The Silver Door

5 - The Dream

It was very late when at last Rye’s thoughts began to drift and blend into confused dreams. Over and over again he half woke, turned restlessly and fell into another shallow sleep. And in the early hours of the morning, dreams became nightmare …

Sholto was bathed in weird red light that drained all colour from his gaunt face. His hair had been cut so it was nothing but black stubble coating his skull.

Skimmers were lunging at him, baring their needle teeth, flapping their pale, leathery wings, slashing with the vicious spurs on their hind legs so that drops of venom, gleaming red as blood in the scarlet light, filled the air around them.

Yet Sholto did not move. He merely watched the frenzied beasts intently, his dark, clever eyes dropping now and then to the notebook in his hand. And somehow the creatures never reached him. They just lunged and lunged again, falling back repeatedly as if repelled by an invisible barrier.

But Sholto was in danger. Terrible danger. There was danger in the red light. There was danger in the shadows. Danger and horror, coming closer …

A clanking thud broke into the nightmare and Rye woke, his heart pounding.

It was a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.

But his dreams of Dirk had been visions—glimpses of what Dirk had really been doing. And that meant …

A low moan escaped his lips. Beside him, Dirk sighed, mumbled and turned over.

‘Sorry, Rye,’ Sonia’s voice whispered.

Rye’s eyes flew open. It was very dark in the hot, close room, but gradually he made out a shape looming over him.

‘I am sorry I woke you,’ Sonia murmured in the darkness. ‘Skimmers are attacking the chimney. There is no danger—the chimney is well sealed at the top in summer—but the sound startled me, and I dropped the sack of supplies.’

‘W—what?’ Still half gripped by the nightmare, Rye sat up.

‘I have been down to the kitchens to collect food for our journey,’ Sonia whispered. ‘The early hours are the best time for thieving. I have—Rye, what is wrong? You are shaking!’

‘I had a fearful dream,’ Rye said thickly. ‘One of the dreams that are—real. I saw Sholto … and skimmers.’

‘Skimmers?’ Sonia hissed, dropping to her knees beside him. ‘Where? Did you see the place?’

‘Red—it was all red,’ Rye muttered, trying to control his ragged breathing. ‘And something was coming—something worse than skimmers. A shadow. Cold … powerful … evil …’

He pressed his hands over his eyes. His teeth were chattering. He hated showing such weakness in front of Sonia, but he could not help it.

There was a pause, and then he felt Sonia touch his quaking arm.

‘At least, however terrible it was, the dream proves that Sholto is still alive,’ she said quietly. ‘It also proves he chose the right Door.’

‘Yes.’ Rye took a deep, shuddering breath.

‘And tomorrow we will set out to find him,’ said Sonia. ‘So put the dream out of your mind now and get some rest, Rye. That is what I am going to do. The waking bell will ring all too soon as it is.’

She pressed his arm and retreated, dragging a sack that chinked and rattled as it rasped over the carpet to the bedroom door.

Strangely comforted, Rye settled back on his cushions. For a while he kept his eyes open, afraid that if he slept again the vision of the red place would return to torment him. Then, deliberately, he made himself relax.

Sonia was right. However frightening it had been, the dream had proved that Sholto lived. That was a step forward. And tomorrow …

Rye swam up from a sleep fathoms deep and sat up, blinking in the dimness. The shutter still covered the diamond window, blocking out the morning light and dulling the sound of the waking bell clanging in the courtyard far below. He could hear Sonia, Annocki and Faene murmuring sleepily in their room, and Dirk yawning beside him.

But he could hear something else, too. Someone was knocking on the tower room door.

Sonia came bounding out of the bedroom and ran to the door. She was wearing a long red nightgown. Her coppery hair flew wildly around her shoulders.

‘Yes?’ she said sharply.

‘Message from the Warden, ma’am!’ a small, frightened voice piped.

‘Push it under the door, if you please.’

A large white envelope slid onto the carpet. Sonia bent and picked it up. ‘Thank you,’ she called.

‘I—I am sure you would do the same for me!’ gabbled the small voice, and footsteps went pattering away.

‘Keep orphan,’ Sonia said curtly, turning away from the door. ‘How useful the Warden finds it to have a good supply of little messengers, and be praised for his kindness in keeping them, too!’

Annocki and Faene had appeared in the bedroom doorway by now. Their eyes were puffy with sleep, but they had both taken the time to throw robes over their nightgowns.

‘Will I open it?’ Sonia asked, holding up the envelope.

‘Of course.’ Annocki frowned and drew her robe more closely around her chest as if she was cold.

‘Make haste!’ Dirk urged. Plainly he feared that somehow the Warden had found out that there were strangers in the Keep.

Sonia tore open the envelope, glanced at the message inside, hissed, and thrust the paper at Rye. With an embarrassed glance at Annocki, who nodded stiffly, Rye read the note aloud:

Rye could not believe it—he could not believe a father could write to his daughter so coldly! He looked up. There were dark red patches on Annocki’s cheekbones. Her dark eyes were burning with anger.

Faene was clearly very shocked. No doubt she wondered what sort of place she had come to, where parents and children could be so at odds. She turned to Dirk for reassurance, but Dirk’s mind was on other things. He was glaring at the fireplace.

Soot had begun drifting down onto the hearth. There was the muffled sound of voices from above, and a wrenching, tearing sound as the chimney block was removed. The Warden’s orders were being obeyed promptly, it seemed.

‘By the Wall, this is criminal!’ Dirk burst out. ‘What of all the homes destroyed last night? How does the Warden dare to waste a single worker on his cursed chimney?’

‘Hush, Dirk!’ Faene whispered, hurrying to his side and glancing nervously at Annocki.

‘Nothing the Warden does surprises me!’ snapped Sonia. ‘But it is a great nuisance. Do you not see? While workers are in the chimney up here, we cannot use it! They will spy us climbing down, and the Warden is sure to hear of it.’

‘Then we are trapped here all day.’ Rye felt sick. Memories of the dream flooded his mind, rising like a sour tide.

‘No!’ Sonia pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘This is the safest and most convenient way to the Chamber of the Doors, certainly. But there is more than one fireplace in the Keep. The one in the waiting room on the ground floor would be the best, I think. The workers will not be able to see us down there. We will try our luck straight after breakfast.’

‘Sonia …’ Annocki began warningly.

Sonia took not the slightest notice. She smiled at Rye and Dirk.

‘Do not worry,’ she said. ‘All we have to do is take a risk—and by now we should be used to that.’

An hour later, his hand on Sonia’s shoulder and Dirk’s hand heavy on his back, Rye was creeping down the narrow, winding steps that led directly from the tower to the ground floor of the Keep. The concealing hood was on his head and the speed ring was on his finger. The bell tree stick was in his belt, and a bundle containing food and water was slung on his back. He felt as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering in his stomach.

‘We are nearly at the bottom,’ Sonia warned softly. ‘Be ready.’

Rye tightened his grip on her shoulder as she began to move a little faster.

This morning, Sonia looked very much as she had when he had first met her. Despite Annocki’s protests, she had again put on the red cap, tunic and trousers of a Keep orphan. The red scarf, washed and dried overnight, was knotted around her throat. As before, she carried her own small bundle of supplies at her waist, tied in place with the old plaited rope belt she had kept with her throughout the journey beyond the golden Door.

Rye could feel her tension and excitement. It seemed to run through his fingers, like the tingle he felt when he touched the little bag of powers hanging around his neck. Despite everything that had happened to her beyond the Wall the last time, Sonia could hardly wait to escape from Weld again.

Perhaps Annocki was right, and Sonia thrived on danger. The idea had plainly returned to Annocki’s mind when she had said goodbye at the tower room door. Her face had been very sober as she hugged Sonia, earnestly begging her to take care.

‘Do not worry, Nocki!’ Sonia had said, returning the hug warmly. ‘I will be back. And in the meantime, you will have Faene to keep you company.’

‘Faene does not seem to want company at present,’ Annocki replied dryly, glancing over her shoulder. After tearfully farewelling Dirk, Faene had retreated to the bedroom, and had not shown her face since.

‘Oh, she will soon recover,’ said Sonia, with what Rye thought was quite mistaken assurance. ‘Or she will pretend to. Faene’s manners are far better than mine.’

‘That would not be difficult,’ Annocki had snapped. But her smile had taken the sting from her words, and she had stood watching Sonia, Rye and Dirk until they were out of sight.

‘There!’ Rye heard Sonia whisper.

Light shone dimly through an archway not far below. A few more steps, and they could see through the archway to a broad, stone-paved hallway lined with doors. People were hurrying up and down the hall—Keep workers with brooms and mops, officials carrying scrolls and folders, scurrying Keep orphans.

They all looked busy, intent on their morning duties. But there was no jostling, and there were certainly no collisions, because in the polite Weld way, everyone was keeping well to the right.

Following their plan, Rye, Dirk and Sonia waited for a gap in the crowd passing the archway, then stepped smartly across to the middle of the hall where no one was walking at all.

People streamed along on either side of them, following the shallow paths that had been worn in the ancient floor by thousands of feet over the centuries. Rye wondered if anyone except cleaners had ever actually trodden on the stones where he and his companions now stood. Did the Warden ever stroll down the middle of the hall when he was alone, for example? Just to show he could?

The thought made Rye smile. The fluttering in his stomach eased.

‘This way!’ Sonia whispered, jerking her head to the left.

Hands tightly linked, they began to walk. The hall’s central strip stretched ahead of them, wide and bare as a private road. It came to Rye that nothing he had done so far—even lying to the Warden—had made him feel quite so keenly that he had stepped outside the normal life of Weld.

‘There,’ Sonia breathed, pointing to an open doorway on the right. ‘Be very quiet. There will be soldiers on guard inside.’

They waited for a break in the passing crowd, then dashed through the doorway into a grand sitting room furnished with armchairs, sofas and low tables.

Despite Sonia’s warning, the room was deserted. Tall double doors stood open at one end, and through the gap Rye could see women in white aprons clearing a long dining table. Two soldiers stood by the head of the table, chatting to the women and finishing off a platter of cold sausages.

‘Those men are supposed to be on guard in here,’ Sonia breathed. ‘What a piece of luck!’

She led the way to a door at the opposite end of the room and cautiously turned the gleaming knob. The door eased open with only the tiniest of creaks, and Rye and Dirk followed her into the room beyond.

The waiting room looked exactly as Rye remembered it. There was the fireplace, its hearth lightly sprinkled with soot. There were the chairs ranged around the walls, the long red curtains, and the polished table with its inkwell and the carved box in which all the Volunteer Statements were kept.

‘Good!’ Sonia sighed with relief. ‘From here it should be easy.’

‘Who is that?’ a cracked voice cried from a dim corner.

As Rye, Dirk and Sonia froze, a small, crabbed figure jumped up and limped forward, scowling ferociously.