Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #3 - City of the Rats

They threw themselves at the door, beating on it with their fists. But the footsteps of the Ra-Kacharz were already fading into the distance.

Frantically, they searched the cell, looking for weaknesses. But the narrow wooden bunks fixed to one wall could not be moved. The empty water trough fixed to another wall was solid as rock.

“They will come back,” Barda said grimly. “We were condemned to life, not death. They will have to give us food, and fill the water trough. They cannot leave us here to starve or die of thirst.”

But miserable hours passed, and no one came.

They had all drifted into an uneasy sleep when the scratching came at the door. Even when Lief woke, he thought he had dreamed the timid sound. But then it came again. He jumped from his bunk and ran to the door with Jasmine and Barda close behind him. The food flap had been pushed open. Through it, they could see the blue eyes of Tira.

“The First Ra-Kachar gave orders that he and he alone would bring you food and water,” she whispered. “But — I feared that he may have … forgotten. Have you eaten? Has the water trough been filled?”

“No!” Lief whispered back. “And you know that he did not just forget, Tira. That is why you came. Reece intends us to die here.”

“It cannot be!” Her voice was agonized. “The Cup gave you Life.”

“Reece cares nothing for the Cup!” hissed Barda. “He cares only for his own will. Tira, unbolt the door! Let us out!”

“I cannot! I dare not! You brought evil to our halls, and it has still not been found. All except the night cooks are sleeping now. That is why I could slip away and not be missed. But the people are afraid, and many are crying out in their sleep. In the morning, the search will begin again.” Through the narrow slit, the girl’s eyes were dark with fear.

“Where we come from, animals like Filli are not evil,” Lief said. “We meant no harm in bringing him here. He is Jasmine’s friend. But if you do not let us out of this cell, we are doomed. Reece will see to it that we die of hunger and thirst and no one will ever know. No one but you.”

There was no reply but a soft groan.

“Please help us!” begged Lief. “Tira, please!”

There was a moment’s silence. Then the eyes disappeared and they heard the sliding of the bolt.

The door swung open and they crowded out of the cell. White-faced in the light of the torches, Tira gave them water and they drank thirstily. She said nothing as they thanked her, and when they bolted the door behind them to disguise their escape, she shivered and covered her face with her hands. Plainly, she felt as though she was doing something very wrong.

But when they discovered their packs hidden in a crevice beside the stone steps, she gasped with surprise. “We were told that these had been put into your cell with you!” she said. “So that you would have bedding, and some comforts.”

“Who told you that?” asked Barda grimly.

“The First Ra-Kachar,” she whispered. “He said he had brought them to you himself.”

“Well, he did not, as you can see,” snapped Jasmine, pulling her bag onto her back.

They crept up the steps. The passage above was empty, but they could hear a few distant voices.

“We must escape the city,” Barda whispered. “Which way should we go?”

“There is no way out.” Tira shook her head hopelessly. “The gate in the hill is locked and barred. Those who work in the fields are taken out each morning and brought back at night. No one else may leave, on pain of death.”

“There must be another way!” hissed Lief.

She hesitated, then shook her head. But Jasmine had seen the hesitation, and pounced.

“What did you think of, just then? Tell us what is in your mind!” she urged.

Tira licked her lips. “It is said … it is said that the Hole leads, in the end, to the outside world. But —”

“What is the Hole?” demanded Barda. “Where is it?”

“It is near the kitchens,” shuddered Tira. “It is where they throw the food that has not passed inspection. But it is — forbidden.”

“Take us there!” hissed Jasmine fiercely. “Take us there now!”

They crept like thieves through the corridors, darting into side passages whenever they heard someone approaching. Finally they reached a small metal door.

“This leads to the walkways above the kitchens,” Tira whispered. “The walkways are used by the Ra-Kacharz, to watch the work below, and by those whose task it is to wash the kitchen walls.”

She opened the door a crack. From the space beyond poured the smell of cooking, and a muffled clattering.

“Be very silent,” the girl breathed. “Tread softly. Then we will not be noticed. The night cooks work at speed. They have much to do before dawn.”

She slipped through the door, and the companions followed her. The sight that met their eyes astonished them.

They were standing on a narrow metal walkway. Far below lay the great kitchens of Noradz, clattering with sound and blazing with light. The kitchens were huge — as big as a small village — and filled with working people dressed as Tira was, but all in gleaming white.

Some were peeling vegetables or preparing fruits. Others were mixing, baking, stirring pots that bubbled on the huge stoves. Thousands of cakes cooled on racks, waiting to be iced and decorated. Hundreds of pies and tarts were being lifted from the great ovens. At one side, a team was packing prepared foods into boxes and glass or stone jars.

“But — surely this does not go on every day and every night?” gasped Lief in amazement. “How much food can the people of Noradz eat?”

“Only a small amount of the food prepared is eaten,” Tira whispered back. “Much of what is cooked does not pass the inspection and is wasted.” She sighed. “The cooks are valued, trained from their youngest days, but I would not like to be one of them. It makes them sad to try so hard, and to fail so often.”

They crept along the walkway, looking down, fascinated, at the activity below. They had been moving for about five minutes when Tira stopped and crouched.

“Ra-Kachaz!” she breathed.

Sure enough, two red-clad figures were striding into the kitchens.

“It is an inspection,” whispered Tira.

The Ra-Kacharz moved quickly to a place where four cooks stood, their hands behind their backs. Hundreds of jars of sugared fruits, bright as jewels, were lined up on a counter, awaiting inspection.

The Ra-Kacharz paced along the line of jars, staring at them closely. When they had reached the end, they turned and paced back again. This time they pointed at certain jars, and these the cooks picked up and put on another bench.

When finally the inspection was finished, six jars of fruit had been separated from the rest.

“Those are the jars that will be blessed, and eaten by the people,” said Tira. “The rest have been rejected.” She gazed with sympathy at the cooks, who, shoulders sagging with disappointment, had begun packing the rejected jars into a huge metal bin.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine stared, horrified. The fruit all looked delicious and wholesome to them. “This is wicked!” Lief muttered angrily, as the Ra-Kacharz turned and strode away to another part of the kitchens. “In Del, people are starving, scrabbling for scraps. And here, good food is wasted!”

Tira shook her head. “It is not good food,” she insisted earnestly. “The Ra-Kacharz know when food is unclean. By their inspections the Ra-Kacharz protect the people from disease and illness. Noradzeer.”