The Third Door

16 - The Enemy of Weld

It was a moment Rye would never forget—a moment of shock, confusion, horror and pity. As Jett stood there in front of him, sweat starting out on his brow, blood seeping from his ruined mouth, Rye could not help but think that the man had lost his senses.

But it was not so. That was clear the moment Jett spoke again.

‘Did you think I was a traitor like you, Keelin?’ he sneered. ‘Did you think that I, too, was a grovelling pet of the enemy of Weld?’

Stunned, Rye gaped at him.

‘I was drawn to the golden Door, but in the old tales it is always the humblest choice that is the right one,’ Jett went on, his swollen eyes glittering. ‘So I went through the wooden Door. I fought my way through the Fell Zone. I found the enemy of Weld. I gained a place in his household. I bided my time, waiting my chance to kill him without fear of discovery so I could return home and claim my prize. I was a fool. I should have acted at once …’

He stopped to gasp for breath. With the back of his hand he swiped at the blood trickling down his chin, smearing it across his cheek. All the time he glared at Rye as if Sonia, standing motionless by the trapdoor, did not exist.

‘How did you survive the Fell Zone without harm, Keelin?’ he snarled. ‘Did Farr help you? Have you been a traitor from the start? By the Wall, if I had known what you were when I saw you playing your part in Farr’s evil charade at Fell End I would have seen to it that you died where you fell. But I did not realise you were from Weld till I heard you speak, and by then you were protected and it was too late.’

‘It was you who put that message in my dressing gown pocket,’ Rye whispered, his flesh creeping. ‘It was you who poisoned Janna and tried to poison me.’

‘Poison?’ Jett spat. ‘Do not judge me by your standards, scum! A warrior of Weld does not use poison as a weapon! A dagger to the heart was what you deserved, but the witch Petronelle was always on the watch. So I wrote the note. You should have taken the warning while you had the chance. Now I will do what I have longed to do for days!’

His hands reaching for Rye’s throat, he launched himself forward and fell heavily, screaming in pain and rage as the armour shell repelled him.

‘Sorcerer!’ he hissed, crossing his fingers and his wrists. ‘So that was your pay for betraying your people! That is how the enemy of Weld has made you his creature!’

‘Farr is not the enemy of—’

‘Liar!’ Jett shouted. ‘Do you think I do not know? Farr has never fooled me! I have always known the skimmers were his doing. I have always known that he was duping his people, rousing their hatred, to persuade them to make war on Weld!’

‘Jett, you are wrong!’ Rye burst out. ‘Farr is not going to make war on Weld! The enemy he is about to attack is our enemy too—a sorcerer from across the sea, who has taken possession of another part of Dorne.’

Because I caused Olt’s death, he thought but did not say. Because when Olt’s life ended the ring of protection he threw around this island vanished.

He fought down his guilt and concentrated on Jett, who was sneering in disbelief.

‘You must believe me, Jett,’ he begged. ‘Some call this sorcerer the Master. Others call him the Lord of Shadows. He is breeding the skimmers in a place called the Harbour. I have been there! I have seen them!’

‘I daresay you have, traitor!’ Jett snarled. ‘But you cannot trick me with your half-truths! I have always known that Farr must have a powerful ally. I have always known that the skimmers were being bred far from here! How else could Farr have kept his doting people in ignorance for so long?’

He had an answer for everything. Despairingly, Rye glanced at Sonia. To his dismay he saw that she was looking at Jett thoughtfully, biting her lip.

Sonia! You cannot believe him! He is raving! His hatred for Farr has blinded him to the truth!

Sonia met his eyes.

Or are we the ones who have been blinded?

Her question hissed into Rye’s mind like chill wind. As he shook his head helplessly, more words came to him.

Ask him about the pipeline …

‘The pipeline, Jett … What do you know of that?’ he made himself say.

Jett gave another hoarse, bitter laugh. ‘I am not so stupid that I have not guessed its true purpose, if that is what you mean! I am not an oaf who thinks “pipeline” must always mean “water”.’

‘What—what are you saying?’ Rye stammered, suddenly feeling as if he was choking.

‘Do you keep up the pretence even now?’ Jett made an impatient movement, pushed himself up from the floor and slumped back onto his chair.

‘I know what you know, Keelin,’ he said, in a flat, exhausted voice. ‘I know that today at sunset more skimmers than Weld has ever seen will stream from the holds of cargo ships into the giant tank where the pipeline meets the sea. I know that those skimmers will surge through the pipeline, unseen and without troubling a soul in New Nerra or Riverside. I know they will explode into the Fell Zone and fly on, over the Wall. And I know that tonight Weld will end, and that when Farr’s barbarians enter it tomorrow morning, there will hardly be a soul left alive to defend it.’

His head flopped forward till his chin touched his chest. He shuddered all over then was still, as if he had suddenly fallen asleep or fainted.

And as Rye struggled against the ghastly pictures the man’s words had conjured up, a memory came to him on a wave of sickness.

He saw himself standing in front of a red wall, reading a large sign:

He saw himself creeping through a vast vault of sleeping skimmers. He saw himself pressing the light crystal to the strange, round, black-rimmed door in the back wall of the vault, and staring out at an oily, heaving sea.

And he saw the ships that waited at anchor there, each with a black circle marked low on its side—a circle to which a tunnel could be attached.

Rye! You did not tell me this! You did not mention ships waiting outside the Harbour building!

Rye’s head jerked up as Sonia’s voice rang in his mind. Sonia had shared his vivid memories and had drawn her own conclusions. He could feel her panic.

‘Why did you not tell me, Rye?’ she asked aloud. Her voice was shaking.

Rye searched for an answer. ‘It—was a detail. It did not seem important.’

How feeble the words sounded, in the face of the fearful images flying unguarded from Sonia’s mind to his! Weld facing a skimmer onslaught too great for it to bear. Annocki and Faene huddled in the damaged Keep, trying to comfort terrified, injured children while ravenous skimmers ripped and tore at the gradually crumbling walls. The Warden fluttering uselessly, never considering for a moment the idea of throwing open his private door and ushering everyone he could find down to the Chamber of the Doors, and safety.

Rye wet his lips. ‘Jett is only guessing,’ he said, hardly recognising the sound of his own voice. ‘What he says cannot be true!’

‘It can,’ said Sonia flatly. ‘If Sholto was here, he would tell you the same. We wondered why the Master has not invaded this place. Now we know. He does not need to invade. He and Farr are working together. Farr sends the Master Riverside hogs to work in the Diggings, food for the workers in the Harbour, myrmon for the Harbour healers. The Master sends Farr skimmers, and the means to conquer Weld.’

‘No!’ Rye shook his head violently. ‘Farr is—a good man, and a great leader. He would never ally himself with the Master!’

‘Farr may not know what the Master is,’ Sonia said, her voice hard. ‘He may think he can control him. He will learn better, I imagine, when at last the Master’s own territory is empty of jell.’

She moved to the open window, leaned on the sill and looked out. ‘There is jell in plenty in those fields, we are fairly sure of that. And according to Dirk the earth of Weld is full of it. The Master will not be able to resist mining such rich sources for long—even for the sake of hogs and myrmon.’

His mind reeling, Rye joined her at the window and looked out at the countryside spread out below him like an embroidered quilt. From this great height it seemed strangely unreal and at the same time familiar, like a place he had once seen in a dream.

He stared out at the chequered green and gold of the fields, at the gently rolling hills beyond, at the pipeline and the river with the road running in between. The Fell Zone seemed to float on the horizon like a dense green cloud. The sky above its highest point was stained an ugly brown.

Rye narrowed his eyes and bent forward, peering at the brown smudge. Was that—could it be …?

He turned and snatched up the far glass from the table. Pressing it to his eye he focused on the brown patch of sky then slowly lowered the glass a fraction.

And there, directly below the sickly brown haze, was the steep, bare rock of the hollow mountaintop. The stain in the sky was the exhausted breath of Weld. Rye’s stomach turned over. Abruptly he took the glass from his eye, and realised that Sonia was looking at him enquiringly.

‘Weld,’ he mumbled. ‘You can see it from here.’

Her mouth tightened as she nodded.

Fearful of what she might go on to say, Rye made a show of looking down, as if searching for Dirk and Sholto. There were more people pressed together at the base of the watchtower now, and the number of soldiers guarding the iron door had increased to five.

The little park behind the watchtower was deserted. The old people and the children had left, no doubt because of the growing noisiness of the crowd. The park was bathed in sunlight and bright with flowers. Right in the middle, encircled by a low, clipped hedge, a small tree spread its graceful branches over a large stone tablet that perhaps bore the park’s name, or a list of the founders of Riverside.

Rye’s eyes blurred as he looked down at the green patch of peace. The tree could easily be a bell tree. Almost he could imagine that he was looking down at the garden in the Fleet guesthouse, where Sonia and Faene had walked not so long ago, their hair loose and shining in the sun, their light dresses floating in the gentle breeze.

That garden had been a place of peace, too. Until Olt’s Gifters came.

I cannot regret causing Olt’s death, Rye thought suddenly. I cannot! But I can try to stop the evil that flowed from it. And by chance I have the means.

He touched the bundle hanging from his belt. It was less bulky now, because Sholto had the book, but the gold casket was safe.

‘If Farr is in league with the Master, or if he is not, does not matter,’ he said aloud. ‘We will take the disc to the Fellan as we planned.’

‘Time is short,’ Sonia murmured. She was still staring out the window, staring at the horizon. At Fell End, where the pipeline ended? At the forbidden forest? At the murky cloud that marked Weld? Rye could not tell.

As he looked with her, a tiny flash caught his eye. On the road beyond the hills something was winking like a tiny beacon. He lifted the far glass.

Six people on horseback were moving towards Fell End. The leader had a short, broad sword in his belt, and it was this that was catching the light. He sat tall in the saddle, and was bareheaded.

It was Farr. Rye knew it. The three councillors were riding behind him, and behind them were two soldiers. Their shadows were long and dark, flickering along the road like spirits bearing them company.

Rye’s heart seemed to stop. Suddenly it was as if a spell had been broken—a spell that had held him for too long in this small square room where everything could be seen distantly, from above.

If Jett was right, sunset would mean the end of Weld.

A plan sprang into Rye’s mind, fully formed. He dug his fingers into the brown bag, searching for the charms he needed. ‘We must go!’ he exclaimed.

Sonia turned sharply, her eyes startled.

Rye clambered onto the windowsill, pulling her with him. ‘Farr has left Riverside,’ he panted, holding up the red feather. ‘It looks as if he is on his way to—to Fell End!’

‘Rye, wait!’ Sonia gasped. ‘You have not—’

‘Jett can stay where he is,’ Rye muttered, and flung them both into space. He felt the breeze from the river cool on his hot face, his neck, his ears. Only then did he realise what Sonia had been trying to tell him. He was not wearing the hood. He had forgotten to pull on the hood!

There was a crash behind them as Jett’s chair fell to the floor. Then Jett himself was at the window, bawling to the crowd below, stabbing his finger at Rye and Sonia.

‘Sorcerers!’ Jett roared, as shocked faces turned upwards and people began to scream, crossing their fingers and their wrists at the sight of two beings swooping like birds above them. ‘You see? I am innocent! There are your assassins! Do not let them get away!’