City of the Rats

The towers of the city rose dark and forbidding above their heads. Long ago, the great iron entrance gates had fallen and rusted away. Now all that remained was a gaping hole in the wall. The hole led into darkness, and from the darkness drifted a terrible, stealthy, scrabbling sound and the stink of rats. There was something else, too. Something worse. A sense of ancient evil — spiteful, cold, terrifying.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine began drawing on the Ra-Kachar gloves and covering their faces and heads with the red fabric they had worn during the escape from Noradz.

“I do not understand how the rats became so many,” Lief said. “Rats breed quickly, it is true. And they breed faster when there is dark, and dirt, and food is left where they can find it. But why did the people of this city not see the problem, and put a stop to it before it became so great that they had to flee?”

“Some evil was at work.” Barda stared grimly at the crumbling walls before them. “The Shadow Lord —”

“You cannot blame the Shadow Lord for everything!” Jasmine burst out suddenly.

Barda and Lief glanced at her in surprise. Her brows were knitted in a frown.

“I have kept silent for too long,” she muttered. “But now I will speak, though you will not like what I say. That stranger we saw in Tom’s shop — the man with the scar on his face — spoke of the thorns on the plain. He called them the Del King’s thorns. And he was right!”

They were staring. She took a deep breath, and hurried on.

“The Shadow Lord has ruled Deltora for only sixteen years. But it has taken far longer than that for the thorns to cover the plain. The sorceress Thaegan’s enchantment at the Lake of Tears began a hundred years ago. The people of Noradz have been living as they do for centuries. And this evil place must have been abandoned by its people for just as long.”

She fell silent, staring moodily ahead.

“What are you saying, Jasmine?” asked Barda impatiently.

The girl’s eyes darkened. “The kings and queens of Deltora betrayed their trust. They shut themselves up in the palace at Del, living in luxury while the land went to ruin and evil prospered.”

“That is true,” said Lief. “But —”

“I know what you are going to say!” Jasmine snapped. “You have told me before that they were deceived by servants of the Shadow Lord. That they followed stupid rules blindly, thinking that this alone was their duty. But I do not believe that anyone could be so blind. I think the whole story is a lie.”

Barda and Lief were silent. Both could see why Jasmine would find the truth so hard to believe. She had fended for herself since she was five years old. She was strong and independent. She would never have allowed herself to be a puppet, dancing as a Chief Advisor pulled the strings.

Now she was rushing on. “We are risking our lives to restore the Belt of Deltora. And why? To return power to the royal heir — who even now is hiding, while Deltora suffers and we face danger. But do we really want kings and queens back in the palace at Del, lying to us and using us as they did before? I do not think so!”

She glared at them both, and waited.

Barda was angry. To him, what Jasmine was saying was treason. But Lief felt differently.

“I used to think as you do, Jasmine,” he said. “I hated the memory of the old King. But questions about whether he and his son were vain and idle or simply foolish, and whether their heir is worthy, are not important now.”

“Not important?” Jasmine cried. “How can you —?”

“Jasmine, nothing is more important than ridding our land of the Shadow Lord!” Lief broke in. “However bad things were in Deltora before, at least then the people were free, and not in constant fear.”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. “But —”

“We cannot defeat the Shadow Lord by arms. His sorcery is too powerful. Our only hope is the Belt, worn by Adin’s true heir. So we are not risking our lives for the royal family, but for our land and all its people! Do you not see that?”

His words struck home. Jasmine paused and blinked. Slowly, the fire in her eyes died. “You are right,” she said flatly, at last. “My anger made me lose sight of our main purpose. I am sorry.”

She said nothing more, but finished winding the red cloth around her head and face. Then, dagger in hand, she went with them, into the city.

They plunged into a maze of darkness, and the walls were alive with sound. The rats came in the thousands, streaming from cracks in the crumbling stone, their tails lashing like whips, their red eyes gleaming.

Lief took the pipe and blew. Glowing bubbles rose from it, warming and brightening, lighting the darkness like tiny, floating lanterns.

The great rush of rats slowed, became a confused rabble, as most of the creatures scrabbled away from the light, shrieking in panic.

The bravest, darting in the shadows of the ground, tried to cling to the strangers’ moving feet, to climb their legs. But the high, slippery boots and smooth, thick red garments defeated all but a few, and these Lief, Barda, and Jasmine could brush off with their gloved hands.

“These garments might have been made for our purpose,” muttered Barda, as they struggled along. “It is a fortunate chance that we came by them.”

“And a fortunate chance that Tom gave us this pipe,” answered Lief. But even as he spoke he wondered. Were these things just chance? Or were they — something else? Had he not felt before, on this great journey, that somehow their steps were being guided by an unseen hand?

Brushing, shuddering, they stumbled forward. Now and again Lief blew on the pipe and new bubbles of soft light bloomed. The bubbles they had left behind drifted high above their heads, glowing on the ancient timbers that still supported the roof. The rats had not been able to gnaw through these timbers — or perhaps they knew better than to try, for without them the roof would cave in, exposing the city to the sun.

The whole city was like one huge building — a maze of stone that seemed to have no ending. There was no fresh air, no natural light. This, it seemed, was the way towns were built in these parts, Lief thought. Noradz had been the same.

Everywhere were the signs of vanished grandeur. Carvings, high arches, vast rooms, huge fireplaces filled with ashes, great, echoing kitchens heaped with dust.

And everywhere, rats crawled.

Lief’s foot kicked against something that clanged and rolled. The rats caught at his gloves as he bent to pick it up.

It was a carved goblet — silver, he thought, though stained and tarnished with age and neglect. His heart was heavy as he turned it in his hands. It was as though it spoke to him of the people who had fled their home so long ago. He peered at it more closely. Somehow it seemed familiar. But why …?

“Lief!” growled Barda, his voice muffled by the cloth around his mouth and nose. “Keep moving, I beg you. We do not know how long the light pipe will last, and by nightfall we must be in a place of safety.”

“Somewhere, at least, where there are no rats,” added Jasmine. Furiously, she swept her hands from her shoulders to her hips, so that the rats crawling on her body fell squeaking to the ground.

A vivid memory, and a rush of astonished understanding, jolted Lief to his core. “And if we find such a place, we will say, ‘No rats here,’ and it will be a blessing,” he murmured.

“What?” Jasmine demanded crossly.

There was no time to explain now. Lief made himself move on, pushing the stem of the goblet into his Belt. Later, he would tell Jasmine and Barda. When they were out of danger. When …

Come to me, Lief of Del.

Lief started, looking around wildly. What was that? Who had spoken?

“Lief, what is the matter?” Jasmine’s voice seemed distant, though she was right beside him. He looked down at her puzzled green eyes. Dimly he realized that she could hear nothing.

Come to me. I am waiting.

The voice hissed and coiled in Lief’s mind. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he began to move fast and blindly, following its call.

The bubbles of light floated before him, shining on ruined walls, rusted metal brackets where torches had once burned, fragments of pots piled in heaps. Rats teemed in corners and clawed at his boots.

He stumbled towards the city’s heart. The air grew thick and hard to breathe. The Belt around his waist throbbed with heat.

“Lief!” he heard Barda shout. But he could not turn, or answer. He had reached a wide passage. At the end loomed a vast doorway. A sickening, musky smell billowed from whatever was beyond. He faltered, but still he moved on.

He reached the doorway. Inside, something huge moved in darkness.

“Who are you?” he quavered.

And the hissing voice struck at him, piercing and burning.

I am the One. I am Reeah. Come to me.