“Your parents were wise indeed, Dain,” Zeean was saying. “Your mother had Toran blood, did she not? What was her name?”
Dain seemed to tremble. “Her name is Rhans,” he said, so softly that Lief could hardly hear him. “Is, not was. Why do you speak as though she is dead?”
Zeean looked distressed. “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean —”
“So the seven tribes united under Adin and the Belt,” Barda growled. “Why is this important to us?”
“Who knows?” muttered Doom. He got to his feet and moved a little away from the group, turning his back. Dain looked desperately at Lief.
“You must have been helped on your journey, Lief,” he said in a low voice. “Throughout Deltora you met people willing to defy the Shadow Lord. Surely they will help you again. Help you to …” He glanced at Doom, and again his voice seemed to fail him.
Lief took a deep breath. “I think Dain’s idea is that the uniting of Deltora formed part of the Belt’s magic,” he said. “Dain thinks that we should bring the seven tribes together once more.”
Jasmine was the first to break the silence. “But the seven tribes existed in ancient days — or so I was told,” she said. “Surely they are long gone, now.”
“No, they are not,” said Zeean. “Certainly, many in Deltora would not know from which tribe they sprang. The Del tribe, whose gem was the topaz, has spread far and wide. Other tribes have done likewise.”
“But some tribes have remained the same,” Peel put in. “The Torans, for example. And the Dread Gnomes.”
“The Dread Gnomes were one of the seven?” Lief’s heart began to pound.
“Indeed,” nodded Zeean. “The great emerald was the gnomes’ talisman.”
Lief shook his head in amazement. Fa-Glin and Gla-Thon had said nothing of this. Did they not know it?
Or had they just decided to keep silent, until the time was right?
He felt in his pocket for the gnomes’ farewell gift, pulled out the little Boolong wood box and opened it. “If we send this token, the gnomes will come,” he said quietly, as all stared in awe at the golden arrowhead.
“You have powerful friends indeed,” breathed Peel.
“Now we have three tribes,” said Fardeep, with satisfaction. “What of the others?”
“The Ralads are an ancient race!” Barda exclaimed. “Are they, perhaps —?”
“Yes,” agreed Zeean. “Do you know them?”
“One of them, Manus, helped us to find the ruby at the Lake of Tears,” said Barda. “The ruby must have been the Ralad stone!”
Lief searched his jacket again, this time for paper and pencil.
“What of the people of D’Or?” Jasmine asked.
“Their ancestors came to Deltora from across the sea,” Doom called over his shoulder. “It was long ago, but after the time of Adin and the seven tribes.”
So he is listening after all, thought Lief, scribbling at the list he had begun to make. He pretends to think this is foolishness, but still he cannot move away.
“The Plains people were another tribe,” said Zeean. “Their gem was the opal. Then there was the Mere tribe of the upper Broad and beyond —”
“Whose talisman was the lapis lazuli!” Lief broke in, still writing.
Zeean nodded. “The last of the seven, the Jalis, lived in these parts. They were the wildest of all the tribes, and great warriors. Their gem was the diamond.”
Lief held up his list.
“All along I have felt that we were being guided on our quest,” he said. “Now I am sure of it. We must have met members of all the tribes.”
“Except the last. The Jalis,” said Jasmine. “We saw no one at all on our way here.”
“There was no one to see,” said Doom, turning to face them. “When the Shadow Lord came, the Jalis defended their lands ferociously. But even they had no hope against the Grey Guards. They were slaughtered — their children with them. Only a few escaped.”
“So you, too, know some history, Doom,” said Jasmine pertly.
Doom frowned. “Enough to be sure that if you hope to raise a Jalis army, you will be sadly disappointed.”
“We do not want armies,” said Zeean. “Armies would be seen and destroyed at once. We need just seven souls — true descendants of the tribes that once allowed their talismans to be joined for the good of all — to put their hands on the Belt, and renew the oath of loyalty to Deltora.”
“Yes!” Lief exclaimed, feeling a great surge of hope.
Dain said nothing. But his eyes were shining.
“Torans we have in plenty,” Barda said. “Lief and I are of Del. We know Ralads, and Dread Gnomes. But what of the Plains people? The Mere folk? Let alone —”
“I am of the Mere tribe,” said Fardeep quietly. He raised his chin as all eyes turned to him. “Rithmere has been my family’s home since before the time of Adin.”
“What of the Plains people?” asked Peel.
“The people of Noradz must be descended from the Plains tribe,” Jasmine murmured. “We have a friend among them — Tira —”
Barda shook his head. “Tira would certainly be killed if she tried to escape Noradz,” he said flatly. “Dain? Could your father have been a Plains man?”
“No,” Dain said huskily. “Our farm was not far east of here. My father’s people were of Del. But …” He glanced pleadingly at Doom. Doom sighed, came back to the group and sat down with a weary groan.
“You spoke of fate guiding you,” he said to Lief. “I find it hard to believe in such things. But, as it happens, there is a Plains man close by. His family is … unusual, but of the Plains nonetheless. I am sure that he would be willing to help. He — and his brother.”
Lief’s heart sank. “Steven?” he asked faintly.
Doom’s face creased into a mocking smile. “And Nevets. For you cannot have one without the other.”
“All the better!” exclaimed Fardeep heartily.
Barda, Lief, and Jasmine looked at one another. They were not at all sure of that.
But already Fardeep was speaking again. “Now all that remains is to find a Jalis,” he said.
Zeean turned to Doom. “I think that you can help us here, also,” she said shrewdly. “I think you were told the Jalis story by one you know. One of the Jalis who escaped. Is that not so?”
Doom’s smile broadened. “Indeed it is,” he murmured. “And if you want him, you shall have him. He will liven up proceedings, no doubt. Almost as much as Steven will.”
“Indeed?” asked Fardeep, beaming.
“Oh, yes. He is a charming fellow,” said Doom. “A charming fellow, by the name of Glock.”
Barda, Lief, and Jasmine exclaimed in horror.
“We cannot have Glock!” snapped Jasmine.
“Then I fear you cannot have a Jalis,” said Doom. “Glock is the only one I have ever seen. The others who escaped are dead, I fear. This is Glock’s belief, also.”
“Then, whatever this Glock is like, we must ask him to join us,” said Zeean quietly. “Where is he now?”
Doom sighed again. “At Withick Mire, a Resistance stronghold near to Del. He was causing trouble where he was. Withick Mire is less — confined.”
“So, we have the seven,” said Zeean. “Now even you, Doom, must admit that we are being guided.”
The lines on Doom’s hard face deepened. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Once you said that when the time was right we would join the fight for Deltora together,” he said to Barda. “It seems that time has come. Not, perhaps, in the way I would choose, but —”
“Perhaps we do not even want your help!” snapped Jasmine. “Have you considered that?”
“I cannot say I have,” Doom murmured. “I would not think you would be so foolish.”