Emily Rodda - Sister Of The South

‘I have given you all the news I have, Josef,’ Doom hissed. ‘Sharn could tell you no more, even if she could speak. I showed you the message from Zeean saying that Lief, Barda and Jasmine had succeeded in the west. Can you not be satisfied with that, and be at peace?’

Josef put a trembling hand to his brow, but said nothing.

‘You are not well,’ Doom went on in a level voice. ‘Your mind is clouded. That girl Paff is too weak-headed to see it, but I see it. And you yourself must know it.’

He looked keenly at the swaying figure before him, and shook his head as if to clear it.

‘If I have been impatient with you, Josef, I beg your pardon,’ he added. ‘But I have not slept more than an hour or two at a time in more days than I can count. And even at the best of times, soft words are not my way.’

For Doom, this was a generous apology. Lief willed Josef to understand. But the old man kept stubborn silence. He stood gripping the back of the chair, his knuckles white, his gaunt face as rigid as a piece of gnarled wood.

Doom cursed under his breath and left the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps had died away did Josef move. His face sagged with exhaustion. Trembling, he lowered himself into his chair.

‘Oh, why does Lief not come?’ he whispered. ‘Lief must speak to me—he must —before anyone else knows he is here—before anything else is done! Did I make that plain enough? I cannot … remember.’

Again he put his hand to his brow. ‘I did send the message, did I not?’ he mumbled. ‘It was not just a dream? Oh … why can I not think ?’

He buried his face in his hands.

‘Josef!’ Lief exclaimed in frustration. ‘What do you want to tell me? Say it aloud!’

The old man’s head jerked up. Slowly he turned in his chair. But the next moment his face had vanished, and Lief was back in bed, blinking up at a white ceiling flooded with moonlight.

He lay still for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he jumped out of bed and made for the door.

He regretted having to wake Barda and Jasmine from the first peaceful sleep they had enjoyed in many days. But he could not leave them behind, and they would think his feeling of urgency had been caused by a dream of his mother, and ask no questions.

He had to see Josef. And he could not wait.

In less than an hour, three shadows were speeding towards Del. Only the birds and beasts of the night saw them pass. A few villagers, stirring in their beds, thought they heard the beat of flying hoofs. But the sound passed so quickly that they told themselves they had been dreaming.

Following Barda’s plan, Lief, Barda and Jasmine were wearing Toran garments and carrying only their weapons. Their bright robes fluttering in the wind, they bent forward over their horses’ necks, lost in a dream of speed.

Back in the white city of the west, Zeean alone was awake. But her will was enough to speed them along the well-worn path to Del.

Kree was flying far behind the horses. The old wound at the back of his neck still troubled him, but he had refused to ride tamely with Filli in the crook of Jasmine’s arm. Perhaps he had once or twice allowed himself to be carried on the back of a dragon. But, sped by Toran magic or not, Honey, Bella and Swift were ordinary horses of Del, and Kree was far too proud to ride with them.

He knew Jasmine and Filli were safe, wrapped in Toran magic. So he flew alone beneath the slowly sinking moon, enjoying the night and the silence, taking his time.

Neither he, nor the riders ahead of him, sensed the moment when an evil presence stirred and woke to knowledge of them. None of them felt the explosion of hatred that erupted at the warning of their approach.

They sped, untroubled, through the night as a liquid black shadow filled with malice slipped beneath a door and began its secret, oozing progress through the darkened palace of Del.

3 - Del

The moon had set and the sun had not yet risen when the companions reached the city gates. The four guards on watch held up their lanterns, saw the horses and the Toran robes of their riders, and drew back, quickly pulling scarfs over their mouths and noses.

‘What is your business here, people of Tora?’ one of the guards called. He sounded far from friendly.

‘We are here to advise Doom on the matter of the Toran Plague,’ Jasmine called back, as planned. ‘Our presence was requested.’

‘We were told of no such request!’ snapped the guard.

Jasmine pulled a paper from her pocket. ‘I have the message here,’ she said. ‘Do you wish to see it?’

She urged Swift forward, holding out the paper.

‘Halt! Come no closer!’ the guard bellowed, taking a hurried step back and pulling his scarf more tightly around his face. ‘You may pass. But be aware that if you do, you cannot leave the city again until it is declared free of plague.’

‘We understand,’ Jasmine said.

‘So they will die here, trapped like rats, with the rest of us,’ Lief heard one of the other guards growl to his neighbour. ‘There is some justice in that, at least.’

The gates swung open. The guards shrank back as far as they could, and waited till the visitors were well past before venturing out of the shadows to close the gates again.

‘Disgraceful!’ fumed Barda under his breath. ‘They did not even look at the paper!’

Jasmine shrugged. ‘It is fortunate they did not, since it was only a note from Marilen to Sharn, and they would certainly have recognised us if they had looked at us closely.’

Barda scowled. He knew that what she said was true, but his pride in his well-trained guards had been sorely shaken.

‘Do not be too hard on them,’ said Lief in a low voice. ‘They would have faced an enemy without flinching, but disease is fearful to them. It troubles me more that they greeted us with such suspicion—even anger.’

And as he spoke, Jasmine drew breath sharply. She had pulled Swift to a halt, and was staring at a yellow notice stuck to a wall beside her.

‘Look at this!’ she breathed.

‘All its “truths” are lies!’ Jasmine exclaimed.

‘There is enough truth in most of them to deceive frightened people,’ Barda answered grimly. ‘There is food in Tora. Sharn did go there partly to assure the Torans that their friendship was valued. The Torans did once break their oath of loyalty, and Lief did forgive them—’

“‘In the innocence and generosity of his youth”,’ Lief quoted bitterly. ‘The writer might as well have said “his ignorance and foolishness”, for that is what is meant.’

He shook his head. ‘This notice is so stupid ! It says it is going to prove that the Torans sent the plague to destroy Del. Then it says that the plague itself proves that the Torans are plotting to destroy Del. Where is the logic in that?’

‘There is none,’ said Barda, ripping the notice from the wall. ‘But those looking for someone to blame for their misfortune will not see that, I fear. We had better move on. The sun will soon be rising. If we are seen in the streets wearing Toran garments we could be attacked before we are recognised.’

They rode on, growing more and more uneasy. The air was hazy with the smoke of funeral fires. Fear and strangeness haunted the familiar streets. Now and again they came upon another copy of the hateful yellow notice, stuck to a fence or pole. Plainly the city was full of them.