Emily Rodda - The Third Door

And at that moment, with a great flurry of hooves, Farr himself rode in, with his windblown councillors and guards trailing behind. A few men and women hurried to greet him.

‘Where are they?’ Farr thundered, leaping from his horse and drawing his sword.

‘Who, sir?’ one of the men asked in confusion.

‘Copperheads!’ Farr shouted. ‘Four of them! Swimming upriver like a shoal of serpents! We saw them from the road. They passed us! They are here—they must be here! Look alert!’

Copperheads. As the soldiers on the riverbank scattered, Rye turned to Sonia. She stared back at him, her eyes wide and dark, her drying hair tumbling about her shoulders, a mass of coppery red. The river had washed away the brown dye.

Rye knew the same thing must have happened to him. He raised his hand to his head. The last of the bandage was gone too, stripped away by the current. At last he understood why Petronelle had insisted he keep the bandage on. Bathing his wound while he was unconscious, she had washed away some of the dye—seen the real colour of his hair. She had kept her discovery to herself to protect him.

‘They fear red hair,’ Sonia murmured, picking up his thoughts. ‘It reminds them of the Fellan, no doubt. Yet in Fleet red hair was not frowned upon. Faene told me she envied my hair—except that it was dangerous, because Olt prized copperheads so highly. How could two places on the same island be so different?’

‘If the people who came here were fleeing from Olt and his sorcery it is not so strange,’ Dirk said. ‘No doubt they had learned to fear all magic. And Olt and his brothers were said to be half-Fellan.’

‘Half-Fellan?’ Sholto asked sharply. ‘Did they have red hair?’

‘I cannot tell you.’ Dirk grimaced. ‘Olt was so ancient when we saw him that he had no hair whatever. Why?’

‘It does not matter,’ Sholto muttered. But Rye could see in his face that it did matter. And suddenly he knew the reason.

‘It is the book!’ he exclaimed. ‘ The Three Brothers! You read it, Sholto, and—’

‘I read some of it,’ Sholto said uneasily. ‘It tells the story of three sorcerer brothers, half-Fellan, with red hair … but what of it? It could be simply coincidence.’

The riverbank was thick with people hunting for intruders. Farr and his councillors were standing beside the end of the barge, scanning the river. A whole troop of soldiers had drawn their weapons and run to surround the giant mound of tubing as if to guard it from attack.

‘Do not move,’ Sholto warned softly. ‘They will see the ripples.’

‘But we must move!’ Sonia hissed. ‘We must get to the Fellan before—’

‘Then it is simple,’ Dirk cut in. ‘I am not fit to fly so I will stay here. You three use the feather to get yourselves out of the water and into the Fell Zone.’

‘Farr and his people will see where we have come from,’ Rye protested. ‘They will find you, Dirk!’

‘Dirk will not be alone,’ Sholto said calmly. ‘I will stay too. I doubt I would be of much help in the forest, but here I might be useful.’

Racked with doubts, Rye clutched the edge of the barge, staring across the rough deck at the seething riverbank.

Dimly he saw that two plainly dressed women were edging out of the crowd and making their way to Farr. One of the women was sturdy, with fluffy white hair. The other was taller, younger. A drab shawl hid her hair and partly concealed her face, but to Rye her straight back and springy walk were unmistakable.

‘Janna!’ Farr’s face was a mask of shock. He took his wife in his arms and scowled over her head at her companion. ‘What do you mean by bringing her here, Petronelle!’

Janna pushed herself away from him. ‘Do not blame Petronelle! I told her I would make the journey with her or without her. I had to come, Farr! I am quite recovered, Zak is safe with your parents, and—’

‘How could you do this, Janna?’ Farr barked, but as his wife’s eyes widened with startled hurt, he sighed and reached for her hand.

‘I’m sorry, dear heart. But you shouldn’t have come. It’s dangerous—oh, in so many ways! Didn’t you hear what I said? There are copperheads here—hidden somewhere near. They may try to abduct you, use you as a tool against me.’

He glanced at the sky. ‘It’s too late to send you away now. I’ll call some men to escort you and Petronelle to a shielded hut. Lock yourselves in. I’ll join you when I can.’

‘Listen to your husband, Lady Janna,’ Councillor Manx said coldly, as Janna drew breath to speak. ‘By now the enemy is aware that an attack is underway. They do not know what form the attack will take, but they fear it, and will do anything they can to stop it.’

He paused, then went on deliberately. ‘For example, you will not have heard, I know, but today the man Jett tried to kill the chieftain—and Sigrid, Barron and me with him.’

He watched with satisfaction as Janna gasped in horror.

Farr shrugged. ‘It’s all right, Janna. There was no harm done—except to my pride. It seems I was as wrong about Jett as I was about Keelin.’

‘I do not believe Keelin was an enemy,’ Janna murmured. ‘Neither does Petronelle.’

‘Indeed?’ Manx sneered.

Janna ignored him. She looked only at her husband. ‘I will do as you ask, Farr, but not before I have said what I came here to say. Please, I beg you, do not go ahead with this attack. It is wrong—I feel it in my bones.’

Farr gritted his teeth. ‘It’s too late, Janna,’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve struggled with this decision, but now it’s made I won’t turn from it.’

Watching intently, Rye caught his breath. If this was acting, Farr was the best actor he had ever seen. The man’s face was anguished.

‘The council, too, is agreed.’ Councillor Sigrid stepped forward with a crisp swish of skirts.

‘The council has always wanted this,’ Janna snapped back. ‘But the final decision is Farr’s. He is the elected chieftain.’

Sigrid lifted her chin. Angry scarlet stained her high, sharp cheekbones. ‘The council, too, was elected by the people, Lady Janna. You were not!’

‘Now then, Sigrid!’ Barron chattered nervously, glancing at Farr’s rigid face. ‘Surely Janna has a right to try to influence her husband as she sees fit?’

Sigrid turned on her heel and stalked away. With an icy glare, Councillor Manx followed her.

‘Sorry, Farr,’ Barron mumbled. ‘I seem to have put my foot in it again. But I don’t like it when they say your wife and the old nurse lead you by the nose.’

Farr pressed his lips together, clearly biting back an irritated retort.

‘Never mind,’ he said curtly. ‘Manx and Sigrid will soon discover that I make my own decisions. Just as our enemies will learn that I can’t be frightened into sparing them. On the contrary, their attacks on me and those I love have made me even more determined to do what must be done.’

‘He is not pretending,’ Rye said slowly. ‘Jett was wrong about that, at least. Farr truly believes that Weld is his enemy. We must tell him it is not true. We must tell him—’

Dirk shook his head. ‘He will not listen to us, Rye.’

Rye set his lips. ‘I will make him listen! Sholto, give me the book.’

‘The—’ Sholto gaped at him. ‘Rye, the book will be nothing but pulp by now!’

‘Give it to me anyway,’ Rye said, and taking the sodden mass Sholto passed to him, he pushed it inside his shirt.

‘What are you planning, little brother?’ Dirk growled suspiciously.

‘In a minute, every eye will be on Farr,’ Rye said, pushing the loosened serpent scale into the bag of charms and digging the draggled red feather from his pocket. ‘That will be your chance to get out of the river and lose yourselves in the crowd. Many of the workers are almost as wet as you are. You will not be noticed. If things go wrong, get to Janna and tell her who you are. She will help you.’