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  Ndlela touched his sister’s shoulder. “But Isabeau could have been there. At the circus. Are you sure she wasn’t there? They had somebody in the lion cage—”

  “If I’d seen Isabeau,” snapped Noor, “don’t you think I’d have said something? And as it happens, no, there was nobody in the lion cages. I walked right past them. Totally empty. There’s four people there. Two men and two women.”

  “Was one of them like a tall dude with no hair and a snaky jacket?” said Ndlela. “And a woman with grey hair?”

  “Yes. There was a white guy too. With dreadlocks,” said Noor. “The other woman was younger. She didn’t say a word the whole time I was there.”

  Elke glanced sharply at Noor and seemed about to say something, then clearly thought better of it.

  “We saw them on the beach earlier,” said Ndlela. “They said they were shooting at dogs.”

  “They didn’t say anything about that to me,” said Noor. “Okay. Let’s get going.”

  ¤¤¤

  Isabeau woke, nudged into consciousness by the insistent pressure of her bladder and the pain in her ankle. The concrete she was lying on was damp and cold. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, looking around for Xun. The Samurai Dog had dragged her to this place. It must once have been a caretaker or a maid’s room. Half of it was open to the sky. The corrugated iron roof had sunk in, turning it into something like a cave.

  Isabeau had asked Xun to take her somewhere else, even to help her out onto the beach and leave her there, but the gardag had behaved as though she couldn’t understand a word Isabeau was saying. Xun had sniffed her all over and then inspected her bag, making Isabeau turn out all the contents with insistent nudges of her nose. Then she’d settled down across the door, effectively barring any attempt to escape.

  Now Xun was nowhere to be seen. Robby was huddled fast asleep next to Isabeau. One of the wolfdogs, as she’d started calling the two large dogs, lay across the doorway, his back to Isabeau. From the look of the sunlight pouring into the clearing outside, it was sometime in the middle of the day. Isabeau’s mouth was dry and her stomach grumbled emptily but at this moment her most pressing need was to pee.

  The wolfdog blocked the only way out.

  Oh bugger.

  Isabeau considered dragging herself the far corner of the little shed and relieving herself

  back there but that seemed a desperate thing to do. And what would the dogs think of that, if I just went and peed right here in their den, where they’re sleeping?

  After a bit of experimenting she found that although her ankle throbbed painfully she wasn’t completely immobilised. She got into a crouch with all her weight on her good foot.

  The wolfdog in the door stirred, one ear twitching sleepily.

  There’s no way I’m sneaking past without him noticing, and I don’t want to startle him.

  “Uh,” she said. “Hi there.”

  The wolfdog looked at her.

  “Hi,” said Isabeau. “Look. I, um, I really need to, you know, pee. And I’d like to do that outside.”

  She had no idea whether the creature understood her. He looked a bit like Xun. It seemed likely that he was related to her. One of her sons? But that doesn’t mean he understands what I’m saying, like Xun does.

  “I’m going to move a bit closer to you.” Isabeau was careful not to stare into the wolfdog’s eyes and she kept her voice as calm and friendly as she could manage. “And then I’ll just step outside. Just for a moment. Just to pee.”

  The wolfdog looked at her with no change of expression or posture. Encouraged by this lack of reaction Isabeau straightened slowly until she stood, wobbling, on one foot.

  Why couldn’t Xun be here? Xun would protect her, she was sure of that, but the need to pee was just too urgent. She shuffle-hopped a little closer to the entrance, keeping her head lowered and eyes averted. Staring right at this dog’s face, she was sure, would only provoke an attack.

  Her heart sped as the wolfdog got to its feet, blocking the door. Robby was awake now too and placed himself in front of Isabeau. For a moment Isabeau worried that this would trigger an aggressive display but the wolfdog didn’t even seem to notice. She tried putting some weight on her hurt foot but the twinge of pain was too intense. Instead, she leaned against the wall.

  “So,” she said conversationally, “I’d like to get outside. So could you—um—maybe move aside a little?”

  No change in the cold, yellow eyes.

  Isabeau made another shuffling hop forward. “I don’t even know what your name is,” she said. “Do you have a name? I’m Isabeau. And that’s Robby. We called him that when we first got him. I wanted to name him something better, something like Fang, or Shadow, you know? But Robby just sort of stuck.”

  The wolfdog blinked.

  “I like giving things names.” Isabeau hopped again. She was nearly at the door now but the wolfdog still didn’t move. “It’s sort of odd to speak to somebody and not know their name.” She stopped to consider. Another hop would take her dangerously close to the dog. She risked glancing directly at him. “Can I pick out a name for you? It would have to be something grand. I mean, I’d never call you something like ‘Robby’.”

  Her ankle hurt a lot more hanging like this than when she was sitting or lying down. It took an effort of will not to twist her face into a grimace at the pain.

  “I’ve got this cool book of myths from around the world. Maybe something from that. Cerberus would work. Cerberus was a three-headed dog that guarded the gates to hell, but I’ve never really liked that name, it’s so difficult to say. And it sounds all snakey or spidery. You know?”

  She shuffled a small hop closer, her heart pounding. If he jumps at me now…

  “There’s a Norse myth about a monster wolf who will announce the end of the world. When he breaks free of his chains, that’s when it’s Armageddon.”

  Caught up in the story, she forgot her rule about not looking the wolfdog in the eye and started talking directly at him.

  “Armageddon is the day the world will end. But this wolf, his name’s Fenris. He was huge, just like you, and really fierce. The gods wanted to chain him up but he refused to bend his head unless one of the gods showed that they trusted him. So Tyr, the god of justice put his hand in Fenris’s mouth as they chained him. And when Fenris realised that the chain was unbreakable he bit Tyr’s hand right off. He’s still there, waiting to start Armageddon. Isn’t that cool?” One more shuffle and she was close enough to touch the wolfdog. “I’m gonna call you Fenris. You look a bit like I imagine him to be.”

  For a long moment they faced one another. Then, to Isabeau’s immense relief, the wolfdog shook himself, turned, and slouched through the door out into the clearing.

  “Oh, thanks so much.” Isabeau grasped the edge of the door and slid around it. “Fenris. Thanks.”

  Maybe I should make a break for it? She was outside now. Maybe this would be her best chance to get away. The look in Fenris’s eye told her exactly what would happen if she made any sudden moves. She was also sadly aware that her ankle would prevent her from doing much more than hobble or crawl.

  “Well, thanks.”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, Isabeau hopped along the wall and turned her back on Fenris to undo her trousers. Robby had come out too was already lifting his leg against a nearby bush, a sight that made her want to giggle. When she’d relieved herself, Isabeau pulled up her trousers and turned to face her guardian again. “You want me to go back in there, right?”

  Fenris stared at her expressionlessly.

  “Why do you even care? Why not just let me go?”

  His ears tilted ever so slightly back and his eyes narrowed, lending a subtle menace to his expression.

  “Okay. Sure. Right.” Isabeau hop-shuffled back to the door. “But I’m going to sit right here by the door, okay? It’s cold inside there.”

  She swept some leaves together for a cushion and settled herself as comfort
ably as she could. Fenris seemed to accept this. After a few turns around the clearing he found a sunny spot of his own in which to lie.

  Damn. Isabeau leaned back against the door jamb. If only I’d thought to bring along a book to read. Now all I can do is sit here.

  ¤¤¤

  The day dragged by. Isabeau became increasingly thirsty. The small bottle of water she’d brought along was soon quite empty. She guessed Noor wouldn’t know she was missing yet but Ndlela must be frantic with worry. He would be searching for her, probably with Crosshatch’s help.

  How long would it take before he came anywhere near this place? And she had no idea what Fenris would do if Ndlela suddenly popped out of the bushes. Maybe she should find a way to warn her brother?

  But how?

  Isabeau considered simply shouting, but the look in Fenris’s amber eyes made her unwilling to test his patience. Finally, late in the afternoon, the big dog settled his chin on his paws and closed his eyes. Isabeau waited till he was stretched out and snoring before she tried to crawl her way across the clearing to the gate.

  She didn’t even make it halfway. Fenris, suddenly and startlingly awake, leapt and snarled in her face, sending her scuttling all the way back to the doorstep again. Then, with a contemptuous look, he lay back down and put his chin on his paws again.

  It was several minutes before Isabeau’s heart calmed and her hands stopped shaking. For a long time she just sat, curled up on the doorstep, gingerly rubbing her newly throbbing ankle, burning with humiliation at her helplessness.

  For the hundredth time she tried to calculate how much time had passed and how much longer it might be before anyone found her.

  Maybe Ndlela’s just so pissed off at me for going by myself that he’s not even bothering to look for me. Maybe he’ll only start looking when it gets dark.

  Her heart sank at the thought. None of the heroes in the books she’d read would allow themselves to be caught in this ridiculous way. They’d make a fiery weapon by magnifying the rays of the sun with a broken bottle, or trick their guardians with an herbal sleeping draught. They certainly didn’t sit around and feel sorry for themselves hour after hour, with no more wound than a twisted ankle. If she’d had paper and a pen she could write a note and tie it to Robby’s collar. But apart from the fact that she had nothing to write with, Robby would never leave her, no matter what orders she gave him.

  For a while she amused herself by choosing a name for the other dog, the one she guessed was Fenris’s brother. She finally settled on Anubis, a choice she explained, at length, to Fenris.

  By the time the sun was sinking towards the horizon, Isabeau was hungry, thirsty, sore, and ready to cry in sheer frustration. She didn’t hear Xun and Anubis until they were right in the clearing with her. The sight of Xun’s perpetually snarling mask startled her into gasping. She’d forgotten just how alarming the gardag looked.

  Robby went to greet the new arrivals, sniffing noses with no trace of fear. Anubis had something large and feathery in his mouth and Xun held a plastic-wrapped package. She paced over to Isabeau and dropped the package in her lap. Then she sniffed at Isabeau’s face, hands, and last of all, her ankle.

  “It’s still pretty sore,” said Isabeau. She looked at the package. “Oh, I know where you got this!”

  The package was wrapped in paper printed all over in foreign writing. Isabeau had seen many like it. It was one of the dike team’s food packages.

  She tore it open and smiled in satisfaction at its contents. Ham, cheese, dry biscuits and bottled water. She wondered if she’d have to share her food with her captors but it seemed they’d brought their own. Anubis had been carrying at least two big chickens and he and Fenris were making quick work of them.

  “I hope those aren’t Crosshatch’s chickens,” said Isabeau, but they ignored her.

  Robby sat a little distance away, forlornly watching the dogs eat, saliva dripping from his chin.

  “Hey, boy.” Isabeau held up a piece of biscuit and Robby’s ears came up hopefully. “You hungry?”

  Eating was a comfort and not just because the food filled her stomach. It felt good to have Robby wolfing scraps out of her hands, just as he always did, and hunting around on the ground for any crumbs she might have dropped.

  Noor must be home by now. She’ll be going crazy when she hears I’ve been gone all day.

  The Gardags

  After a bit more arguing, Noor agreed it made more sense for Ndlela to help Elke search than for him to stay behind at the hotel in case Isabeau showed up. She also agreed, reluctantly, to split into the teams Elke had suggested. Noor and Crosshatch were to search along the sea. Elke and Ndlela would work more inland.

  They set off. By now the sun was below the horizon but the sky was still light enough to see by. For a while Elke and Ndlela could hear Noor calling Isabeau’s name, but soon her voice was swallowed by the sound of the ocean. As they worked their way farther up the slope Meisje appeared, her dyed-dark form nearly invisible in the quickly fading light.

  After a series of rapid questions and responses Elke learned that Meisje had not found any trace of Isabeau or Robby anywhere near the river mouth.

  Elke asked Meisje to range ahead of them, checking back every now and then to report what she’d found.

  They set off with Ndlela showing the way. It was difficult going. Their progress was slow because they had to check every place where Isabeau might be hidden. Elke did not like the thought of the muddy wetland on the far side of the river mouth. Hopefully the fact that Meisje had found no scent there meant that Isabeau hadn’t ended up stuck in the mud, or drowned among the reed beds.

  “Watch out,” said Ndlela as they crossed a tennis court overgrown with thorny creepers. “There’s a lot of broken glass here.”

  “Are there any special places she might have gone?” said Elke. “Somewhere I can send Meisje?”

  “I’ve already looked in all the obvious places,” said Ndlela. “Everywhere except down by the circus.”

  “You think she’d go there?”

  “Her tracks were going right there.” Ndlela sounded troubled. “The ones your dog found, before the stepping stones.”

  “But Noor said she checked the place out.” Elke edged past a roll of barbed wire that blocked their path. “Is it the kind of place you could keep a little girl hidden?”

  “The circus? I don’t know, but it wasn’t like Noor knew to look for her. She didn’t even know Isabeau was gone when she was down there.”

  “That’s true.”

  Once again Ndlela paused and called out to Isabeau. They listened for an answer but the only sounds were the distant waves and the sleepy mewling of a single seagull overhead.

  “I don’t know.” Ndlela looked back in the direction they’d come. “I feel like we should have started with those circus people.”

  “Why would she go there?” said Elke.

  Ndlela didn’t answer. He ducked through a gap in an unravelling fence and disappeared from view.

  “What’s this?” Elke bent to look. Ndlela was edging down a ladder that led into a sandy hole.

  “It’s one of our routes.” Ndlela pulled a torch out of his pocket and clicked it on. “If Issy was trying to stay out of sight, she’d have gone along here.”

  Elke looked doubtfully at the sagging timbers that held up the sides of the hole, wondering if she should call Meisje. If Isabeau had gone down here, she’d have left a scent trail. She climbed down the ladder, relying on the light from Ndlela’s torch to see her way.

  “There are all these houses here, under the dunes.” Ndlela shone his torch at a warped door half buried in sand. “You can go from house to house and always stay out of sight.”

  “They’re not full of sand?” Elke peered through the doorway to the sand-swamped passage beyond.

  “Some are,” said Ndlela. “A lot of them have been dug out, and some of them just aren’t that badly buried.” He played the torchlight on the passage floor
. “If Crosshatch was here, he could tell if any of those tracks are new. Can you?”

  Elke looked at the churned-up sand. Then she noticed something else. Thin, silvery strands were stretched all the way across the doorway.

  “Look at that,” she said, pointing. “I don’t think your sister went this way. At least not recently. She’d have broken through those webs.”

  “That’s true.” Ndlela reached out to touch a strand of the web. “Nobody’s been through here recently.”

  “But these aren’t...” Elke stepped closer to the door. The strands were thicker than any spider webs she’d ever seen. She pulled out her own torch and shone it, first at the web, then at the door frame. “This isn’t spider web.”

  “No,” agreed Ndlela. “They’re pippets. More like caterpillars than spiders, really. Look. There’s one over there.” He pointed his torch. “But we need to get going.”

  “Yes.” Elke played the beam of her torch on the intersection of the strands. A creature was curled up there, a translucent thing like an elongated shrimp. It glowed white and seemed to absorb the torchlight, glowing for a few seconds after she moved the light away. Elke frowned and shone her torch up along the door frame, noting the dark growths that hung there. Those aren’t plants. Fungi of some kind? In this dry place?

  “I think we need to keep going,” said Ndlela, his impatience clear in his voice. “If Issy didn’t come down here— Hey. Is that a coll? In your torch?”

  “Yep.” Elke tilted the torch so he could see, flipping the lid over the glowing coll-stone to close it, and then opening it again.

  “Wow.” Ndlela touched the coll tentatively with one fingertip. “It’s not even warm. That’s— Wow.” He looked up at Elke. “So you really are from the Babylon Eye.”

  “That’s right.” Elke slipped the colltorch into her pocket and they made their way back up the ladder again.

  “Are there lots of places like that?” Elke asked a bit later as they stopped for breath on top of a particularly steep dune. “Underground houses?”

  “Yes.” Ndlela scanned the night-time landscape.