The Third Door

14 - Riverside

The river was running swiftly and its chill made Rye and Sonia gasp, but they quickly discovered that they had no need of the serpent scale. They were so close to the bank that the water was only chest deep. They could wade to safety.

And wade they did, clinging together while the tide tugged at them and pebbles slipped beneath their feet, till they reached the mossy stone bank. And then they crawled out and looked behind them.

The barge was chugging on, gradually picking up speed. Clearly the captain had no intention of stopping just to chase two ragged stowaways. Jacko was still standing at the railing, looking back in puzzlement, his hand shading his eyes.

‘He cannot see us,’ Sonia cried gleefully. ‘The hood must be working again!’

Her face had brightened. The dip in the river seemed to have done her good. Rye felt far better himself, he realised. It was a relief to know that the powers had not deserted him. He simply had not realised that there was enough metal in the barge to make them useless.

He and Sonia were standing on a well-paved road not far past the township. From the barge, Riverside had looked of modest size, but from this angle Rye could see that in fact it was very large. Bordered by chequered fields of yellow and green, it stretched back from the road in a long, narrow band as far as the eye could see. Rye could only imagine that the farmland on either side of the band was particularly rich, too valuable to be used for building.

On the other side of the road was the pipeline. It was bigger than it had seemed from a distance, and its stone supports raised it so high above the ground that even the tallest man could have walked beneath it without ducking his head.

‘It is a mammoth work,’ Rye said, staring at it in wonder as he pushed the serpent scale back into the brown bag.

‘It is monstrous,’ Sonia replied flatly.

As Rye glanced at her in surprise, she shrugged and turned away.

‘It gives me a bad feeling. I cannot explain it,’ she said. ‘Let us go! For one thing, there will be food in Riverside and I am as hungry as a clink!’

‘We have no money,’ Rye muttered, suddenly aware of how hollow his own stomach felt.

‘Then we will have to eat scraps or steal!’ Sonia retorted. She pulled at Rye’s arm and he began walking with her towards the Riverside dock. The sun was hot. Already their wet clothes had begun to steam.

‘What is that yellow crop, do you suppose?’ Rye asked, looking over the fields.

Sonia laughed. ‘Do you not know? That is myrmon!’

‘Myrmon? But that was—’

‘Yes! The stuff that Bird and her people used to put Dirk and me to sleep! But here myrmon is used to help people who are in pain—not to take them prisoner!’

She laughed again, her eyes sparkling. ‘Myrmon was one thing I learned about when I passed Riverside on my way to you. It is quite a new crop, bred here, and they are all very proud of it. The sleeping potion is made from the centres of the flowers, the stems make very good feed for animals and the petals give a yellow dye that never fades. Myrmon has helped make Riverside and the surrounding farms rich! That and the famous Riverside hogs.’

‘A new crop, developed here!’ Rye exclaimed. ‘And the hogs … Sonia, the fields around here must be rich with jell! That is why the people of Riverside have left them as farmland, instead of building on them.’

‘Then surely it will not be long before the Master invades in earnest,’ Sonia replied darkly. ‘I cannot think why he has not made his move already. You had better tell Farr that, as well as everything else.’

They reached the Riverside sign, and under cover of the hood slipped into the city unnoticed. Looking around, Rye was surprised to see so few soldiers on the streets, and decided that the main army must be stationed further away from the river.

To his surprise, he was feeling very comfortable. Riverside was a place of light, colour and space. The broad, paved roads were busy but less bustling than the crowded streets of the larger city by the sea. The brightly dressed citizens exchanged smiles and greetings as they passed one another, and when, as often happened, two or three stopped to chat, people simply moved around them with no sign of impatience.

A bakery was offering free samples of a new kind of bread, so the companions helped themselves from the basket, hoping that no one would notice the warm, crusty fragments disappearing into thin air. The bread was delicious, but they did not dare take too many pieces at once and regretfully moved on, their stomachs growling for more.

Reaching a small square with a bubbling fountain in its centre and wooden benches set around its edges, they sank into a corner to rest and look about them.

‘This is a good town,’ Sonia said suddenly. ‘I feel very peaceful here.’

‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Rye agreed.

Indeed, there was something very attractive about Riverside. People were sitting all around the square, talking, reading or simply enjoying the air. A light, cooling breeze flitted through the surrounding streets, fluttering the edges of the striped awnings that stretched from most of the buildings, providing welcome shade. Stone water troughs for animals stood here and there. And Rye was warmed to see that many of the houses and shops had been built around tall rock chimneys hollowed out by clinks long ago.

‘This place must have been a clink colony once, like Fleet,’ he said. ‘Look at the chimneys!’

‘I daresay they are blocked in the summer,’ Sonia replied dryly.

Rye said nothing. He, too, had noticed almost all the town’s windows and doors were fitted with metal shields that would slide across them at sunset.

The citizens of Riverside, going so cheerfully about their business, were besieged, just as the people of Weld were. They, too, had to lie in their beds at night in stifling houses, listening to the sounds of death brushing their sealed walls.

Still, they were not suffering like the people of Weld. Only a few, scattered skimmers made their way to Riverside, it seemed, compared to the hordes that descended on the city inside the Wall. And, perhaps even more importantly, the Riverside citizens plainly did not feel trapped and helpless. Their houses were sturdy and well shielded, and they knew that Farr and his council were striving to stop the menace.

The red bundle on Rye’s belt seemed suddenly very heavy. He sat straighter, looking anxiously around him.

‘We must find out where Farr is,’ he said abruptly. ‘I must get to him before he makes his move tomorrow.’

And as Sonia drew breath to answer, perhaps to say that they should find Sholto and Dirk before they did anything else, the peace of the square was shattered. A man in a soldier’s uniform bolted in from the street with several other soldiers in hot pursuit.

‘Stop him!’ the leading soldier roared. ‘He tried to kill Farr! Stop him!’

Shocked, the other people in the square half rose from their seats as the running man splashed heedlessly through the little fountain, intent on escape. Without a thought, Rye jumped up and stuck out his foot.

The running man had no chance. He tripped over the invisible obstacle and fell heavily. In seconds, the soldiers were upon him. He snarled and struggled as they hauled him to his feet.

And only then did Rye realise who he was. The prisoner, the man who had tried to kill Chieftain Farr, was the scar-faced guard, Jett.

‘Let me go!’ Jett roared. ‘I am innocent!’

‘Then you were a fool to run!’ growled the leading soldier, holding him firmly by the arm. ‘Be steady now, man! If you are innocent you have nothing to fear.’

‘He is not innocent and he has everything to fear!’ Councillor Manx had swept into the square, with Barron, Sigrid and some other robed people panting behind him.

A crowd of onlookers was quickly gathering. The little square was becoming more crowded by the moment. Rye and Sonia edged quickly behind their bench to keep out of the way.

‘We all saw it!’ Manx cried in ringing tones. ‘This man brought in a food tray and put it before the chieftain. He then backed away and tried to leave the room quickly, in a way I thought suspicious. I at once inspected the tray. Beneath one of the covers was a device primed with blasting powder stolen from the pipeline workers’ stores and set to explode in moments!’

Sigrid, her iron grey braids hanging down her back and bright red patches burning high on her cheekbones, nodded vigorously.

‘All this is true,’ she panted. ‘Councillor Barron most bravely seized the device and ran with it to the water closet where it was safely quenched. If it had not been for his actions, Farr would now be dead, and we, the only three of his councillors who know the plan to foil the enemy, would be dead with him.’

‘Lies!’ Jett shouted, struggling violently.

‘Not lies, you wretch!’ Barron spluttered. ‘Truth! We all saw the device! We all saw you run!’

Manx pursed his lips and raised his chin. ‘Guards, take this man to the watchtower! Lock him up! He will be dealt with when Chieftain Farr—’

‘When Chieftain Farr has done what he came upriver to do.’ The deep voice was sombre. The onlookers drew back, awestruck, as the tall figure of the chieftain entered the square.

And through a gap in the moving crowd, Rye suddenly saw Dirk and Sholto standing together not far away. They were wearing unfamiliar clothes, and small red knapsacks were slung on their backs. Dirk’s arm was in a sling. Sholto was leaning on a stick. They both looked ill and pale. But they were alive!

A great, burning lump rose in Rye’s throat. Tears sprang into his eyes. Until that moment he had not known how strong his secret fears for his brothers had been. He felt Sonia sway beside him as his powerful emotion crashed into her mind without warning.

Where, Rye?

There! There! They live, Sonia! Both of them!

He felt her joy and relief lapping through him like warm, fragrant water, surrounding him, then flowing on to gather Dirk and Sholto in its embrace. He saw Sholto raise his head and look round, his brow creased in puzzlement, his clever eyes scanning the crowd.

We are here, Sholto! In the corner. Behind the bench. Come!

It seemed to Rye that he and Sonia were calling with one mind, one voice. He had never felt anything like it before. His whole body thrilled as he saw Sholto touch Dirk’s arm, murmur to him, and begin sidling awkwardly through the crowd, towards the corner. Dirk followed, frowning and glancing repeatedly at Jett.

‘Chieftain, I am not guilty!’ Jett cried, holding out his arms to Farr. ‘Do not believe—’

‘Silence, Jett!’ Farr’s face was seamed with grey lines. His eyes were bleak. ‘This is a bitter day. I have trusted you, but you have deceived me utterly. I must believe the evidence of my own eyes. The makings for the device have been discovered hidden among your possessions.’

The crowd shouted angrily. Jett shrank back, showing his teeth like a cornered beast.

‘I always thought it suspicious that he was so eager to guard the spy Keelin,’ Sigrid said tightly. ‘I told you so, Farr, at the beginning. Both of them injured when you took them in! Neither of them carrying proof of who they were or where they came from! Both with strange patterns of speech that proved they were foreigners! It seems my suspicions were justified. They were in league!’

Rye felt a chill. Sonia tightened her grip on his arm.

‘Plainly,’ snapped Manx. ‘And the plot was a deep one. Jett has been in Farr’s service for years.’

‘By the stars!’ Barron groaned. ‘If only we had unmasked them before poor old Carryl …’

His chin wobbled and he hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

‘I had nothing to do with the explosion at the museum, you bloated windbag!’ Jett snarled. ‘I do not make war on children and old women!’

‘That is enough!’ Farr snapped. ‘Take him away!’

Again the crowd parted as the soldiers holding Jett began wrestling him none too gently out of the square. The expression on the prisoner’s scarred face was desperate, ferocious. He fought like a wild man, bellowing that he was innocent of any crime. Twice he almost slipped through the hands that gripped him. Twice he was secured again. At last the biggest of his captors twisted his arm behind his back and he screamed in pain.

‘Barbarians!’ he roared. ‘Filthy barbarians!’

Rye’s stomach turned over. He looked wildly at Sholto, still moving determinedly towards them, at Dirk, who was staring in horror at the struggling man, and finally at Sonia.

Sonia had clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Can it be?’ she breathed through her fingers.

Rye nodded grimly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am sure of it, and by Dirk’s face he knows it too. Jett is one of us. He is from Weld.’