Emily Rodda - The Third Door

‘Farr!’ the crowd chanted. ‘Farr! Farr! Farr!’

The big man grinned, then put the little boy down and stepped forward to shake hands with the officials on the jetty. His boots shone and his white shirt was spotless, but these were the only things that set him apart from the people who greeted him so eagerly. His thick hair was already springing back into an untidy bush, despite the water that had been used to smooth it down. His hands were brown and rough, with strong, blunt fingers. He looked a little like Hass, the fisherman who had helped Rye in Oltan. Perhaps that was why Rye liked and trusted him on sight.

Farr introduced his companions to the crowd simply and without ceremony.

The hollow-eyed man, it seemed, was called Manx, and was a member of what Farr called his advisory council. The woman with the braids, Sigrid of Gold Marsh, was also a council member, and so was the stout man, whose name was Barron.

The crowd clapped politely when the first two were named, and with more energy as Barron made his clumsy bow. But when Farr presented his wife, Janna, his son, Zak, and the sweet-faced old woman who was Zak’s nurse, Petronelle, there was a roar of cheers.

‘They care more for their chieftain’s family than for the council members, it seems,’ Sholto muttered.

‘They are moved because Farr has brought his wife and son with him,’ said Dirk. ‘Living hard by the Fell Zone, these people must face danger every day. Farr is showing them that he and his family are willing to share that danger, and they love him for it.’

Sholto raised an eyebrow. Rye was smiling to himself, thinking that for all Sholto’s cleverness, he would never understand people as Dirk did, when he felt a cold shadow slide into his mind.

Hatred. Malice. Danger …

A terrible feeling of foreboding, even worse than the dread he had felt in the Fell Zone, gripped Rye’s heart. He sensed nothing from Sonia, but when he turned to her he realised why. She was curled up in the shadow of a canoe, fast asleep.

In confusion he turned back to face the jetty. Farr was speaking again.

‘I can see by your banner, friends, that you’ve remembered what I told you at the beginning of your great task, far from here and three long years ago,’ Farr said, looking out at the sea of eager faces. ‘I’m glad of it. The future’s in your hands now, as your work nears its end, just as truly as it was then. By your sweat, blood and courage thousands of people who might never know your names will live and prosper. On their behalf, I offer you my deepest thanks.’

He waited for the wild applause to die down before going on.

‘When I stood for election as your chieftain, I said that I respected our traditions and would resist change for change’s sake. I promised to be cautious. But I also swore that if the slay attacks and other acts of violence didn’t stop, I’d take action.’

Thunderous cheers. Rye, Dirk and Sholto looked at one another in shock.

‘Slay attacks!’ hissed Dirk. ‘By the Wall—’

Farr held up his hands to silence the cheers.

‘In less than a week, I’m told, the pipeline you’ve built will reach Fell End,’ he said. ‘As you know, it’s a key part of our plan—’

‘But how, Farr?’ someone shouted from the back of the crowd. ‘Won’t you tell us even now?’

The officials on the jetty looked embarrassed by the interruption. Farr only grinned. ‘I know how curious you must be, friend,’ he called. ‘But the secret has to be kept for now. The enemy mustn’t suspect our plan until everything’s in place and we can bargain from a position of real strength.’

‘Why bargain?’ a woman cried shrilly. ‘Fight, I say! Avenge our dead!’

Many in the crowd shouted agreement.

Farr’s grin faded and he shook his head. ‘Revenge won’t bring back the people we’ve lost,’ he said soberly. ‘It won’t repair homes, or build up our herds and crops again. If we can stop the attacks by threats alone, I’ll be more than satisfied.’

There were few cheers this time. Clearly most in the crowd were disappointed. Behind Farr’s back, the councillors Manx and Sigrid exchanged dubious glances. Barron, his plump, red face puckered in concern, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his sweating brow.

Farr squared his shoulders. ‘Peace is what I hope for, yes! I’ve never made any secret of that. But all who hear me now can be sure of one thing.’

He had raised his voice slightly. His keen eyes searched the crowd.

He believes there are enemy spies here, Rye thought suddenly. He is speaking to them as much as to these workers.

‘A wish for peace doesn’t mean weakness,’ Farr went on, his face very stern. ‘If we have to attack to save ourselves, then attack we will. And our move will be swift, final, and delivered without mercy.’

The crowd was his again. He stood for a moment, unsmiling, as the storm of cheers, stamps and whistles broke over him. Then he offered his arm to his wife and together they moved off the jetty with their son and the nurse, the three councillors and the flustered welcoming party following.

‘So, Rye,’ Dirk said tensely, ‘your instinct was right. The wooden Door has led us to an ally we did not know existed! Ten to one the pipeline is to supply water to troops in the Scour.’

‘That is all very fine,’ Sholto muttered, as the crowd engulfed Farr and the band struck up again, ‘but Farr is dreaming if he thinks his threats will stop the Master. He plainly has no idea what he is dealing with!’

‘None,’ Dirk agreed grimly. ‘We must get to him and warn him—tell him what we know.’

‘You two go,’ said Rye. ‘I will stay with Sonia.’

‘That is pointless, Rye,’ Dirk said impatiently. ‘Sonia is safe here, and she will not stir in the little time we will be away. When that girl decides she is tired, nothing can wake her! Remember how she was on the roof of the Harbour? Dead to the world, amid all that excitement! She is a mystery to me!’

‘She is … remarkable,’ Sholto murmured.

Rye glanced at him sharply. Sholto was looking down at Sonia with a gentle, puzzled expression Rye had never seen on his face before.

So, Rye thought in confusion. Sholto … Sonia …

For some reason, he felt a pain in his heart.

‘Throw back the hood, Rye,’ Dirk ordered. ‘We do not need it here, and in fact it will hinder us. We need to be able to mingle with the crowd, talk to people while we wait our chance to get Farr alone.’

Rye looked around. The riverbank was deserted. There was no one to see them appear. Slowly he pushed back the hood and followed his brothers to the little jetty.

‘I still cannot think how Nanion of Fleet, for example, had not heard of Farr and his settlement,’ Dirk said as they moved into the bustling main street of the town.

‘Perhaps more people escaped from Olt’s domain than Olt or anyone else knew,’ Rye suggested. ‘They could have slipped away in secret, a few at a time, many years ago.’

As he spoke, they reached the town square, which was as big as a small field and seething with people. Farr and his wife were standing together in a small island of space in the centre, admiring a pair of beautiful, honey-coloured horses being displayed by a small man who reminded Rye strongly of FitzFee. Nearer to the brothers, the long tables were being stocked with fresh platters of food, and the benches were filling.

Another banner flapped above the tables.

‘What luck!’ Dirk exclaimed. ‘I am ravenous! We can eat and pick up some gossip at the same time.’