“How on earth did …?”
“I snooped around until I found a Brigade Commander. Then I back-tracked his scent trail. I expected it would lead me to the Makers’ headquarters. Where you would be.” Friskywits going on in her enthusiastic way. “How do you like my espionage work? Oh, you’re cousin Touchwit, aren’t you? Let’s hug. I remember you from your visit to Mum’s pond. Isn’t Bandit marvellous? He’s managed to burrow right into Uncle Protector’s headquarters. He’s going to …”
“Shut up, Frisk!”
“… rescue Sensibella.”
“I should have guessed,” Touchwit said, looking at him. This time with astonished pride. He gritted his teeth to erase his smile.
“Better tell us your plans before I give away our headquarters.” Mindwalker looked at Bandit with an air of strained authority.
“I can’t. I don’t have any.”
“He never has a plan,” Frisk explained. “The plan sort of makes itself up on the spot.”
Mindwalker looked east to see if the fog was lifting. It was dense here because they were near the river. And under trees. Trees like fog. It moistens them. They pull it around them like cloaks.
“News, top to bottom,” Bandit said in his best military manner. “Two High Guard commanders are trying to raise a mob to defend the City from the Migrants. They’re calling it the Peoples Corps. It’s meant to counter your Citizens Brigades.”
“We know this,” Mindwalker said.
“They’re being promised a bottle of beer to join, plus cheap jobs.”
“That’s what lies beneath the regimes of Meatbreath and his ilk,” Touchwit said. “Poverty-level wage work without job competition from migrants. In return, the people labour in food centralization and distribution so everyone can make a basic living. Those left over get to join a huge useless army.”
“No adequate homes. No secure future for cubs. Is there something we could compose to put on the oral net?” Mindwalker asked.
Touchwit shut here eyes and recited:
A household debt to please the bankers;
Piss-free beer for lazy wankers.
“That’s good, Touch. Did you compose that yourself?” Since composing his courtship poem for Sensibel, Bandit had acquired a grasp of poetry.
“You said two High Guard officers. Why did you say two?” Mindwalker asked.
“Because there aren’t any others around. The entire High Guard left the City.”
“What! The High Guard’s left the city?” Touchwit turned to Mindwalker. “We didn’t know this.”
“No, we didn’t. But it’s good to know. It means the Protector-designate has no forces at the moment to protect the City except a secret police and an untrained pop-up army led by … by what? Honour Guard cadets, I expect.” Mindwalker examined Bandit with the contempt of a drill sergeant confronting a new recruit.
The gull loosened its wings and shook off the moisture.
“Confirmed,” Mindwalker said. “Now, what will we do about the question of revealing the whereabouts of our headquarters?”
“It’s over there in a root cellar,” Frisk said.
Mindwalker gave her a withering stare.
“I’d better go back now and report it,” Bandit said. “Sorry you have to give up your headquarters, sir, but reporting it will allow me to rescue Sensibel from right under Meatbreath’s nose. You’ll see I’m contributing to the Resistance.”
“I don’t see how you’re contributing to anything at all.”
“You are, Bandy. I’m proud of you,” Touchwit said. How was she going to keep the Resistance leaders together?
“See you tonight.”
“I’ll be there tonight too,” Frisk said. “But first I have to do a subtle errand.”
43
“Good morning ladies! My name’s Flaxentip. I’m canvassing for the City Fathers. Is it alright if I ask you a few questions?”
Slypaws groaned and rolled over. Twitchwhisker stuck her head out of the hole.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t wake you up, ma’am. I listened first to make sure you were awake.”
“What’s she want?”
“She’s in the Honour Guard. She wants to ask us a few questions.”
“Let me deal with it.” Slypaws stretched, dusted her whiskers, and joined Twitch at the mouth of the hole.
“Hi, my name’s Flax and I’m …”
“It’s okay. I got the message. What time of day is it?”
