Ilse Of Illusion

7 - Truth and Lies

Far away, in the secret sea, Jasmine leaned forward, peering at the land ahead. She murmured to Kree, who spread his wings and soared into the air. The companions watched as the bird sped low towards the dark, mysterious mass.

Suddenly, something shot upwards from the water. Kree seemed to stop dead in mid-air. And the next moment the boat was rocking violently as Jasmine leaped to her feet, shrieking. For Kree was plummeting, wings fluttering helplessly, into the sea.

‘Jasmine!’ roared Barda. ‘You will have us over!’

Lights flared in the darkness ahead. There was the sound of shouting, and splashing.

Jasmine threw herself down, seized her paddle and plunged it into the water. ‘Lief, help me!’ she cried. ‘Make haste! Kree will drown!’

‘No!’ Barda roared. ‘Turn the boat! Get us away!’

But Lief paid no heed to either of them. He had dropped his paddle and was reaching for his sword. Dozens of long, pale forms were streaking through the water towards them, like enormous spears veiled with foam.

‘Beware!’ he shouted. And had no time to say more. For in seconds the attackers were upon them, surging from the water amid fountains of spray.

Lief gripped his sword, knowing that to use it would be fatal. The boat was surrounded by a ring of huge, sharp-fanged silver eels. Their wicked mouths gaped wide, streaming with water. And hunched on the neck of each one was a wild-eyed, dog-faced being clothed in grey animal skins. The beings’ hands, tattooed from wrist to fingertip, held long, thin spears of sharpened bone, poised to strike.

A dripping black bundle was thrown carelessly into the boat. It was Kree. The bird struggled pitifully at Jasmine’s feet, one wing trailing. With a cry, Jasmine bent to him. The spear arms drew back.

Lief never knew where the words came from. Pure instinct brought them to his lips. ‘We are the people of Doran the Dragonlover. Do not harm us, tribe of Auron,’ he gasped.

The eels stared glassily, without understanding. But the strange beings on their backs stirred. Lief was conscious of pale, slitted eyes measuring him.

‘Doran sent you to us from above?’ one of the Aurons asked at last.

Her voice was like a song, like water rippling over stones. But there was warning in it.

Do not lie.

Lief swallowed, aware that at any moment a spear could plunge into his heart. ‘Doran is long dead, as you must know,’ he said carefully. ‘His words, written in an old book, led us to you.’

‘What do you seek?’ asked another of the Aurons. And again the voice was full of melody, with an undercurrent of threat.

Tell the truth.

‘Many of Doran’s people are prisoners of the Shadow Lord,’ said Lief. ‘To save them, we need the Pirran Pipe.’

There was a soft, sighing sound like a wind skimming over water. The spears were lowered a little.

‘The Pipe is in three parts,’ said the first Auron to have spoken.

Do not lie.

Lief nodded. ‘We already have one part,’ he said quietly. ‘We have come to beg you for the second, though we were told you would not give it.’

The Auron glanced at her friends. Then she turned back to Lief. Her tattooed hands tightened on her spear, and slowly turned its point downward.

‘You were told truly,’ she said. ‘Come with us.’

As their boat was towed to shore, the companions saw, to their astonishment, that the ‘island’ was not an island at all. It was a mass of rafts, bound together to form one vast platform crowded with mud-brick dwellings.

The edge of the platform was thronged with people. Many held torches that smoked and flickered, giving off an oily, fishy smell. Small children, yawning and rubbing their eyes, hid behind the adults’ legs. Older children stood in groups, very upright and stern, short bone spears at the ready.

Behind the crowd rose a low tower open on all sides. At the top of the tower stood two shadowy figures. One of these was wearing long robes and a tall headdress.

The Piper of Auron, Lief thought. Keeper of the stem of the Pirran Pipe. He watched as the Piper turned and spoke. He saw the companion hesitate, then finally bow. An instruction, it seemed, had been given and accepted.

‘This is Auron?’ Barda muttered, as they clambered out of the boat.

Lief looked about him. Everywhere there were signs that the people had been woken by the intruders. The newly lit torches. The heavy-eyed children. The doors of the dwellings hanging open, as if the inhabitants had rushed out in alarm.

‘It is certainly a place where Aurons live,’ he murmured back. ‘But it cannot be Auron itself. The map makes it clear that Auron is a true island.’

‘Then where are we?’ Jasmine demanded. She had climbed up beside them and now stood looking around warily, Kree cradled in her arms.

‘I think this platform is the dotted outline on the map,’ Lief whispered. ‘Doran used a broken line to show that its position is not fixed. It is anchored now, but no doubt it moves around when the people wish it.’

‘Why do they not live on their island?’ Jasmine demanded fiercely, not troubling to lower her voice. ‘Are they so savage and careless that they have made it unfit to support life?’

Lief nudged her violently, but it was too late. Many in the crowd had heard her, and were frowning and muttering among themselves.

Jasmine’s eyes flashed green fire. ‘I do not care what they think!’ she spat. ‘They struck Kree down for no reason. Who would do such a thing to a creature who meant no harm?’

‘Those who did not know he meant no harm,’ said a quiet voice beside Lief. ‘Those who have never seen a bird in their lives, and who have learned, through bitter experience, that what is unknown may be deadly.’

Lief swung around. A pair of shrewd eyes met his own. Instinctively, he knew that this was one of the figures he had seen in the tower. The Piper’s companion.

‘My name is Penn,’ the Auron said. ‘I am the history-keeper of the rafts. The Piper has appointed me to be your host.’

‘Our gaoler, you mean!’ flashed Jasmine.

Penn smiled, showing two rows of chipped, pointed teeth. ‘Whatever I am, I am all you have,’ she said simply. ‘It would be wise for you to follow me, now, to a safe place. The crowd’s mood is growing ugly.’

As Lief, Barda and Jasmine followed Penn through the narrow pathways of the rafts, Jinks ran on tiptoe through the hallways of the second floor of the palace.

The long, strong hair pin he had found at the back of a drawer had helped him escape from his own bed chamber. Now it was time to carry out his plans.

He knew he had plenty of time. Even if Sharn came upstairs again, she would not stop on the second floor. She would go straight up to the library to see what that Toran spitfire, Marilen, wanted.

There was no doubt in his mind that Marilen was Lief’s bride-to-be. How exciting it had been to see the message on the slate that old fool had been holding up in the kitchen!

And now Jinks had seen the girl for himself. A pert little minx she is, too, he thought resentfully. How dare she call me a liar? As it happens, I am lying. But for all she knows, I am telling the honest truth!

He reached the last door in the hallway and began to work on the lock with his hairpin. Lief probably is dead by now, in any case, he thought. But whether he is or not, my pleasant life in the palace is over. It is very unfair, but there it is.

He closed his eyes, jiggling the lock, as his thoughts ran over familiar ground. Yes, Jinks, he told himself, you must face facts. If Lief is alive, he will return and tell everyone that you abandoned him. Then you will be finished. And if Lief is dead, the Shadow Lord will come, and the palace itself is finished.

With satisfaction, he heard the lock give way with a gentle click. He entered the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

A blue cloak hanging on a hook in one corner told him that the room was Sharn’s. Good! Rapidly Jinks began to go through shelves and drawers.

I will search all the rooms and take what I fancy, he thought. By the time the losses are discovered I will be riding west on a stolen horse, my saddlebags stuffed with valuables. And in the west I will find a nice, safe hiding place where a rich acrobat who is not too choosy about his friends can enjoy a well-earned retirement.

Closing the last of the drawers, he saw with annoyance that his search had yielded only a few coins, a topaz brooch and a gold chain upon which hung a locket containing a tiny portrait of King Endon, Lief’s father, as a young man.

Jinks snorted in disgust. Why, the king’s mother still dressed like a blacksmith’s wife! Where were the jewels, gold rings and ropes of pearls he had expected to find?

Shaking his head, he hurried out of the room and moved to the next door.

Do not fret, Jinks, my boy, he told himself, inserting his handy hairpin into the lock. The girl Marilen’s room must be here somewhere.

The gossip was that Lief had chosen the finest of the royal jewels for his bride. But Marilen had not been wearing anything of value when Jinks saw her. So the jewels must be hidden away in her room. What a prize they would be!

The lock clicked under the pressure of his fingers, and he entered the second room.

It looked almost as bare as the first. But on a low table by the fire was a tray holding a bowl of stew, a salad, some bread, and, best of all, a small golden-brown cake in a silver paper case.

Jinks hurried to the table, reached for the cake, then drew back. A folded paper was lying beside the tray. Clearly it had not yet been read, for its wax seal was only partly broken. Eyes sharp with curiosity, Jinks opened it.

Jinks grinned in delight. So he had stumbled on Marilen’s room already! He should have realised it at once, because of the tray. The spoilt wench had stormed off to find Sharn, leaving her meal untouched.

He grabbed the cake and gobbled it down with relish.

Now, to find the jewels! He looked around, enjoying the moment. Then, with shock and disbelief, he felt a stab of pain, agonising pain, in his stomach. Gasping, he doubled up, clutching his belly as the pain stabbed again, and again. He tried to call out, but could manage only a croaking whisper.

Agony gripped him. He fell writhing to the floor, his fingers clawing on the thin rug, his heels kicking at the table.

The table tilted. The tray slid over the edge.

By the time it hit the ground, Jinks was dead.