The Maze of the Beast

Barda leaned closer to the stone. “Are you mad?” he shouted. “We are not enemies! We are known to Doom. And if you could see us you would know that we have your friend here.”

“You can be seen, believe me,” answered the voice behind the rock. “There are a dozen weapons aimed at you this moment. Do not move.”

Startled, the companions looked around them. They could see no one. Jasmine took a step back. A ball of flame slammed into the ground beside her, showering her with sparks. She beat out the sparks frantically.

“I told you not to move!” called the voice. “Do so again at your peril.”

“Call Neridah and Glock!” Jasmine called, her voice high with shock. “They are with you, I know. Doom saved them from the Grey Guards, as he saved us. They will recognize our faces.”

There was the sound of hollow laughter. “So they may. But in these parts we know better than to judge by appearances. That is why there is a password. Do you know it or not?”

“Of course!” Lief shouted.

“Lief!” hissed Jasmine.

“If I had said no, they would have killed us!” Lief hissed back. “They would have thought we were Ols!”

“They will kill us anyway, once they realize you are lying!” Jasmine’s fists were clenched with frustration and anger. “This is madness!”

Lief shook his head desperately. “Dain mentioned a password. But he could not have known the password for today, for he has been long away. He must have planned to find it out once he got here. And if he could do that, so can we! There must be a code, a sign …”

“Where?” Jasmine demanded.

“Perhaps they all carry a list, with one word marked for every day,” Barda said.

“That, surely, would be too dangerous,” muttered Lief. “Still …” He threw Dain’s pack to the ground and rapidly began searching through it. But as he expected he found nothing printed — only travellers’ supplies, a few spare clothes, and the empty jar of Quality Brand honey.

Quality Brand.

He snatched up the jar and stared at it. Suddenly an idea had come to him. He scrabbled in his pocket for the note he had found under the bush.

“I grow tired of this game. You have the count of ten to reply!” called the voice from behind the rock. “One, two …”

“Wait!” Lief cried. His fingers closed on the note. He pulled it out and quickly read it again, hoping against hope that he was right. The printed words danced in front of his eyes.

WHEN ENEMIES AT PASS, ORDERS NORMAL.

Yes! What he saw here could surely not be just chance. He was right. Surely he was right. He took a deep breath and let the paper fall.

“The password is — ‘weapon,’” he shouted.

“Lief, how do you know that?” hissed Barda. “What —”

He broke off as, slowly, the boulder that masked the stronghold’s entrance began to roll aside, and light poured through the gap from the cavern within.

In the light stood a wiry little man wearing a strange assortment of garments in every color of the rainbow. Below his striped woollen cap, grey hair twisted with feathers hung to his waist.

Lief felt Barda give a start, but there was no time to ask him what was the matter, for the little man was grinning, showing two or three crooked teeth and a broad expanse of pink gums.

“You took your time!” he boomed, in the deep, powerful voice that did not suit his appearance at all. “Does it amuse you to dance with death? I was within a hair of giving the order to fire.”

He peered shortsightedly at the limp figure in Barda’s arms. “So the little boy has had an adventure and come to grief!” he said. “Well, well. Who would have thought it? And him always so careful of himself!”

As the companions hesitated, he beckoned impatiently. “Well, don’t just stand there!” he exclaimed. “You are letting in the cold.” He turned his head. “Thalgus! Petronne!” he bellowed. “All is well. Put down your weapons and come down. You must see to Dain. He has been carried home like a babe in arms, the poor poppet.”

Lief and Jasmine slipped through the entrance. Barda followed more slowly. As he stepped into the light, the little man gazed up at his face and burst into noisy laughter. “Barda!” he roared. “Barda the Bear! Who would have believed it? After all these years! By my stars, I thought you were dead! Do you know me?”

“Of course I know you, Jinks,” said Barda, smiling rather stiffly. “But this is the last place I would have expected to find you.”

He paused as a roughly dressed man and an equally ragged woman — Thalgus and Petronne, presumably — jumped down to the ground from somewhere high above the doorway. He allowed them to take Dain’s slight weight from his arms. Then he turned to Jasmine and Lief. “Jinks was one of the acrobats at the palace in Del,” he explained, his voice revealing nothing. “He knew me well, when I was a palace guard.”

“A palace guard? Why, the strongest and bravest of all, so it was said!” Jinks chattered, following Petronne and Thalgus as they carried Dain towards a larger cavern from which came the hum of many voices. “But Barda, I heard that all the guards were killed the day the Shadow Lord came. How did you escape the slaughter?”

“By chance I had left the palace before it began,” Barda murmured. “And you?”

The little man wrinkled his nose. “The invaders cared nothing for the clowns and acrobats!” he jeered. “We were no more important than pet dogs to them. They let us scatter as we would. We tumbled over the wall while they shed the blood of fine lords and ladies, destroyed the palace guards, and took the place apart searching for our courageous king and queen, who were hiding somewhere trembling in their golden boots.”

He grinned again, and this time the smile had a touch of teasing malice. “So! You managed to run away just in time to save yourself, Barda the Bear!” he crowed. “Cleverly done! Your fellows were all killed defending the palace, but not you! You must be very proud of yourself.”

Lief glanced quickly at Barda and saw that his face had tightened with pain.

“Barda did not know what was going to happen that day!” he exclaimed angrily. “He left the palace the night before because his mother had been killed, and he feared he would be next!”

“Never mind, Lief,” Barda muttered. He turned to Jinks, and Lief could tell that he was forcing himself to speak politely. “You would be doing me a great favor if you would not speak of my past to anyone else, Jinks. I prefer it to be secret.”

The little man opened his eyes wide. “Why, of course, Barda!” he said smoothly. “I quite understand your position — even if your young friend does not. These are hard times, and we cannot all be heroes. Why, I myself am the world’s greatest coward!” They reached the entrance to the larger cavern and he stood back, gesturing gracefully for them to enter. “Mind you, I do not pretend to be anything else,” he added, as Barda passed him.

The cavern was large, lit by flickering torches and filled with groups of men, women, and children of many different ages. Food was already cooking on several fires, and straw mattresses lined the walls.

“Why do you let him call you a coward?” Jasmine whispered to Barda angrily, ignoring the faces turned to stare at the newcomers. “For that is what he is doing!”

“I am well aware of what he is doing,” said Barda grimly, staring straight ahead. “I know Jinks of old. He was a fine acrobat, but a more gossiping, jealous, spiteful, troublemaking piece of mischief was never born. Meeting him here is ill fortune indeed. Whatever he promises, by morning every person here will know everything about me.”

“Dain already knows your name,” Lief pointed out.

“The name is not so important,” Barda growled. “The other details —”

He broke off as Jinks came bustling up to them, clapping his hands to gain the attention of everyone in the cavern.

“Here are some friends who have come to join us!” the little man cried. “They brought poor young Dain home. It seems he decided to go adventuring, and bit off more than he could chew.”

He sniggered, glancing at the pale figure of Dain, who had been put down on a mattress of straw in a corner and was at last beginning to stir. Several other people laughed in reply, and Lief felt a hot flush of irritation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jasmine was before him.

“Dain saved us from two Ols,” she said loudly. “His bravery was very great.”

“Is that so?” called a voice from the crowd. “Who are you to talk of bravery, Birdie of Bushtown?”

And out of the crowd pushed the swaggering, lumbering figure of Glock.