City of the Rats

Some of Tom’s goods, like the floating bedroll, cost more by themselves than all the money Lief and Barda had. But other things they could afford, and it was difficult to decide between them.

In the end, as well as the self-coiling rope, they chose a packet of “No Bakes” — the white rounds that expanded into loaves of bread — a jar of “Pure and Clear” — a powder that made any water fit to drink — and some cushioned socks. The pile was disappointingly small, and they had had to put aside many far more interesting things, including a jar of the fire-making beads and the pipe that blew bubbles of light.

“If only we had more money!” Lief exclaimed.

“Ah!” said Tom, pushing his hat a little back on his head. “Well, perhaps we can make a bargain. I buy as well as sell.” He cast a sly glance at Lief’s sword.

But Lief shook his head firmly. Much as he wanted Tom’s goods, he would not give up the sword his father had made for him on their own forge.

Tom shrugged. “Your cloak is a little stained,” he said casually. “But still, I could perhaps give you something for it.”

This time Lief smiled. However uncaring Tom appeared to be, he plainly knew very well that the cloak Lief’s mother had woven for him had special powers.

“This cloak can make its wearer almost invisible,” he said. “It has saved our lives more than once. I fear it is not for sale either.”

Tom sighed. “A pity,” he said. “Ah, well.” He began to pack the fire beads and the light pipe away.

At that moment the bell on the shop door tinkled, and a stranger walked in. He was as tall as Barda, and as powerful, with long, tangled black hair and a shaggy black beard. A jagged scar ran down one cheek, showing pale against his brown skin.

Lief saw Jasmine slipping inside after him. She stood against the door, her hand on the dagger at her belt. Clearly, she was ready for trouble.

The stranger nodded briefly to Lief and Barda, snatched up a length of the self-coiling rope from a shelf, and strode past them to lean over the dusty counter.

“How much?” he asked Tom abruptly.

“One silver coin to you, good sir,” said Tom.

Lief’s eyes widened. Tom had told them that the price of the rope was three silver coins. He opened his mouth to protest, then felt Barda’s warning hand on his wrist. He glanced up and saw that his companion’s eyes were fixed on the counter, near to where the stranger’s hands were resting. There was a mark there. The stranger had drawn it in the dust.

The secret sign of resistance to the Shadow Lord! The sign that they had seen scratched on walls so many times on their way to the Lake of Tears! By drawing it on the counter, the stranger had signalled to Tom. And Tom had responded by lowering the price of the rope.

The man threw a silver coin into Tom’s hand and as he did his sleeve casually wiped the mark away. It all happened very quickly. If Lief had not seen the mark with his own eyes, he would not have believed it was ever there.

“I have heard rumors of strange happenings at the Lake of Tears, and indeed all through the territory across the stream,” the stranger said carelessly, as he turned to go. “I have heard that Thaegan is no more.”

“Indeed?” said Tom smoothly. “I cannot tell you. I am but a poor shopkeeper, and know nothing of these things. The thorns by the road, I understand, are as wild as ever.”

The other man snorted. “The thorns are not the result of sorcery, but of a hundred years of poverty and neglect. The Del King’s thorns, I call them, as do many others.”

Lief’s heart sank. By making the secret sign, this stranger had proved that he was dedicated to resisting the Shadow Lord. But plainly he hated the memory of the kings and queens of Deltora as much as Lief himself had once done, and blamed them for the kingdom’s misfortune.

He knew he could say nothing, but could not help staring at the man as he passed. The man returned his gaze, unsmiling, and left the shop, brushing past Jasmine as he went through the door.

“Who was that?” Barda whispered to Tom.

The shopkeeper settled his hat on his head more firmly before replying. “No names are mentioned in Tom’s shop but Tom’s own, sir,” he said calmly. “It is better so, in these hard times.”

Lief heard the door tinkle again and turned to see Jasmine leaving. Now that the possibility of danger had passed, she had become restless, and had decided to go out into the fresh air once more.

Perhaps Tom realized that Barda and Lief had seen and understood the mark the stranger had made on the counter, for suddenly he picked up the fire beads and the light pipe, and added them to their little pile of goods.

“No extra charge,” he said, as they glanced at him in surprise. “Tom is always happy to help a traveller — as you have seen.”

“A traveller who is on the right side.” Barda smiled.

But Tom merely raised his eyebrows, as if he had no idea what the big man meant, and held out his hand for payment.

“A pleasure to serve you, sirs,” he said, as they handed over their money. He counted the coins rapidly, nodded, and put them away in his cash box.

“And what of our free gift?” asked Lief cheekily. “The sign in the window says —”

“Ah, of course,” said Tom. “The gift.” He bent and fumbled under the counter. When he stood up, he was holding a small, flat tin box. He handed it to Lief.

“If you do not ask, you do not get. Is that your motto, young sir?” he asked. “Well, it is my motto too.”

Lief looked at the box. It fitted easily into the palm of his hand, and looked quite old. The faded lettering on the label said simply:

“What is it?” Lief asked, bewildered.

“The instructions are on the back,” said Tom.

Suddenly, he paused, listening. Then he slipped out from behind the counter and darted through the shop’s back door.

In his haste he had left the door open, and Lief and Barda followed him. To their surprise, the door led directly into a small field enclosed by a white fence and completely hidden from the road by the tall trees that surrounded it. Three grey horses were standing by the fence, and sitting upon it, patting them, was Jasmine, with Kree perched on her shoulder.

Tom strode towards the fence, waving his arms. “Do not touch the animals, if you please!” he shouted. “They are valuable.”

“I am not hurting them!” exclaimed Jasmine indignantly, but she took her hand away. The beasts snuffled in disappointment.

“Horses!” Barda muttered to Lief. “If only we had horses to ride! How much faster would our journey be then?”

Lief nodded slowly. He had never ridden before, and he was sure that Jasmine had not, either. But surely they could soon learn. On horseback they would be able to outrun any enemy — even Grey Guards.

“Will you sell us the beasts?” he asked, as they caught up with Tom. “For example, if we were to return to you all the things we have bought, would that be enough —?”

Tom looked at him sharply. “No exchanges!” he snapped. “No refunds! No regrets!”

Lief’s stomach lurched with disappointment.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Jasmine. “What is this ‘buy’ and ‘sell’?”

Tom stared at her in surprise. “Your friends would like to have some beasts to ride, little miss,” he explained, as though Jasmine were a small child. “But they no longer have anything to give me in exchange for them. They have spent their money on other things. And” — he glanced at Lief’s cloak and sword — “they do not choose to trade anything else.”

Jasmine nodded slowly, taking it in. “Perhaps, then, I have something to trade,” she said. “I have many treasures.”

She began to feel in her pockets, bringing out in turn a feather, a length of plaited twine, some stones, her second dagger, and the broken-toothed comb from her nest in the Forests of Silence. Tom watched her, smiling and shaking his head.

“Jasmine!” Lief called, feeling a little ashamed. “None of those things is —”

Then his jaw dropped. Barda gasped. And Tom’s eyes bulged.

For Jasmine had pulled out a small bag and was carelessly upending it. Gold coins were pouring out, making a shining heap on her lap.