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‘We think that when Dorne was invaded and Weld was destroyed, skimmers were found in the Wall,’ Sonia said, far less interested in skimmer hooks than in the story. ‘And the Master, the Lord of Shadows, saw that he could use them as a weapon to conquer a land he dearly wanted—a place west of Dorne, across the Sea of Serpents. In Olt’s time it was called the Land of Dragons, but now it is called Deltora, according to Chieftain Farr.’

‘My people—the people of Fleet—went there to escape from Olt,’ Faene put in. ‘Chieftain Farr told Dirk that their descendants live there still, in a city named D’Or …’ She had begun bravely, but at the end her voice trembled and Dirk bent to her, murmuring comfort.

‘Twice Deltora has repelled the Lord of Shadows by a magic more powerful than his own,’ Rye said. ‘We think—we cannot be certain, but we think—that when he discovered the skimmers, he realised that here were natural beasts he could use to do what sorcery, or creatures of sorcery, could not. He set about breeding skimmers that could attack winter and summer, day and night. No people could survive such an onslaught.’

‘And if we are right, the ships waiting at the Harbour were to be used to transport skimmers, as Jett said,’ Sonia added. ‘Jett was just wrong about the destination. The daylight skimmers were to be carried to Deltora, so that they could bring it to its knees.’

‘Ha!’ cried Tallus, slapping the table and making everyone jump. ‘So much for Weld being the centre of things! Why, if what you say is true, we were only ever a detail in a far larger plan!’

‘And there is comfort in that, in my opinion,’ Sholto drawled, smothering a yawn. ‘I am tired of great matters. What I need now is sleep.’

Rye, Sonia and Dirk found they agreed and soon, despite Tallus’s complaints, Lisbeth made sure that they had their wish. So as Weld rejoiced, they slept. And despite the noise beating through their open windows, despite the narrowness of their stretcher beds and the stuffy warmth of the Keep, despite the memories, hopes and plans crowding their minds, they slept without dreams.

The waking bell did not ring the next morning, yet the Wall still swarmed with workers at the usual time. Most were heavy-eyed, but not a single man was missing. There was much to do.

When Rye, Dirk and Sholto sat down to breakfast in the Keep kitchen, Crell and Jett were already at the table, chatting like old friends. Like the three brothers, they were both freshly bathed and dressed in the best clean clothes Lisbeth had been able to find for them. Grinning broadly, Crell passed Dirk the latest edition of The Lantern.

‘I rushed it into print overnight,’ he said. ‘I have not had a wink of sleep. ‘The front page will be old news to you, but look at the back!’

‘The Wall is coming down!’ Dirk exclaimed, scanning the smudgy print. ‘The layers of bricks put up since Dann’s time, in any case. The foremen have all agreed. They plan to take the Wall right back to the original rock and use the rubble to fill the trench!’

‘What a great project it will be!’ Jett said with satisfaction, slathering a roll with honey. ‘And just think of the extra space for housing when the work is done!’

‘And what of the jell stored in the base?’ Sholto enquired with his mouth full.

‘We have been discussing that,’ Crell said eagerly. ‘Jett’s idea is that as the jell is taken out, little by little, it can be used for trade with the barbarians. He says they know its value, and have many goods we need.’

‘It will mean cutting a gateway in the rock large enough for a cart to pass through, of course,’ Jett put in. ‘But yesterday’s blast has done half of that work for us. And as I was telling Crell just now, I am sure Keelin—Rye, I mean—can persuade the Fellan to allow us to keep the track to the river open. They owe him a favour.’

As Dirk nodded enthusiastically, Sholto raised an eyebrow, and Rye smiled at this proof of how quickly humans, as well as skimmers, adapted to new conditions, Officer Jordan came into the kitchen. Lisbeth, looking anxious, was close behind him.

‘The Warden is in the waiting room,’ Jordan rumbled, pulling at his moustache. ‘He wishes to see you—all of you—as soon as possible.’

26 - Decisions

The meeting in the waiting room was a strange, awkward affair. After greeting his visitors in dignified fashion, the Warden fell silent and for a long minute plucked absently at the pleats of his robe as if he had forgotten what he had intended to say.

At a nudge from Jordan he gave a small start and cleared his throat. ‘Well, Volunteers,’ he said faintly, ‘I understand that one of you has earned the right to be my heir as Warden, and—ah—marry my daughter. The question is, which one?’

Lisbeth, who had insisted on being present at the meeting, silently left the room.

The Warden gazed after her vacantly.

‘Crell of Southwall is not part of the contest, sir,’ Jordan murmured. ‘He was not a volunteer. He is here as the editor of The Lantern. I was sure you would like this important event to be widely reported.’

The Warden’s eyes bulged. ‘Oh, yes, certainly, certainly!’ he mumbled. ‘Well, then …’

Jett stepped forward. ‘I am not part of the contest either,’ he said. ‘I did not discover the enemy of Weld. I have not won the right to be Warden.’

A lump rose in Rye’s throat. He wondered what it had cost Jett to say those words.

The Warden sighed fretfully. ‘Then it is down to you three,’ he said, fixing his watery gaze on Dirk, Sholto and Rye in turn. ‘You are brothers, I hear. It should be easy enough for you to decide between you which one of you deserves the honour.’

The waiting room door opened again and Lisbeth strode in, with Annocki, Sonia and Faene following. All the young women were dressed in very simple borrowed clothes. Annocki’s proud, handsome face was like a fine carving. Faene’s golden beauty took Rye’s breath away. And Sonia … Sonia’s green eyes were fierce and her magnificent hair seemed to light the room. Quickly Rye looked down at his feet.

‘I think,’ Lisbeth said firmly, ‘that if the Warden’s daughter is to be discussed at this meeting, she and her friends should be present.’

‘Very good,’ Jordan said quickly as the Warden scowled. ‘Now—which one of you young men is to claim the prize?’

‘Not I,’ Dirk said, turning to take Faene’s hand. ‘I have my prize. And I think she will be happier outside the Wall than within it.’

‘And not I,’ Sholto drawled. ‘I am a better advisor than I am a leader—I know that much about myself. And besides, I have no wish to marry your daughter, Warden, though I respect her with all my heart. I have other plans.’

Other plans.

Rye thought of nothing, and kept his eyes cast down. He did not want to look at anyone, least of all Sonia.

‘Then the choice has been made,’ the Warden said irritably. ‘The third son—Rye, is it?—will be my heir.’ He turned to Crell. ‘You can announce that in the next issue of your miserable rag if you wish. And make sure to add that it is fortunate the heir is so young, because I have hopes of living a very long time!’

And at that, Rye could no longer keep silent.

He raised his head. ‘Warden, you cannot remain leader of Weld after this day,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If you do, I will see to it that everyone knows what I know—that your challenge to the heroes of Weld to go beyond the Wall was just a plan to rid yourself of the rebels who were threatening your power.’