Emily Rodda - The Silver Door

Rye turned his eyes to the front again, forcing himself not to look at the smooth white bones of the sled—the bones that were too big for a goat, and too small for a horse, but were just right for a human being.

11 - The Mounds

Forget the sled, Rye told himself firmly. Forget what Bones collects in the Saltings. The important thing is that he visits the place often—maybe every day! He still might have seen Sholto. Concentrate on that—think only of that. And ask Bones about it, while you have the chance.

‘Bones, about the pyramids—the castles of stones—in the Saltings,’ he managed to say. ‘Did you see the man who made them? Did you speak to him?’

Bones nodded then shook his head. Sweat had already begun dripping down his hollow cheeks, making long, clean lines in the film of dust.

‘Bones sees sure enough, but that day Bones has better business than talking to wanderers doomed to die. That day, Bones be squirming in the Saltings like a twisty snake, to find where bloodhog corpus lies so to take the skin afore night come. Bones sees wanderer piling stone on stone and he thinks, by tomorrow’s dawning he’ll be a skelington, that fellow, ripe for picking. An’ maybe ol’ bloodhog too! But ol’ bloodhog, he took longer.’

Rye’s breath caught in his throat, and his stomach twisted into a hard, painful knot. He could feel Dirk’s eyes burning into him, but refused to look round.

Was it possible? Was it possible that, after all, Sholto had left the Saltings only three days ago? Perhaps. Perhaps he had set up camp in a place of safety—some part of the wasteland Rye, Dirk and Sonia had not seen.

‘You were wrong though, Bones,’ Rye said, fighting to keep his voice even. ‘That man did not die in the Saltings, did he? He reached the end, as we did. He made that pile of stones back there, where we met you.’

‘So he do!’ Bones nodded enthusiastically, pop-eyed with remembered surprise. ‘Well, there’s another wonder, Bones says to hisself, when he sees that castle rearing up by the Master’s sign next dawning. Ho, wonders be coming thick an’ fast these days, Bones says to hisself. Omens they be, for certain sure, of a even greater wonder to come. An’ so Bones tells them all, at the Den, an’ now they’ll find out ol’ Bones spoke true. ‘Cos here you be, lords an’ lady! Here you be, good as gold!’

‘Is that why you waited to talk to us?’ gasped Rye, his chest aching with the effort of talking and running at the same time. ‘Because you thought—’

‘That’s it!’ The old man glanced from side to side, greedily drinking in the sight of his companions. ‘Bones sees you and straight away Bones knows magic abides with you. Bones smells it!’

He ducked his head at Sonia and showed his gums. Her face froze.

‘Like flowers, it is,’ the old man whispered. ‘Like new grass growing. Like clear water bubbling. Like the air at dawning afore …’

For a moment his watery eyes stared blankly, as if they were seeing something other than the pebbled track, the bleak horizon. Then he blinked, and his face brightened as he looked quickly from side to side again.

‘You be a wonder, you three,’ he said, nodding as he raced along, the sled rattling and roaring behind him. ‘Hand in hand through the Saltings you comes. An’ Bones says to hisself, there’ll be nothing for you out of this, ol’ fellow! The hungry shells won’t get those three an’ turn them to skelingtons in the dark, no fear! They’ll come to the end on their own legs, like the wizards of old. And so you do, lords an’ lady, so you do!’

Abruptly he swerved off the track to the left and began dragging the clattering sled over rougher ground where a few tufts of grass struggled for life.

Ahead, a cluster of low dirt mounds rose against the dull red sky.

‘Ho!’ Bones bawled at the top of his voice. ‘Come see! Bones has got magic ones here! Magic lords an’ lady to save us all! Come see, me hearties! Come see!’

Puffs of dust began to erupt from the blunt tips of the mounds. The puffs became clouds, and powdery earth began to trickle downwards. In moments every mound had sprouted a tousled head, and dozens of startled eyes were peering at the newcomers.

‘Come see!’ Bones cried, beckoning madly.

People began crawling out of the mounds. The sight was eerie and very disturbing. It was like watching the dead rising from their graves.

The mound people wore a bizarre assortment of rags in many different styles, and under the dust it was clear that their hair and skin were of many different shades. But all of them looked past middle age, all were as wretchedly thin as Bones, and, most startling of all, their hands and wrists were stained bright red, as if they had been dipped in blood.

Cursing under his breath, Dirk stepped quickly over the sled shafts to join Rye and Sonia.

‘What has happened to their hands?’ Sonia whispered, staring at the walking skeletons.

‘Jell-stained, by the look of it,’ Dirk said. He glanced at her, saw that she had no idea what he was talking about, and shook his head.

‘I daresay you have never dug in the earth in your life, Sonia,’ he said, with a trace of scorn. ‘If you had, you would know that every now and then you break into a seam of jell. Jell is bright red, soft as butter, and stains whatever it touches. It is a great nuisance in the Wall trench. Even a trace of it spoils a brick—stops the mud from drying. It has to be cleared away very carefully, using thick gloves to protect the skin.’

‘Indeed,’ Sonia replied with icy politeness. ‘Well, thank you for the lecture—though perhaps you could have saved the boring details for another time, when we are not about to be overwhelmed by—’

‘Hush,’ Rye hissed. ‘Be still, and for Weld’s sake look confident! Bones has told these people we are wizards, so wizards we must be.’

And if they want magic, we will show them some, he thought. He touched the armour shell to make sure it was still fixed securely on his little finger. He took Sonia’s arm, and, understanding, she took Dirk’s.

The moving people were closer now. Rye could see their starved faces, their hollow, staring eyes.

At the head of a crowd was a haggard woman. Her long, grey-streaked black hair had fallen out in patches and what was left hung in greasy tails around her face. A knife of sharpened bone hung from a cord at her waist. As she walked, she muttered to the two gaunt men on either side of her, barely moving her lips. The men nodded slightly. Rye saw that they, too, carried knives in their belts.

‘I do not like the look of that trio,’ Dirk growled.

‘Whatever happens, do not move,’ Rye muttered back. ‘Trust the shell. We must convince them—’

‘What is this, Bones?’ demanded a limping man who was leaning on a stick, and whose beaky nose and sunken eyes were almost completely hidden by his matted hair and beard. ‘You know better than to bring strangers here.’

‘Come see, Cap!’ shouted Bones. Springing into the crowd, he seized the speaker’s arm and bustled him forward. As the man came fully into view, Rye saw with a shock that he limped because his right leg had been replaced below the knee with a peg of bone.

‘Out of the Saltings they come, Cap, good as gold!’ chattered Bones, gesturing grandly at Rye, Dirk and Sonia as if he was presenting royalty. ‘They be too much for the Master, these three!’

The crowd murmured, eyeing the visitors suspiciously. The haggard woman spat contemptuously in the dust.

‘Watch your tongue, Bones!’ the one-legged man warned.

Bones laughed uproariously. ‘Bones says what he likes now, Cap!’ he carolled. ‘Us be all safe now, me hearty! Magic ones be with us now!’