The Silver Door (8 page)

C
ap turned away from the mounds and began limping along the trail left by the runners of the sled. ‘Take care to tread where I tread,' he called back over his shoulder. ‘The ground's not safe.'

Rye, Sonia and Dirk followed cautiously, hands linked. By now it was almost completely dark. The panting sound was growing louder by the moment, but Cap did not speak again. Only when they had reached the track and scrambled down onto its pebbled surface did he turn to face them.

The marks of Bones' sled continued across the track and disappeared into the darkness on the other side, but clearly Cap did not plan to take his guests any further. He had no intention of offering them shelter for the night.

Rye found himself feeling quite shocked. Even before the skimmer attacks began, no citizen of Weld
would have dreamed of turning a traveller away at nightfall.

You are not in Weld now, Rye
.

Indeed, Rye thought grimly.

‘This will lead you out of the Scour,' Cap was saying rapidly to Dirk, pointing along the track. ‘Don't stray from it or you'll come to grief—the land on either side is studded with old jell pits. Only those who know what they're doing can navigate it. Trust no one. There are spies everywhere.'

He glanced at Rye and Sonia then looked quickly back at Dirk, frowning with distaste. ‘And for pity's sake, make those two cover their hair,' he added. ‘Nothing is more likely to betray you.'

Rye found his fisherman's cap and pulled it on. Sonia looked mutinous, then seemed to decide that the advice was good even if she resented the way it had been given. Silently she twisted her hair into a knot and snuffed out its brilliance with the ugly cloth helmet of the Keep orphan.

‘The track runs past the Diggings,' Cap was telling Dirk. ‘If you manage to pass them in safety, which I doubt, it will take you on to where you want to go.'

‘And how do you know where we wish to go?' Dirk asked coolly.

Cap snorted. ‘Do you take me for a fool? Even if I hadn't heard your copperhead friend shout her feelings to the skies, there's only one reason for people
like you to have risked your lives trekking over the Saltings. You've come from across the sea to spy on the Master. Perhaps you even have orders to destroy him.'

Before Rye, Dirk or Sonia could speak, he held up his hands.

‘Tell me nothing! The less I know of you the better. Whatever you're planning, whatever powers you have, you've no hope of defeating the Master. His sorcery is too powerful. One way or another, your mission will end in your deaths. But I daresay there's no hope of persuading you of that, so I won't waste my breath trying.'

He looked across the track as the panting noise suddenly stopped and a low hissing floated from the gloom.

‘Go now!' he ordered. ‘I've given you all the help I can.'

‘You do not have to live like this any longer, Cap,' Dirk burst out impulsively, gripping the other man's shoulder. ‘You can get your people away. The other side of Dorne is safe now. We—'

‘Stop!' Cap snarled, tearing himself free. ‘Keep your idiot thoughts to yourself, I tell you! Do you think we'd be here if there were any hope of escape? We're watched continually. Our borders are sealed. The Saltings is death. We're prisoners as surely as if we were behind iron bars, and we remain alive only because we're no threat to the Master, and too old or
crippled to be put to work in the Diggings.'

He glared at the companions through the tangles of his matted hair. ‘If you truly mean us no harm you'll go, and go quickly. In general we're left alone, but if you're seen here you'll attract attention we can well do without. Do you understand?'

Dirk nodded, clearly moved by the man's plain speaking. Hoisting his skimmer hook more firmly onto his shoulder, he turned towards the dark horizon, trying to pull Rye and Sonia with him.

But Rye stood his ground. Cap's voice had been steady but his nerves were strung as tightly as a tripwire—Rye could feel it. The man certainly
did
want to be rid of his unwelcome guests before they were seen. But this was not the only reason he was hurrying them away.

He was hiding something, and he wanted Dirk, Rye and Sonia to leave before they found it out. It was something to do with whatever was hissing in the darkness on the other side of the track. And it involved Sholto, too. Rye had never been so certain of anything in his life.

A terrible fear gripped his heart. ‘One thing, before we go,' he said abruptly. ‘We are searching for one of our own who is missing—a thin, dark-haired man of about your height. Have you seen him?'

Cap ducked his shaggy head so they could not see his face. ‘I've seen no one of that description,' he said. ‘Sorry.'

A weird, yodelling cry floated from the gloom beyond the track. Cap's head jerked up. ‘I must go,' he said. ‘Travel safely.'

Without another word he swung himself off the track and began hobbling rapidly towards the sound.

‘He is lying,' Rye muttered. ‘Or at least he is not telling the whole truth.'

‘You are right,' Sonia agreed. ‘He chose his words very carefully. Perhaps he did not see Sholto with his own eyes, but he knows something.'

‘Rubbish!' Dirk snapped. ‘You are imagining things, the two of you. The man has helped us as much as he can. We should do as he asks, and leave him alone. By the Wall, is his life not hard enough, with that motley, quarrelling crew to lead and protect? The best thing we can do for him is to get away before that lunatic Bones fastens upon us again.'

He tugged Rye's arm but Rye still resisted, shaking his head, and Sonia made no move to walk on either.

‘This is madness!' Dirk hissed. ‘Rye, do as I tell you! Who is the leader here?'

‘No one!' Sonia flashed back. ‘You may be older, Dirk of Southwall, and a great hero in Weld, but as you are so fond of telling us, we are not in Weld now! As far as I am concerned we are all equal in this. If Rye senses there is a secret to be uncovered, and I agree with him, then that is the end of it. Believe your precious Cap and go on alone if you will!'

Dirk's face darkened and Rye felt a stab of panic.

‘No!' he exclaimed. ‘We must stay together.' He pulled the hood of concealment over his head. ‘There! Now if we link arms we will not be seen.'

‘The skimmer hook is metal,' Sonia warned. ‘It will still be visible.'

‘Just as a shadow,' Rye said quickly, as Dirk scowled. ‘The darkness should cover it.'

He turned to his brother. ‘Dirk, all I ask is that we listen a while. If we hear nothing of Sholto we can leave as quietly as we came. Cap need never know we followed him.'

Dirk hesitated, then sighed heavily, and nodded.

They set off after Cap, following the sled tracks and keeping well back. It was dark, but not so dark that they could not see the limping figure ahead. At first the man kept looking over his shoulder, but at last seemed satisfied that he was not being followed. He put his head down and hurried on, very quickly considering his handicap.

‘For a half-starved man with only one leg he manages very well,' Sonia whispered.

‘They all manage very well,' said Rye, thinking of Bones, Needle and the old woman Cap had called Floss. ‘If they are indeed some of the exiles from Oltan, they have been seven years in this barren wilderness! It is amazing that they have survived, let alone that they are so strong.'

‘The weaker ones among them died early on, no doubt,' Dirk said soberly. ‘Only the strong remain.'

His mouth tightened. ‘It is … a terrible thing. They came here to escape Olt, following a leader they trusted, only to find themselves trapped in a situation that is even worse than the one they fled. And the people they left behind have no idea!'

‘I would not have trusted any brother of Olt's,' Sonia said.

Dirk shot her a sour look. ‘You do not know what you might have done if you were desperate.'

Sonia shook her head stubbornly.

Ahead, a small light was showing, and shadows were dancing on the ground. The weird cry came again. Cap gave a hoarse answering shout and increased his speed.

As the companions hurried after him, they realised that the yodelling sound had come from Bones—Bones, who was dancing about in front of his sled, holding a flaming torch high, his skull-like face ghastly in the flickering light.

He was facing a monstrous, hissing shape that loomed above him in a cloud of steam.

Rye's heart seemed to stop. For a split second he thought that the old man was protecting his treasure from some huge, ferocious beast. Then he realised that the hissing object was in fact some sort of gigantic vehicle.

The thing had no shafts, and no goats or horses to
draw it. It was made of many odd sheets of metal bolted together, and was very strangely shaped—rather like a monstrous, armoured turtle with a high, square shell. In place of wheels, it had vast metal rollers. Steam billowed from a chimney at its nose, and a rusty tank bulged at its rear. On its battered side was a vividly coloured sign that had clearly been painted in haste by an untrained hand.

‘Ho, Cap!' Bones shrieked, leaping and waving as he sighted the one-legged man. ‘Four-Eyes says five shivs of tarny root, half a shiv of sea biscuit an' a bunch of travel weed for ol' bloodhog skull!'

‘Not near enough,' Cap shouted back.

‘Bones knows it!' cried the capering man. ‘Bones tells him! You cheated Bones last time, Four-Eyes, Bones tells him—Cap says you did!'

‘Keep your voice down!' Cap ordered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. ‘Leave this to me.'

‘There!' bawled Bones, shaking his fist at the hissing monstrosity. ‘That be telling you, Four-Eyes! You won't be cheating Cap—oh, no!'

A rich laugh rolled from the steam.

‘Now Bones, my old friend!' boomed a deep voice. ‘I wish I had something truly worthy to trade for your treasure, but I can't give what I don't have, can I? My supplies are very low just now. And what's all this talk of cheating? Why, I'm the fairest trader in all the Scour. My new sign tells you so! As you would know if you could read it.'

‘You can't read it neither, Four-Eyes!' Bones bawled. ‘An' if it tells what you says it tells, it's a liar!'

‘Now, take care what you say, my friend,' the voice said, a hard edge entering the rich tones. ‘You are hurting my feelings. “Liar” is a strong word—very strong. And so is “cheat”, come to that. Why, it almost makes me want to leave you alone entirely! And how would you good people get along, I ask you, without the food I bring?'

‘Ha!' cried Bones. ‘Little you knows, Four-Eyes! Us has magic ones to aid us now—wizards out of the Saltings! Food us'll have in plenty, in days to come, an' golden bowls to eat it out of, too!'

Rye felt himself grow hot. He heard Sonia groan softly beside him, and Dirk grunt in disgust.

‘Bones!' thundered Cap. ‘Be still!'

But Bones was beyond listening to orders. He was shaking his fist at the vehicle, fairly dancing with
rage. And what he said next chilled Rye's blood.

‘Cap says stranger's clothes an' boots an' bag of treasures was worth three times over what you give for them, Four-Eyes! You catched Bones on the track alone an' you bedazzled him with your smoothy talk an' your smiling ways!'

‘Dearie me!' sighed the voice from the steam. ‘How could Cap say such a thing? As I remember, it was a
very
fair trade.'

‘Well, it weren't!' Bones bawled. ‘Six strips of salty goat an' half a shiv of tarny root you give for the lot! Cap says Bones'd have done better to keep all stranger's riches safe for the Den! Then us could've used them for the good of all—same as next day us used his bones!'

D
irk's arm tensed till it felt like rock beneath Rye's hand. Rye tightened his grip, warning Dirk to keep silent. His own mind was reeling with what he had heard, but he knew it was vital that Cap, Bones and the trader did not suspect that they were being overheard. The whole story had not yet been told.

‘Wait!' he breathed in Dirk's ear.

Dirk glanced at him furiously, showing the whites of his eyes. Rye understood. Dirk was wild with anger because Cap had lied to him. He was mad with grief at the thought that clever, funny, determined Sholto might be dead, his possessions traded for scraps of food, and his bones used to repair Bones' sled. He wanted to spring out of hiding, confront Cap and Bones, force them to admit what had been done—what Needle and her two henchmen had done, perhaps, with their
deadly knives and their fear of the Master's spies. Rye felt the same. But …

He met Sonia's serious green eyes. She nodded and put a finger to her lips.

‘Be still, Dirk!' he hissed. ‘Be still and listen!'

With relief he felt Dirk's arm relax slightly, and heard his brother breathe out.

Cap had reached Bones. He was speaking to the frenzied man in a low voice, trying to calm him. He was shooting warning looks into the steam, too, as if advising Four-Eyes the trader to say no more.

Rye, Sonia and Dirk crept closer. They saw that the sled had been pulled up beside a flat bridge that was a simple raft of bones lashed together with strings of leather. The bridge spanned a wide, deep trench, the base of which was studded with spears of sharpened bone, their shafts buried, their wicked points aiming at the sky.

On the other side of the trench was a long, low hut. Beside the hut there was the gleam of water, the first the companions had seen in this barren place.

‘The ditch runs all around the hut like a moat, do you see?' Sonia breathed in Rye's ear. ‘They must pull in the bridge at night, to keep out bloodhogs and other enemies. Any beast trying to leap the gap would risk falling onto the points of those spears.'

Rye nodded grimly. The hut was built of dark stones, but its roof gleamed white. How many bones must it have taken to roof a place of that size? Who
were the people who had died to provide those bones? How many Weld volunteers had been among the dead? Were Sholto's bones among the rest?

Dirk had seen the bones, too. His arm had begun to tremble. Or perhaps it was Rye himself who was shaking. He could not be sure.

Linked tightly together, the companions stood and watched as Cap persuaded Bones to drag the sled on over the bridge. They remained motionless as, once Bones was safely out of the way, the end of a folding ladder dropped down through the steam. They waited while a wizened little man wearing a puffy velvet beret climbed down the ladder carrying a flickering lantern. But when Cap and the trader crossed the bridge, three shadows flitted after them.

‘The poor fellow grows madder every day,' the wizened man rumbled in the deep, rich voice that did not match his appearance at all. He jerked his head at Bones, who was drawing the sled into place in front of the hut. ‘What's all this about wizards in the Saltings?'

‘Oh, just another of his visions,' Cap said carelessly. ‘He spends too much time alone out there. Come and sit by the Soak.'

He led the visitor towards the gleam of water and the two sat down, facing one another with the lantern between them. Rye, Dirk and Sonia followed.

Close up, the spring was not nearly as inviting as it had looked from a distance. It was little more than
a puddle ringed with mud. The people of the Den plainly used the water, however, for a few white bowls lay scattered around the puddle's rim. Rye thought the bowls were ordinary pottery, at first. It took a moment or two for him to realise, with sick horror, that they were made of human skulls.

Instinctively he glanced over his shoulder at Bones. Having placed the sled to his satisfaction, the old man was lowering himself to the ground beside it, his long, skinny limbs folding till he looked like a crouching spider. He was muttering to himself, fumbling with his ghastly necklaces, so that the yellowed teeth clicked against one another like rain pattering on a roof. His stomach heaving, Rye turned back to the two men by the Soak.

‘I dislike being called a cheat, Captain,' Four-Eyes was saying in injured tones, as he settled himself. ‘My reputation is my livelihood.'

‘Quite,' Cap replied calmly. ‘So you'd be wise not to take advantage of your best customers. Word gets around, you know. I didn't see the stranger's belongings myself, but it was clear from Bones' description that you didn't pay nearly enough for them. I daresay you kept the best things for yourself and traded the rest on quickly enough. What did you get for them?'

Four-Eyes shrugged, turning down the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh, very little,' he said. ‘The fellow had fallen into an old jell-pit, after all. More things than his neck were broken, and the items that were still whole
were in a very sad state indeed I'm afraid.'

He sighed gustily. ‘Still, I made the best of it. I managed to trade the coat, which was not in bad condition, for the sign on my vehicle. Certainly, I can't read it myself, but a sign gives a business a professional tone. I've been meaning to have it done ever since I came by the paint a month or two ago.'

He glanced across the trench to his wagon with childish satisfaction.

‘You've a fine new lantern, too, I see,' said Cap, nodding at the lamp burning on the ground between them. ‘That at least came from the stranger's bag in one piece, did it?'

‘Hardly new,' the trader murmured, smoothly avoiding the question. ‘Rather battered, I fear. Still, we must all make do with what we can get, Cap, as you know. Now, about this bloodhog skull …'

‘Oh, never mind the skull, Four-Eyes,' said Cap, smiling. ‘Clearly it's of no real interest to you, if all you can offer for it is a few shivs of tarny root and a bunch of traveller's weed. We'll just do our usual jell trade, and—'

‘Not so fast, my friend!' the trader broke in smoothly. ‘Nothing would please me more than to do you a favour, and I've been thinking. The next stop on my rounds is the Diggings, and it's occurred to me that one of the guards there might well be interested in a bloodhog skull. So I might just be able to offer you a little more …'

Rye had stopped listening. He was staring at the lantern—the rusty, dented, but suddenly very familiar-looking lantern glowing on the dusty ground. There was a roaring in his ears that drowned out all other sound. He was remembering some words he had read in Sholto's note of farewell to their mother.

His throat aching, Rye struggled to accept what he was seeing. He struggled to accept, at last, that his dream of Sholto had been false, that Sholto was dead.

‘We must go!' Sonia hissed suddenly. ‘The others are coming. We must get back over the bridge before they reach it!'

Rye looked round and saw the people from the mounds trudging along the sled tracks towards the bridge. He knew that Sonia was right. Once everyone was crowded inside the small area bounded by the trench it would be almost impossible for the three intruders to remain unnoticed. The ghostly shape of the skimmer hook alone would eventually give them away.

And there was no reason to stay, in any case. He had heard enough … more than enough.

Dirk seemed to agree, for he turned his back without a word on the two men haggling by the Soak. Dirk's face was drawn. Rye knew that his brother's
rage and burning desire for revenge had drained away, leaving only a terrible sadness behind.

Sholto had not been struck down by human hands. The treacherous ground of the Scour had killed him.

Certainly, Bones had robbed his body before carrying it back to the Saltings so that the snails could reduce it to a skeleton. No doubt that was why Cap had been so anxious to stop Rye, Dirk and Sonia from finding out about the death. He had feared their anger—feared they would use their magic to attack the people of the Den in revenge for what Bones had done.

But what point was there in anger? Sholto himself, with his cold, clear way of looking at things, would have understood Bones' actions perfectly. He would have agreed that life here was too hard for anything to be wasted—even a dead man's bones.

As quickly and silently as they could, the three companions moved back to the bridge and crept across it. Bones was still mumbling over his beads by the hut. Rye hoped fervently that the old man would not look up. If he did, he would surely see the misty shape of the giant hook floating over the trench. But Bones did not stir.

The people from the mounds were very close now, plodding along with bowed heads, most carrying skull bowls partly filled with blood-red jell. Reaching the end of the bridge, the companions just had time
to slip around to the far side of the monstrous wagon before Floss, Needle and the rest began slowly filing past.

The wagon looked even larger close up. Warmth radiated from its metal surfaces, and it was still wreathed in a moist, foul-smelling haze.

Rye gazed at it, wondering dully how it moved without beasts to pull it. He bent to look at the vehicle's underside, and as he did he caught sight of a strange little circular design painted low down on the side panel just below the doorway.

Rye peered at the design. It was hard to see clearly because it was a dark colour—red, he thought. It did not look as if it had been painted with a brush, but rather as if it had been hastily scrawled with a fingertip.

He was just about to point it out to Dirk and Sonia when without warning Dirk pulled himself up into the wagon, pushing aside the flap of goat hide that served as a door.

‘Dirk!' Rye whispered in panic, pushing back the hood so his brother could see him. ‘What are you doing?'

Dirk looked back over his shoulder. ‘What do you think?' he muttered. ‘The trader said his next stop was the Diggings. That is on our way, and it will be far safer and faster for us to ride with him than to walk. If he does the same thing there as he has done here, we will easily be able to slip out of the wagon while he is trading.'

‘But—'

Dirk's face was very hard. ‘If we ask that little worm to help us he will certainly refuse, or ask a price we cannot afford to pay. So we will take what we want without his knowledge. He plainly did well out of Sholto's death, so he can help us continue Sholto's quest. Stop shilly-shallying, Rye! Come on!'

He turned away, the goat hide falling back into place behind him.