Emily Rodda - The Shifting Sands

The companions exchanged glances. It sounded wonderful, but …

“We have only one silver coin between us,” Barda admitted reluctantly. “We were hoping that perhaps we could work for our keep.”

The woman flapped her hands at him, shaking her head. “Work? Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “You must rest and eat so that you can do your best in the Games. If one silver coin is all you have, one silver coin is the price you will pay. Competitors pay only what they can afford at the Champion Inn.”

Before the companions could say any more she hurried back to the desk, beckoning them to follow. She sat down, pulled a large open book towards her and took up a pen. “Name and town?” she asked briskly, glancing at Barda.

Lief caught his breath. He, Barda, and Jasmine had decided that it would be unwise to give their real names when they entered the Games. But they had not realized that they would have to think of false names so soon.

Mother Brightly was waiting, pen poised and eyebrows raised.

“Ah … my name is — Berry. Of Bushtown,” stammered Barda.

The woman wrote, frowning slightly. “I have not heard of Bushtown before,” she said.

“It is — to the north,” Barda answered. “My friends — Birdie and — and Twig — are also from there.”

He glanced nervously at Jasmine and Lief, who were both glaring at him, but Mother Brightly nodded, writing busily and apparently quite satisfied.

“Now,” she said, jumping up with the book clutched under her arm. “Follow me, if you please!”

Things were moving very fast. Feeling rather dazed, Lief, Barda, and Jasmine followed her into another room where stood a large set of scales, a long rule, and a big cupboard.

“Please give me your weapons,” Mother Brightly said, taking a key from the bunch at her waist and unlocking the cupboard. Then, as the companions hesitated, she clapped her hands sharply and raised her voice. “I must insist! It is forbidden to carry weapons in the Champion Inn.”

Unwillingly, Lief and Barda unbuckled their swords, and Jasmine handed over the dagger she wore at her belt. Mother Brightly locked the weapons in the cupboard, nodding approvingly. “Do not fear,” she said in a calmer voice. “They will be quite safe here, and returned to you before you leave. Now — your measurements.”

She weighed Lief, Barda, and Jasmine in turn, and measured their heights, writing all the details down in her book. She felt their muscles and looked carefully at their hands and feet. Then she nodded, pleased.

“You need food and rest, my dears, but otherwise you are all strong, and should do well,” she said. “I thought so, when first I saw you. One last thing. Your special talents. What are they?”

She waited with her head on one side.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine glanced at one another. They were not quite sure what the woman meant.

“I — can climb,” said Jasmine hesitantly at last. “I can balance on high places, swing, jump …”

“Excellent, Birdie!” said Mother Brightly, and wrote “AGILITY” beside Jasmine’s false name. She turned to Barda. “And you, Berry? Let me guess. Your talent would be strength. Am I right?”

Barda shrugged and nodded. The woman beamed, and wrote again. Then she looked at Lief. “And Twig?” she enquired.

Lief felt his face growing hot and knew that he was blushing. What had possessed Barda to give him such an absurd name? And what was his special talent? He was not sure that he had one.

“Speed,” Barda said quickly. “My friend is very fast on his feet, and can jump, duck, and dodge with the best.”

“Perfect!” cried Mother Brightly, writing “SPEED” beside the name “Twig of Bushtown.” “Agility, strength, and speed. Why, together you three must be a fine team. Now, wait here a moment. I will not be long.”

She bustled out of the room again. The companions looked at one another. All of them were bewildered at this sudden change in their fortunes.

“No wonder people flock to Rithmere,” said Lief in a low voice. “It is surprising that the whole of Deltora is not here. Why, at the very least folk get free food and a bed for a while.”

“So long as they are willing to compete,” Barda whispered back. “I have a feeling that these Games may be more difficult, or more dangerous, than we expect.”

“No running or jumping race could be more dangerous than what we have been through,” hissed Jasmine. “The most difficult thing about this will be remembering to answer to those stupid names you chose for us, Barda.”

“Yes,” Lief agreed. “Twig! Could you think of nothing better?”

“I was taken by surprise and said the first things that came into my head,” Barda growled. “If I had hesitated she would have known I was lying.”

At that moment Mother Brightly came rustling into the room again. With her she brought three colored strips of cloth — a red, a green, and a blue. She tied the red band around Barda’s wrist, the green band around Lief’s wrist, and the blue around Jasmine’s. Their false names had been written on their bands, with their heights and weights underneath.

“Do not take your wristbands off, even to sleep,” Mother Brightly advised. “They mark you as official competitors, show your special talent, and entitle you to food, drink, and entrance to the Games. Now — you will want to eat, I do not doubt, and rest after your journey. The silver coin, if you please?”

Jasmine handed her the coin and in return received a key labelled with the number 77. “This is the key to your room,” Mother Brightly said. “A lucky number indeed. Keep it safe.”

As they nodded she hesitated, nibbling at her bottom lip as if trying to make up her mind about something. Then, suddenly, she glanced behind her to make sure they were alone and leaned towards them with a rustle of green frills.

“Now — I do not say this to every competitor, but you are strangers to the Games, and I have taken a liking to you,” she whispered. “Trust no one, however friendly. And keep your door locked at all times — especially at night. We do not want any … accidents.”

She put a finger to her lips, then turned and hurried off again, beckoning them to follow.

Wondering, they followed her down a hallway to a large dining room, where a great number of people wearing red, blue, and green wristbands were eating and drinking with gusto. Many of the diners looked up and stared, their faces alive with curiosity, challenge, suspicion, or menace. Most of them were very large and looked extremely strong, though there were some smaller, leaner men and women as well.

Lief lifted his chin and looked around proudly, determined to show that he was not nervous or afraid. At a center table he saw Joanna and Orwen, the two tall companions he had seen on the highway. Then he gave a start. Sitting near to them, though alone, was another person he knew.

It was the dark, scarred traveller the companions had seen at Tom’s shop, on their way to the City of the Rats. The man’s hard eyes were fixed on the newcomers, but he gave no sign that he recognized them.

“Help yourselves to anything you fancy, my dears,” Mother Brightly said, pointing to a long bench at the side of the room where dishes stood keeping warm over low flames. “Eat, then rest. Do all you can to be fit for tomorrow. I have great hopes for you three! To me, you have the look of finalists. And I have seen many come and go.”

She had not troubled to lower her voice, and Lief fidgeted as the gazes of the other competitors grew even more alert. They had all heard what she had said.

“Now, I must return to my post,” Mother Brightly said. “It grows late, but new competitors could arrive even now. A bell will wake you for breakfast tomorrow. A second bell, an hour later, will call you to the Games.”