Shadowgate

11 – The Trail

When the village clock struck nine, Steven, Lief and Jasmine were still in the field. A small fire was crackling between them, and Steven was pouring hot tea into cups. He had refused to go in pursuit of the Masked Ones.

‘They would not have touched the Belt,’ he said firmly. ‘To them, it is an evil thing. They learn to hate it from the cradle.’

‘Why?’ Lief said. He swallowed. His throat had been soothed by the Queen Bee honey Steven had given him, but it still felt raw.

He now knew the reason. It was because in the night, just before midnight, he had screamed in agony. Screamed, and screamed…

‘Later, I will give you something that explains the Masked Ones a little,’ said Steven, pushing a steaming cup into his hands. ‘For now, forget them and think about the ordinary folk who were travelling with them.’

Lief sipped his tea, staring at the cloud of bees swarming on the fence at the far edge of the field. He let his mind drift, knowing that it was best not to force his memory.

Gradually, much of what had happened the night before had come back to him. But he remembered nothing from the moment the clock began to strike midnight. He knew only what Jasmine had told him.

It was horrifying, almost unbelievable, but he knew it was true. In the mirror Steven had brought from the caravan, he had seen the proof—the raw patches on his cheekbones, chin and neck, gleaming scarlet beneath their layers of sticky green cream.

He shuddered, thinking how narrow his escape had been. How nearly he had been a Masked One for life, the beautiful blue bird face bonded forever with his own. A few more seconds…

He reached for Jasmine’s hand.

‘No-one but Barda and I were with you at midnight, Lief,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The Belt must have been stolen before then—while you were wandering alone in the crowd. Though how it could have been taken without you noticing, I do not understand.’

Her words stirred a memory in Lief’s mind. Bess, talking to Rust:

If he can take a purse from a man’s coat, without that man noticing, he can learn to deceive an audience with ease.

‘Zerry!’ he exclaimed.

‘Who?’ asked Steven, leaning forward.

‘The little thief?’ Jasmine cried at the same moment. ‘Of course! But Lief, how—?’

‘Some children jostled me in the field,’ Lief said slowly. ‘I remember now. Zerry was one of them. He must have taken the Belt then.’

He stared across the field, remembering.

‘Before that, I was feeling—confused,’ he said. ‘The Belt’s magic, and the magic of the mask, were battling within me, I am sure of it. One minute I would think I was a Masked One. The next minute a voice inside me would remind me I was not. And I could not stop shivering. But after I was jostled by the children, all that disappeared.’

‘Because the Belt had gone,’ murmured Jasmine.

Lief nodded. Absently, he noticed that the bees had risen from the fence. Now they were swarming back towards the road in a ragged stream.

He focused on them. He stared.

‘Zerry must have known exactly what he was after,’ Steven said thoughtfully. ‘An ordinary thief would have searched your pockets. That can only mean that, child or not, he is an ally of the guardian of the north—a servant of the Shadow Lord.’

Jasmine swallowed the last of her tea and jumped up. ‘We can still catch him! He is on foot. No doubt he escaped from the field last night with everyone else—and went by the road, for fear of becoming lost.’

‘But which way did he go?’ Steven asked, tossing dust on the fire to put it out. ‘Among the mass of tracks, how are we to find those of one small boy?’

‘Look at the bees!’ Lief said.

Steven glanced at him in surprise, then looked to where he was pointing.

A dark cloud of bees was swirling over the dust of the road.

‘What are they doing?’ Steven growled. ‘There is nothing for them out there!’

‘Oh, but there is!’ Lief could not help smiling, despite the stinging pain in his face.

‘Yesterday, Zerry stole honey from the store wagon,’ he said. ‘He must have hidden himself away and had a secret feast. When he jostled me last night, his hands were sticky with honey—and no doubt it had dripped on his clothes and shoes as well. Look! The bees can smell it!’

They were all on their feet now, shading their eyes, staring at the bees. The swarm was slowly moving west.

‘You see?’ Lief said softly. ‘The bees are following a honey trail. To find Zerry, and the Belt, all we have to do is to follow them!’

Lief rode inside the caravan so that his injuries would be protected from the dust of the road. He rolled up his cloak for a pillow and tried to sleep, like Barda, but sleep would not come.

Long hours passed. Then his heart leaped as he heard Steven calling the horse to a halt.

‘Why have we stopped?’ he asked anxiously, as Jasmine threw open the caravan doors with Filli chattering on her shoulder. ‘Is Zerry—?’

‘The bees have lost the trail,’ Jasmine answered flatly.

As Lief clambered to the ground, he saw that the road no longer ran between open fields. Now it was overshadowed on both sides by tall rocks and trees with pale, thin branches that clattered together like bones.

He walked with Jasmine to the front of the van, where Steven was pouring water into a bucket for his thirsty horse.

Immediately ahead, there was a road leading off to the left. It was marked by a signpost so faded that Lief could not see what it said.

Kree was perched on the signpost. The bees were swarming uncertainly behind it, where there was a large clearing. Wheel tracks criss-crossed the open space, leading off in both directions.

Lief approached the signpost, and looked at it.

Something stirred in his mind. He felt he had seen that name somewhere else, not long ago. But where?

‘The boy met a wagon here, it seems,’ Steven said, moving up behind him with Jasmine. ‘And surely not by chance. We can follow—but which way?’

‘The trees here can tell me nothing,’ Jasmine said grimly. ‘They are weak and ill—barely alive. The wheel tracks tell a story, however. Only one wagon moved west. And by the deep grooves it left behind, it had been standing here for a day or two before that.’

‘Indeed,’ Steven nodded, peering at the tracks. ‘All the other wagons came and went quite quickly. And they all went south to Riverdale. No doubt the boy is with one of those.’

‘I cannot see how a meeting was arranged,’ Lief frowned. ‘Zerry was travelling all day yesterday. And Happy Vale was deserted. How was the message passed?’

‘You might as well ask how Zerry knew he must steal the Belt,’ Jasmine said impatiently. ‘Perhaps he saw it written in the sky! Perhaps the clouds formed letters saying, “Steal the Belt of Deltora. Meet at the Riverdale signpost”! What does it matter?’

Lief’s heart jolted. He had just remembered where he had seen the name ‘Riverdale’ before! And with the memory had come a vivid picture—and an idea. A wild idea…

‘It might matter a great deal,’ he exclaimed, kneeling and fumbling in his pocket for paper and pencil. ‘Remember the Happy Vale noticeboard? Everyone in the troupe saw that as we moved through the town. Did you, Steven?’

‘Of course,’ Steven said gravely.

Lief put the paper on the ground in front of him. ‘The main notice is not important,’ he said. ‘But I want you both to help me remember all the small ones. Word for word, if possible.’

‘I did not read them all,’ murmured Jasmine, flushing a little. She still felt awkward because she read so slowly.

‘You may not read fast, Jasmine, but you observe without even trying,’ said Lief. ‘That will be your part—and the most important one, if I am right.’

Quickly they finished the first notice, and the second. Jasmine could help no further after that, but Steven and Lief soon worked out the next three between them.

‘I cannot help you on the last one,’ Steven said. ‘It concerned that villain Laughing Jack, the moneylender. I did not read it.’

‘It does not matter,’ Lief said. ‘I remember it. I noticed it particularly, because the first words—”Seek the Nomad”—were odd.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Steven sourly. ‘Laughing Jack is a great one for eye-catching notices. And he is a nomad, for he has no fixed home. He appears without warning outside one town or another, and in between it is as if he vanishes. Where was he camped this time?’

‘Here,’ Lief said, writing out the last notice and drawing a border around it. ‘At the Riverdale signpost!’