City of Time (17 page)

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Chapter 20

It was even colder outside when they left the museum. Dr. Diamond set off at a brisk pace, with Owen following. Rosie slipped the piece of glass back into her pocket and caught up with them.

"I don't think much of your pal," she told the doctor.

"He was never a friend of mine," Dr. Diamond said. "He was always sly, also nosy enough to get to the bottom of things. I learned some interesting facts about the City tonight."

"You seemed pretty friendly," Owen said.

"He is a dangerous man, but such people can be useful. Although I don't doubt that he's on the telephone now, trying to find out what we are doing here."

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"I think he's evil," Rosie said. Something about the way she said it made Dr. Diamond turn and look at her.

"What is it, Rosie?" he said sharply.

After a moment's hesitation, she told him what she had seen and done while he had been in conversation with Black.

"Goodness!" Dr. Diamond said. "A real live Yeati? Astonishing. I never suspected such cruelty."

"We should rescue it," Owen said.

"Of course. Later. For the moment we must keep to our quest. The tempod in the museum was empty and seemed to be the only one in Black's possession, but he is a slippery customer. Let me see that glass. ..."

Rosie showed them the Yeati's message and the drawing. Owen gaped when he saw his own face etched there.

"The Yeati has seen you before, or has seen a likeness of you," Dr. Diamond said. "But I don't understand the writing."

"Could we talk about it somewhere else?" Rosie said. "Apart from the fact that it's freezing here, those Specials could come back at any time."

They returned to the Whin Bush Inn, walking as quickly and quietly as possible. Owen was exhausted now, and looking forward to a bed just like Cati's.

But Mrs. Newell met them at the door with a stricken face. "She's gone!" she said. "She must have got out the window."

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They ran upstairs, where they found the bed empty and the window open.

"You were supposed to be watching her!" Owen shouted.

Dr. Diamond went to the window. He could hear dogs baying in the distance. "I don't think that we can put the blame for this on Mrs. Newell."

"You can," Mrs. Newell said heavily. "I never told you."

"Told us what?" Owen said sharply.

"It's about them Dogs. Most of them's just children who've lost their parents, street children. But there are secrets and rumors ..."

"What secrets?" Owen demanded, his eyes burning.

"The stories say there's this stuff they put on the claws they wear. If they scratch you, it gets into your blood ... and you become a kind of Dog yourself."

"You mean, Cati's like ... one of them now?" Rosie asked.

"It's possible," Dr. Diamond said with a frown.

"She's probably gone to join the pack," Mrs. Newell said, sitting down, ashen-faced.

"We must find her!" Owen said. He turned toward the door, staggering with fatigue.

"Wait!" Dr. Diamond said. "Have you forgotten that a whole world's future depends on us? Anyway, you can't walk into the night without any idea where you're going. And you must rest."

"But Cati's my friend," Owen said.

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"And mine too," Dr. Diamond said, "as was her father. We won't abandon her. Rosie, tomorrow morning I want you to go and find out what you can about the Dogs and where they live." Rosie nodded smartly. "Mrs. Newell, I'm sure you can pick up some information from your customers. When we know what we're dealing with, we can act. Meanwhile, we need to make a plan based on what I learned from Black tonight."

"I can't leave her out there alone!" Owen cried.

"Think about it, Owen," Dr. Diamond said gently. "What would Cati say? She is the Watcher, a duty she didn't seek, but she doesn't shirk from it. She would tell you that your duty is what matters now."

"The Dogs look after their own," Rosie said. "She'll be all right."

They went downstairs, where Mrs. Newell made them tea and bacon sandwiches. "Eat," she said to Owen, who stared into the fire. "You can't help your friend if you're worn out from hunger."

"Now," Dr. Diamond said when they had finished, "we need to talk about what I learned from Black. It seems that Hadima is under some new government, but no one knows who. The place has been run into the ground, the prisons are full of hostages, and the supplies of time and of magno have dwindled to nothing. An enemy hand is acting in all of this. Tell me, Mrs. Newell. Has the city always had such cold weather?"

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"No." Mrs. Newell frowned. "It seems that it is always winter now."

"The Harsh!" Owen said. "They love the cold and dark!"

"I think so," Dr. Diamond said. "No one else is powerful enough. No one else has that hunger to obliterate time."

"We're not strong enough to take on the Harsh," Owen said.

"No. But Black told me some interesting rumors about a man he referred to as 'the Prisoner.'"

"I've heard of him," Mrs. Newell said. "They say he's the smartest man ever lived."

"And the bravest," Rosie added.

"Black seemed to think that the Harsh fear him, yet need his knowledge. He won't help them, so they keep him locked up year after year."

"Where do they keep all these hostages, anyway?" Owen said.

"In the cellar jail, underneath the Terminus," Rosie said.

"This prisoner is kept separate, under special guard, so they say," Mrs. Newell told them.

"That's what Black said. Apparently the man is also an expert in ancient languages. I suspect he may be able to translate the Yeati's writing."

"How do we get in there?" Owen asked.

"You don't, and you don't want to," Rosie said.

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They fell silent. The only noise in the little room was the crackling of the fire. Owen thought about Cati, hoping she was all right. He fingered the Yeati's piece of glass which Rosie had given him. Why had he drawn Owen's face, and what did the writing mean? If the man in the Terminus jail was the only person who could translate it, then he had to get to see him.

Rosie's mind was on the Yeati, wounded and alone in its cold cellar. She couldn't stop touching the smooth, healed skin on her hands. One by one they said goodnight and went quietly to bed. Despite the cozy blankets, it was a while before Owen fell asleep. There was so much going round and round in his head. And he couldn't stop thinking about Cati, out there in the City on her own.

Cati ran through the night, keeping close to walls, avoiding the few people who were out late. She wasn't following the howling anymore; she could smell where she was going. Memories of Owen and Dr. Diamond stirred in her head. She knew that she was the Watcher and that she belonged at the Workhouse, but a stronger, animal instinct now overrode everything.

She reached the edge of the City and listened to the roar of the Speedway, sniffing oil and exhaust fumes. Then a warm, snug smell wafted through a broken grating in a wall. With one easy movement, she squeezed through it and slithered along a slippery pipe. She

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emerged on the platform of a deserted underground station, much like the one they had arrived at earlier with Rosie. It was dark and hard to see.

Stepping forward, Cati heard a low growl. She stopped, aware of dozens of presences in the darkness around her, all very still. Something brushed against her, something warm and hairy. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her lips curled in a snarl. From somewhere came a light. She looked around to see that she was surrounded by Dogs. They were all staring at her.

The pack leader was directly in front of her. He looked her in the eyes, then walked around her, sniffing. Cati stood stock-still. She knew without being told that if she moved a muscle she would be torn apart. Strangely, she could sense what the Dogs were thinking, almost as if they had one mind. They were curious but suspicious.

Not Dogs
, part of her mind told her.
Children!
The leader was facing her again now. Fast as lightning he leaned in and sank his teeth in the back of her neck, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood. With a growl, he shook her roughly. She didn't resist. He let go and sat back on his haunches. Then he made a low bark and nodded.

Suddenly a warm wave of friendship and understanding washed toward her from the other Dogs. They crowded around her, jostling, wanting to touch her.

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Other noses rubbed against her own and she felt a sense of delight in their companionship.

They surged to the far end of the platform, where there was a fire going and a pot on the fire, from which delicious smells wafted. Two Dogs stood by the pot. One of them lifted a ladle and poured the mixture into several large bowls. The Dogs pushed toward the bowls, some of them grabbing meaty chunks with their hands, others putting their mouths down and lapping noisily.

Cati darted forward and grabbed a bone. Shards of meat and drops of gravy fell from it as she gnawed away. It was delicious. As she ate, she looked around at the pack. They were a curious mixture. Many used their hands and walked upright; others went on all fours. They communicated with words and movements and barks and snuffles. But they all wore the Dog masks, and each mask reflected the nature of the Dog within. Some were broad and friendly with wide-spaced eyes. Others were long and serious. Some were fighters, their muzzles notched and scarred. A lean black Dog with one ear half torn off and a white patch over one eye looked at Cati, growling. She recognized him as the Dog who had attacked her in the truck.

A female Dog came and sat beside Cati. She had an open face with brown on her muzzle and a mouth that seemed to be curled in a smile.

"You're new," she said. "My name is ... you start to

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forget your name around here. Mo, that's it." Mo scratched her side vigorously, exactly like a dog would.

"My name is ..." It was true. Her name was there, but just out of reach. She concentrated. "Cati," she said firmly.

"You start to forget your name, and after that, if you really let go, the mask gets hard to take off. Nearly like it grows into your skin."

Cati wasn't sure if she liked the thought of this.

"It's not bad here," Mo went on, "if you stay with what the pack wants you to do--and of course Clancy."

"Who's Clancy?"

"Pack leader. Where's he got to? Probably making your mask." Mo gave a sly smile. "You enjoying that bone?"

Cati realized she was still gnawing at the bone from the stew. Hurriedly she put it down. As she did so she was aware of a stir in the pack. Looking up, she saw that Clancy was coming toward her carrying a Dog mask.

"See? It's yours," Mo whispered. Cati stood up. Weirdly, the mask
did
look like her. The black hair woven into the fur between the ears looked familiar and she remembered the hank that had been yanked out as she had struggled with the Dog at the back of the truck.

The pack gathered around as Clancy held the mask aloft with hands that were strong and covered with fine, short fur. Cati stepped forward and he lowered the mask over her head. Instantly she felt more dog than

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human. The mask smelled of dog and the eye slits seemed to give a dog's-eye view of the world. She felt that, if she really wanted it, the mask would become like part of her, hard to take off, as Mo had said.

She felt approval coming in waves from the pack.
If you had a tail, you'd wag it
, a small human voice said inside. But the voice was silenced when Clancy threw his head back and emitted a long howl. The others joined in, and then they were all streaming out of the station, moving as one, onto the street.

Cati found herself in a wealthy area, near the shrouded Terminus. There were tall silent houses, the inhabitants asleep, and the Dogs rampaged through the gardens, snatching purses from open windows, digging in flower beds, pulling clothes from the lines, grabbing anything that wasn't tied down, stealing it or spoiling it. Everywhere they went, commotion ensued, with lights coming on and angry shouts. And Clancy was always there, encouraging sometimes, nipping at their heels at others.

If there was a high wall to be climbed, then Clancy would shin up a drainpipe. If a guard dog appeared, it was Clancy who charmed it, or threatened it, and few stood in his way. Cati ran with the pack, thinking as they thought, moving as they moved.

As soon as they heard the whistles of the Specials, they moved on to another district, and before Cati knew it, dawn was brightening in the sky. They followed Clancy back down to a market where fish sellers and

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butchers were setting up stalls. The smells of raw meat made Cati's mouth water.

They gathered by the market wall and Clancy collected up everything they had stolen. Then he stood up and took off his mask.

Cati looked at him, a boy with deep-set hazel eyes and full lips. He smiled at her and his warm, mischievous smile lit up his serious face. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, Clancy winked, then turned and walked into the market.

He was back twenty minutes later, carrying two bulging bags of meat that he could barely lift. There were other things as well. One of the Dogs had a sore on her leg and he had got an ointment to put on it. There was a bottle of medicine for another Dog who had a cough.

As the pack crowded round to see what Clancy had brought, a group of market workers came up the road. With shouts and curses, they began to pelt the Dogs with stones. Clancy slipped his mask back on and picked up a half-rotten turnip from the ground. He lobbed it at a fat red-faced man who took it full in the face. Laughing and barking, the Dogs raced away.

Turning a corner, they ducked into a grating and found themselves in the city sewers. Trying not to look at the murky water, Cati followed the Dogs. Several of them started to chase the large and evil-looking rats that scuttled along side tunnels, but Clancy kept them on