6 - The Doors

With a shock, Rye recognised Tallus the healer. The events of the night before had made him forget completely that Sholto’s old master was at the Keep.

Tallus was wearing a rubbed green velvet coat, brightly checked trousers, enormous walking boots and an ancient black broad-brimmed hat. These garments—the healer’s travelling costume, no doubt—made him look strange enough. But the really odd thing about his appearance was the large hand-lettered sign stuck into the hat’s band.

‘Show yourselves!’ Tallus shouted, shaking his fist. ‘I know you are there!’

The door on the other side of the room flew open and the Warden rushed in, his pale eyes bulging, his scanty hair flopped limply over his forehead.

‘What is the meaning of this uproar?’ he demanded. ‘I am only a trifle late for our meeting, Master Tallus. There is no need to shout!’

‘Aha!’ cried Tallus, swinging round to confront him. ‘So, you have set spies on me, have you, Warden? I might have known!’

‘S-spies?’ spluttered the Warden. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone came in!’ Tallus roared. ‘I saw that door over there open and close! And then I heard a voice! Someone is hiding in here!’

He glared around the room. The Warden eyed him nervously, clearly wondering if soldiers should be called to subdue this madman. Rye, Dirk and Sonia stood stock still, not daring to move.

‘Well, what does it matter?’ snapped Tallus. ‘The more people who hear what I have to say, the better! Warden, I have developed an important theory regarding the skimmers. You must listen to me!’

‘Yes, well, I am listening, Master Tallus,’ the Warden said peevishly. ‘But I am very pressed for time this morning, so—’

He broke off as Tallus held up a bony finger.

‘I have been blind,’ the healer announced. ‘Blind—ha, that is a good one! But a few days ago I saw it all in a flash.’

‘Did you, indeed?’ the Warden muttered.

Tallus nodded. ‘I was examining a skimmer—a very fresh specimen, the best I have ever had. A young friend had called by just before I began. He wanted my advice about … about something that need not concern us here.’

Rye felt a little jolt. Tallus was talking about him! For an instant he was back in the healer’s workroom. He was back with the steam and the smell. He could see the dead skimmer lying on the table, its goat-sized body covered in pale, velvety fuzz, its leathery wings outspread, its rat-like snout snarling …

He shivered. He felt Dirk and Sonia glance at him curiously, but did not look at them.

‘The boy mentioned the specimen’s eyes,’ Tallus went on. ‘He had never seen a dead skimmer’s eyes in such good condition before. The eyes are fragile and usually bleed you know, when—’

The Warden shuddered. ‘Spare me the details, if you please,’ he said. ‘I have just had breakfast.’

Tallus snorted. ‘The point is, when my young friend had left, I looked at my specimen’s eyes more closely. In all our researches my apprentice and I have paid little attention to the eyes—’

‘Well, of course not!’ the Warden broke in impatiently. ‘Skimmers are as good as blind, as I understand it.’

‘In daylight they are,’ said Tallus. ‘It has long been my theory, and my apprentice agrees with me, that skimmers live and breed in the dark—in a cavern underground, perhaps, where sight is not important.’

Or in some foul place where the only light is dull red, thought Rye, feeling cold inside as he remembered his dream.

‘They emerge at night to hunt,’ Tallus continued. ‘And why?’

The Warden stared at him. ‘Because they are hungry, of course! Really, Master Tallus, you must get to the—’

‘No!’ Tallus cried, his voice cracking. ‘Skimmers hunt at night because they cannot hunt during the day! Because daylight renders them helpless! It is their one weakness. When I looked closely at the specimen’s eyes I saw clearly that this must be so. The eyes were totally without protection. Almost transparent!’

‘Yes, well, that is all very interesting,’ the Warden mumbled, looking queasy. ‘But—’

‘And it suddenly came to me!’ Tallus exclaimed. ‘It is so obvious, once you have seen it! Ever since the skimmer invasions began, Warden, we have been blanketing Weld in darkness at night. But we should have been doing the exact opposite!’

‘The—?’

‘We should have been repelling the beasts by using their one weakness against them! We should have been defending ourselves with light!’

‘Light?’ the Warden repeated, frowning. ‘Are you mad, Master Tallus? Light attracts the skimmers. How many of our more careless citizens, poor souls, have perished because—’

‘Because a chink of light in a pool of darkness creates a target, and one small lantern is no real threat!’ cried Tallus. ‘I am not talking about leaving a few house lights burning, Warden! My plan is to make the sky of Weld blaze, so night is as bright as day!’

The Warden’s mouth fell open.

Tallus pulled a folded paper from one of his many pockets and shook it open. It was covered with diagrams and notes.

‘I have worked it all out,’ he said, flattening the paper on the polished table and beckoning impatiently for the Warden to come and look. ‘Tall columns, higher than the rooftops, must be built all over the city—’

‘Columns?’ murmured the Warden, staring vacantly at the paper.

‘At the top of each column we place a large lantern,’ Tallus rattled on, stabbing his finger at one of the diagrams. ‘We can use the Keep lanterns—they are the biggest we have, and you must have thousands of them here.’

‘The Keep lanterns?’ the Warden repeated faintly.

Tallus nodded. ‘Each lantern will be surrounded by mirrors so that the light is spread and reflected upward. The Keep can supply the mirrors as well. Every soldier has his own mirror, I hear, and there are many kept in stock.’

‘Yes, well, it is very important that the soldiers are always neatly—’

‘Between them, the lanterns and mirrors should make enough light to repel the skimmers and force them to go elsewhere to feed,’ Tallus finished, slapping the paper triumphantly. ‘You see?’

He glanced at the Warden expectantly. The Warden frowned and rubbed his chin.

‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Well, Master Tallus, I will certainly give your suggestion some thought …’

Sonia groaned. Rye stiffened, but luckily neither Tallus nor the Warden seemed to have heard her.

‘Some thought?’ Tallus yelled.

The Warden straightened his plump shoulders. ‘Possibly your idea has some merit, Master Tallus,’ he said carefully. ‘But before we clutter our tidy streets with ugly columns—not to mention removing vital equipment from the Keep—we must discuss the whole matter thoroughly. One thing you have not considered, for example, is who is going to build all these columns.’

Tallus goggled at him. ‘But—obviously—the best people for the task would be the Wall workers! They would raise the columns in a matter of—’

‘Out of the question!’ the Warden exclaimed. ‘We cannot spare men from the Wall! The work is behind as it is!’

‘But—’ Tallus snatched off his hat in frustration, releasing his floss of wild, white hair. ‘But Warden, what is the point in using most of our workforce to strengthen the Wall when our attackers are flying over it?’

The Warden’s face became almost pitying. ‘The Wall has been Weld’s defence for a thousand years, since the time of its founder, the sorcerer Dann, Master Tallus,’ he murmured, as if instructing a small and rather stupid child. ‘It is my sacred trust, as it was my father’s trust, and my grandfather’s, and that of all of my family who came before them. Whatever else happens, our labours on the Wall must not be halted—not for a single working day.’

‘Then use the Keep soldiers to build the columns!’ roared Tallus, tearing at his hair. ‘Bless the Wall, what else do they have to do but prance about practising their marching and putting up signs?’

The Warden drew himself up. ‘You go too far, Master Tallus!’ he said coldly. ‘This interview is at an end. Good morning!’

Picking up the skirts of his robe, he whisked huffily from the room without a backward glance.

Tallus dashed his hat to the floor and stamped on it.

‘So now you know, spies!’ he raged. ‘Now you know what a buffoon your Warden is! Well, if he will not listen to me, others will! Tell him that or not, as you like!’

He snatched up his crumpled hat, grabbed the paper from the polished table and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

‘Well!’ Rye said shakily.

‘Make haste!’ Sonia urged, hurrying towards the fireplace. ‘Before anyone else comes!’

In moments they had wriggled up the chimney branch to the wider main stack, where Sonia’s knotted rope still dangled from the blackness above. Rye pushed back the magic hood and tucked it beneath his collar to protect it from the soot.

‘Was the old man right, do you think?’ Sonia asked, her voice muffled by the scarf she had pulled over her mouth and nose. ‘Would bright light scare off the skimmers?’

‘It makes sense,’ Dirk said.

‘If only the Warden had agreed to try it,’ Rye sighed. ‘Just in a small part of Weld at first, perhaps, and then—’

Sonia snorted. ‘He was never going to agree. For one thing, it would mean admitting he has been wrong for all these years.’

‘And for another, he is terrified of anything new,’ Dirk added bitterly.

Rye shook his head in the gloom. He knew that Tallus was not going to abandon his idea just because the Warden would not cooperate with him. Tallus would try to act alone. And the Warden, angry and frightened, would see that as rebellion.

‘There is going to be trouble,’ Dirk said, echoing his thoughts.

‘Perhaps there is,’ Sonia answered grimly. ‘But we cannot be worried about that now. Come on.’

Gripping the rope firmly, they began their downward journey.

Sonia moved quickly, with the ease of long practice. Dirk did almost as well. Rye gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the ache in his hands. When he heard dim clattering he realised he was moving past the kitchen, but this time he did not even think of stopping to catch a glimpse of his mother. And as he sank lower, a sense of ancient mystery enfolded him, making it hard to breathe or even to think.

Sonia and Dirk were waiting impatiently when at last he crawled out of the fireplace into the dim, echoing space that was the Chamber of the Doors. Sonia’s face was taut with excitement as she grabbed his hand and turned him to face the three Doors.

On the left, the golden Door glowed against the rough stone of the wall. On the right stood the wooden Door, solid and strong. Between them, the silver Door gleamed coldly.

Rye made himself look at the strange patterns flowing across the silver surface. The longer he looked, the more he began to see, among the mysterious lines, the shapes of monstrous birds with long necks, cruel, curved beaks and vast, outspread wings.

His skin crawled. A cold tide of dread swept through him. Shuddering, he quickly raised his eyes to the rhyme carved in the stone above the Doors.

The final lines whispered in Rye’s mind like the soft, secret voices of the Fellan. He turned towards the wooden Door like a flower turning to face the sun. Barely conscious of what he was doing, he took a step forward, raising his hand.

‘No, Rye!’

Rye stopped, very startled, as Sonia’s voice cut through the feeling of longing that had almost overwhelmed him. He turned to look at her. There was an odd, strained expression on her face. Behind her, Dirk was looking aghast.

‘You cannot choose for yourself, Rye,’ Sonia said. ‘Remember your dream. If we are to find the skimmers we must follow Sholto through the silver Door.’

Rye glared at her. She returned his gaze with a steady stare of her own and abruptly his anger died, leaving confusion in its place.

‘I-I am sorry,’ he stammered. ‘The wooden Door seemed to draw me. I felt the lure the first day I was here, but this time it was much stronger. I cannot explain …’

Dirk looked confused, but Sonia’s face softened. ‘There is no need to explain,’ she said. ‘I felt it too.’

As Rye stared at her she smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps one day you and I will be able to choose a Door for ourselves, Rye. When all this is over.’

‘Perhaps,’ Rye agreed, though he did not believe it. The skimmers and their evil master were at the end of this journey. Whether it ended in triumph or disaster for Rye, Dirk and Sonia, it was unlikely that any of them would face the Doors a third time.

‘You should use the hood, Rye,’ Sonia said, with a sudden return to briskness. ‘We have no idea what might be waiting for us outside.’

Rye pulled up the hood. Sonia took his arm, and he took Dirk’s. They moved to stand before the silver Door.

Rye reached out for the slender handle. The moment his fingers touched it, the Door began to open.

Again he saw a widening strip of blinding light. Again he felt an invisible power drawing him forward.

And again he was pulled off his feet, as the world of the silver Door dragged him in.