Sister Of The South

10 - Voices of the Dead

Lindal was still crouched on the stairs where Lief had left her. She raised her head as he passed, but she did not speak, and Lief did not stop. He reached the bottom of the stairs without meeting another soul. The entrance hall was also deserted. It was as if the palace was empty of life.

People could not have fallen ill so soon, Lief told himself. They are all somewhere else, carrying out our plans, that is all. But at the same moment, horrible pictures flashed into his mind.

He imagined Gla-Thon crumpled beside Paff’s bed, Doom groaning amid a tangle of useless jewels, and Manus slumped over the palace plans. He imagined Steven writhing on the seat of his caravan, while his savage brother Nevets raged within him and Zerry cried out in terror. He imagined terrified guards backing away from Barda’s plague-marked body, pulling masks back over their faces, too late. And Jasmine, lying helpless among her beloved birds.

A hollow ache began deep within him.

Despair is the enemy. Do not let it defeat you …

He made his way to the flight of steps that led down to the chapel. He stumbled down the steps and pushed the chapel door open.

Josef’s body lay on the marble platform, dressed in the traditional velvet tunic and white gloves of a palace librarian. Candles burned around him.

Ranesh was kneeling beside the platform. He turned quickly as the door opened. His mouth and nose were covered by a red mask, and he was also wearing white gloves.

Lief let out his breath in a shuddering sigh of relief.

It was as he had hoped. Alone and grieving here, forgotten by all, Ranesh had not heard the tale that the plague was a lie. He was almost certainly the only person in the palace who had not removed his mask. By a strange accident of fate, he alone had some chance of safety.

Lief stepped into the ring of candlelight and looked down at Josef.

The old man’s face was peaceful. The furrows of suffering had been smoothed away. The scarlet marks of the Toran Plague were gone.

Ranesh climbed stiffly to his feet.

‘Josef deserves this honour,’ he said, with a touch of defiance. ‘He deserves it as much as any king.’

‘He does, indeed,’ Lief said in a low voice.

Ranesh stared at him. ‘You are not wearing a mask,’ he said dully. ‘Does the Belt protect you from the plague?’

Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to look at Josef.

‘I failed him, but he said not one word of reproach,’ he muttered. ‘When I asked his forgiveness, he said there was nothing to forgive.’

Lief’s heart gave a wild leap. He had not realised that Josef had spoken again before he died.

Perhaps even now it is not too late for me to make some use of the last hours of my life, he thought, hope rising within him. I have not yet fallen ill. There is still time to destroy the Sister. If Josef told Ranesh where …

‘Ranesh, what else did Josef say?’ he asked urgently. ‘Did he say anything about a paper on his desk?’

Ranesh shook his head. ‘Every word was an effort. We had but a few moments, and he spoke only of private matters.’

‘Tell me!’ Lief insisted. ‘Ranesh, I beg you.’

Ranesh set his lean jaw. ‘He said he wanted to be laid to rest in the tunic of his office. He told me that all his personal possessions were to be mine except for the manuscript of his new book, which was to be presented to you. And … that was all.’

The tiny pause before the last words rang alarm bells in Lief’s mind.

‘No!’ he burst out. ‘There was something else, I know it. You must tell me—’

Ranesh swung around to face him, hazel eyes blazing with anger. ‘Josef said I was his son, in all but blood,’ he hissed. ‘He said he loved me, and was proud of me. And then he died.’

He clenched his fists. ‘Now are you satisfied, Lief? Now that you have heard everything, even something that only I had the right to hear, will you leave me alone with my grief?’

Lief bit his lip. ‘I am sorry,’ he said softly. ‘But I cannot leave you alone. There is something you must do.’

‘I can do nothing,’ Ranesh muttered. ‘I must watch over Josef till dawn tomorrow, as is the palace way. You must ask someone else to run your errands.’

Lief clenched his own fists. ‘By dawn tomorrow, every person in the palace will be dead, Ranesh,’ he said in a level voice. ‘The plague will have finished them. I may still be alive, but I will be so feeble that I will be useless. You are the only one who can do what must be done.’

As Ranesh gaped at him in horror, he pulled the yellow notice from his pocket and held it out.

‘You must take a horse and ride like the wind to Tora,’ he said. ‘Show this notice to Marilen, and tell her that it is the work of one who would hand Deltora to the Shadow Lord. Tell her that our land’s fate is in her hands.’

Ranesh’s face darkened as he read the notice.

‘Marilen must come here, despite the plague, and take possession of the Belt,’ Lief said. ‘She must convince the people that she is not just a Toran puppet, but the true queen of the whole of Deltora. And you must stand beside her, Ranesh. You are of the people, and they know you. Ranesh—’

‘There is no need to say more,’ Ranesh murmured, tucking the yellow notice into the pocket of his coat.

Gently he touched Josef’s shoulder. Then he walked to the chapel door. Standing there, he seemed taller than he had before.

‘Never have I been asked to take responsibility for anything,’ he said. ‘I have been a thieving boy of the streets. I have been the student and helper of Josef. I have been the husband of Marilen. But you have put your trust in me, Lief, and I will not fail you.’

‘The guards will let you pass,’ Lief said soberly. ‘They will tell you that you do not need your mask, but they are wrong. Do not uncover your face until Del is well behind you.’

Ranesh nodded briefly, and was gone.

Left alone, suddenly drained of all energy, Lief sank to his knees beside the platform.

Now he had to spread the word that he had been wrong, that the plague was real after all. Every moment he delayed, more and more people were taking off their masks, exposing themselves to infection.

But he stayed where he was. He pressed his burning brow against the platform’s cold marble. The heavy silence of the small, chilly room was so intense that it seemed to make its own sound.

It came to him that his family was cursed—cursed by the wonder that was the Belt of Deltora. The Belt had weighed down generation after generation of kings and queens unworthy of its power.

And suddenly Lief was almost glad that now he would never marry Jasmine, that they would never have a child to wear the Belt in his place.

Any child of mine would come into the world only to suffer struggle, sorrow, fear and failure, he thought. Like me. Like my father. Better—far better—never to have been born.

The Belt hung heavy at his waist. Suddenly he loathed it.

Let it lie here for Marilen, he thought. I have had enough of it.

He seized the Belt and tried to take it off. The clasp resisted his trembling fingers. Almost sobbing with frustration he struggled to loosen it. His fingers slid over the great diamond, the emerald, the lapis-lazuli, the topaz … and there they froze. For the next gem in line was the opal, and that he would not touch.

The rainbow stone could give glimpses of the future. And he did not want to see the future. He could not bear it.

He remembered that only one of Deltora’s last seven dragons remained locked in enchanted sleep—the dragon of the opal, the dragon of hope. It is an omen, he thought. Now the opal dragon may never again fly Deltora’s skies. Just as hope may be lost to us forever.

The topaz warmed beneath his fingertips. And suddenly the chapel was filled with shadows, drifting around him like smoke.

The topaz is a powerful gem, and its strength increases as the moon grows full … It has the power to open doors into the spirit world …

Lief began to shiver. Tonight it will be full moon, as it was the night we burned the Enemy’s crystal, the night this all began, he thought. The spirits of my ancestors came to me then, to aid me. Now they come to me again, but this time …

Spirit voices began echoing from the marble walls, crying out wildly. Lief could not make out what they were saying. But the misty faces were angry and fearful. No doubt they were accusing him of cowardice and faithlessness. He did not care.

‘I will take it off!’ he roared, tearing at the clasp of the Belt. ‘I will die free of it, at least!’

And then, among all the shadowy forms, he saw Josef. Josef was holding out his arms beseechingly. His lips were moving, but Lief could not hear a single word.

‘Josef, I cannot hear you!’ Lief shouted. ‘Josef—’

He swung around as the chapel door opened.

A small blue-grey figure stood in the doorway, a large piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

‘Manus!’ gasped Lief. Quickly he glanced back to where he had last seen the shade of Josef. There was nothing there. All the shadows had gone.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, Lief,’ Manus said, a little nervously. ‘I did not know you were here. I came to see—’

He broke off, staring at Josef’s body lying on the candle-ringed platform.

‘Ah, how could anyone do such a terrible thing?’ he exclaimed, in a completely different tone. ‘It is—abominable!’

‘I am not sure now that Josef’s death was planned,’ Lief managed to say, clambering to his feet. ‘Manus—’

‘No, no!’ Manus broke in, hurrying forward. ‘I was not referring to Josef’s death. I meant this—this great ugly monument here. Abominable!’

He kicked the side of the marble platform violently.

Lief stared, trying to gather his wits. He had never seen the Ralad man so angry. Even the tuft of red hair on Manus’s head seemed to be quivering with rage.

‘This chapel was one of the first rooms to be completed when the palace was built,’ Manus panted. ‘It was to be a place of peace—a refuge from the bustle of palace life. And so it was, by the drawings. It was exquisite!’

Again he kicked the side of the platform. ‘And then, this monstrous thing was built right in the centre of the floor, completely ruining the space! Look at it! High as your shoulder, and half again as long! Ah, that man! King or no king, he was a buffoon!’

Lief’s heart had begun pounding painfully. ‘King Brandon?’ he asked huskily.

‘Not Brandon,’ snorted Manus. ‘Brandon had an eye for beauty. This—this crime was committed by his son, King Lucan.’

He scowled ferociously ‘The Ralad builders played no part in it, I assure you. They were working on the upper floors of the palace by then. The first they knew of it was when Rufus, their chief, visited the chapel and saw what had been done.’

He flapped the parchment angrily. ‘Rufus was horrified, of course. He found the original plan of the chapel—I have it here—and wrote a note upon it to the king, begging that the room be restored to its original state. But King Lucan refused absolutely. Or so his chief advisor said, in the insulting note he wrote back.’

‘What was this chief advisor’s name, Manus?’ Lief asked in a low voice.

Manus thrust the parchment forward. ‘See for yourself!’ he exclaimed bitterly, stabbing a finger at the words penned beneath the Ralad builder’s note.