There was a muffled sound behind them and they turned to see the Ralad man sitting up, blinking in confusion. His patch of red hair stood up like a crest. His eyes stared wildly around him.
“Do not fear, my friend!” cried Barda. “They are gone. Gone forever!”
Lief left them and went to Jasmine. She was sitting on the grass beside the sandy patch of earth, with Filli chattering in her ear. They were both watching Kree soaring and diving above them, testing his wings.
“Let me use the nectar on your shoulder, Jasmine,” Lief said, sitting down beside her.
The girl shook her head. “We must save the nectar for important things,” she said briefly. She dug in her pocket and brought out the jar of cream with which she had treated the Ralad man’s wrists and ankles. “This will do for me,” she said. “The wound is not serious.”
Lief wanted to argue with her, but decided he would not. He was beginning to learn that it was best to allow Jasmine to do things her own way.
The shoulder was badly bruised. Now it was swollen and angry red. Soon it would be deep purple. The wound in the center of the bruise was small, but deep. The corner of the axe blade must have struck there.
As gently as he could, Lief smeared the wound with the strong-smelling green cream. Jasmine sat very still and did not utter a sound, though the pain must have been great.
Barda came up to them with the Ralad man, who nodded and smiled at them, then put the palms of his hands together and bowed.
“His name is Manus. He wishes to thank you for saving him from the Guards, and from Jin and Jod,” Barda said. “He says he owes us a great debt.”
“You owe us nothing, Manus,” said Lief, smiling back at the little man. “You risked your life for us, too.”
Manus bent and, with his long, thin finger, rapidly made a row of marks in the sand beside him.
“‘You saved me twice from death,’” Barda translated slowly. “‘My life is yours.’”
Manus nodded vigorously, and it was only then that Lief realized that he was unable to speak.
Barda saw his surprise. “None of the Ralads have voices, Lief,” he said gruffly. “Thaegan saw to that, long ago. It was when, out of spite and jealousy, she created the Lake of Tears from the beauty of D’Or. The Ralads of that time raised their voices against her. She — put a stop to it. Not just for them, but for all who came after them. There have been no words spoken in Raladin for a hundred years.”
Lief felt a chill. What sort of mad, evil being was this sorceress? Then he thought of something else, and glanced at the silent quicksand. Somewhere in those depths lay Jin and Jod, their wickedness stifled forever.
How long would it be before Thaegan found out? A month? A week? A day? An hour? Or was she flying towards them, filled with rage, at this very moment?
Thaegan had stolen the voices of a whole people because they had dared to speak against her. What sort of horrible revenge would she take on Barda, Jasmine, and Lief, who had caused the deaths of two of her children?
Run! whispered a small, shuddering voice in his head. Run home, crawl into your bed and pull the covers over your head. Hide. Be safe.
He felt a hand touch his arm, and looked up to see Manus beckoning to him urgently.
“Manus is anxious to be well away from here before the sun goes down,” Barda said. “He fears that Thaegan may come. We all need rest, but I have agreed that we will walk as far as we can before making camp. Are you ready?”
Lief took a deep breath, banished the whispering voice from his mind, and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I am ready.”
That night they slept under a cluster of sweet-plum bushes far away from any stream or path. None of them wanted to be seen by anyone who might tell Thaegan where they were.
They were cold and uncomfortable, for their clothes were still damp and stiff with mud and they could not risk lighting a fire. But still they fell asleep at once, exhausted by all that had befallen them.
Sometime after midnight, Lief stirred. Moonlight shone palely through the leaves of the bushes, making shadows and patches of light on the ground. Everything was very silent. He turned over and tried to settle to rest once more. But, though his body still ached with weariness, thoughts had begun chasing one another through his mind, and sleep would not come.
Beside him, Manus was sighing and twitching — tormented, no doubt, by dreams.
It was not surprising that it should be so. Using signs and the strange picture-writing of his people, Manus had told them that he had been a prisoner of Jin and Jod for five long years. He had been making his way from Raladin to Del when, lured from the path by the tempting scent of the sweetplum bushes, he had fallen into the quicksand and been captured.
Lief could not bear to think of the long misery that the little man had suffered since then. Barda’s understanding of Ralad’s writing was not complete — but still he could translate enough to tell the terrible story.
Manus had been forced to work like a slave, beaten, starved, and treated with terrible cruelty. Tied to the wall of the kitchen, he had been forced to watch helplessly as Jin and Jod trapped, killed, and ate victim after helpless victim. Finally he had escaped — only to be seized by the troop of Grey Guards when he was almost home, and forced to march back the way he had come.
For five years he had lived with fear and loathing in the company of wickedness.
No wonder his sleep was haunted by nightmares.
When Lief asked him how long the journey to Raladin would take, he had answered quickly, scribbling on the earth with his finger.
“Three days,” Barda said heavily, looking at the marks. “If Thaegan does not catch us first.”
If Thaegan does not catch us first …
Lief lay hunched on the ground and shivered as he thought of the letter “T” and the question mark. Where was Thaegan now? What was she doing? What orders was she giving?
The darkness of the night seemed to press in on him. The silence was heavy and menacing. Perhaps, even now, Thaegan’s demons were stealing towards him like flickering shadows. Perhaps they were stretching out long, thin hands to clutch feet and ankles and drag him, screaming, away …
Sweat broke out on his forehead. A gasp of terror caught in his throat. He fought to stay still, not to wake the others. But the fear grew in him until he felt as though he must scream aloud.
The topaz protects its wearer from the terrors of the night …
He scrabbled under his shirt and pressed his shaking fingers against the golden gem. Almost at once the shadows seemed to shrink, and the terrible beating of his heart slowed.
Panting, he rolled onto his back and stared up through the leaves of the sweetplum bush. The moon was three-quarters of the way to full. Black against the starry sky was the proud shape of Kree, perched on the branch of a dead tree above them. The bird’s head was up, and his yellow eyes shone in the moonlight.
He was not sleeping. He was alert. He was on guard.
Strangely comforted, Lief turned onto his side again. Only three days, he thought. Only three days to Raladin. And Thaegan will not catch us. She will not.
He closed his eyes and, still clutching the topaz, let his mind slowly relax into sleep.
In the morning they set off again. At first they kept to small, well-hidden paths, but little by little they were forced into the open as the trees and bushes became less and the ground grew more parched.