Emily Rodda - The Silver Door

‘Almost certainly the skimmers will be released through those openings,’ Sholto said, jerking his head slightly at the circles and clearly making an enormous effort to keep his voice even.

Rye nodded, relieved that the balcony was still deserted.

The balcony below the bars was also empty. The other two, on the shorter walls to Rye’s left and right, were filled with seated men and women wearing black uniforms or grey coats. Some of these were looking at the balcony with the circles, eager for something to happen. Most were looking down.

‘I am going to try to get through the bars,’ Rye hissed in Sholto’s ear. ‘Then you can follow. Do not worry, I will not let you go.’

He waited for his brother’s sick-looking nod and then turned sideways and pushed his way between the bars. It was a tight fit, but by wriggling a little, he managed it. Sholto slid through easily, but his face, when he was finally standing beside Rye with his back to the bars, was the colour of goat cheese.

Rye looked down, and, despite the heat of the sun pouring through the grating above, his forehead was suddenly beaded with cold sweat.

The prisoners were directly below him, hemmed in by guards. Kyte the slave-hunter was strutting up and down in front of them, high black boots shining, belt bristling with weapons, making the most of her moment of glory.

Her guards stood facing her, shoulder to shoulder. Their backs formed a solid grey barrier across the corner of the testing room, pressing their captives into a huddle.

Rye made out Bird and Bean, standing side by side. There was Itch, his arms around his sisters. There were Chub and Pepper, hand in hand. There were all the other prisoners from Nanny’s Pride farm.

And there, behind them all, her back to the wall, was Sonia.

Rye’s chest tightened painfully. In her severe black coat and cap, Sonia seemed to tower over her companions. Her head was bowed so her face was hidden from view, but other than that she was standing very upright, making herself look as tall as possible. Despite the terror that must have been clutching at her heart, she was still pretending to be Rye.

Sonia, I am here, just above you , Rye called to her in his mind. I am trying to think what it is best to do .

He thought he saw Sonia give a tiny start, but she did not raise her head.

Just do not think too long … The answer floated into his mind, light as a falling leaf.

‘Is there anything in your bag of tricks that you can use as a weapon, Rye?’ Sholto asked.

He was still as pale as wax, but he too was looking down—down at the prisoners, and at the guards surrounding them.

‘No,’ said Rye. ‘But if I can reach Sonia and the others—close enough to touch them—I can protect them, at least.’

And what then? he wondered, but could think of no answer.

Sholto raised his eyebrows. ‘Then we had better get down there, brother,’ he said softly, looking up and meeting Rye’s eyes. He nodded across the room.

There was movement behind the screen of the balcony with the three black circles. Controller Brand, clutching the black box, was standing to one side with the grey-faced supervisor. They were both watching as guards pushed three huge, transparent cages forward. Each cage was alive with flapping, snarling skimmers.

Rye’s mind went blank. Behind him the giant birds shrieked. Below him, the people in the balconies were stirring with excitement. But all he could see were the skimmers, with their ragged wings, their rat-shaped snouts and their mud-coloured eyes, being wheeled closer and closer to the edge of the sunlit balcony, closer to the three circles.

Then he distinctly heard a crack, a clang, and a muffled curse, directly above him. He jerked his head up, and to his utter astonishment saw Dirk scowling down through the grating, blue sky brilliant behind his head.

For a moment Rye froze. For an instant he thought he must be dreaming. Then he saw Dirk pull the broken skimmer hook free from the corner of the grating, which was bent and partly lifted, and he knew that what he was seeing was real.

Dirk had not left the Harbour. He had never left the roof! He had been here all along, trying to prise the grating over the testing room open, using the shrieks of the monster birds to disguise the sound.

‘The cursed thing has snapped!’ Dirk muttered to someone beside him, throwing the hook aside.

‘Dirk!’ Rye called softly.

Dirk jumped and looked wildly around.

‘Here!’ Rye said, between the screeches of the birds. ‘Just below you. I am wearing the hood. Sholto is with me.’

‘Dirk, for Weld’s sake, why are you still here?’ hissed Sholto. ‘Did I not tell you—?’

‘How could I go when I saw blue sky appear above this part of the building, and heard the iron of the roof slide open?’ Dirk retorted, pressing his face against the grating and squinting down in an effort to see them. ‘By the Wall, it is more than even you could expect of me, Sholto! But I cannot get through this cursed grating! Rye, where is Sonia?’

‘Down below, with the others,’ Rye said. A great, aching lump rose in his throat.

Then his heart gave a jolt as a familiar, hollow-eyed face appeared beside Dirk’s, wild spikes of white hair shining in the sun.

‘The lady?’ cried Bones, blinking rapidly and frantically clicking his beads. ‘The lady’s in danger? I hear sky serpents a-roaring and a-screeching! Is that—?’

‘No!’ Rye managed to say, refusing even to think about how Bones and Dirk happened to be here, and together. ‘The birds are caged, in the room next to this one. But Dirk, the Master’s people are going to release skimmers in here! The new skimmers that can see in daylight! We have to get Sonia and the others out! But they are surrounded by guards …”

‘Yes, I see them,’ Dirk said grimly, blinking down through the grating. ‘Here, give me that, Bones!’

Silently the old man passed him a long, heavy white bone that looked like one of the precious bloodhog bones from the sled. Dirk stuck the end of the bone into the gap made by the bent corner of grating and pushed upward till the sweat stood out on his brow.

Nothing happened. The square of grating did not budge.

‘The key, Rye!’ Sholto muttered. ‘Try the key!’

Rye looked up at the twisted, upturned corner of grating. Sholto was right. What was that broken grating, but a kind of door?

He dug the tiny key from his pocket, stood on the tips of his toes, and reached up, straining higher and higher till the key touched the bent corner. And without any sound at all, the square of grating folded neatly back, leaving a man-sized hole.

Bones whooped, and clapped his hands to his cheeks in amazement. But instantly, without an exclamation or a question, Dirk was slipping through the opening, sliding down the nearest bar one-handed and swinging himself into position beside Rye and Sholto. He gripped Rye’s shoulder to gain the protection of the cloak, but he did not need the feather to hold him steady—no one who had been a worker on the Wall of Weld would have needed that.

‘Bones!’ he hissed, holding up his hand. ‘The rope!’

A length of thick rope slithered down through the hole in the grating. Dirk grabbed the end and held it, gathering the slack over his shoulder.

‘It is tied to an air vent, and is secure,’ he said crisply. ‘Now! Our best plan is to lift Sonia and the others to safety. Even invisible and armoured, we cannot hope to get them out on the ground, past so many guards. Agreed?’

He waited for his brothers’ nods before going on.

‘Sholto, you go up onto the roof. It is almost flat. You will feel safer there. Bones will haul you up. Rye, put the feather away. We will get to the ground much faster without it. You and I will slide down the rope and—’