The Third Door

26 - Decisions

The meeting in the waiting room was a strange, awkward affair. After greeting his visitors in dignified fashion, the Warden fell silent and for a long minute plucked absently at the pleats of his robe as if he had forgotten what he had intended to say.

At a nudge from Jordan he gave a small start and cleared his throat. ‘Well, Volunteers,’ he said faintly, ‘I understand that one of you has earned the right to be my heir as Warden, and—ah—marry my daughter. The question is, which one?’

Lisbeth, who had insisted on being present at the meeting, silently left the room.

The Warden gazed after her vacantly.

‘Crell of Southwall is not part of the contest, sir,’ Jordan murmured. ‘He was not a volunteer. He is here as the editor of The Lantern. I was sure you would like this important event to be widely reported.’

The Warden’s eyes bulged. ‘Oh, yes, certainly, certainly!’ he mumbled. ‘Well, then …’

Jett stepped forward. ‘I am not part of the contest either,’ he said. ‘I did not discover the enemy of Weld. I have not won the right to be Warden.’

A lump rose in Rye’s throat. He wondered what it had cost Jett to say those words.

The Warden sighed fretfully. ‘Then it is down to you three,’ he said, fixing his watery gaze on Dirk, Sholto and Rye in turn. ‘You are brothers, I hear. It should be easy enough for you to decide between you which one of you deserves the honour.’

The waiting room door opened again and Lisbeth strode in, with Annocki, Sonia and Faene following. All the young women were dressed in very simple borrowed clothes. Annocki’s proud, handsome face was like a fine carving. Faene’s golden beauty took Rye’s breath away. And Sonia … Sonia’s green eyes were fierce and her magnificent hair seemed to light the room. Quickly Rye looked down at his feet.

‘I think,’ Lisbeth said firmly, ‘that if the Warden’s daughter is to be discussed at this meeting, she and her friends should be present.’

‘Very good,’ Jordan said quickly as the Warden scowled. ‘Now—which one of you young men is to claim the prize?’

‘Not I,’ Dirk said, turning to take Faene’s hand. ‘I have my prize. And I think she will be happier outside the Wall than within it.’

‘And not I,’ Sholto drawled. ‘I am a better advisor than I am a leader—I know that much about myself. And besides, I have no wish to marry your daughter, Warden, though I respect her with all my heart. I have other plans.’

Other plans.

Rye thought of nothing, and kept his eyes cast down. He did not want to look at anyone, least of all Sonia.

‘Then the choice has been made,’ the Warden said irritably. ‘The third son—Rye, is it?—will be my heir.’ He turned to Crell. ‘You can announce that in the next issue of your miserable rag if you wish. And make sure to add that it is fortunate the heir is so young, because I have hopes of living a very long time!’

And at that, Rye could no longer keep silent.

He raised his head. ‘Warden, you cannot remain leader of Weld after this day,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If you do, I will see to it that everyone knows what I know—that your challenge to the heroes of Weld to go beyond the Wall was just a plan to rid yourself of the rebels who were threatening your power.’

‘How dare you!’ cried the Warden, though sweat was beading his forehead, and the colour was draining from his flabby cheeks.

‘You knew that only the most restless young men would become volunteers,’ Rye went on. ‘And you knew that once beyond the Wall they would never return. For safety, the Sorcerer Dann made the Doors so that from the outside they only open at the touch of a bell tree stick, like this one.’

He put his hand to the stick in his belt.

Someone in the room gasped. It might have been Jett or even Jordan. Rye did not turn to look. He kept his eyes on the Warden.

The Warden’s mouth was opening and closing like the mouth of a fish. ‘You cannot possibly know—’ he burst out. ‘That is, how do you dare to claim—?’

‘I know because you tried the trick again when my brothers and I defended Tallus, the morning after the tower fell,’ Rye broke in. ‘You opened the way to the Chamber of the Doors, so that we would run through it to escape from your soldiers. I daresay you locked it again as soon as you were alone.’

No one spoke. The Warden seemed to shrink.

‘And I know because of what I saw in a pool in the Fell Zone, the night before last,’ Rye went on. ‘The pool is called Dann’s Mirror, and it holds Dann’s memories—the memories he left there when he died.’

Wildly the Warden turned to Jordan, who was thoughtfully stroking his moustache. ‘Jordan, take me back to my room!’ he gabbled. ‘I—I feel unwell.’

‘Best to stay I think, sir,’ Jordan said stolidly.

‘When he was very old and frail,’ Rye said, ‘Dann told his best friend and advisor that he had decided to abandon Weld. He planned to lead his people out, so that the freer air of Dorne could restore their magic and they could help him rid the island of the tyrant Olt.’

‘Absurd!’ the Warden croaked, but no one paid any attention to him. Every eye in the room was fixed on Rye.

Rye knew that it was time to finish his tale—finish it and let go of his anger. Then he could free himself from this stuffy room, free himself from the sight of the Warden, whose eyes were darting right and left like the eyes of a hunted animal.

‘Dann’s friend pretended to agree, but secretly thought the plan was madness. He wanted things to stay just as they were. So he persuaded Dann to take him through the golden Door, and in the Fell Zone attacked him and stole the bell tree stick. He darted back into Weld, and the Door slammed behind him. Dann could not follow without the stick, and the attack had broken his strength, so he could not go to find another. He was locked out of Weld forever.’

‘The same trick,’ Crell murmured.

‘Yes,’ Rye said simply. ‘The false friend announced that Dann had died and left Weld in his care. No one thought to question him. But the secret of what really happened has been passed down from father to son in his family ever since, just as the office of Warden has.’

‘And when our Warden began to fear for his position, he remembered it and put it to use,’ Dirk said soberly.

‘Indeed,’ Sholto drawled. ‘Why break the habit of a lifetime and think of something original?’

Jordan had been whispering urgently in the Warden’s ear. The Warden’s shoulders slumped.

‘I have decided to retire,’ he said sulkily. ‘I appoint Rye of Southwall to take my place.’

Rye shook his head. ‘Even if I wanted to be Warden, which I do not, there is someone else who deserves the prize more than I do. Without her the quest would have failed, and my brothers and I would all be dead.’

He beckoned to Sonia. She returned his gaze, expressionless, and stepped forward.

The Warden crossed his fingers and his wrists. Then, his face a picture of horrified disgust, he picked up his robes, pushed past Jordan, and scuttled from the room.

Smiling slightly, Sonia turned to Rye. ‘It seems the Warden does not like your idea, Rye. And I do not like it either, though I thank you for the thought. When I first began, I did not know how alive I would feel outside the Wall. My future lies there, not here.’

‘But—but what of Annocki!’ Rye hissed.

Nocki will come with us, I hope. Her heart is set on Sholto, and I am fairly sure he feels the same.

Had Sonia not heard what Sholto had said? Bewildered, Rye shook his head at her. Sonia, Sholto plainly said that he would not marry Annocki!

‘Sholto said that he had no wish to marry the Warden’s daughter,’ Sonia said aloud, in a falsely casual voice that would not have deceived a child. ‘And as I have no wish to marry him, though I respect him with all my heart, that is just as well.’

‘At last!’ Annocki burst out, clapping her hands together in relief as Dirk whooped in amazement. ‘Oh, how I have hated this stupid charade, Sonia! How could you have insisted we change places?’

‘It could not be helped,’ Sonia retorted. ‘At first I would rather have died than let any volunteer know who I was. And later … well, I did not want to spoil things.’

Rye gaped at them both, feeling as if all the breath had been driven from his lungs.

‘Sholto guessed long ago,’ Sonia added ruefully. ‘I do not know how.’

‘Mostly it was the way you snapped out orders as if you were used to being obeyed,’ said Sholto. And at Sonia’s scowl he burst out laughing in a way Rye had not heard him laugh for many years.

Daily editions of The Lantern gave the citizens of Weld much to think about over the next few days. The chieftain of the barbarians and his gracious lady had visited the city, and as a token of friendship had made the magnificent gift of a pair of iron gates to fit the new gateway being made in the Wall. The Warden had retired to a farm in the Centre, due to ill health. There were to be elections for a new Warden, and it seemed that Jett of Northwall was the most popular candidate. Chieftain Farr had said that he and his people would gladly welcome visitors, and even settlers, from Weld as soon as the gateway was completed.

The heroes of the breaking of the Wall could not wait for the gateway to be completed. Much as they loved their old home, and however safe and comfortable they felt there, they had all grown used to fresher air and brighter skies.

To Dirk and Sholto’s great surprise, their mother had not only made no objection, but had announced her intention to go with them. She could visit Weld whenever she wished, she said, to visit old friends. But she liked the sound of the world outside, and would like to see it for herself.

Rye was not surprised at all. Dirk and Sholto had gone away long before Lisbeth had been forced to leave her home and seek work in the Keep. They did not realise how that had changed her.

So there came a time when Rye, Sonia, Dirk, Faene, Sholto, Annocki and Lisbeth stood together in the Chamber of the Doors and looked up at the words engraved in the stone.

‘So—are we agreed?’ Dirk asked. ‘We all choose the wooden Door—at least for now.’

‘I do, certainly,’ Lisbeth said firmly. ‘And not just for now. Chieftain Farr has told me that a house, several beehives and a flock of goats are waiting for me at Riverside. I expect a steady stream of Weld visitors there—Tallus, for one. And Rye and Sonia, at least, need a home until—well, for a good while!’

She glanced at Sonia, who grinned. Already a strong affection was growing between them, though Lisbeth still found Sonia something of a mystery. Warm-hearted Lisbeth could not understand how any young woman could bear so casually the knowledge that her own father disliked her. But in time, Rye thought, Sonia would no doubt open her heart to his mother as she had to him over the past few days. Then Lisbeth would see that though Sonia’s hurt was deep it was very old, and Sonia had found a way to live with it as she might have learned to live with any scar.

It seemed to Rye, however, that Sonia’s time beyond the Wall had changed her, as it had changed him. She had discovered things about herself that she had not known before—among them the magic that, like red hair, was surely her mother’s legacy. Somehow that new confidence had helped her to let much of her bitterness go.

One day, perhaps, she would even come to pity and forgive the vain, jealous, fearful man she had seen face to face only four or five times in her life. Perhaps she would not. But in any case, the old pain would be less in the clear air beyond the Wall.

‘Annocki and I have no choice at present,’ Sholto was saying cheerfully. ‘She wants to be near Sonia, and I need to organise supplies of myrmon for Tallus, so Dorne in the present is clearly our best base. But later, perhaps …’ His eyes strayed longingly to the silver Door.

Faene was looking at the golden Door, tears welling in her eyes. Rye’s heart ached for her. How must it feel to know that your world, your time, was so far in the past? That the people you had loved had been dead for centuries, and your old home had been changed utterly?

But FitzFee’s many descendants thrived on the farms around Fell End and Riverside, raising the descendants of the horses Faene had left behind her. The lady Janna’s ancestors, it seemed, had been among the Fleet exiles. And Janna had promised to meet Faene at the little park in Riverside, so they could stand together beneath the ancient bell tree and see what lay at its roots—the stone that bore Faene’s parents’ names, respected in the new town as it had been in the old.

As it happened, however, Faene’s next words showed that she was not grieving for herself, but for someone else.

‘I hate to think that Eldannen died in despair,’ she said. ‘He was my parents’ friend and—such a good man.’

‘I do not think he died in despair, Faene,’ Sonia said, taking her hand. ‘He ended his days with the Fellan, who loved him. And he was certain that one day another would come to do what he could not. That is why he left his memories in the pool, and told the Fellan to keep his nine powers safe until the right person came to claim them.’

Rye shrugged. ‘I still cannot be sure that I was the right person,’ he said, touching the little brown bag that now once again hung around his neck. ‘It was pure chance that I was carrying the bell tree stick. And it was pure chance that Sonia was with me when I went through the golden Door.’

Dirk clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Right or wrong, you did well enough, little brother,’ he said.

‘Better than well enough,’ drawled Sholto.

‘No one could have done better,’ said Lisbeth.

‘Rye,’ Sonia whispered. ‘Let us go! It is time! Farr and the Fellan are waiting!’

And Rye stretched out his hand, and with rising joy, opened the Door.