The Maze of the Beast

A shabby caravan pulled by a fat old horse was trundling towards the village along the Broad River path. At first, Lief thought there were two figures sitting on the driver’s seat. But as the caravan drew closer he saw that he had been mistaken. There was only one — a huge golden-haired man with dark brown skin, singing his rather surprising song at the top of his voice.

Impulsively Lief moved forward. “Wait,” Barda muttered. “Looks and words can be deceiving.”

Lief nodded, and stayed where he was. But when he heard the man’s song falter as the caravan drew up to the ruined town sign, and saw the sorrow on the broad face, he was not willing to wait any longer.

The man’s mouth turned down as he saw the three emerge from the shadows. “Ah,” he said. “This is a bad business.” He climbed down from the caravan and looked around him, taking in the desolation. “But I am not surprised. Every year for many years we have come here on our rounds, and each time I have feared finding this very thing.”

He shook his head. “I warned them. I said to them, ‘Give it up, my friends. Move on! Life is precious!’ But they were so brave. So foolish …”

He rubbed a huge hand over his eyes.

“You speak of your rounds,” said Barda, who was still wary. “What rounds?”

The man looked up. “Why, I am a peddler, sir,” he said politely. “I sell, I buy, and I trade. Steven B is my name.” He gestured at the faded lettering on his cart.

To Lief’s surprise, there was a movement behind him and Dain stepped forward.

“Hello, Steven,” the boy said. “Do you not know me?”

The man’s face relaxed into a grin. “Young Dain!” he said. “I saw you there, but I was not sure you wished to be recognized in this company.”

“These are friends,” said Dain. “They are helping me on my way to Tora, Steven. I am going there at last.”

The grin faded. “These are bad tidings,” Steven said. “Why do you not stay where you are safe? This part of the country is not kind to travellers.”

“Yet you travel every day,” Lief pointed out.

Steven shrugged his massive shoulders. “I?” he said, as if that was another matter altogether. “Ah, yes. But I have protection.”

Lief stared. The man was unarmed, and seemed quite alone except for the old horse. He was big, certainly, but his pleasant, open face did not seem the face of a fighter. Quite the opposite.

“Steven’s brother, Nevets, always travels with him,” said Dain quickly, and, Lief thought, warningly.

Steven put his head on one side. “Would you like to meet Nevets?” he enquired.

“Oh, no. We would not dream of disturbing him,” Dain exclaimed, before Lief and Barda could say anything. “But, before you go, my friends and I would like to buy some goods for our journey, Steven.”

The man beamed. “A pleasure to serve you,” he said. He strode to the back of the caravan and threw open the doors. The space was fitted out as a tiny shop, crammed with clothes and household needs.

The brother is not hiding in here, in any case, thought Lief. And what are we to buy? For, plainly, we are expected to buy something.

He watched as Dain bought a small cooking pot he did not need. Then Steven turned to him. “And what is your fancy, sir?” Steven asked.

Lief held out a coin and gestured to a basket containing many small packets of what looked like toffee. Steven raised his eyebrows, but took the coin and tossed him two packets.

Then it was Barda’s turn, and to Lief’s surprise Barda pointed to a wide cloth belt embroidered with a pattern of dull gold and brown leaves. “If that is within my means, I will take it,” Barda said.

“A fine choice,” said Steven, removing the belt from its hook. “And to you, a friend of Dain’s, only three silver coins.” He measured Barda’s waist with his eyes. “You could find it a little snug, however,” he added.

“It is not for me,” said Barda, counting out the money. “It is a gift.”

Steven nodded and passed over the belt. “Ah, well,” he said. “Our journey has not been quite without profit, and that is one good thing. But this place makes me sad, and that will never do. We will stay no longer.”

As he turned away to close the doors, he began mumbling to himself. A strange character, Lief thought. And a little mad, for this brother he speaks of seems to exist only in his imagination. Perhaps Nevets died, and this turned Steven’s wits.

Steven finished bolting the doors, and walked to the front of the caravan. As he put his foot on the step to climb up to the driver’s seat, he turned back to Dain. “Give up this idea of Tora, for now, Dain, and come with us,” he said, stretching out a friendly hand. “There is room on the seat for you. Soon we will be meeting with some of your friends, to make a delivery. You could return to the stronghold with them.”

Dain shook his head. “I thank you most sincerely for the offer, Steven,” he said. “But I cannot accept.”

Steven looked regretful, then shrugged and finished his climb. When he was safely on the driver’s seat again, he bent and fumbled underneath it. There was a clinking sound, and at last he brought out a small jar. This he passed to Dain. “With my compliments,” he said. “May it help you on your journey.”

As Dain stammered his thanks, Lief looked curiously at the jar. With a small shock, he saw the familiar “Quality Brand Honey” label.

Steven saw him looking, and put a finger to the side of his nose. “Not a word,” he said. He clicked to the horse. The caravan lurched forward, and slowly turned until it was facing the way it had come.

Barda, Lief, and Dain raised their hands in farewell. Steven grinned and waved. Then he shook the jingling reins and the caravan creaked away.

“He sells Queen Bee honey?” Lief muttered. “But I thought it was in short supply.”

“He sells only to the Resistance,” said Dain, looking down at the jar. “And then he charges only a fraction of the honey’s worth. Do you not understand? He is no ordinary peddler. He is the son of Queen Bee herself.”

Lief drew a quick breath.

“But what was this talk of a brother?” Barda demanded. “He was alone!”

A cloud seemed to pass over Dain’s face. “Steven is never alone,” he said. “Nevets is always with him. But Nevets is not a man you would like to meet. I have seen him only once, and I never want to do so again.”

As they stared, he turned to look after the caravan. “Nevets only appears when Steven, or someone close to him is threatened. Most of the time he stays within.”

Barda shook his head impatiently. “There was no one within!” he snorted. “The caravan contained only goods for sale.”

“Not within the caravan,” murmured Dain. “Within Steven himself.”

Lief felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He peered along the path. The caravan was almost hidden by a fine cloud of dust. But the jingling of the bells on the horse’s reins floated back to him. And over the bells came the sound of singing.

Colly-wobble Ol-io,

Jolly-wolly Ol-io,

Colly-wobble Ol-io,

You don’t bother me!

But this time, Lief could have sworn that instead of one voice, there were two.