It was The Belt of Deltora, the book Jarred had found hidden in the palace library. The book Lief himself had so often studied as he grew up, and which had taught him so much about the power of the Belt and its gems.
Lief squirmed to see it in this man’s hands. He longed to snatch it away from Fallow, save his father from this cruel taunting. But he was powerless. All he could do was stand and watch.
“This book was found in your house, Jarred,” Fallow was saying. “How did it come there?”
“I do not remember.”
“Perhaps I can help you. It is known to us. It came from the palace library.”
“As a young man I lived in the palace. I may have taken it away with me when I left. It was many years ago. I do not know.”
Fallow tapped the book with bony fingers. The cruel smile never left his face.
“The Master thinks you have deceived us, Jarred,” he said. “He thinks you kept in contact with your foolish young friend, King Endon, and at the last helped him, his idiot bride, and their unborn brat to escape.”
Lief’s father shook his head. “Endon was fool enough to believe me a traitor,” he said in a low, even voice. “Endon would never have turned to me for help, nor would I have given it to him.”
“So we thought. But now we are not so sure. Strange things have been occurring in the kingdom, blacksmith. Things my Master does not like.”
Lief saw a sudden flash of hope in his father’s downturned eyes. He glanced quickly at Fallow. Had he seen it too?
He had. His own eyes were gleaming coldly as he went on.
“Certain allies, valued by the Master, have been viciously killed. Certain — goods — also valued by the Master have been stolen,” Fallow went on. “We suspect that King Endon is still alive. We suspect that he is making some last, useless effort to reclaim his kingdom. What do you know about that?”
“Nothing. Like everyone else in Del, I believe that Endon is dead. That is what we were told.”
“Indeed.” Fallow paused. Then he leaned forward so that his face and the lighted torch were very close to the man on the floor. “Where is your son, Jarred?” he spat.
Lief’s mouth went dry. He watched as his father looked up. His heart ached as he saw the deep lines of exhaustion, pain, and grief on the well-loved face that was so like his own.
“Lief left our house months ago. The blacksmith’s trade bored him. He preferred running wild with his friends in the city. We do not know where he is. Why do you ask about him? He broke his mother’s heart, and mine.”
Lief’s own heart swelled at his father’s courage. The voice was high and complaining — the voice of an injured parent, no more. His father, always so truthful, was lying as though he had been born to it, determined to protect his son, and his cause, at all costs.
Fallow was examining the despairing face closely. Was he deceived or not?
“It is said that a boy of about your son’s age is one of the three criminals who are roving the land, trying to overturn the Master’s plans,” he said slowly. “With him are a girl and a grown man. A black bird flies with them.”
“Why are you telling me this?” The man on the floor moved restlessly. He seemed to be merely impatient. But Lief, who knew him so well, could see that he had been listening intently. No doubt he was wondering furiously about this mention of a girl and a black bird. He knew nothing of Jasmine and Kree, or what had happened in the Forests of Silence.
“This boy,” Fallow went on, “could be your son. You are crippled, and may have sent him on some useless quest in your place. The man — could be Endon.”
Lief’s father laughed. The laugh sounded completely natural. As of course it would, Lief thought. It was absurd to think of Barda being mistaken for the delicate, cautious King Endon.
Fallow’s thin lips set in a hard line. He lowered the flame of the torch till it flickered dangerously in front of the laughing man’s eyes.
“Take good care, Jarred,” he snarled. “Do not try my patience too far. Your life is in my hands. And not only yours.”
The laughing stopped. Lief ground his teeth as he saw his father once again bow his head.
Fallow walked to the door. “I will be back,” he said in a low voice. “Think over what I have said. The next time I come to see you, I will come expecting answers. If you have done what we suspect, mere pain will not make you tell the truth. But perhaps the pain of one you love will be more persuasive.”
He lifted a fist and thumped on the door. It opened and he went through, banging it behind him. The key turned in the lock.
“Father!” Lief cried to the figure slumped against the wall. “Father, do not despair. We have four of the gems. And now we are going to Dread Mountain to find the fifth. We are moving as fast as we can!”
But his father sat motionless, staring unseeing into the darkness. “They are alive,” he whispered. “Alive, and succeeding!”
His eyes glowed. Chains rattled as he clenched his fists. “Oh, Lief, Barda — good fortune! I am fighting my fight here, as best I can. You must fight yours. My hopes and prayers go with you!”
Lief woke to the sound of voices. It was nearly dawn. Jasmine and Barda were already stirring, taking up their weapons, buckling the canisters of blisters to their belts. Ailsa, Merin, and Bruna were moving back from the spring. Lief lay still, remembering his dream. Though he must have slept for many hours after it was over, every detail was clear in his mind.
A terrible weight seemed to be pressing him down. It was the weight of his father’s danger and pain, of fear for his mother. Then he remembered his father’s glowing eyes, and those final words.
I am fighting my fight here, as best I can. You must fight yours …
Lief sat up, determinedly shaking off the misery.
“Jarred and Anna always knew that it might come to this.” Barda was standing beside him. His face was grim and drawn.
“You saw Father?” Lief exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You too?”
They picked up their sleeping blankets, shouldered their packs, and began walking together to the spring, talking in low voices. Jasmine followed, listening.
“I dreamed as soon as I fell asleep,” Barda said. “I knew you must be planning to do the same, Lief, but I wanted to see for myself how Jarred was faring. I learned little, but I saw him. He was sitting against the wall of a dungeon — in chains.” His fists clenched at the memory. “I could do nothing. If only I could have told him —”
“He knows!” Lief exclaimed. “He knows we are succeeding. It has given him hope.”
“He could hear you?”
“No. He found out another way.”
They had reached the spring. As they breakfasted hastily on dried fruit and travellers’ biscuits washed down with sweet water, Lief told of Fallow’s visit to the cell. Barda laughed grimly when he heard that he was suspected of being King Endon.
“My dear old mother would be proud to hear it,” he said. “So they have not noticed the disappearance of the beggar at the forge gates?”
“No,” said Lief. “Or if they have, they think you have just moved elsewhere in the city.” He frowned. “But I am a different story. When trouble started they went to the forge, because of Father’s history. They found I was gone. They searched the house …”
“And they found the book,” muttered Barda. “I told Jarred long ago that he should destroy it. But he would not. He said it was too important.”
Lief heard a small sound behind him and turned. Jasmine was pulling on her pack. Her mouth was set and her eyes sad. He thought he guessed why.
“I did not dream of anything last night,” she said, in answer to his unspoken question. “I tried to picture my father as I drank from the spring, but I was so young when he was taken away that I cannot remember his face. It is just a blur to me now. So — I missed my chance.”