Emily Rodda - Sister Of The South

As they drew nearer to the palace, many of the doors they passed were hung with charms that the owners hoped would protect their homes from illness. An increasing number were nailed shut and marked with a red X to show that the people who had lived there had died of the plague.

At last they reached the bottom of the palace hill. The palace loomed above them. Lief could not see the guards standing by the entrance doors, but he knew they must be there, as they were every night.

It is almost time to make my move, he thought. But before he could speak, Jasmine pulled Swift to a halt once more.

‘I will wait here for Kree,’ she announced. ‘He must not enter the palace alone. The last time he was there, he was poisoned.’

‘He slept through a night and a day, and believed he had been drugged,’ said Barda. ‘But he may have been merely exhausted. Who can say?’

‘I will wait,’ Jasmine said firmly. ‘You and Lief go on.’

‘No,’ Lief said, swinging down to the ground and thrusting Honey’s reins into Jasmine’s hands. ‘You two wait here for Kree. I will meet you inside.’

And ignoring his companions’ startled, furious whispers, he darted off the road and almost at once was swallowed by the darkness.

Toran robes were more suited to strolling along marble pathways than to toiling up a rough hill in the dark. But at last Lief reached his goal—the huge rock in the shape of a sleeping bear that marked the secret way into the palace.

Memories flashed into his mind as he pulled away the grass that masked the tunnel entrance.

The last time he had done this, desperate fear had been driving him. The last time he had done this, the Shadow Lord ruled in Deltora, and Doom, Jasmine and Barda were prisoners, about to be condemned to death.

That time is long gone, he told himself, as he wormed his way into the narrow stone passage. It is foolish, no doubt, for me to be creeping into the palace like a thief. I have been infected by Josef’s fancies.

But fear grew in him as he crawled through the black silence of the tunnel. And he did not know if the fear was remembered, or real.

By the time he emerged in the palace chapel, his teeth were chattering. He replaced the floor tile that had sealed the tunnel, wincing at the small, grating sound it made as it slid into place.

Close beside him was the high marble platform that dominated the small room. Lief brushed against it as he stood up, and twitched aside instinctively.

For centuries, the honoured dead of the palace had lain in state on that platform. Lief’s own father had rested there for a full day after he died, and Lief had kneeled with his mother in the chill silence of the chapel for a long, sad hour or two. The ritual had brought him no comfort, and he had never visited the chapel since.

Trying to shrug off the feeling of dread that seemed to hang upon him like a heavy cloak, Lief felt his way to the door. Opening it cautiously, he climbed the steps that led up to the huge, echoing space of the entrance hall.

All was silent, but he knew it would not be silent for long. Kree must have joined Jasmine and Barda by now. Soon his companions would reach the palace. There was no time to waste.

He ran lightly past the stairs and on to the library. He let himself in, and moved quietly through the dimness. Dark shelves towered around him. The familiar smell of old books filled his nose. At the end of the long room, feeble light glimmered through Josef’s half-open door.

Lief moved quickly towards the light. When he had almost reached it, he saw another splinter of light to his right, at floor level.

He remembered that Paff also slept in the library, her bed chamber separated from Josef’s by a storeroom and the tiny kitchen where she and Josef could heat soup and make tea. Paff’s door was closed, but it seemed that she, too, was awake.

Silently, Lief slipped into Josef’s room. Josef was slumped over his desk, his head pillowed on his arms. In front of him the candle flickered in a pool of melted wax.

He has fallen asleep over his work, Lief thought. He approached the desk and put a hand on the old man’s shoulder.

‘Josef,’ he whispered. ‘It is I, Lief.’

‘Lief …’ The voice was slurred, and very faint. Josef’s eyelids fluttered open, but he did not move.

Lief’s heart gave a great thud. His grip on Josef’s shoulder tightened.

‘Lief?’ the old man murmured. ‘Or … another vision?’

‘No!’ Lief whispered, falling to his knees by the chair. ‘No, Josef, this time I am truly here!’

The old librarian blinked. ‘Keep away,’ he slurred. ‘Lief … Keep away!’

With an enormous effort, he raised his head. Lief caught his breath as he saw the familiar, wrinkled face gleaming with sweat and hideously disfigured with swollen scarlet blotches.

‘The Toran Plague,’ Josef murmured. ‘Ah, I … did not dream there was real danger. Never … would I have sent the girl to Sharn if I had known.’

His glazed eyes focused on Lief and flamed with sudden panic.

‘Cover your face!’ he groaned. ‘Get out of this room! Ah, Lief, I beg you! Do not make me a murderer twice over!’

Lief scrambled up and backed away, aghast. ‘I—I will fetch help!’ he stammered.

‘No time,’ Josef mumbled. ‘I must warn you. The Four Sisters. You … the sorcerer … you must stop …’

‘I will, Josef!’ Lief said, tears burning at the back of his eyes. ‘Three of the four are destroyed already. Do you know where the last is? Is that why you summoned me?’

‘Plot,’ the old man breathed. ‘Treachery. North … to south, east … to west … lines … map …’

His head drooped as though his neck was too weak to support it. ‘Danger,’ he whispered. ‘Fearful … Must warn—Lief.’

‘I am here, Josef,’ Lief cried. ‘I know that the Sister of the South is in Del. But where in Del? Where—?’

Josef’s dry lips writhed as he struggled to speak. Lief strained to hear. His ears caught a single word. His eyes widened in disbelief. Could Josef possibly have said ‘Here’?

‘“Here”, Josef?’ he gasped. ‘In the palace ?’

The crease between Josef’s brows deepened. ‘Beware, Lief … evil … the centre … the heart … the city … of …’

The sighing voice trailed away.

Lief turned and ran to Paff’s room. He knocked frantically, calling Paff’s name, but there was no answer. With a feeling of dread, he tried the door. As he had expected, it was locked.

Lief drew back and kicked. The door shuddered, but held. He gripped the diamond in the Belt and kicked again. The lock burst, and the door swung open.

Paff sat in her bed, propped up on two pillows. She was wearing a long-sleeved pink nightgown. Her yellow hair was neatly braided into two skimpy tails. A book lay open on her lap and the stub of a candle burned low on the bedside table beside a half-drunk cup of tea.

At first glance it looked as if she had simply fallen asleep while reading. But Lief knew this was not so. Paff’s head lolled backwards. Her face was shining with sweat. Her limbs were as rigid as if they had been carved out of stone. Saliva dribbled from one corner of her open mouth. Beneath her fluttering eyelids, the whites of her eyes gleamed.

Lief backed away from the doorway, his heart thudding violently.

Then suddenly, shockingly, the silence of the palace was shattered by a hideous chorus of sounds—the high-pitched squeals of terrified horses, Jasmine’s scream and Barda’s roar, the wild screeching of Kree and, rising over all, a ferocious, ear-splitting wail that chilled the blood.