Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #6 - The Maze of the Beast

Lief gritted his teeth. Time was short. He could delay no longer. He slipped his hands under his shirt and ran his fingers over the gems until he came to the opal.

Eerie, bluish light. Great dripping spears of stone hanging from the roof. Gleaming, ridged walls, running with milky liquid. And something huge, white, with thrashing tail, bloodred jaws gaping …

Gasping, Lief tore his hands free. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to dismiss the horrible picture from his mind.

“Lief?”

Barda was holding out his hand impatiently. With trembling fingers Lief pulled off the Belt. Barda slipped it inside the embroidered band and began sewing up the split. When he had finished, there was nothing to show that any work had been done at all.

Lief buckled the cloth band around his waist, under his shirt. It felt rough and strange against his skin. Father kept the Belt safe inside a leather working belt for sixteen years, he thought. This is a sensible plan.

But still he felt uneasy. He returned to the campfire and lay down to sleep, wishing heartily, and not for the first time, that Dain had never crossed their path.

The next morning the companions struggled on, but by midday they were staggering instead of walking, plunging knee-deep into foul-smelling mud with every step.

“This is impossible,” panted Barda after another hour in which very little ground had been covered. “We will have to move away from the river — get to drier land.”

But by now the reed beds extended as far as the eye could see. Heavy fog blotted out the horizon. They seemed surrounded by a wet, stinking desert of mud.

It was then that they heard a faint chugging, and the sound of music. They all turned to look upstream. Coming towards them, steam puffing from its funnel, its great paddle wheel churning the water behind it, was a red-painted boat.

Lief, Barda, and Dain did not hesitate. All of them began to shout, waving their arms.

The boat came nearer. Soon it was so close that they could see the name River Queen painted in bright white letters on its bow. And over the music they could hear the shouts of a bearded man in a captain’s cap who leaned over the side, peering at them.

“Want a ride, mates?” he roared, as the boat slowed.

“Yes!” shouted Lief, Barda, and Dain.

“Do you have money?”

“Yes!”

The man grinned. “Never let it be said that the River Queen turned away a paying passenger. Let alone three. Ho, Chett!”

With that, a small rowing boat splashed into the water. A strange, hunched creature with long arms and a grinning, hairy face leaped into the boat and began rowing furiously to shore.

“What is that?” whispered Lief.

“A polypan,” said Dain, wrinkling his nose and taking a step back. “And if this captain uses polypans as crew, he is up to no good.”

“I believe I saw something like it in the markets at Rithmere,” said Barda. “It was moving around the crowd with a cup, collecting money for a woman who was playing the violin.”

Dain nodded. “And secretly collecting far more than that, no doubt,” he muttered, as the little boat approached. “Polypans are expert thieves. It is said that they can take the shirt off your back without your knowledge.”

The rowing boat ran aground on the mud and the polypan beckoned, grinning widely. Lief saw that it was chewing some sort of dark-colored gum. Its teeth were stained brown and as the companions waded through the reeds towards it, it spat a gob of brown liquid into the river.

Lief and Dain climbed into the boat. Barda pushed it off the mud and then climbed in after them.

The polypan spat again, and then began rowing back to the River Queen . Though it was now carrying three extra people, the little boat ploughed through the water at great speed. The polypan’s long, hairy arms were very powerful, and it seemed to have boundless energy.

When they reached the side of the larger boat, they found that a rope ladder had been lowered over the side. They began to climb upward, one after the other, very aware of the polypan’s little black eyes fixed on them. No doubt, thought Lief uncomfortably, it was noting every pocket in their jackets, every fastening on their packs.

He felt glad that the Belt of Deltora was safely hidden. His only regret was that now it could not tell him if the feeling of danger that flooded over him the moment he set foot on the boat’s deck was real, or imagined.

The other passengers stared curiously at the newcomers. One, a hugely fat man in a striped jersey, was clutching a large painted box with a handle. A music box, Lief guessed, remembering the music he had heard from the shore. “Ho-di-ho!” the fat man cried, in a strangely light, shrill voice for one so large. “Lockie the Stripe at your service, music-lovers!”

The woman beside him giggled. She was also quite plump, and was wearing a pink dress and mittens. Her round face was framed by huge bunches of pink curls that clustered over her forehead and cheeks. With one hand she waved girlishly at Lief, Barda, and Dain. With the other she nudged the arm of a tall, thin man with a patch over one eye who stood by her side. He nodded gravely.

Two other men looked up from a table where they had been playing cards, but made no attempt to speak. They both had shaved heads, and had broad bands tied around their brows. Their fingers were covered in rings, and each had what looked like an animal tooth stuck through one ear. They did not look friendly.

The last passenger was a haughty-looking young woman in a fine purple cloak tied at the throat with golden cord. The hands that held her golden parasol were tightly gloved in black to match her shining high-heeled boots. A scarf of purple silk was bound closely around her head. Long golden earrings swung from her ears. Her face was powdered white, her lips were painted red, and her eyes were outlined heavily in black. After one bored glance at the newcomers she turned away and stared out at the water, twirling her parasol.

Lief looked around, trying to appear at ease. But his heart was sinking. Any one of these characters could be an Ol. They could all be Ols, come to that. He began to wonder if he, Barda, and Dain would have been better off remaining in the reed beds.

The captain strode up, grinning. He was a short, chunky man with a twisted nose and grey hair in a thick braid that hung down his back like a rope. His peaked cap was pulled so low on his forehead that his eyes were in deep shadow. “Welcome aboard! How far will you be going?” he asked.

“One of my sons and I have business on the coast,” Barda said pleasantly.

“Is that so?” grinned the captain. “Fishy business, I’ve no doubt.” He nudged Barda knowingly, then stuck out a filthy hand for payment. As Barda counted out the coins, Lief saw that the captain’s little finger was missing, and the ring finger was just a stump.

“A little argument with a big worm, lad,” said the captain, noticing that Lief was looking at his hand. “You’ll want to keep your own little pinkies out of the water as we get on. The worms, they swim up from the sea. And the farther in they get, the hungrier they get.” He grinned, and the woman in pink giggled nervously.

“My younger son wishes to stop off in Tora,” Barda said, raising his voice slightly. “Can you oblige him?”

“Tora?” The captain snorted with laughter. “Why, no. I can’t oblige the young fellow there, I fear. A visit to Tora is not possible for us.”