As they walked, they passed many pathetic hovels made of pieces of wood, tin, and cloth. People crouched outside these hovels, sorting through the pickings of the day, or starting cooking fires. Some grinned up at the strangers. Others did not bother to raise their heads.
At the back of one of the larger mounds, a more substantial shelter had been built. The scavenger beckoned, and Lief and Jasmine, with a backward glance at Steven, followed him inside.
And there a surprise awaited them. Beneath the thin layer of tin and board was a sturdy building. It was far larger than it had appeared from the outside, because all but its entry was buried deep under the mound. It was not only large, but clean and well organized, with many stretchers arranged neatly around the walls, each topped with folded blankets, and with possessions stacked below.
The scavenger turned to them, straightened, and threw off both the eye patch and the scarf.
“Doom!” Jasmine exclaimed in amazement.
“Did you not know me?” asked Doom, his lips tweaking into a smile. “That is excellent! You did not expect the Resistance stronghold to be in a garbage dump, no doubt. But what better place to hide? No one comes here willingly — not even Grey Guards. And who cares for or about poor scavengers? Some of the people you saw on your way here are true scavengers — sad souls from Del whose livelihoods have been taken from them. Others — many others — are our people. Glock, Fardeep, and even Zeean are out there somewhere, with all the rest. Dain is away fetching water.”
Leif nodded slowly, taking it in. So nothing is as it seems, even here, he thought.
“Doom,” Jasmine said urgently. “Barda is injured. He needs care. And …” She glanced at Lief. “There is other news. Very bad.”
Lief fumbled in his pocket and drew out Endon’s crumpled note.
Doom’s dark eyes grew even darker as though, somehow, he knew what was coming. But he did not take the note. Instead, he turned swiftly to face the door once more.
“Time enough for that when Barda has been seen to,” he said roughly. “Bring him in. We will do what we can for him.”
Later, Lief and Jasmine sat by Barda’s bed. Their own wounds had been washed and bandaged, and the big man lay peacefully at last. The bleeding had stopped, and for this they had to thank a strange ally — Glock.
“You won’t heal this with bandages,” Glock had mumbled, grabbing Lief’s wrist and inspecting it. “Grippers inject something that keeps the blood flowing.”
He went over to his own stretcher, rummaged beneath it, then came back holding a grubby jar filled with grey paste. “Smear this on the bites,” he ordered.
“What is it?” asked Jasmine, smelling the paste suspiciously.
“How would I know?” snarled Glock. “Those who made it are long dead. But my tribe always used it in the old days — for half-wits and infants who blundered into gripper fields.”
Jasmine bit back her angry response and turned to Barda.
“Do not waste it on him,” Glock growled. “He is finished.”
Jasmine did not bother to reply. Already she was smearing the paste on Barda’s cleaned wounds. Glock spat in disgust, and lumbered away. Now he was nowhere to be seen.
Lief looked up wearily. Zeean, Fardeep, and Doom were standing together not far away, with Steven beside them. Their heads were bent. Their faces were grave. They were reading Endon’s note.
“So,” Lief heard Doom say heavily. “That is the end of that.”
They looked up, saw Lief and Jasmine watching, and moved to join them. Doom handed the note back to Lief.
“The Dread Gnome and the Ralad will arrive to find they have made their journey for nothing,” he said.
Lief nodded. “All our journeys have been for nothing,” he replied through stiff lips.
Zeean’s face was shadowed with grief. “It is very hard,” she murmured. “I had — such hopes.”
“It is well for our hopes to be dashed, if they were false.” The old bitterness had returned to Doom’s voice. “Soon we will all return to our places. And every step we go, we will tell what we know, so no other fools will be tempted to risk their lives in a useless cause.”
There was a sound beside Lief. He looked down, and his heart thudded. Barda had stirred. His eyes were open.
“What is — the matter?” Barda asked weakly.
Jasmine stroked his forehead. “Nothing is the matter,” she said soothingly. “Rest, now.”
But Barda moved his head impatiently and his eyes fastened on the note in Lief’s hand. “What is that? Show it to me!” he demanded.
Lief knew Barda too well to think he could refuse. Reluctantly, he held out the note so that Barda could see it, explaining how it had been found.
Barda blinked at the terrible words. Then, to Lief’s amazement, he smiled. “And — is this what is troubling you?” he asked.
Lief and Jasmine exchanged alarmed glances. Barda’s mind was wandering. Jasmine bent over the bed once more. “Sleep,” she whispered. “You need rest, Barda. You are very weak.”
“Weak I may be,” Barda said softly. “But not so weak that I do not know a falsehood when I see it.”
Barda gazed wearily up at the ring of astounded faces, and again he smiled. “The note is a good forgery, oh, yes,” he murmured. “The writing is very like that on the note we saw in Tora. But the mind that framed these words was not Endon’s mind. I —”
His voice faltered as he was distracted by a noise. Lief quickly turned to see Dain hurrying towards them from the door, his eyes wide with questions. But before the boy could speak, Doom frowned and raised his finger to his lips. Lief turned back to the bed.
“How can you tell the note was not written by King Endon, Barda?” Jasmine asked gently. “You did not know him.”
“Perhaps not,” muttered Barda. “But Jarred did. Time and again Jarred has told me of Endon’s terrible feelings of guilt. It brought tears into his own eyes to tell of Endon’s agony when he realized how he had failed Deltora. Yet this, which is supposed to be Endon’s last message, written not long after the escape from Del, says not one word of that.”
“You are right.” Lief felt that he was slowly waking from a nightmare. “Not one word of apology or grief for anyone other than for himself and his family. And this cannot be. The note — the skeletons — were planted to deceive us! That is why the Guards were placed where they were. To force travellers off the road, up to the hut. It was all a Shadow Lord plan.”
I have many plans …
“But …” Like Jasmine, Doom was plainly not convinced.
Barda tossed his head restlessly. “Look at the seal at the bottom of the message. It should not be there. The note in Tora did not bear the royal seal. And why? Because Endon did not have the seal ring in his possession when he escaped. He could not have done so. The seal was always kept by Prandine, and brought out only when messages had to be signed.”
“How do you know this?” asked Zeean curiously.
Barda sighed. “My mother, rest her soul, was nursemaid to both Jarred and Endon. She was a great chatterer, and told me many things about palace doings. Often I only half listened, I admit. But it seems that I learned more than the Shadow Lord suspects.”
“And what a blessing you did,” breathed Fardeep, his eyes goggling. “If it had not been for you, we would have abandoned all our hopes.”
“I have stayed alive to some purpose, then,” said Barda, with the faintest of smiles. “But now I am very weary.” His eyes closed.
Jasmine drew a sharp breath and pressed her ear to his chest. When she straightened, her face was very pale. “He is only asleep,” she whispered. “But his heart beats very faintly. I fear he is slipping away from us.”