Dragon's Nest

6 - The Upstart

When Lief, Barda, Jasmine and Doom at last returned to the palace, they found it ablaze with light. The entrance hall was crowded with waiting people.

Guards and palace workers alike had crept out of their rooms and gathered together as soon as the crystal left the palace. All had stayed awake, to send strength to their king. The story told by the six guards who had run from the forge had only made them more determined to continue their watch.

Lief’s heart twisted with pain as he saw the gladness on their faces, heard their shouts of triumph and relief as he told them that the crystal was no more. The yellowed scrap of paper tucked away inside his jacket seemed to burn him. The words of the evil rhyme tormented him.

As the bells began to ring, and celebrations began, he slipped away to the new library. It was shadowy and seemed deserted, but a light glowed at the end of the room, from Josef’s private chamber.

The old librarian was sitting at his work table, with his back to the open door.

The table was cluttered with paints and brushes, and a half-completed illustration for a new book lay at Josef’s hand. But the brushes were clean, and the jars of paint sealed.

Plainly, Josef had not been working, but had been sitting at the table out of habit. He, too, had been keeping watch.

Lief knocked gently on the edge of the door. Josef turned stiffly in his chair, frowning slightly. When he saw who his visitor was, however, his face broke into a radiant smile.

‘Your majesty!’ he cried, struggling to his feet. ‘I thought it was Paff. How wonderful to see you safe! I knew you would succeed!’

‘It was thanks to you that I dared to try,’ Lief answered.

He moved into the room and took the old man’s outstretched hands, shaking them warmly. Then he hesitated, not quite knowing how to go on.

‘Josef, there is something I need to—,’ he began.

‘I know,’ Josef broke in. ‘Ever since I first heard the bells I have been thinking about it. And—you will be surprised—but I have decided that we should stay where we are.’

He saw Lief’s confusion and looked surprised. ‘Did you not mean to ask me about the library, your majesty?’ he asked. ‘About moving it back to the third floor, now that the menace has been removed?’

‘Oh yes, that, too, Josef, of course,’ said Lief hastily and quite untruthfully.

‘It has taken a very long time to move all the books downstairs,’ Josef said. ‘I cannot bear the thought of carrying them all back again. Paff tries her best, I daresay, but I fear she will never be half the assistant Ranesh was. And she chatters so!’

Lief smiled, despite his impatience. Paff annoyed him too, though at the same time he felt rather sorry for her. Josef was not much of a companion for a young girl.

But when Ranesh, Josef’s foster son, had left Del and gone to the west to marry his true love, Marilen, Paff had timidly come forward and asked if she could replace him.

Josef had been pleased enough to have her. Paff could read and write, which was sadly uncommon among the young people who had grown up under the rule of the Shadow Lord. And there had been no other applicants for the job.

No wonder, thought Lief. Everyone knew that Josef was a fussy and demanding employer. But Paff, a released prisoner from the Shadowlands and the only surviving member of her family, had been anxious to find work as quickly as possible.

‘At least Paff is hardworking, Josef,’ Lief said soothingly. ‘And we could give you other help to move again. Are you sure about staying here? I know how much you miss the old library.’

Josef shrugged and grimaced. ‘I have complained very much, I know,’ he said. ‘I am too set in my ways. The fact is, your majesty, in the past weeks I have realised how isolated we were on the third floor. Here, we are in the thick of things. I think that the library will have many more visitors if it is placed where everyone can see it.’

‘That is certainly true,’ said Lief heartily. ‘Well, then, that is settled. Now … Josef, can you help me with some—some research I have to do, about Deltora’s past?’

‘Why certainly!’ beamed Josef, rubbing his hands delightedly. ‘How can I be of service?’

‘First, I need to find out when a chief advisor called Drumm lived,’ Lief said. ‘Do you know of him?’

Josef frowned. ‘I know the name. I just cannot recall where I have seen it,’ he muttered in annoyance. ‘But I will soon find it in the Annals, your majesty, never fear.’

He began shuffling rapidly to the door.

Lief caught his arm. ‘Not now, Josef. It is late, and we must both get some sleep. In the morning, perhaps. But here is something else to think about. Have you ever heard the phrase, “The Four Sisters”?’

‘Ah!’ Josef’s face brightened. ‘Why, of course! The Four Sisters is an old Jalis legend—one of the Tenna Birdsong tales. It is about four sisters who loved to sing together. They sang so sweetly that they annoyed a wicked sorcerer, who banished them to the four corners of the land. But still they sang to one another, though they were far apart.’

Lief nodded gloomily. No doubt the Shadow Lord thought it amusing to name his sources of poison after four sweet sisters in an old Deltoran folk story, he thought. But this does not take me much further.

‘Yes, The Four Sisters. A charming little story, as I recall,’ Josef chattered on eagerly. ‘I have not read it for years, but planned to do so very soon, to see if it is worthy of inclusion in Tales of Deltora—my new book, you know. I will look it up for you now!’

This time he would not be stopped. He hurried out of his room and, with Lief following reluctantly, hastened to the shelf where the Deltora Annals stood.

Pulling the first thick volume from the shelf, he began leafing through it.

Suddenly, Lief could not bear it. He was bone weary, and even to please Josef he knew he could not stand and read an old folk tale now.

Firmly he put his hand on the old man’s, to stop the restless flipping of pages.

‘Not now, Josef, please,’ he said. ‘I will look at the story in the—’ His voice broke off as, suddenly, his stomach seemed to turn over.

He was aware of Josef looking at him in puzzlement, but for a moment he could not speak. He stared down at the closely printed page on which his and Josef’s hands rested. Was it a coincidence? Could it be …?

‘What is it, your majesty?’ Josef asked nervously.

Slowly Lief straightened. He slipped his hand into his inside jacket pocket, and brought out the torn part of the map.

‘Josef,’ he said, trying to control the excitement in his voice. ‘Before I show you this, you must promise me that you will speak of it to no-one.’

Josef bit his lip. ‘I know I have let my tongue run away with me in the past, your majesty,’ he mumbled. ‘But I have learned my lesson, I swear it. Any secret you share with me now, I will take to my grave.’

‘I hope it will not come to that,’ said Lief lightly. And, still wondering if he was doing the right thing, he unfolded the map.

Josef’s eyes widened. ‘Why, how did you come by this!’ he exclaimed in excitement.

‘You recognise this paper?’ Lief asked quietly.

‘Of course!’ Josef cried, touching the map with reverent fingers. ‘Doran the Dragonlover’s mapping style is unmistakeable! Ah, but what a tragedy that only a fragment remains.’

Lief stared at him in astonishment. This was not what he had been expecting the old man to say. But … Doran the Dragonlover! Of course!

That was why the markings on the fragment of map—all but the verse—had looked familiar. They were almost exactly like those on the map of Dragon Territories Josef had shown him just before the meeting.

‘What a fool I was not to have seen it,’ he murmured.

But Josef was not listening. His eyes had moved to the verse printed at the bottom of the paper.

‘Not only has it been torn, but someone has dared to scrawl their own words here!’ he said furiously. ‘What is this drivel? Sisters four with poisoned breath, Bring to the land a long, slow—’

He stopped, his mouth gaping. He swallowed hard.

‘Four sisters,’ he whispered. ‘The Four Sisters … Doran … Oh, how could I have forgotten? Why did I not think of it! How could I—’

Frantically he pulled the fifth volume of the Deltora Annals from the shelf. He flipped through the pages until he came to the Dragon Territories map. Then he slowed, and began turning the pages more carefully.

‘Josef, what are you looking for?’ demanded Lief, in a fever of impatience.

But still the old librarian did not answer. He was muttering to himself, completely wrapped up in his own thoughts.

‘Now, where is it?’ he said, glancing rapidly at every page. ‘It cannot be far now. Not far now … Aha!’

Recklessly he pressed the book wide open and pointed triumphantly at the left-hand page, which was covered with Doran’s writing.

‘Here it is!’ he said. ‘Doran’s final entry in the Annals. Read it!’

‘Josef, what—?’ Lief began.

‘Read it!’ roared Josef, his eyes wild. ‘Read all of it! You will see!’

That was all. On the opposite page there was only a beautifully neat report of a palace dinner, written by one of the librarians. Heading the list of people who attended was the name of Drumm, the King’s chief advisor.

Lief felt sick.

‘Doran’s words are wild, I know,’ said Josef softly. ‘It was said that his last, hopeless dragon hunt had sent him mad with grief. There are many references to it, later in the Annals. The thought of it always grieved Ranesh and me very much. Doran was a great man.’

‘Indeed he was,’ said Lief, looking down at the hastily written words. His stomach was churning as he imagined the desperation of the man who had written them. ‘And he was not mad, Josef. Unless being the only one to see the truth is a kind of madness.’

He pressed the book even further open, and pointed to a few tiny, jagged rags of paper clinging to the binding.

‘Look,’ he said softly.

Josef squinted short-sightedly, then recoiled.

‘But—but it looks as if a page has been torn out here!’ he exclaimed. ‘That is impossible! Once a thing was written into the Annals, it was written! It was strictly forbidden for anything to be removed.’

‘Drumm would not have cared what was forbidden,’ said Lief. ‘He was following the Shadow Lord’s orders. I think this is part of the missing page.’

He put the fragment of Doran’s map on top of the open book. It was clear at once that the thick, yellowed paper of the map was the same as the paper used in the Annals.

Josef stared, aghast. ‘Doran drew a map on the page opposite his words, to show where he thought the four sisters lurked,’ he breathed. ‘And that page was torn out! No doubt very soon after he wrote it, too, because the back of the map is blank. But how did you know?’

‘I only suspected,’ Lief said. ‘When you were looking for the story of the Four Sisters, I realised that the paper of the map was the same as the paper always used in the Annals. It could have been chance—but it was not.’

Again he stared at the final lines of Doran’s message.

… the Enemy is aware of me …

He swallowed. ‘You said that this was Doran’s last entry in the Deltora Annals?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Josef unhappily. ‘He set out to find the Four Sisters of whom he speaks. But he never returned, and no-one knew where to look for him. He was never seen again.’