … to break up the witchery?’ guessed Pummel.

  ‘Witchery?’ Captain Rabid’s head shot up, and he grabbed hold of Pummel and dragged him off the street into a small courtyard, where the constant rumble of the city wasn’t quite so loud.

  ‘What’s this about witchery?’ he hissed. ‘They didn’t teach you that in class, did they?’

  ‘No, Principal Captain. But my ma said—’

  ‘Your ma?’ Captain Rabid pushed his mask up onto his forehead so he could inspect Pummel more closely. ‘You’re from the country, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, Principal Captain. Fifty miles southwest of Dross. I’d still be there, but milk prices are so low that—’

  ‘Well, take this from someone who knows,’ interrupted the captain. ‘There is no such thing as witchery.’

  Pummel’s eyes widened. ‘There’s not? But Ma said the ghosts are—’

  ‘Watch your language, Cadet! There’s no such thing as ghosts either.’

  Pummel thought he must have misheard. He’d believed in ghosts all his life! And sometimes he thought he could almost see them out of the corner of his eye …

  ‘Snares are not witchery, Cadet,’ continued Captain Rabid. ‘They are sabotage. If someone steps into a Snare, they seem to vanish. All that is left is their voice crying for help, getting weaker and weaker as the days pass.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘They don’t really vanish, of course. That would be impossible. We suspect it is a particularly nasty sort of hypnotism.’

  ‘But who would do something like—’

  ‘The Saffies, of course. The natives. They creep into the city at night when honest citizens are asleep, and lay their traps. That is why we are here, Cadet. Home Defence deals with the saboteurs, we Snuffigators clean up the Snares, the poisonous vapours, the frogs, the trees, et cetera, et cetera.’

  He paused, and narrowed his eyes at Pummel. ‘But you should know all this, Cadet. A loyal citizen would know it. A loyal citizen would not believe in witchery or ghosts. You are a loyal citizen, I hope?’

  ‘M-me?’ stammered Pummel. ‘Y-yes, of course, Principal Captain. It’s just that—’

  ‘No excuses, Cadet.’ Captain Rabid’s finger waggled in Pummel’s face. ‘A Snuffigator does not need to make excuses. A Snuffigator is solid, through and through.’

  Pummel swallowed, and did his best to look solid. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Captain Rabid. After all, how could a man with so many medals on his chest be wrong?

  It was just that he’d always thought …

  ‘W-what about the Strong-hold, Principal Captain? If there’s no such thing as witchery—’

  ‘More sabotage,’ Captain Rabid said bitterly. ‘The Saffies are trying to break our spirit, but the Margravine will never give in. Never!’ He clapped his right hand to his chest and barked, ‘Gods bless the Faithful Throne! Gods bless the Margravine of Neuhalt!’

  Pummel quickly copied him. But not quickly enough for the captain.

  ‘I’m still wondering, Cadet,’ he said in a dangerous tone. ‘Are you loyal? Or are you disloyal?’

  Pummel felt cold all over. If there was one thing he’d learned since arriving in the capital city, it was that disloyal was just about the worst thing you could be. Disloyal people lost their jobs. Disloyal people were thrown in prison. Disloyal people couldn’t send money home to save the farm.

  He managed to say, ‘I’m loyal, Principal Captain. I’m definitely loyal.’ Then he shut his mouth, so he couldn’t make any more mistakes.

  ‘You had better be, Cadet,’ said the captain. ‘Because you have got off to a bad start. From now on, I shall be keeping an eye on you. A very close eye.’

  OUR OLD ENEMY

  Deep inside the Strong-hold, in a small, hidden room at the top of a small, hidden staircase, a woman opened an ancient book and laid it flat on a table.

  When she had first found the book, tucked away in a forgotten corner, she had thought it was nothing but stories to frighten disobedient children. But then she had begun to read it more closely.

  She did not believe in witchery, of course. No one believed in witchery. But what if—

  What if there was something else? Some noble Mystery that her ancestors had brought from the Old Country. Something ancient and superior.

  What if she had stumbled upon it by accident?

  What if she could use it?

  She had been planning her next actions for weeks, slowly putting together the things she needed. She studied the words on the page one last time. Then, reciting them aloud, she took a pin from her pocket and pricked her finger.

  I
n the rafters above her head, an enormous hawk appeared.

  The woman’s hands shook. Right up until this moment, she had not entirely believed …

  She pricked her finger with a second pin. The hawk’s orange eyes glared down at her, as if she had woken it from a long sleep and it was not pleased.

  The woman picked up the third pin. This was the point of no return; if she used this pin, she could not turn back.

  She glanced at the door. If she did not use it, life in the Strong-hold would go on as it always had. The hawk would fade. Nothing would change.

  ‘But things must change,’ she whispered. ‘It is my duty to make them change!’

  She pricked her finger with the third pin. Then she slid all three pins into the fabric of her undersleeve, where no one would see them.

  The hawk gave a single harsh cry. And in the Stronghold’s crypt, where old Margraves and Margravines were laid to rest, one particular pile of bones began to twitch …

  The Bayam of Saaf (Mistress of Winds and First Hag) felt the spell like a crack opening up in the ground beneath her feet.

  Her bare toes curled in dismay. She had known from her dreams that something terrible was brewing. That was why she had left the safety of the Notch and hobbled all the way down the escarpment, even though her old bones hurt with every step she took, and the Black Wind was stalking her like a hungry idle-cat.

  ‘I cannot die yet,’ she said to the Black Wind, in the language of her people. ‘I have important work to do.’

  The Black Wind did not answer.

  The Bayam held the shadows closely about her as she made her way through the city of Berren. She did not think the slavers would take her – they were not interested in old women. But that did not mean she was safe. If she was seen, she would be imprisoned as a spy or saboteur.

  So she must not be seen.

  She tucked the shadows closer, until she looked like a shadow herself, and drifted deeper into the city, keeping her eyes on the ground and her ears open.

  But when she came to a certain familiar spot, she looked up at last. And there it was, looming over the northern part of the city like a carbuncle. The Stronghold.

  To the Bayam’s eyes (and to no one else’s), that massive castle was always wreathed in a heavy black cloud. But now that cloud seemed to seethe and hiss, like water left too long on the fire.