Emily Rodda - The Silver Door

‘Those men are supposed to be on guard in here,’ Sonia breathed. ‘What a piece of luck!’

She led the way to a door at the opposite end of the room and cautiously turned the gleaming knob. The door eased open with only the tiniest of creaks, and Rye and Dirk followed her into the room beyond.

The waiting room looked exactly as Rye remembered it. There was the fireplace, its hearth lightly sprinkled with soot. There were the chairs ranged around the walls, the long red curtains, and the polished table with its inkwell and the carved box in which all the Volunteer Statements were kept.

‘Good!’ Sonia sighed with relief. ‘From here it should be easy.’

‘Who is that?’ a cracked voice cried from a dim corner.

As Rye, Dirk and Sonia froze, a small, crabbed figure jumped up and limped forward, scowling ferociously.

6 - The Doors

With a shock, Rye recognised Tallus the healer. The events of the night before had made him forget completely that Sholto’s old master was at the Keep.

Tallus was wearing a rubbed green velvet coat, brightly checked trousers, enormous walking boots and an ancient black broad-brimmed hat. These garments—the healer’s travelling costume, no doubt—made him look strange enough. But the really odd thing about his appearance was the large hand-lettered sign stuck into the hat’s band.

‘Show yourselves!’ Tallus shouted, shaking his fist. ‘I know you are there!’

The door on the other side of the room flew open and the Warden rushed in, his pale eyes bulging, his scanty hair flopped limply over his forehead.

‘What is the meaning of this uproar?’ he demanded. ‘I am only a trifle late for our meeting, Master Tallus. There is no need to shout!’

‘Aha!’ cried Tallus, swinging round to confront him. ‘So, you have set spies on me, have you, Warden? I might have known!’

‘S-spies?’ spluttered the Warden. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone came in!’ Tallus roared. ‘I saw that door over there open and close! And then I heard a voice! Someone is hiding in here!’

He glared around the room. The Warden eyed him nervously, clearly wondering if soldiers should be called to subdue this madman. Rye, Dirk and Sonia stood stock still, not daring to move.

‘Well, what does it matter?’ snapped Tallus. ‘The more people who hear what I have to say, the better! Warden, I have developed an important theory regarding the skimmers. You must listen to me!’

‘Yes, well, I am listening, Master Tallus,’ the Warden said peevishly. ‘But I am very pressed for time this morning, so—’

He broke off as Tallus held up a bony finger.

‘I have been blind,’ the healer announced. ‘Blind—ha, that is a good one! But a few days ago I saw it all in a flash.’

‘Did you, indeed?’ the Warden muttered.

Tallus nodded. ‘I was examining a skimmer—a very fresh specimen, the best I have ever had. A young friend had called by just before I began. He wanted my advice about … about something that need not concern us here.’

Rye felt a little jolt. Tallus was talking about him! For an instant he was back in the healer’s workroom. He was back with the steam and the smell. He could see the dead skimmer lying on the table, its goat-sized body covered in pale, velvety fuzz, its leathery wings outspread, its rat-like snout snarling …

He shivered. He felt Dirk and Sonia glance at him curiously, but did not look at them.

‘The boy mentioned the specimen’s eyes,’ Tallus went on. ‘He had never seen a dead skimmer’s eyes in such good condition before. The eyes are fragile and usually bleed you know, when—’

The Warden shuddered. ‘Spare me the details, if you please,’ he said. ‘I have just had breakfast.’

Tallus snorted. ‘The point is, when my young friend had left, I looked at my specimen’s eyes more closely. In all our researches my apprentice and I have paid little attention to the eyes—’

‘Well, of course not!’ the Warden broke in impatiently. ‘Skimmers are as good as blind, as I understand it.’

‘In daylight they are,’ said Tallus. ‘It has long been my theory, and my apprentice agrees with me, that skimmers live and breed in the dark—in a cavern underground, perhaps, where sight is not important.’

Or in some foul place where the only light is dull red, thought Rye, feeling cold inside as he remembered his dream.

‘They emerge at night to hunt,’ Tallus continued. ‘And why?’

The Warden stared at him. ‘Because they are hungry, of course! Really, Master Tallus, you must get to the—’

‘No!’ Tallus cried, his voice cracking. ‘Skimmers hunt at night because they cannot hunt during the day! Because daylight renders them helpless! It is their one weakness. When I looked closely at the specimen’s eyes I saw clearly that this must be so. The eyes were totally without protection. Almost transparent!’

‘Yes, well, that is all very interesting,’ the Warden mumbled, looking queasy. ‘But—’

‘And it suddenly came to me!’ Tallus exclaimed. ‘It is so obvious, once you have seen it! Ever since the skimmer invasions began, Warden, we have been blanketing Weld in darkness at night. But we should have been doing the exact opposite!’

‘The—?’

‘We should have been repelling the beasts by using their one weakness against them! We should have been defending ourselves with light!’

‘Light?’ the Warden repeated, frowning. ‘Are you mad, Master Tallus? Light attracts the skimmers. How many of our more careless citizens, poor souls, have perished because—’

‘Because a chink of light in a pool of darkness creates a target, and one small lantern is no real threat!’ cried Tallus. ‘I am not talking about leaving a few house lights burning, Warden! My plan is to make the sky of Weld blaze, so night is as bright as day!’

The Warden’s mouth fell open.

Tallus pulled a folded paper from one of his many pockets and shook it open. It was covered with diagrams and notes.

‘I have worked it all out,’ he said, flattening the paper on the polished table and beckoning impatiently for the Warden to come and look. ‘Tall columns, higher than the rooftops, must be built all over the city—’

‘Columns?’ murmured the Warden, staring vacantly at the paper.

‘At the top of each column we place a large lantern,’ Tallus rattled on, stabbing his finger at one of the diagrams. ‘We can use the Keep lanterns—they are the biggest we have, and you must have thousands of them here.’

‘The Keep lanterns?’ the Warden repeated faintly.

Tallus nodded. ‘Each lantern will be surrounded by mirrors so that the light is spread and reflected upward. The Keep can supply the mirrors as well. Every soldier has his own mirror, I hear, and there are many kept in stock.’

‘Yes, well, it is very important that the soldiers are always neatly—’

‘Between them, the lanterns and mirrors should make enough light to repel the skimmers and force them to go elsewhere to feed,’ Tallus finished, slapping the paper triumphantly. ‘You see?’

He glanced at the Warden expectantly. The Warden frowned and rubbed his chin.

‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Well, Master Tallus, I will certainly give your suggestion some thought …’

Sonia groaned. Rye stiffened, but luckily neither Tallus nor the Warden seemed to have heard her.

‘Some thought?’ Tallus yelled.

The Warden straightened his plump shoulders. ‘Possibly your idea has some merit, Master Tallus,’ he said carefully. ‘But before we clutter our tidy streets with ugly columns—not to mention removing vital equipment from the Keep—we must discuss the whole matter thoroughly. One thing you have not considered, for example, is who is going to build all these columns.’