Lief ran. He ran with no thought in his mind at all.
The door to his mother’s bed chamber was wide open. As he rushed into the room he saw at a glance the red marks again bright on Sharn’s face. He saw Zeean lying back in her chair, sweat gleaming on her brow, her cheeks, chin, neck and arms covered with the same scarlet swellings.
Panic-stricken, he lifted Zeean and carried her to his mother’s bed. He put her down beside Sharn, then tore the Belt of Deltora from his waist and stretched the Belt’s gleaming length over the two of them.
The amethyst gleamed pale pinkish-mauve, tormenting him.
The amethyst calms and soothes, Lief thought wildly. And it loses colour near poisoned food or drink. What mistake could I have made?
‘The amethyst calms and soothes …’ he repeated aloud.
And, abruptly, the rest of the words came to him, just as he had first seen them in The Belt of Deltora.
The words Lief had forgotten flamed in his mind.
It changes colour in the presence of illness …
His heart gave a sickening thud. Wildly he looked again at the amethyst. But surely it had paled, not merely changed colour! Surely …
They ate nothing, drank nothing …
His mind was roaring, struggling in the grip of a nightmare more terrifying than any he had ever faced.
He had been wrong. The birds had been poisoned, certainly, but the people had not. All along, the amethyst had been reacting to illness, not to poison. The Toran Plague was real.
In horror he thought of Kree, flying to Dread Mountain. There was no other bird to send after him. And the emeralds the gnomes sent would be useless. It was not the emerald, the antidote to poison, that had revived Lindal and aided Sharn. It had been the strength of the diamond beside it that had helped them—for a time.
Every plan he had made was pointless. Everything he had said at the meeting had been based on a terrible mistake.
The meeting …
Lief buried his face in his hands.
Zeean had removed her mask because she had believed in him. Jasmine, Barda, Doom, Manus, Steven, Gers and Gla-Thon had all gathered in this room unprotected—because they had believed in him.
And what of the guards even now carrying Zon and Delta away? What of all their comrades, forced by Barda to remove their masks?
I have killed them all, Lief thought despairingly. And I have killed myself. The diamond would have protected me from the pestilence, no doubt, if I had taken ordinary care. But …
But he had taken no care. He had exposed himself recklessly to infection. The plague was surely within him, and sooner or later it would show itself.
The plague works quickly once it strikes.
Not so quickly for him, perhaps. The diamond’s power would keep him alive for a time. He would live to see the deaths of his mother, of Zeean, of Jasmine, Barda, Doom … all those he loved and had betrayed.
But he would never now face the Sister of the South. He would not die fighting, but sweating in the grip of pestilence. Then Marilen would have to claim the Belt.
Shakily, Lief pulled out the yellow notice and read the final lines.
As he read, as he faced what already he knew, cold dread pierced his heart.
This was the disaster Ava had predicted. This was the doom he had felt looming ahead from the moment he entered the palace.
He had thought he could decide whether to take the final step or not. But the final step had been taken long ago, without his knowing it. It had been taken the moment he pulled the red mask from his face and announced that the Toran Plague was a lie.
He had delivered Deltora into the Shadow Lord’s hands. He alone.
‘Lief …’
Lief’s head jerked up. Zeean’s eyes were open. She was looking at him.
‘We were wrong, it seems,’ she said softly, trying to smile.
Lief’s heart felt as if it was being squeezed by a giant hand.
‘Zeean, I am sorry,’ he choked. ‘I truly believed—’
‘Lief, listen to me,’ Zeean whispered. ‘I am old. I have seen much, and I know. One mistake cannot ruin a life, or a kingdom. It is what is done after that mistake, that decides. Remember the lessons of history. Despair is the enemy. Do not let it defeat you …’
Her voice trailed away. Her eyes closed.
Lief stared down at her. The red marks were fading from her face. Either the diamond was strengthening her a little, or she was dying.
Despair is the enemy. Do not let it defeat you …
‘I am already defeated,’ Lief murmured. ‘Everyone is dying, Zeean. Everyone who trusted me. There is no-one …’
Then he remembered. There was one person left—the very person who might …
Slowly he picked up the Belt of Deltora, and clasped it once again around his waist. He touched Zeean’s cheek. He bent and kissed his mother’s brow.
Then he left the room, without looking back.
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.