Emily Rodda - The Third Door

Those barges were long gone. The barge on which Rye and Sonia were hiding had no shields, and would not leave until the danger of running into a slay attack in the inland had passed.

The delay would not have seemed so bad if Rye had been able to learn anything more of Farr’s plans while he waited. But plainly none of the barge workers knew any more than he did.

None of them seemed to know anything about the pipeline, either, or at least no one mentioned it. It was clearly visible on the other side of the river, a great silver tube mounted on stone pylons that held it clear of the ground. Perhaps the dock workers had grown so used to it that they barely saw it any more.

The place where the pipe seemed to end—a humped shape rearing up on the shore—had been clearly visible too, despite the darkness, when Rye and Sonia boarded the barge. No doubt it was a huge tank, Rye thought. He wondered fretfully why Farr had not had it built further back, where it would not spoil the beauty of the shoreline. In Weld, such ugliness would never be allowed.

Then he smiled weakly at his own foolishness.

You are not in Weld now, Rye …

No, he thought. The Warden of Weld had actually forbidden the building of Tallus’s light columns on the grounds that the columns would clutter the city’s tidy streets! It was hard to imagine anyone here, even Councillor Manx, valuing tidiness above a test that might save countless lives. Farr certainly would not. Farr would stop at nothing to protect his people.

Slow footsteps sounded on the deck. The mouth organ stopped.

‘I’m thinking it’ll be safe to cast off now, Jacko,’ a rough voice said. ‘It’s half after midnight, and the danger area’ll be well clear before we get there. With this load on we won’t make any speed at all.’

‘You’re right there, Skip,’ another voice grumbled. ‘We’re terrible low in the water.’

Rye pressed the light crystal to the barrel in front of him. Through the misty window that appeared around his hand, he saw that the speakers were standing very close by. One was a wiry old man in a striped jersey, a mouth organ in his hand. The other was heavily built, with a closely shaven head and several gold earrings.

‘Have you looked in any of these here barrels, Skip?’ the old man asked. ‘Nothing in them but junk, that I can see. It’s beyond me why Farr wants them taken upriver.’

‘That’s up to him,’ his companion replied. ‘He knows what he’s doing, don’t you worry, and we’ll find out what’s in his head soon enough. He’s making his move the day after tomorrow, they say. Stand by, then, Jacko.’

‘Aye aye, Skip.’

The day after tomorrow, Rye thought in relief, settling back as the footsteps paced away. I can still get to him in time.

Slowly his tension drained away. The bell tree stick and the bundle containing the gold casket and the book were safe in his belt. The little bag of charms hung around his neck, beneath his shirt. Above him, the velvet sky was scattered with bright stars.

There was a hiss of steam and a soft chugging sound began. The barge began to move. And almost before it had left the dock, Rye was asleep.

He slept deeply, for once untroubled by dreams. And so it was that when at last he woke with a start, the loud hooting of the barge ringing in his ears, he opened his eyes on bright day.

He sat up, confused and blinking. He peered through a narrow gap between two barrels, over the side of the barge.

The riverbank was slipping by. There was the pipeline, snaking along beside the road. There were fields of brilliant yellow, and green fields where plump, placid beasts grazed. There were houses, halls, shops and paved streets all surrounding a tower that seemed to reach to the clouds. There were people, waving. And there was a broad, weathered dock, and a proud sign facing the river:

The barge had slowed to a crawl, but to Rye’s surprise and dismay it showed no sign of stopping. In moments it had laboured past the sign and the people who had been waving on the bank had begun turning away.

Frantically feeling in the brown bag for the red feather, Rye glanced round at Sonia. Plainly she, too, had only just woken. Despite her long sleep, she still looked very tired.

‘Sonia, we must get to shore—now!’ Rye whispered, gripping her arm and scrambling to his feet, pulling her with him. He made sure the hood was in place, held up the feather and thought of flying.

He knew at once that it was no good. His feet lifted only a little way from the deck before plumping down again. He gritted his teeth and tried again, but this time there was no result at all.

‘What is wrong?’ he hissed. ‘Why does it not work? I am rested!’

‘Perhaps … the metal in the barge,’ Sonia murmured.

‘Then we will have to jump.’

Sonia’s eyes widened. She watched silently as Rye stuffed the red feather back into the bag and pulled out the sea serpent scale.

‘If the metal on the barge is the problem, this will work once we are in the water,’ Rye told her. ‘We are not far from the bank.’

Sonia hesitated only a moment before giving a brief nod. Together they squeezed out of their hiding place and slipped along the loaded deck to a place where the side railing was clear.

Halfway over the railing, Rye’s stomach lurched. He had forgotten about the book! Water would destroy it! Frantically he began tearing at the knots that fastened the red bundle to his belt.

‘Ho!’ a startled voice yelled behind him. ‘Skip, look! Gordy, get over here! We’ve got a couple of stowaways! There, by the rail!’

‘They can see us!’ Sonia panted. ‘Oh, Rye—’

Feet began to pound towards them. There was a clang and a curse as someone stumbled, but a second pair of feet ran on.

The old man called Jacko appeared from behind a stack of barrels and made for them, his hands reaching out to grab them.

The bundle came free at last. Holding it high above his head, Rye tightened his grip on Sonia.

‘Now!’ he roared. And together they jumped with a second to spare, leaving Jacko leaning over the railing, bawling curses as he snatched at empty air.

14 - Riverside

The river was running swiftly and its chill made Rye and Sonia gasp, but they quickly discovered that they had no need of the serpent scale. They were so close to the bank that the water was only chest deep. They could wade to safety.

And wade they did, clinging together while the tide tugged at them and pebbles slipped beneath their feet, till they reached the mossy stone bank. And then they crawled out and looked behind them.

The barge was chugging on, gradually picking up speed. Clearly the captain had no intention of stopping just to chase two ragged stowaways. Jacko was still standing at the railing, looking back in puzzlement, his hand shading his eyes.

‘He cannot see us,’ Sonia cried gleefully. ‘The hood must be working again!’

Her face had brightened. The dip in the river seemed to have done her good. Rye felt far better himself, he realised. It was a relief to know that the powers had not deserted him. He simply had not realised that there was enough metal in the barge to make them useless.

He and Sonia were standing on a well-paved road not far past the township. From the barge, Riverside had looked of modest size, but from this angle Rye could see that in fact it was very large. Bordered by chequered fields of yellow and green, it stretched back from the road in a long, narrow band as far as the eye could see. Rye could only imagine that the farmland on either side of the band was particularly rich, too valuable to be used for building.