Filled with unbelieving rage, Jasmine stormed out of the room. She heard the door close behind her, and the key turn in the lock.
The hallway was deserted. Doom had returned to his bed chamber, and no-one else had stirred.
Suddenly Jasmine felt suffocated. She longed for the open air.
She hurried to the great staircase and began to run down, her bare feet making no sound on the cool marble of the floor. If only she had someone to talk to! But she did not.
Barda had taken troops to the city of Noradz, to free the people from their cruel leaders, the Ra-Kacharz, and to collect food for the hungry of Del. Jasmine would have gone with him, but the Noradz people feared Filli, and she could not leave Filli behind. So she had stayed.
Sharn and Doom were always busy. And Lief seemed to have lost all trust in her. He kept secrets he would not share. And now he was running away altogether, to Tora, the great city of the west.
Certainly, he would be safe there. No evil could survive in Tora, which was guarded by its own magic. But surely he did not believe he could hide forever?
Or perhaps he did. Lief had changed. The old Lief, the Lief Jasmine knew, was brave, and eager for action. She was not sure that she liked the new Lief—the secretive, prudent, kingly one—at all.
She reached the ground floor, and the burly guards at the bottom of the stairs moved aside to let her pass. If they thought it odd that she was up so early, they did not say so. In truth, Jasmine thought grimly, they probably expected her to act strangely.
Many tales were told of Jasmine. How she was a fearless fighter who had grown up alone in the dreaded Forests of Silence and could speak to trees and birds. How her mother had died in the Shadowlands. How her father had been injured so badly as to lose his memory, but had escaped to return to Deltora and become Doom, the feared leader of the Resistance.
Uncomfortably aware of the guards’ curious eyes upon her, Jasmine threaded her way between the huddled bodies of the hundreds of people who slept on the floor of the vast entrance hall.
The people came seeking help and, above all, hope. All day they waited patiently in line to see Sharn and her helpers. When night came they slept where they had been standing, so as not to lose their places. Many had been there for weeks.
Jasmine moved carefully, hoping that no-one would wake. She dreaded meeting the eyes of those whose loved ones were in the Shadowlands. What could she say to them?
I am sorry. The king says we can do nothing.
The thought of the slaves filled Jasmine with shuddering horror. The loss of freedom was to her worse than death.
With relief she reached the huge entrance doors and slipped outside into the dawn. A lone horseman was approaching the palace at a gallop. As he came closer, Jasmine saw, to her surprise and joy, that it was Barda.
She ran to greet him as he pulled the horse to a halt, but stopped short when she saw the grim lines creasing his tired face.
‘Barda, what is wrong?’ she exclaimed.
‘I bring bad news,’ Barda said shortly. ‘Noradz is empty. The food has been destroyed. And all the people have been taken—to the Shadowlands.’
3 - Shadows
Lief sat at the great table in the palace kitchens, fighting down rage as he listened to Barda’s story. Doom sat opposite him, his face as usual showing no emotion. Beside Doom was Jasmine, her head bowed.
Barda had learned of the Noradz people’s fate from Tom, the strange shopkeeper he, Lief and Jasmine had met on their journey through the north.
‘When I found the city deserted I went to Tom,’ he said. ‘I knew he could tell us what had happened, if anyone could. He says the Ra-Kacharz were seen marching the people towards the border. It was only days before the Shadow Lord’s defeat.’
Jasmine lifted her head. ‘Those people were helpless,’ she said bitterly. ‘Among them was the girl Tira, who saved our lives. And still we do nothing! We sit here and talk! While thousands of souls all over Deltora are willing and able to—’
‘Jasmine!’ Lief’s stomach was churning. ‘We cannot march on the Shadowlands. The Shadow Lord’s sorcery is too mighty to be defeated on his own ground.’
‘But the Belt—’ Jasmine began.
‘The Belt was made for defence, not attack,’ Doom broke in. ‘The gems cannot be taken beyond Deltora’s borders. Can you have forgotten that, Jasmine?’
Jasmine had forgotten it, but she paused for only a moment. ‘Then we must invade the Shadowlands without the Belt,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Deltorans are suffering there in slavery, perhaps in torment—’
‘I know this, Jasmine! Not an hour passes that I do not think of it!’ cried Lief, jumping to his feet. ‘But I cannot send thousands of other Deltorans to their deaths in a hopeless quest to save them. I can do nothing until I find a weapon we can use against the Shadow Lord. I cannot and I will not! Do you understand?’
Jasmine’s mouth was a thin, hard line. ‘I understand only too well, Lief,’ she said coldly. ‘We are to give the prisoners up for lost, while you go into hiding in Tora. Well, I will have no part of it!’
She turned and almost ran from the room. With a muttered curse, Barda went after her.
Lief slumped back into his chair again. ‘She does not understand. Doom, I must tell her—’
‘You must not!’ Doom leaned forward urgently, gripping Lief’s arm. ‘You must follow the plan in absolute secrecy. It is so important, Lief. It is the most important thing. You know it!’
Lief gritted his teeth, then slowly nodded his head.
Meanwhile, Jasmine could no longer hear Barda calling her name. He had gone outside, thinking she would surely make for the open air. She was glad of that. She did not want to be found and soothed. She wanted to stay angry. At least anger was a feeling she understood.
She made her way to the great dining room. She was sure that at this hour it would be deserted.
She was annoyed, therefore, to find that the dining room was not empty at all. Hunched on one side of the huge table was the hulking, savage figure of her old enemy, Glock. Facing him on the other side was the one person she liked even less—Jinks, the malicious little man who had once been a palace acrobat.
Both men were wearing a heavy glove on one hand. Each had a small wooden cage, a mug of ale and a pile of coins at his elbow.
Between them, wrestling on the polished wood, were two huge spiders. One was spotted brown. The other was darker, with a splash of yellow on its back.
At the sound of the opening door, Glock and Jinks turned sharply, but relaxed when they saw who it was.
‘Why, it is the king’s wild little friend, hero of the quest for the Belt of Deltora,’ Jinks jeered. ‘To what do we owe the honour of this visit, my lady?’
As he spoke, the spider with the yellow back flipped its opponent over and leaped on top of it, fangs bared.
‘Win to Flash?’ bawled Glock in excitement.
‘Win to Flash!’ Jinks agreed resentfully. He pushed his pile of coins to Glock’s side of the table.
Glock snatched up the winning spider in his gloved hand and thrust it into its cage.
The spider which had just escaped death jumped up and threw itself against the cage bars.
‘Be still, Fury,’ said Jinks, pulling it away none too gently. ‘You will have your revenge soon enough.’
‘Have you nothing better to do than gamble on fighting spiders?’ Jasmine demanded in disgust.
‘You seem to have nothing better to do than watch us, weakling,’ growled Glock. ‘Just take yourself off!’
Jinks cleared his throat. ‘I hear the king is going to Tora,’ he said, his face alight with mischief. ‘Are you accompanying him, my lady?’