Emily Rodda - The Silver Door

Dirk grinned up at Rye, his eyes sparkling. ‘By the Wall, just think what this will mean to Cap’s people, Rye! If they tend these birds well, in time they will have a whole flock! They will have fresh eggs every day, as we did at home.’

Rye gazed down at the family of ducks sleeping with their heads under their wings. How long ago it seemed since he, Dirk, Sholto and their mother had sat around the table in the little house in Southwall, talking in low voices and eating the cold food that was all they could risk at night in skimmer season.

He remembered Sholto peeling the shell from a hardboiled duck egg and saying the words that had haunted him ever since.

For skimmers, Weld may be nothing but a giant feeding bowl in which tender prey are conveniently trapped .

Life is very hard for the poor souls of the Den, Rye thought. But the night skies at least are safe. If there are skimmers in this place, they go to Weld to feed.

And that is why you are here. Remember why you are here!

Rye stiffened. It was as if Sholto had whispered in his ear.

‘If we do as you say, we can forget travelling to the Master’s headquarters quickly and in secrecy,’ he said in a level voice. ‘Four-Eyes will know someone has been in his wagon. He will search it from end to end. Nothing is more certain.’

Dirk hesitated, the excitement slowly fading from his face.

‘But Rye, do you not want to help Bones and his people?’ Sonia demanded passionately.

‘Yes,’ Rye said. ‘But we are here to find the source of the skimmers. We should not lose sight of that goal. We should not—’

‘Not allow ourselves to be drawn into struggles that do not concern us,’ Dirk finished flatly. ‘As I did, beyond the golden Door.’

‘Dirk, I did not say that!’ Rye felt his face grow hot.

Dirk regarded him quizzically. ‘Perhaps not, little brother, but it is true. And I was about to do the same thing again. Of course you are right. Cap and his tribe will have to do without our help for now.’

Sonia was frowning and biting her lip. Rye wondered if she knew how hard it had been for him to say what he had—if she knew how it would have thrilled him to put the ducks into the hands of Bones and the other people of the Den.

Whether she did or not, she did not argue. Casting a last, regretful look at the cage, she seized a few of the empty sacks and began to drag them to the other back corner of the wagon, wrinkling her nose at the smells of onions, salted fish and goat that rose from the coarse fabric as it was moved.

‘Ho, Cap!’ Rye heard Bones shout. ‘Where be the magic ones? They be a match for cheating ol’ Four-Eyes, them three!’

‘They’ve gone, you buffoon!’ a high jeering voice shrieked. ‘As soon as they got rid of you they—’

‘Needle, hold your tongue!’ Cap thundered. But the damage was done.

‘Why, Cap!’ cried Four-Eyes with obvious relish. ‘I thought you said—’

‘Gone?’ roared Bones at the same moment. ‘Gone an’ left us?’ And he began to howl like a beast.

The piteous sound pierced Rye’s heart. He covered his ears, but he could not escape it.

The howling still had not stopped when Four-Eyes strode back to the wagon in triumph. Scourers trailed behind him, carrying the jell and the bloodhog skull he had traded for a sack of tarny roots, some salted goat meat, a bunch of traveller’s weed and a promise to keep silent about the Den’s vanished visitors.

It went on while Rye, Sonia and Dirk, huddled in hiding, heard the hiss of steam and felt the wagon floor shuddering beneath them as the monstrous vehicle began to move.

And it was still ringing in their ears as the wagon puffed away from the Den and turned onto the track to the Diggings, carrying them with it.

15 - On the Road

The trader roared with laughter. ‘So what do you say to all that?’ he boomed over the chugging roar of the wagon. ‘Suspicious strangers in the Den, and Cap willing to do anything to keep the story quiet! On the very day that old Bones drags home the finest bloodhog skull I’ve ever seen! What a piece of luck!’

Rye, Sonia and Dirk tensed in their dark corner. Who was the man talking to?

Rye felt for the crystal in the bag around his neck. Masking the crystal’s light carefully with his fingers, he pressed it against the pile of sacks rising in front of him.

A window appeared around the crystal and there was Four-Eyes sitting in his throne-like seat. He was quite alone. His shoulders were shaking. The eyes in the back of his head streamed with tears of laughter.

A shiver ran down Rye’s spine.

‘A smoked whine, my dear?’ the man chortled at last, mopping his face with a purple silk handkerchief, then reaching round to dab at the second pair of eyes as well. ‘Why not? We’re celebrating!’

He dug into a bag on his lap and dropped something spiky onto the floor by the padlocked metal box. There was an excited chittering sound, a twitching nose appeared from behind the box, and the scrap was snatched away. There was the sound of ravenous crunching.

‘He is talking to his clink!’ Rye whispered, and heard Sonia and Dirk, who by now were both looking over his shoulder, breathe out in relief.

‘I agree with you, Snaffle dear!’ Four-Eyes cried merrily. ‘Your master is a genius! We’ll be able to trade that skull for a fortune at the Diggings! Not to mention that we still have those ducks in the back. Should we offer them to the Diggings guards as well?’

The nose reappeared at the box’s corner, and the clink gave a squeak.

‘You’re quite right, of course!’ Four-Eyes nodded. ‘They’d only eat them—feathers and all, most likely—which would be a pity, in some ways. Still, Snaffle my dear, we must be practical. Who else would have the means to pay us so much?’

Rye felt Sonia stiffen and heard Dirk swear under his breath. He gritted his teeth, trying not to think of Bones, and Bones’ great hopes for the three ‘magic ones’ who had brought him nothing but grief.

The trader wriggled in his seat, arching his back as if to ease aching muscles. The clink chattered, and again Four-Eyes nodded as if he understood exactly what it was saying.

‘Just a slight cramp—nothing to worry about, my dear. But I’m tired, I admit. I sometimes wonder if I’m getting too old for this business. Still, the skull was worth it.’

He took his left hand from the wheel and tapped the metal box with satisfaction. ‘Not to mention that the Den scourings brought the jell in our crock right up to the brim! That will please them at the Diggings. Especially now, when I hear …’

He leaned slightly towards the clink and lowered his voice as if speaking to it in confidence. Rye had to strain to hear him. ‘Especially now, Snaffle, when I hear whisperings that something big is about to happen at the Harbour. Something rather important to the Master, I gather, and therefore not on any account to fail. But hush! Not a word!’

He began to raise a finger to his lips, but stopped midway, put his head on one side, and stroked his chin instead.

The clink snuffled.

‘That’s just what I was thinking,’ Four-Eyes murmured. ‘Mysterious strangers in the Scour … and so-called wizards appearing in the Saltings … It could be chance, but it could also be connected with the rumours about the Harbour. The Master has his enemies, we all know that. Which means, Snaffle …”

He hunched forward, tapping the wheel with his fingertips. The eyes in the back of his head rolled upwards till only the whites showed. The sight was so horrible that Rye had to bite his lips to stop himself from exclaiming in disgust.

‘Which means,’ Four-Eyes went on slowly, ‘that the Master’s people would pay very well to hear what I’ve sworn to keep secret.’