25

We set off immediately. Inez and I are drained, badly in need of rest, but she doesn’t dare wait in case we run into complications along the way.

Guido and Lena have come with us. Pol didn’t want them tagging along, but the pair convinced him otherwise.

“What if you bang your head and get knocked out?” Guido said.

“And we can help Archie if you need to scurve,” Lena added. “He’s not very good at it.”

It’s nice having Guido and Lena on the team. They chatter away about silly things, distracting us from the obstacles and dangers ahead.

“I want to see Queen Pitina,” Lena says. “Does she wear a crown?”

“Of course not,” Guido snorts. “This isn’t the Born. She dresses normally.”

“That’s a pity,” Lena sighs. “Maybe she’ll wear a crown for the vote.”

“I’ll crown you if you don’t shut up,” Guido grumbles.

We pause after a couple of hours, to catch our breath and munch some dried mushrooms that Pol produces from a pocket. They’re dotted with lint, but I chew on them gratefully. This is hard work. It’s hot and sticky inside the vines. I see now why the rats wear rags instead of proper clothes. You couldn’t keep clean in here.

“I haven’t been this way before,” Guido says. “It’s good to explore new systems. The more vines you’re familiar with, the more you’re respected.”

“There are lots of vines I haven’t been in yet,” Lena says glumly.

“Don’t worry,” Guido says. “You’ll soon catch up with me, and we’ll find more together. Another twenty or thirty years and there won’t be a vine in Cornan we haven’t explored.”

“Does it take that long to get to know them all?” I gasp.

“At least,” Pol says.

“Why don’t you make maps?” I ask. “That would be easier than trying to explore and remember every vine.”

“Maps are boring,” Pol snorts. “Half the fun of being a rat is figuring out where all the different vines lead. Plus, if we made maps, fleas could steal them.”

“Why would they do that?” I frown.

“To get around the place as quickly as we do,” Pol says. “The vines allow us to cross the city secretly, unseen by prying eyes.”

“Yeah,” Guido says. “We’ll be in great demand if the SubMerged take over. Fleas will pay through the nose to be guided safely out of Cornan.”

Pol’s eyes narrow. “I never thought of that. They’ll have to give us whatever we ask for.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t take Archie and Inez any further,” Lena giggles.

She meant it as a joke, but Pol looks thoughtful.

“The SubMerged will have already considered that,” Inez says. “Fleas will seek out the rats if the vote goes the wrong way, but not all of them will be looking for help. Some will want to stop the rats from acting as escorts.”

“By any means possible,” Pol mutters, then gets to his feet and leads again.

“He wouldn’t really have dumped us, would he?” I whisper to Inez as we drag along behind the rats.

“Oh, he could have,” she smiles. “Rats are only loyal to themselves.”

She presses on and I follow close behind, trying not to worry too much about the fickle nature of the rats in whose hands we’ve placed our lives.

Soon after our rest, we start passing through pitch-black vines that aren’t lined with gleam. The rats pull caps out of their pockets, stick them on and rub gleam into them, which provides us with just enough light to navigate by.

“We’ll gleam up the vines on our way back,” Pol tells Guido and Lena, “in case other rats come this way in the near future.”

The next time that we stop, Pol turns and puts a finger to his lips. “The vine starts to climb here and we’ll be inside Canadu when it does.”

Guido and Lena pass spare hooks to us and we loop them over our hands and feet.

“Try not to yell if you slip and fall,” Pol whispers. “We’ll be able to hear people outside, and they’ll be able to hear us if we make any noise.”

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” Inez grins, and the others chuckle at her little joke.

Pol turns to Guido and Inez. “I want you to stay here.”

“No way,” Guido snaps.

“I want to see the queen,” Lena pouts.

“Don’t worry,” Pol says. “If Archie opens the lock, I’ll come back for you.”

Guido frowns. “Why not take us with you now?”

“The vine loops and bends as it curves up through the tree,” Pol explains. “They blocked it off in the middle of a short, straight section. There should be just enough room for three of us, but five would never fit. You’d have to hang back, and it’s better to do that here, where there’s no chance of you making a noise that might lead to us being discovered.”

Guido and Lena share a dubious look.

“I swear on my hooks that I’ll come back,” Pol says softly.

“Alright,” Guido sighs. “How long will you be?”

Pol arches an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “It depends on the lock. A few hours, maybe longer?”

“Maybe never,” Pol snorts.

I gulp but don’t snap at him, because there’s a chance he might be right.

We turn to leave but Lena stops us. “Do you want to take my cap, Archie, for a bit of extra light?”

“Thanks,” I sniff, and bend so that she can put it on me. After she’s done that, she sticks her tongue in my ear. “Yuck!” I yelp, shoving her away.

“You can stick your tongue in my ear for revenge when you come back,” Lena smirks. Then her smile fades. “So make sure that you do.”

“I will,” I promise, adding silently to myself, if I can.

Then I nod at Pol and Inez, and the three of us proceed in silence, Pol leading, me next, Inez bringing up the rear. I hear muffled noises outside, people going about their business and getting ready for the vote. I could eavesdrop if we stopped, but we keep moving, so the voices never swim into focus.

I’m surprised they didn’t take more measures to limit passage through the vines. They could have filled them with concrete, or carved a hole in each at ground level so that guards could keep watch. I know the locks are meant to be foolproof, but it was foolish to rely on a single deterrent. Not that I’m complaining. Their oversight has given us a chance to pierce their defences — if I can pick the lock.

The noises fade the further we climb. Soon it’s silent again, except for our huffing and puffing. We follow the vine as it twists, curves and bends. Sometimes it loops round on itself or climbs vertically, and I have to dig in deep with my hooks.

Finally, having wearily dragged myself up another long bend, I come to a straight section and run into Pol, who’s drawn to a halt.

“We’re here,” he says, and I turn and whisper it to Inez.

Pol swaps places with me and I see a white borehole ahead, with a black lock set in the centre of it, dark ripples running through the white.

I frown, remembering the lock that I opened in the village where I faced my first hell jackal. “They blocked the vine with a borehole?” I hiss.

“Yeah,” Pol says. “All the blocks are boreholes. I thought you knew that.”

I shake my head. “I assumed they’d be steel doors.”

Pol snorts. “There isn’t a door that can’t be cut through with the right tools. A borehole to the Lost Zone, on the other hand, is a real obstacle.”

“The Lost Zone,” I groan. “I meant to ask Inez what that was after I sent the hell jackal there, but with everything else, I forgot.”

Pol stares at me. “You don’t know about the Lost Zone?”

I shake my head. “What is it?”

“A zone of chaos that’s been formed from the rubble of the fallen zones,” Inez says. “If all the Family members of a realm die, it contracts and explodes. That’s happened three times.”

“Amethyst, Malachite and Jade,” Pol recites.

“The shattered pieces of the realms drifted together to form the Lost Zone,” Inez continues. “If you cross, you can never return.”

“Do you die?” I ask.

“We don’t know,” Inez says, “because nobody’s ever come back. Some think you get ripped to pieces, others that you wander inside a cloud of dust forever, until the end of time.”

My chest tightens.

Then Pol says something that frightens me even more.

“Don’t touch the borehole or you’ll be sucked through.”

“That’s right,” I wheeze. “Inez told me that any contact is lethal.”

“It’s like quicksand,” Pol says. “If you touch it, you’re claimed.”

I gulp. “So how am I supposed to work on the lock?”

“Oh, you can touch the lock,” Pol says.

“You did that in the prison village,” Inez reminds me.

“But that was a basic lock,” I whimper. “I didn’t have to work on it for long. This could take hours. What if I get tired and an arm slips?”

Inez shrugs. “We have no other options. Pick the lock. Steer clear of the borehole. That’s all I can tell you.”

I shiver. The lock is large, but the more I stare at it, the smaller it seems to grow. One careless twist of an elbow...

“He’s got cold feet,” Pol jeers.

“Shut up,” Inez snaps.

“Your tail wants to turn tail and run,” Pol crows.

“Hold your tongue or I’ll tear it from your mouth,” Inez thunders.

“I’d like to see you try,” Pol sniffs, but falls silent.

“I know you’re afraid,” Inez says to me.

“No I’m not,” I respond automatically.

“Of course you are,” she says, “but this is what we’ve come so far for. If we turn back now, it will have all been for nothing.”

I lick my lower lip and flick my gaze at her. “Will you stay close?”

“Of course.”

“I will too,” Pol promises, before adding wickedly, “not that it’ll do any good if you brush against the borehole.”

I scowl at Pol, but the teasing toughens me up. I’m not thinking so much of being sucked into a wasteworld now, but rather of opening the lock so that I can show Pol what I’m made of. “Right,” I mumble and wriggle forwards. “Let’s do this thing.”

I can see by the gleam on my cap that the lock is hexagonal, and a quick run of my fingers around the interior confirms that there are levers in all six sides. I’ll have to spring them in the correct order, although I’ve a feeling this is only an outer layer, that there are more levers behind these, and maybe a third layer behind those. I can’t say why I suspect that — just gut instinct.

I start with the bottom and top sides. My fingers slide into the openings and explore, and I quickly lose myself in that intricate world. After a while I withdraw and test the other sides, fingers flicking here and there.

A pattern swiftly presents itself. I need to open the lower left and right sides first, then the top side, then the upper right and bottom sides together, finishing off with the upper left side.

“This is too easy,” I snort, fingers dancing.

“How long will it take?” Inez asks.

“I’ll be done with this outer layer in a few minutes,” I tell her. “There are other layers – two, I think – but if they’re no tougher than this, we could be through in no time.”

“He’s a genuine locksmith,” Pol murmurs.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am,” he says. “I thought you were all talk.”

“Not me,” I grin. “I’m all action.”

I work in silence for the next few minutes. I keep waiting to hit a snag, but this is basic. It looks as if the reputation of the locks in Canadu has been vastly exaggerated.

I’m soon onto the upper left side. A few more twists and the second layer will be revealed. Part of me hopes that it’s more challenging. I’m pleased that I’m able to pick the lock so easily, but it’s an anticlimax, like turning up for a chess match with a grand master, only to find that your opponent is actually a big-mouthed amateur.

I flip the final lever and the lock churns. A smile spreads across my lips and I withdraw my fingers to flex them. But as I’m doing that, there’s a high-pitched screech. It’s very soft – Inez and Pol don’t notice it – but I instantly know that it’s the sound of a locksmith laughing.

“Oh no,” I moan as the six sides slide back out of sight, to be replaced by nine new sides, which ease forward with snakelike precision and click into place.

“What’s wrong?” Inez asks, staring at the now nonagon-shaped lock.

“Damn it,” I growl.

“That’s the second layer, isn’t it?” she says.

“Stupid,” I hiss, striking my head with my palm. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!”

“Archie,” Inez snaps. “Stop ranting and tell us what you did wrong.”

Wincing, I turn to face her. “Its simplicity was a trap.”

“What do you mean?”

“The easy way to open the first layer wasn’t the correct way. Its maker set it up to punish a cocky locksmith. If I’d examined it, I’d have found a different way, one that would have led me to the second layer.”

Inez blinks. “Isn’t that what this is?”

“No,” I say bitterly. “This is an additional level. It won’t be complex but it will be time-consuming. It’s there to serve as an insult, the locksmith wagging his finger at me, telling me I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

“Are you saying you’ve been defeated?” Pol growls.

“No. I’ve had my wrist slapped and will have to proceed more carefully.” I sigh. “I suppose I should be grateful its maker didn’t set a more lethal trap. It could have easily been primed to slice off my hands. Listen, you guys can take a break if you want. We’re going to be here a while.”

With that, I wipe an arm across my forehead, mutter a curse beneath my breath, then set to work for real.