And at that moment Rye realised at last what was driving Sonia to risk the perils of the world outside the Wall. It had nothing to do with gaining glory for herself. She was doing it for Annocki—to save Annocki from the selfish whims of the Warden once and for all.
‘Have faith, Nocki,’ Sonia urged. ‘Just a little longer.’
Annocki bowed her head. ‘I will try. But Sonia, I fear for you! And it is not just because the land of the barbarians is so dangerous. It is … Oh, I do not know how to explain it! You have been away only a few days, but I feel a change in you.’
‘A change?’ Sonia stared at her.
Annocki nodded. ‘I cannot put my finger on the difference. But you seem more … more alive, somehow.’ She shrugged in embarrassment. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘It does!’ Sonia seized her friend’s hands. ‘I feel more alive, Nocki. It is as if my blood has become richer, and is running faster through my veins. I thought I was imagining it, but if you sense it too …’
Annocki looked troubled. ‘I fear you thrive on danger, Sonia. And if that is so—’
‘No.’ Sonia shook her head. ‘It is the place! Everything is so big and bright! The sky is huge, and as blue as—as that!’
She pointed to a little blue pottery horse on Annocki’s worktable, and laughed as her friend looked disbelieving.
‘Truly!’ she insisted. ‘You can breathe out there, Nocki!’
‘You can die out there also, Sonia,’ Annocki said grimly.
Sonia paused, biting her lip. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But somehow … it is worth it.’
Much later, long after the diamond window had been closely shuttered, Rye lay on a mass of cushions with Dirk by his side, trying to will himself to sleep.
He had bathed luxuriously in a great tub with taps that gushed streams of steaming water. The cushions were soft beneath him. Most important of all, his stomach was pleasantly full. Annocki had eaten little, and Faene had refused food and gone early to bed, but he, Sonia and Dirk had picked the loaded dinner tray clean.
Sleep should have come easily, but Rye’s mind would not rest. As soon as they were alone Dirk had seized the chance to try to persuade him to stay in Weld on the morrow. Rye’s determination had not been shaken, but he hated disagreeing with Dirk. The argument had unsettled him.
And that was not all.
How fantastic and unreal the stories of their adventures beyond the golden Door had seemed, when told to the Warden’s daughter in this rich, closed room!
How confusing it was, to be back in Weld yet not to feel the old sense of home!
How hard it had been to hear his mother’s quiet voice at the door, when she came with the dinner tray, and not be able to call out to her, or see her face to face!
And most of all, how nightmarish it was to lie for the first time in days sweating and stifled in a hot, sealed room, listening to the hideous, flapping, scrabbling rush of skimmers flying in their thousands over the Wall of Weld.
5 - The Dream
It was very late when at last Rye’s thoughts began to drift and blend into confused dreams. Over and over again he half woke, turned restlessly and fell into another shallow sleep. And in the early hours of the morning, dreams became nightmare …
Sholto was bathed in weird red light that drained all colour from his gaunt face. His hair had been cut so it was nothing but black stubble coating his skull.
Skimmers were lunging at him, baring their needle teeth, flapping their pale, leathery wings, slashing with the vicious spurs on their hind legs so that drops of venom, gleaming red as blood in the scarlet light, filled the air around them.
Yet Sholto did not move. He merely watched the frenzied beasts intently, his dark, clever eyes dropping now and then to the notebook in his hand. And somehow the creatures never reached him. They just lunged and lunged again, falling back repeatedly as if repelled by an invisible barrier.
But Sholto was in danger. Terrible danger. There was danger in the red light. There was danger in the shadows. Danger and horror, coming closer …
A clanking thud broke into the nightmare and Rye woke, his heart pounding.
It was a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.
But his dreams of Dirk had been visions—glimpses of what Dirk had really been doing. And that meant …
A low moan escaped his lips. Beside him, Dirk sighed, mumbled and turned over.
‘Sorry, Rye,’ Sonia’s voice whispered.
Rye’s eyes flew open. It was very dark in the hot, close room, but gradually he made out a shape looming over him.
‘I am sorry I woke you,’ Sonia murmured in the darkness. ‘Skimmers are attacking the chimney. There is no danger—the chimney is well sealed at the top in summer—but the sound startled me, and I dropped the sack of supplies.’
‘W—what?’ Still half gripped by the nightmare, Rye sat up.
‘I have been down to the kitchens to collect food for our journey,’ Sonia whispered. ‘The early hours are the best time for thieving. I have—Rye, what is wrong? You are shaking!’
‘I had a fearful dream,’ Rye said thickly. ‘One of the dreams that are—real. I saw Sholto … and skimmers.’
‘Skimmers?’ Sonia hissed, dropping to her knees beside him. ‘Where? Did you see the place?’
‘Red—it was all red,’ Rye muttered, trying to control his ragged breathing. ‘And something was coming—something worse than skimmers. A shadow. Cold … powerful … evil …’
He pressed his hands over his eyes. His teeth were chattering. He hated showing such weakness in front of Sonia, but he could not help it.
There was a pause, and then he felt Sonia touch his quaking arm.
‘At least, however terrible it was, the dream proves that Sholto is still alive,’ she said quietly. ‘It also proves he chose the right Door.’
‘Yes.’ Rye took a deep, shuddering breath.
‘And tomorrow we will set out to find him,’ said Sonia. ‘So put the dream out of your mind now and get some rest, Rye. That is what I am going to do. The waking bell will ring all too soon as it is.’
She pressed his arm and retreated, dragging a sack that chinked and rattled as it rasped over the carpet to the bedroom door.
Strangely comforted, Rye settled back on his cushions. For a while he kept his eyes open, afraid that if he slept again the vision of the red place would return to torment him. Then, deliberately, he made himself relax.
Sonia was right. However frightening it had been, the dream had proved that Sholto lived. That was a step forward. And tomorrow …
Rye swam up from a sleep fathoms deep and sat up, blinking in the dimness. The shutter still covered the diamond window, blocking out the morning light and dulling the sound of the waking bell clanging in the courtyard far below. He could hear Sonia, Annocki and Faene murmuring sleepily in their room, and Dirk yawning beside him.
But he could hear something else, too. Someone was knocking on the tower room door.
Sonia came bounding out of the bedroom and ran to the door. She was wearing a long red nightgown. Her coppery hair flew wildly around her shoulders.
‘Yes?’ she said sharply.
‘Message from the Warden, ma’am!’ a small, frightened voice piped.
‘Push it under the door, if you please.’
A large white envelope slid onto the carpet. Sonia bent and picked it up. ‘Thank you,’ she called.
‘I—I am sure you would do the same for me!’ gabbled the small voice, and footsteps went pattering away.
‘Keep orphan,’ Sonia said curtly, turning away from the door. ‘How useful the Warden finds it to have a good supply of little messengers, and be praised for his kindness in keeping them, too!’
Annocki and Faene had appeared in the bedroom doorway by now. Their eyes were puffy with sleep, but they had both taken the time to throw robes over their nightgowns.