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

Her plain speaking irritated Lief, and he could see that it irritated Barda also. Perhaps she was right in what she said, but why lower their spirits?

He turned away from her and stared straight ahead. They rode on in silence.

Shortly afterwards the road ahead of them split into two, as Tom had told them it would. There was a signpost in the middle of the fork, one arm pointing to the left, the other to the right.

“Broad River!” exclaimed Lief. “That is the river on which the City of the Rats stands! Why, what a piece of good fortune!”

Excitedly, he began turning Noodle’s head to the right.

“Lief, what are you doing?” protested Jasmine. “We must take the left-hand path. Remember what the man Tom said.”

“Don’t you see, Jasmine? Tom would never have dreamed that we would go willingly to the City of the Rats,” called Lief over his shoulder, as he urged Noodle on. “So of course he warned us against this path. But, as it happens, it is the very path we want. Come on!”

Barda and Pip were already following Lief. Still unsure, Jasmine let Zanzee carry her after them.

The track was as wide as the other, and a good, strong road, though showing the marks of cart wheels. As they moved on, the land on either side became more and more rich and green. There were no parched spaces or dead trees here. Fruits and berries grew wild everywhere, and bees hummed around the flowers, their legs weighed down by golden bags of pollen.

Far to the right there were hazy purple hills, and to the left, the green of a forest. Ahead, the road wound like a pale ribbon into the distance. The air was fresh and sweet.

The muddlets snuffled eagerly and began to pick up speed.

“They are enjoying this,” laughed Lief, patting Noodle’s neck.

“And so am I,” called Barda in answer. “How good to ride through fertile country at last. This land, at least, has not been spoiled.”

They bounded past a grove of trees and saw that not far ahead a side road branched off the main track and led away towards the purple hills. Idly, Lief wondered where it led.

Suddenly, Noodle made a strange, excited barking sound and stretched out her neck, straining against the reins. Pip and Zanzee were calling out, also. They began leaping ahead, covering great distances with every bound. Lief tossed and bounced on the saddle. It was taking all his strength just to hold on.

“What is the matter with them?” he shouted, as the wind beat against his face.

“I do not know!” gasped Barda. He was trying to slow Pip down, but the muddlet was taking not the slightest notice. “Snuff!” he bellowed. But Pip only ran faster, neck outstretched, mouth wide and eager.

Jasmine shrieked as Zanzee thrust his head forward, ripping the reins violently from her hands. She slipped sideways, and for a terrifying moment Lief thought she was going to fall, but she managed to throw her arms around her mount’s neck, and pull herself up on the saddle once more. She clung there grimly, her head bent against the wind, as Zanzee bolted on, the stones of the road scattering under his flying feet.

There was nothing any of them could do. The muddlets were strong — far too strong for them. They thundered to the place where the side road branched, swerved off the main road in a cloud of dust, and bolted on up, up towards the hazy purple hills.

His eyes streaming, his voice hoarse from shouting, Lief saw the hills rushing towards them in a purple blur. There was something black in the midst of the purple. Lief blinked, squinted, tried to see what it was. It was coming closer, closer …

And then, without warning, Noodle pulled up short. Lief shot over her head, his own cry of shock ringing in his ears. Dimly he was aware of Jasmine and Barda shouting as they, too, were thrown from their mounts. Then the ground rushed up to meet him, and he knew no more.

There were pains in Lief’s legs and back, and his head ached. Something was nudging at his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes. At first they seemed gummed shut, but then he managed to force them open. A faceless red shape was looming over him. He tried to scream, but all that came from his throat was a strangled moan.

The red shape drew back. “This one is awake,” a voice said.

A hand came down, holding a cup of water. Lief lifted his head and drank thirstily. Slowly he realized that he was lying with Barda and Jasmine on the floor of a large hall. Many torches burned around the stone walls, lighting the room and casting flickering shadows, but they did little to warm the cold air. There was a huge fireplace in one corner. It was filled with great logs, but unlit.

An overpowering smell of strong soap mingled with the smell of the burning torches. Perhaps the floor had been recently scrubbed, for the stones on which Lief lay were damp, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere.

The room was full of people. Their heads were shaved, and they were strangely dressed in close-fitting suits of black, with high boots. They were all staring intently at the companions on the floor, fascinated and fearful.

The one with the water backed away, and the towering red figure that had so frightened Lief as he returned to consciousness moved once more into his view. Now he could see that it was a man, dressed entirely in red. Even his boots were red. Gloves covered his hands, and his head was swathed in tight-fitting cloth that covered his mouth and nose, leaving a space only for the eyes. A long whip made of plaited leather hung from his wrist. It trailed behind him, swishing on the ground as he moved.

He saw that Lief had regained his senses, and was watching him. “Noradzeer,” he murmured, brushing his hands down his body, from shoulders to hips. It was plainly a greeting of some kind.

Lief wanted to make sure that, whoever these strange people were, they knew he was friendly. He struggled into a sitting position and tried to copy the gesture, and the word.

The black-clad people murmured, then they too swept their hands from their shoulders to their hips and whispered, “Noradzeer, noradzeer, noradzeer …” till the great room was echoing with their voices.

Lief stared, his head swimming. “What — what is this place?”

“This is Noradz,” said the scarlet figure, his voice muffled by the cloth that covered his mouth and nose. “Visitors are not welcome here. Why have you come?”

“We — did not mean to,” Lief said. “Our mounts bolted, and carried us out of our way. We fell …” He winced as pain stabbed behind his eyes.

Jasmine and Barda were stirring now, and being given water in their turn. The red figure turned to them and greeted them as he had greeted Lief. Then he spoke again.

“You were lying outside our gates, with your goods scattered about you,” he said, his voice cold with suspicion. “There were no mounts to be seen.”

“Then they must have run away,” exclaimed Jasmine impatiently. “We certainly did not throw ourselves upon the ground with such force as to knock ourselves senseless!”

The man in red drew himself up, lifting the coiling whip menacingly. “Guard your tongue, unclean one,” he hissed. “Speak with respect! Do you not know that I am Reece, First Ra-Kachar of the Nine?”

Jasmine began to speak again, but Barda raised his voice, drowning her words.

“We are deeply sorry, my Lord Ra-Kachar,” he said loudly. “We are strangers, and ignorant of your ways.”

“The Nine Ra-Kacharz keep the people to the holy laws of cleanliness, watchfulness, and duty,” droned Reece. “Thus is the city safe. Noradzeer.”