Deltora Quest #3: City of the Rats (3 page)

S
ome of Tom’s goods, like the floating bedroll, cost more by themselves than all the money Lief and Barda had. But other things they could afford, and it was difficult to decide between them.

In the end, as well as the self-coiling rope, they chose a packet of “No Bakes” — the white rounds that expanded into loaves of bread — a jar of “Pure and Clear” — a powder that made any water fit to drink — and some cushioned socks. The pile was disappointingly small, and they had had to put aside many far more interesting things, including a jar of the fire-making beads and the pipe that blew bubbles of light.

“If only we had more money!” Lief exclaimed.

“Ah!” said Tom, pushing his hat a little back on his head. “Well, perhaps we can make a bargain. I buy as well as sell.” He cast a sly glance at Lief’s sword.

But Lief shook his head firmly. Much as he wanted Tom’s goods, he would not give up the sword his father had made for him on their own forge.

Tom shrugged. “Your cloak is a little stained,” he said casually. “But still, I could perhaps give you something for it.”

This time Lief smiled. However uncaring Tom appeared to be, he plainly knew very well that the cloak Lief’s mother had woven for him had special powers.

“This cloak can make its wearer almost invisible,” he said. “It has saved our lives more than once. I fear it is not for sale either.”

Tom sighed. “A pity,” he said. “Ah, well.” He began to pack the fire beads and the light pipe away.

At that moment the bell on the shop door tinkled, and a stranger walked in. He was as tall as Barda, and as powerful, with long, tangled black hair and a shaggy black beard. A jagged scar ran down one cheek, showing pale against his brown skin.

Lief saw Jasmine slipping inside after him. She stood against the door, her hand on the dagger at her belt. Clearly, she was ready for trouble.

The stranger nodded briefly to Lief and Barda, snatched up a length of the self-coiling rope from a shelf, and strode past them to lean over the dusty counter.

“How much?” he asked Tom abruptly.

“One silver coin to you, good sir,” said Tom.

Lief’s eyes widened. Tom had told them that the price of the rope was
three
silver coins. He opened his mouth to protest, then felt Barda’s warning hand on his wrist. He glanced up and saw that his companion’s eyes were fixed on the counter, near to where the stranger’s hands were resting. There was a mark there. The stranger had drawn it in the dust.

The secret sign of resistance to the Shadow Lord! The sign that they had seen scratched on walls so many times on their way to the Lake of Tears! By drawing it on the counter, the stranger had signalled to Tom. And Tom had responded by lowering the price of the rope.

The man threw a silver coin into Tom’s hand and as he did his sleeve casually wiped the mark away. It all happened very quickly. If Lief had not seen the mark with his own eyes, he would not have believed it was ever there.

“I have heard rumors of strange happenings at the Lake of Tears, and indeed all through the territory across the stream,” the stranger said carelessly, as he turned to go. “I have heard that Thaegan is no more.”

“Indeed?” said Tom smoothly. “I cannot tell you. I am but a poor shopkeeper, and know nothing of these things. The thorns by the road, I understand, are as wild as ever.”

The other man snorted. “The thorns are not the result of sorcery, but of a hundred years of poverty and neglect. The Del King’s thorns, I call them, as do many others.”

Lief’s heart sank. By making the secret sign, this stranger had proved that he was dedicated to resisting the Shadow Lord. But plainly he hated the memory of the kings and queens of Deltora as much as Lief himself had once done, and blamed them for the kingdom’s misfortune.

He knew he could say nothing, but could not help staring at the man as he passed. The man returned his gaze, unsmiling, and left the shop, brushing past Jasmine as he went through the door.

“Who was that?” Barda whispered to Tom.

The shopkeeper settled his hat on his head more firmly before replying. “No names are mentioned in Tom’s shop but Tom’s own, sir,” he said calmly. “It is better so, in these hard times.”

Lief heard the door tinkle again and turned to see Jasmine leaving. Now that the possibility of danger had passed, she had become restless, and had decided to go out into the fresh air once more.

Perhaps Tom realized that Barda and Lief had seen
and understood the mark the stranger had made on the counter, for suddenly he picked up the fire beads and the light pipe, and added them to their little pile of goods.

“No extra charge,” he said, as they glanced at him in surprise. “Tom is always happy to help a traveller — as you have seen.”

“A traveller who is on the right side.” Barda smiled.

But Tom merely raised his eyebrows, as if he had no idea what the big man meant, and held out his hand for payment.

“A pleasure to serve you, sirs,” he said, as they handed over their money. He counted the coins rapidly, nodded, and put them away in his cash box.

“And what of our free gift?” asked Lief cheekily. “The sign in the window says —”

“Ah, of course,” said Tom. “The gift.” He bent and fumbled under the counter. When he stood up, he was holding a small, flat tin box. He handed it to Lief.

“If you do not ask, you do not get. Is that your motto, young sir?” he asked. “Well, it is my motto too.”

Lief looked at the box. It fitted easily into the palm of his hand, and looked quite old. The faded lettering on the label said simply:

“What is it?” Lief asked, bewildered.

“The instructions are on the back,” said Tom.

Suddenly, he paused, listening. Then he slipped out from behind the counter and darted through the shop’s back door.

In his haste he had left the door open, and Lief and Barda followed him. To their surprise, the door led directly into a small field enclosed by a white fence and completely hidden from the road by the tall trees that surrounded it. Three grey horses were standing by the fence, and sitting upon it, patting them, was Jasmine, with Kree perched on her shoulder.

Tom strode towards the fence, waving his arms. “Do not touch the animals, if you please!” he shouted. “They are valuable.”

“I am not hurting them!” exclaimed Jasmine indignantly, but she took her hand away. The beasts snuffled in disappointment.

“Horses!” Barda muttered to Lief. “If only we had horses to ride! How much faster would our journey be then?”

Lief nodded slowly. He had never ridden before, and he was sure that Jasmine had not, either. But surely they could soon learn. On horseback they would be able to outrun any enemy — even Grey Guards.

“Will you sell us the beasts?” he asked, as they caught up with Tom. “For example, if we were to return to you all the things we have bought, would that be enough —?”

Tom looked at him sharply. “No exchanges!” he snapped. “No refunds! No regrets!”

Lief’s stomach lurched with disappointment.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Jasmine. “What is this ‘buy’ and ‘sell’?”

Tom stared at her in surprise. “Your friends would like to have some beasts to ride, little miss,” he explained, as though Jasmine were a small child. “But they no longer have anything to give me in exchange for them. They have spent their money on other things. And” — he glanced at Lief’s cloak and sword — “they do not choose to trade anything else.”

Jasmine nodded slowly, taking it in. “Perhaps, then, I have something to trade,” she said. “I have many treasures.”

She began to feel in her pockets, bringing out in turn a feather, a length of plaited twine, some stones, her second dagger, and the broken-toothed comb from her nest in the Forests of Silence. Tom watched her, smiling and shaking his head.

“Jasmine!” Lief called, feeling a little ashamed. “None of those things is —”

Then his jaw dropped. Barda gasped. And Tom’s eyes bulged.

For Jasmine had pulled out a small bag and was carelessly upending it. Gold coins were pouring out, making a shining heap on her lap.

O
f course, Lief thought, after his first astonishment had passed. Jasmine had robbed many Grey Guards who had fallen victim to the horrors of the Forests of Silence. He had actually seen a mass of gold and silver coins among the treasures she kept in her treetop nest. But he had not realized that she had brought some of them with her when she left the Forests to join their quest. He had quite forgotten about them till now, and, because to her they were just pretty keepsakes, she had not mentioned them.

A few coins bounced away onto the ground. Barda hurried to pick them up, but Jasmine barely looked at them. She was looking at Tom — at his glittering eyes. Perhaps she did not understand about buying and selling, but she recognized greed when she saw it.

“You like this?” she asked, holding up a handful of the gold.

“Indeed I do, little miss,” said Tom, recovering a little. “I like it very much.”

“Then, will you exchange the horses for it?”

A strange expression crossed Tom’s face — a pained expression, as though his desire for the gold was struggling with another feeling. As if he was calculating, weighing up risks.

Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

“I cannot sell the horses,” he said regretfully. “They — are promised to others. But — I have something better. If you will come this way …”

He led them to a shed at one side of the field. He opened the shed door and beckoned them inside.

Standing together in one corner, munching hay, were three creatures of very odd appearance. They were about the same size as horses, but had long necks, very small heads with narrow, drooping ears, and, most surprising of all, only three legs — one thick one at the front and two thinner ones at the back. They were unevenly splodged all over with black, brown, and white, as though they had been splashed with paint, and instead of hooves they had large, flat, hairy feet, each with two broad toes.

“What are they?” asked Barda, astonished.

“Why, they are muddlets,” cried Tom, striding forward to turn one of the beasts towards them. “And very fine examples of the breed. Steeds fit for a king, sir. The very thing for you and your companions.”

Barda, Lief, and Jasmine glanced at one another
uncertainly. The idea of being able to ride instead of walk was very appealing. But the muddlets looked extremely strange.

“Their names are Noodle, Zanzee, and Pip,” said Tom. Affectionately, he slapped each of the muddlets’ broad rumps in turn. The beasts went on chewing hay, completely undisturbed.

“They seem gentle enough,” Barda said, after a moment. “But can they run? Are they swift?”

“Swift?” exclaimed Tom, holding up his hands and rolling his eyes. “My friend, they are swift as the wind! They are strong, too — far stronger than any horse. And loyal — oh, their loyalty is famous. In addition, they eat almost anything, and thrive on hard work. Muddlets are everyone’s steeds of choice, in these parts. But they are hard to get. Very hard.”

“How much do you want for them?” asked Lief abruptly.

Tom rubbed his hands. “Shall we say, twenty-one gold coins for the three?” he suggested.

“Shall we say, fifteen?” growled Barda.

Tom looked shocked. “Fifteen? For these superb beasts that are as dear to me as my own children? Would you rob poor Tom? Would you make him a beggar?”

Jasmine looked concerned, but Barda’s face did not quiver. “Fifteen,” he repeated.

Tom threw up his hands. “Eighteen!” he said. “With saddles and bridles thrown in. Now — can I say fairer than that?”

Barda glanced at Lief and Jasmine, who both nodded vigorously.

“Very well,” he said.

And so the bargain was struck. Tom fetched saddles and bridles and helped Lief, Barda, and Jasmine load the muddlets with their packs. Then he led the beasts out of the shed. They moved with a strange, rocking motion, the one front leg stepping forward first, and the two hind legs swinging together after it.

Tom opened a gate in the fence and they walked out of the field. The three grey horses watched them go. Lief felt a pang of regret. In the excitement of bargaining with Tom, he had forgotten the horses. But how nice it would have been to ride them away, instead of these other strange, lolloping creatures.

Never mind, he told himself, patting Noodle’s splodgy back. We will become used to these beasts in time. By the end of our journey, no doubt, we will have grown very fond of them.

Later, he was to remember that thought — remember it bitterly.

When they reached the front of the shop, Tom held the reins while the three companions climbed up on their mounts’ backs. After some discussion, Jasmine took Zanzee, Lief took Noodle, and Barda took Pip, though in fact there was little to choose between the beasts, who looked very alike.

The saddles fitted just behind the muddlets’ necks, where their bodies were narrowest. The baggage was
strapped behind, across the broad expanse of the rump. It was quite a comfortable arrangement, but, all the same, Lief felt a little anxious. The ground seemed very far away, and the reins felt awkward in his hands. Suddenly he was wondering if this had been a good idea after all, though, of course, he did his best not to show it.

The muddlets were making glad, snuffling sounds. They were clearly very pleased to be out in the fresh air, and were looking forward to exercise.

“Hold the reins tightly,” said Tom. “They may be a little lively at first. Call, ‘Brix’ when you want them to go, and ‘Snuff’ when you want them to stop. Call loudly, as their hearing is not sharp. Tie them up well when you stop, so they will not stray. That is all there is to it.”

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine nodded.

“One more thing,” Tom murmured, inspecting his fingernails. “I have not asked you where you are going, for I do not want to know. Knowledge is dangerous, in these hard times. But I am going to give you a piece of advice. It is excellent advice, and I suggest you follow it. About half an hour from here you will come to a place where the road divides. At all costs take the left path, however tempted you may be to do otherwise. Now — travel well!”

With that, he lifted a hand and slapped Noodle’s rump. “Brix!” he shouted. And, with a lurching jerk, Noodle started forward, with Pip and Zanzee following close behind. Kree squawked, flapping above them.

“Remember!” Tom’s voice called after them. “Keep tight reins! Be sure to take the left path!”

Lief would have liked to wave, to show that he had heard, but he did not dare lift a hand. Noodle was picking up speed, her floppy ears blowing backwards in the breeze, her powerful legs bounding forward.

Lief had never been to sea, for before he was born, the Shadow Lord had forbidden the coast to the citizens of Del. But he imagined that clinging to a lively muddlet must be very like sailing a boat in stormy weather. It required all his attention.

After about ten minutes, the muddlets’ excitement wore off and they slowed to a steady, lolloping pace. Noodle began to remind Lief of a rocking horse he had had as a child, rather than making him think of a pitching boat.

This is not so hard, he thought. In fact, it is easy! He was filled with pride and satisfaction. What would his friends say, if they could see him now?

The road was wide, and the companions were able to ride beside one another. Lulled by the rocking movement, Filli settled down to sleep inside Jasmine’s jacket, and now that he was sure that all was well, Kree flew ahead, dipping now and then to catch an insect. Jasmine herself rode silently, her eyes thoughtful. Barda and Lief talked.

“We are making very good time,” said Barda with satisfaction. “These muddlets are certainly excellent steeds.
I am surprised that we have not heard of them before. I never saw one in Del.”

“Tom said they were hard to get,” answered Lief. “The people in this part of Deltora keep them to themselves, no doubt. And Del has had little news from the countryside since long before the Shadow Lord came.”

Jasmine glanced at him, and seemed about to speak, but then she closed her mouth firmly, and said nothing. Her brows were knitted in a frown.

They rode on without speaking for a moment, and then, at last, Jasmine opened her lips.

“This place we are to go — the City of the Rats. We know nothing of it, do we?”

“Only that it is walled, appears deserted, and stands alone in the bend of a river called the Broad,” said Barda. “It has been seen by travellers from afar, but I have heard not a whisper of anyone who has been inside its walls.”

“Perhaps no one who has been inside has lived to tell the tale,” said Jasmine grimly. “Have you considered that?”