Emily Rodda - The Silver Door

Rye had managed to get the tip of one finger through the neck of the bag. He held his breath and pushed deeper, feeling for the armour shell.

And suddenly the front of his shirt lit up like a lantern! His finger had touched the light crystal, and the crystal had responded instantly. Even muffled by the fabric of the bag, its beam was startlingly bright in the dimness.

Rye jerked his hand back, but it was too late. Bird’s yell of shock was already ringing in his ears. Appalled, he heard Chub and Itch come running and heard Bean bellowing questions from the driver’s seat. He heard Bird gabbling orders, felt his arms caught and held. He felt Bird drag the little brown bag from under his shirt and with a snarl of disgust wrench it from his neck, snapping the red cord in two.

The next moment, the woman was pounding towards the front of the wagon and it was Itch who was dragging back his head and threatening him with the knife. Then Bird was back, planting herself in front of Rye so that he saw her for the first time.

She was shorter than Itch and Chub, with powerful shoulders and a mass of tightly curling brown hair. Her square, determined face was bleached and sweating, and she was rubbing the palms of her hands on her black goatskin jacket as if she had been touching something poisonous or disgusting.

‘There, the foul thing has gone,’ she panted.

‘No!’ Rye barely recognised his own voice as the word burst from his lips.

As Bird grinned, gleeful at his dismay, white-hot anger blazed through him. ‘You stupid, grinning barbarian!’ he shouted. ‘Do you know what you have done? You have thrown away your one chance of freedom from the Master!’

With fierce, pointless satisfaction he saw the woman’s face twitch, and the grin fade.

‘We were no threat to you!’ he raged on. ‘But you left my brother, drugged and helpless, in the Scour. And now you have robbed me of the only means I had to get back to him in time to save him!’

Hot tears were spilling from his eyes and running down his cheeks. Furiously he dashed them away.

Bird wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and exchanged glances with the silent Chub and Itch.

‘Finish clearing the wagon,’ she ordered.

‘But Bird—’ Rye heard Chub say doubtfully.

‘Go!’ Bird snapped. ‘I’ll be in no danger. Look at him! Now that his sorcerer’s bag of tricks has gone he’s nothing but a blubbering boy.’

Nothing she said could have dried Rye’s tears more quickly. At that moment he felt such hatred for her that he could have lunged forward and strangled her with his bare hands.

Perhaps she saw this in his eyes, for as Itch released him she quickly crouched by Sonia’s side, the knife in her hand.

‘Touch me and the witch dies,’ she said evenly.

Rye’s rage flickered and burned out, leaving him cold as ashes. He set his lips, and nodded.

‘Listen to me, Spy,’ Bird said, looking straight into his eyes. ‘It’s not our fault that you chose to stow away in Four-Eyes’ wagon tonight. We were already here when you came. Our plan was underway, and there was no turning back for us. We had no reason to trust you and couldn’t risk your interference. We did what we had to do.’

Rye kept silent. Did the woman think he was going to agree with her? Over the chugging of the wagon he could hear Chub and Itch disposing of the last of the trader’s stock. So much food, he thought. Enough to keep the people of the Den for a year or more.

‘You have lost a brother, but so have Bean and I,’ Bird went on evenly. ‘Two weeks ago, Bell was taken as a slave to the Diggings. Chub’s husband and Itch’s twin sisters were taken also, and sixteen others of our clan. Today we received their message telling us where in the Diggings they were. Tonight we are going to get them back.’

Rye felt a flicker of unwilling sympathy. He fought it down.

‘We were going to put all three of you out of the wagon, but when I saw you I realised we could use you,’ Bird said. ‘If you agree to help us, and our plan succeeds, you will be back with your brother before dawn.’

‘By then he will be dead,’ Rye answered, his lips barely moving. ‘A bloodhog will have taken him.’

‘Possibly,’ Bird agreed coolly. ‘But bloodhogs aren’t as common as they once were. It’s more likely that he will be lying exactly where we left him—thirsty and sore, but alive. We’ll give you food and water, then you can go your way and we’ll go ours.’

‘And if I don’t agree to help you?’

‘Then I’ll kill the witch before your eyes, and then kill you.’

Rye stared at her. She returned his gaze unflinchingly.

He found himself doubting that she would carry out her threat. He was almost sure she would not. But he knew he could not take the risk. Bird was desperate. It seemed to him that even she did not know what she would do if he refused her.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘What do you want me to do?’

17 - The Diggings

Rye saw the Diggings long before the wagon reached it. Light thick with smoke and dust filled the horizon to the right of the track, crawling upwards to meet the clouds, oozing through the wire mesh of a high fence like soup through a strainer to pool on the tortured earth of the Scour.

And there was sound. The Diggings never slept, it seemed. From where he sat, perched on the jell safe beside the silent Bean, Rye could at first hear only a dull, pulsing clamour. Then he began to pick out individual sounds—the clanging of metal on rock, the rumbling of wheels, the roaring of rough voices, the cracking of whips.

His mouth grew dry. He shifted awkwardly on the hard metal box, trying to calm himself. The long, dark coat Bird had made him put on was buttoned stiffly to his chin. His hair was covered by a close-fitting black cap that prickled his scalp. In his hand was a note written on thick grey paper and bearing the symbol he had first seen on the sign at the edge of the Saltings: the mark of the Master.

‘Bell and the others were not taken without a fight,’ Bird had said grimly, as she handed the paper to him. ‘It was a fight we had no chance of winning, but at least this came out of it. The slave-hunter in charge of the pack that invaded the farm must have dropped it in the scuffle before we were quelled. It is the cornerstone of our plan. It will persuade the guards to release our people to us.’

Her mouth had twisted wryly. ‘Release our people to you , that is. The guards would never believe that farm rats, as they call us, would be sent on such a mission. We were going to force Four-Eyes to do the talking, but as a stranger to the guards you will be far more convincing.’

Rye tossed a hoji nut to the clink chattering in the shadows at his feet. The little creature had come begging the moment he sat down. He had been feeding it ever since, for what did its greed matter now?

‘Do not hurt it!’ he had burst out, when he saw Bird frowning at the pink nose poking hopefully around the corner of the jell safe.

‘I wouldn’t harm a clink!’ Bird had exclaimed. ‘What do you think I am?’

A savage , Rye had retorted in his mind. A barbarian! Yet he knew it was not as simple as that. Bird was the leader of a desperate mission. Dirk had suffered at her hands, but Dirk might well have acted just as ruthlessly if he had been in her place. Perhaps, Rye thought uneasily, even I might have done so. Just a few days ago it would have been impossible for me, but not now.

The world outside the Wall had changed him. Just as, according to Annocki, it had changed Sonia. Annocki had said Sonia seemed “more alive” after her time beyond the golden Door.

She would not say the same now, Rye thought grimly, glancing at Sonia lying huddled on the floor of the empty wagon with Bird, Itch and Chub crouching beside her.