thought of one more hour in Rithmere.”
“Nor I,” muttered Jasmine, breaking her long silence. Kree, hunched on her arm, squawked agreement.
“At least we have what we came for,” said Barda, who was in the lead. “We now have enough gold to fund the rest of our journey — and more besides.” He paused, then added awkwardly: “You did well, Jasmine.”
“Indeed,” Lief agreed eagerly.
“I did not do well,” Jasmine said in a low voice. “I am ashamed. The man Doom jeered about my mother.He made me angry. He meant to do it. He wanted me to forget myself — so I would perform for the crowd.”
“He tricked himself, then,” said Barda. “For in the end he lost and you won. Think of that, and forget the rest.” He paused, and pointed. “I see light ahead. I think we are at last reaching the end of this accursed tunnel.”
They hurried forward, eager to see the sun and to stand upright.
As Mother Brightly had told them, the passage ended in a low door. Light showed dimly through the crack beneath it. But as Barda drew the bolt, and the door swung open, a flood of sunlight poured into the passage.
With streaming eyes, almost blinded by the welcome glare, they crawled through the doorway one by one. And so it was that, one by one, they were cracked over the head and captured. Easy as winking.
When Lief came to his senses he was covered by some rough, foul-smelling cloth — old sacks, perhaps. His head was pounding. He was gagged, and his wrists and ankles were weighed down by heavy chains.
He became aware that he was being painfully jolted and bumped. He could hear voices, a jingling sound, and the plod of hooves. He realized that he was on the back of a cart. Whoever had attacked him was carrying him away from Rithmere. But why?
The Belt!
With a thrill of terror he dragged his chained hands to his waist and groaned with relief as his fingers met the familiar shape of the linked medallions under his clothes. His money bag was gone. His sword, too. But the Belt of Deltora was safe. His captors had not found it. Yet.
His groan was answered by the dull clank of chains and a sigh beside him and a muffled cry from a little farther away. So Barda and Jasmine were in the cart with him. He was absurdly comforted, though of course it would have been better if one of them at least was free. Then there might be some hope of rescue. As it was …
There was a guffawing laugh from the front of the cart. “The ticks are waking, Carn 8,” a harsh voice said. “Will I give them another knock?”
“Better not,” said a second voice. “They have to be in good condition on delivery.”
“I don’t see that this lot’s worth the trouble,” the first man growled. “The big one might be all right, but the other two are rubbish! Especially the scrawny little female. Champion my eye! She won’t last five minutes in the Shadow Arena.”
Lief lay rigid, straining his ears to hear more against the sound of rain, fighting down a feeling of dread.
“It’s not our business to say what’s worth the trouble, Carn 2,” answered the other voice. “It’s the old girl who answers to the Master, not us. The pod was told that from the beginning. The Brightly womansupplies the goods. All we have to do is deliver them undamaged.”
Lief felt the blood rush to his head. Beside him, Barda made a strangled sound.
“The ticks heard us,” sniggered the man the other had called Carn 2.
“What does it matter? They’re not going to be telling anyone, are they?” sneered his companion. “Or d’you think that black bird’s going to spread the word? It’s still there, you know. Right behind us.”
They laughed, and the cart jolted on.
The journey continued hour after hour. Lief slept and woke and slept again. It grew colder and darker, and then it started to rain again. The sacks that covered him became sodden. He began to shiver.
“We’d better stop and get the ticks covered up,” Carn 8 growled at last.
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