by Emily Rodda
‘I thank you, Trader Loy, for making your point with such calm and firmness,’ he said, smiling pleasantly at Loy and making one of his neat little bows. ‘You and your daughter both value calm and firmness very highly, I know, and I also know how much of Vashti’s trading success is owed to ... to those excellent qualities.’
Loy blinked, and a tiny nerve jumped in his top lip. Beside him, Vashti became very still.
‘Yes indeed,’ Sorrel went on smoothly. ‘I was reminded of it just this morning. While waiting for the Star of Deltora to dock, I began looking through all the finalists’ files—to pass the time, you know. On this second glance, I was quite struck by the receipt for Vashti’s test trade in Del. With one gold coin, Vashti secured a fine leather belt worth three! A remarkable bargain! Why, that receipt almost deserves to be put on public view, as a model of what calm and firmness can achieve!’
‘Sorrel, if all this is supposed to convince me—’ Mab began dangerously, but Loy, who had been whispering hurriedly with Vashti, spoke at the same moment.
‘My daughter wishes me to withdraw my objection regarding the errors on Britta’s entry form,’ he announced, his face like stone. ‘Vashti believes that while deceit is never right, it should be overlooked in this case.’
‘Ah,’ murmured Sorrel, as the other Committee members exclaimed in surprise. ‘How generous!’
‘I cannot believe it!’ Jewel muttered.
Neither could Britta. And Mab was looking thunderstruck. But Sky was grinning at Sorrel in frank admiration.
‘It must have been something Sorrel said,’ Britta whispered to Jewel, her eyes on Sky’s grin.
‘But all Sorrel did was spout a lot of bilge about his wretched files and Vashti’s calm and firmness!’ Jewel hissed back.
Calm and firmness ... Suddenly Britta saw the light. She remembered the last line of Vashti’s note to her parents on the night of the final test in Del—I trust that calm and firmness will help me to succeed. And she remembered later seeing Vashti walking confidently into the big leather goods store in Anchor Street—the store called ‘Calme and Furness’.
‘Calm and firmness—Calme and Furness!’ she breathed. ‘It must be a joke in Vashti’s family. She used it to send her father a message. He arranged for Calme and Furness to let her have a leather belt for a third of its true price! He must have secretly paid the difference! Sorrel realised it this morning, when he saw the receipt again and remembered the note. He was threatening to tell!’
Jewel shook her head in confusion. She had only heard half of what Britta had whispered, and she had not read Vashti’s note. But Britta did not dare to say any more. Sorrel was stepping back, nodding slightly at Mab.
‘Good,’ Mab said, still eyeing Loy and Vashti in amazement. ‘So, to continue ... Britta of Del—’
The elegant woman beside Sorrel cleared her throat and held up her hand. Mab broke off with a scowl.
‘I am sorry, Mab,’ the woman said earnestly. ‘It pains me to stand between you and the finalist you prefer, but my first duty is to protect the Rosalyn Trust, and I must speak.’
‘Yes, Trader Freck?’ Sorrel said hurriedly, as Mab pressed her lips into a hard line.
The woman squared her shoulders. ‘There is still the matter of the trade. Trade is, and must be, at the heart of the Rosalyn contest, and in this case I do not accept that any real trade was made.’
Finding their courage, the other members of the Trust Committee nodded. Even Sorrel was plainly finding it difficult to disagree.
‘A real trade certainly was made,’ said Mab. ‘If you have heard the story, Trader Freck, you know that Britta traded for our lives on the Isle of Tier.’
‘I have heard enough to convince me that the trade was a sham,’ Freck persisted. ‘It was a trade in name only. The fact that the bargain was later broken might be overlooked. But a true trade means that each party gives something up. The finalist Britta gave up nothing. She merely had to kiss her father goodbye.’
The crowd on the dock jeered and shouted in disgust. Britta swayed against Jewel. In the misty darkness of her mind a cracked voice echoed, filling her with pain.
I want to hear you call me ‘Father’ once more ...
‘Be silent!’ Mab’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the voice in Britta’s mind, instantly quieting the crowd.
‘That is better,’ Mab said more soberly, but still in tones loud enough for the people on the dock to hear. ‘Now, listen to me and listen well! For various reasons I had hoped to avoid this for the present, but I accept that Trader Freck has made a case that must be answered—if the dry letter of the law is all that counts.’
She nodded to Freck, who bowed warily.
‘First, forget everything you have heard or thought you knew,’ Mab said. ‘Now! Britta cannot tell you what she traded in the cavern of the Staff, because her memory of it has been blotted out. Hara, Kay, Sky, Jewel and Vashti cannot tell you, because they do not know it. But I can tell you—because at the time the trade was done, the King of Tier believed me to be safely dead.’
She paused. Her bright crest of hair blazed, in bizarre contrast to her gaunt face. Her blue-painted eyelids and hooked nose made her look more than ever like an elderly parrot. But there was nothing absurd about her.
‘In the cavern of the Staff, Britta made a bargain with the King of Tier,’ she said. ‘His part of the bargain was life and freedom for Britta and her companions. Her part was ... the thing she valued most in the world.’
A ripple ran through the watching crowd. Britta heard Jewel grunt in confusion. Her own mind seemed to have gone blank.
‘Our lives were in peril, and Britta plainly felt that she had no choice but to agree to the terms she was offered,’ Mab continued. ‘If she had been alone she might not have done so.’ She smiled faintly. ‘But then again, perhaps she might. Britta has a great zest for life. In that, she very much resembles her late father.’
For the first time, she faltered, but after only a brief pause she lifted her chin and went on.
‘The King of Tier asked that Britta call him “Father” once more, give him her kiss, leave him without another word and then forget him and never speak his name again. It was a touching scene, in its way. The wraiths who worshipped the Staff certainly thought so.’
She cocked her head. ‘I did not find it touching. For me it was— abominable! It chilled me to the bone, because I could see what no one else but Britta knew. The King of Tier was not Dare Larsett. He was Mikah, first captain of the Star of Deltora.’
17 - Memory
Bellows of shock, disbelief and horror burst from hundreds of throats. The sound crashed over the deck like a mighty wave. Mab stood calmly waiting for it to pass, her eyes locked on Britta’s face.
But Britta could not see Mab. She could not hear the roar of the crowd, or Gripp cursing at the top of his voice, or Sorrel gabbling questions.
She was remembering. With Mab’s words, the blocked memory that had teased and nagged at her for weeks had burst into the open and flooded her mind.
At last she saw again the King of Tier on his golden throne. She saw Mikah, who had stolen her father’s treasure, her father’s life and her father’s name. And she saw herself moving towards him, knowing that what she was about to do would confirm in the minds of the wraiths and everyone else present that he was the man he claimed to be.
How she had longed to cry out that he was a murdering impostor—that he was not her father, not Dare Larsett! But she had made her bargain. She could not break it. Even if she had been tempted to do so, the fiery spark deep in the King’s hollow eyes had warned her that her life and the lives of her companions depended on her silence.
She had guessed who he was before, of course. She had begun to suspect it when she realised that only Mikah could have known that her father’s name was hated in Del, because Mikah had written the note accusing him. She had been sure when the King made no response at all to the words her father had s
aid to her so often.
The world is wide, and full of wonders ...
The raw memory was agonising. Britta found herself sagging against Jewel, moaning with the pain of it. But then through the chaos that reigned in her mind she was recalling her second visit to the cavern.
She remembered whispering orders to the goozli, once she had realised why fate had brought them together. She remembered the King striking out at her. She remembered waking to find him dead, and the goozli in possession of the Staff, offering it to her and smiling as she refused it ...
Please do with it what Tier would have wished.
And she remembered stumbling after the goozli as it dragged the Staff through the thick of the silent forest to the shore. She remembered the little creature rolling the Staff down into the lapping, hissing water, the Staff dissolving into glittering sand, the wraiths caressing her and vanishing.
Then the turtles had departed, as if the sorcerer Tier himself had let them go—as if his spirit, too, was finally satisfied and at peace.
Slowly the pain ebbed and the real world came back into focus. Now Britta could hear Jewel muttering her name over and over again. Now she could see Captain Gripp limping towards her, leaning on the arm of Jewel’s sponsor. She could see Sky, looking stunned. She could see Sorrel and Kay, both in tears. And she could see Mab, whose eyes were still fixed on hers.
‘So now do you see what Britta traded for our lives?’ Mab thundered. ‘Do you see what she was trading with that word, that kiss, that promise to forget? She was trading her chance to clear her father’s name. She was trading her own future!’
‘This cannot be!’ Trader Freck cried wildly, as again the crowd roared. ‘Captain Mikah is buried in the harbour graveyard! His poor bones were lashed to the wheel of the drifting Star of Deltora—and the hook that he wore after he lost his hand to a sea serpent was with them! His final letter is framed, hanging on the wall in the Traders’ Hall!’
‘The bones buried in the graveyard, beneath a lying tombstone, are the bones of Dare Larsett,’ said Mab, her face as hard as iron. ‘Only his left hand is missing—the hand that held the Staff. Mikah took Dare’s hand for himself—and the Staff with it.’
There were groans from the crowd. Freck winced and shuddered.
‘He did it with a single slash of his cutlass, no doubt,’ Mab went on without flinching. ‘Then he used the magic of the Staff still clutched in the fingers to seal the hand to his own wrist. I saw it, Trader Freck—Dare Larsett’s hand joined to Mikah’s arm! I saw it with my own eyes!’
‘Ah, the treacherous scum!’ Gripp muttered, reaching Britta at last and patting her shoulder clumsily. ‘Ah, Britt—to think of it!’ His face was wet with tears, and Britta knew that he was weeping for her father as much as for her.
‘And as for Mikah’s famous note,’ Mab went on remorselessly, ‘what he wrote was true, no doubt, except for the one great lie. Somehow Dare Larsett claimed the Staff—told it his name, and took it in his hand—that is certain. But every wicked thing Mikah accused Dare of doing afterwards, he did himself. The viper even finished the note with a sneering message for me: “I cannot say how bitterly I now regret leaving her service to sail with Dare Larsett.” Pah! Of course he could not say how much he regretted it! He did not regret it at all!’
Scowling, she waited for the tumult on the dock to subside. Only when complete silence had fallen did she speak again.
‘But why the pretence? Safe on the Hungry Isle, 150 with the Staff of Tier at his command, why should Mikah care if everyone in the Silver Sea knew what he had done?’
Sorrel made a muffled sound, and Mab half- smiled. ‘It seems that Trader Sorrel, at least, has guessed the answer to that. Well, Sorrel?’
‘According to legend, the Staff of Tier bonded to the name and flesh of its Master, and would slay anyone else who tried to claim it,’ Sorrel said flatly. ‘Mikah had to make sure that neither the Staff nor the wraiths of the island ever learned that “Larsett” was not his true name, and that the hand that held the Staff was not his own.’
The crimson had faded from Sorrel’s face, which suddenly looked far older than it had before. Britta met his eyes and a lump rose in her throat as she saw the anguished pity there.
Mab nodded. ‘So he wrote the note that everyone in the nine seas has believed till now. He wanted to be certain that even the humblest crew members of the poorest fishing boat attacked by the Hungry Isle would curse the name “Larsett” as they died, and so strengthen the lie.’
‘Pure wickedness!’ growled Erin of Broome, glancing at Britta.
‘A cunning plan,’ Mab said calmly. ‘And for over eight years it worked, though I suspect that Mikah’s control of the Staff was always less steady than its true Master’s would have been. Then disaster struck. Fate brought to Tier someone who could expose the impostor. Larsett’s daughter—no longer the child she had been when Mikah last saw her on the newly built Star of Deltora, but a strong young woman who refused to be overcome by the shadows of her past.’
A sighing murmur rippled through the crowd. Britta felt Captain Gripp’s hand tighten on her shoulder. She heard Jewel mutter something, but did not catch the words.
Mab shrugged. ‘I would also recognise Mikah, of course, but he could strike me down, as in fact he did, without raising any suspicion. Britta was a different story. The wraiths knew who she was. How could Mikah kill, or even refuse to meet, a girl who was supposed to be his lost, beloved daughter?’
She smiled grimly. ‘So for once in his life, he behaved like a good trader. He turned what seemed to be a disaster into a golden opportunity. He decided to force Britta to pretend that he was who he claimed to be—her father, Larsett, the rightful Master of the Staff. The wraiths would never doubt him after that, whatever happened. He would be safe forever.’
‘That scoundrel was no trader worthy of the name!’ Jewel burst out. ‘Once he had what he wanted he broke the bargain and tried to kill us all! If Britta had not somehow—’
She shut her mouth abruptly as Mab cast her a stony look.
‘There is only one other matter I wish to raise here,’ Mab said. ‘Some people—’ here she gave the briefest of glances at Trader Loy ‘—may be tempted to say that while Britta’s father may not have been the villain we thought he was, he was a villain all the same. Such people might say that Mikah and Larsett were two of a kind—both so greedy for the riches, power and eternal life that the Staff of Tier could give its Master that they fought over their prize to the death, and Larsett lost. Well, I am going to leave it to Dare himself to answer that charge.’
She jerked her head at Healer Kay, who handed her a small black book.
Mab held the book high. ‘This is Dare Larsett’s private journal of his last voyage. I found it earlier today, tucked with a few other items in a hidden safe in the Chief Trader’s cabin. I did not know the safe existed. I only discovered it this morning because its door flap had fallen open—a jolt when we docked, perhaps ...’
Or a goozli slipping out and leaving the flap open behind it so there would be no sound, Britta thought, pressing her hand to her skirt pocket. Beside her, Captain Gripp was muttering excitedly, exclaiming that he had forgotten all about the safe, but she was only dimly aware of him. Her whole attention was focused on the book in Mab’s hand.
‘I have read it,’ Mab was saying. ‘Much of it is personal, and of no concern to anyone except Dare’s family and close friends. But I want to share with you one particular passage, very near to the beginning.’
Taking her time, she opened the book and found the place she wanted. As she began to read, her mellow voice ringing out over the ship and the crowded dock beyond, Britta could almost see the hasty, confident writing on the open page.
1 day out from Two Moons: My Two Moons trade was successful, so an hour ago I told Captain Mikah the real purpose of our voyage. As I expected, Mikah was excited & proud, asked no awkward questions & showed not a trace of fear. Mikah is a brave man w
ith very little imagination & a great desire for fame. This is why I chose him, of course, but I am glad my instincts did not lead me astray.
It was a great relief to share the secret I have kept forso long. Ever since I found Bar-Enoch’s final resting place two years ago I have known that complete secrecy was vital. I longed to confide in those I loved, but I did not dare. If word of my quest leaked out, the Star of Deltora would be watched intently, & my chances of taking the Staff from under the noses of the Collectors of Illica would be nil. Not to mention that I may fail, or die in the attempt!
Mostly I refuse to think of that, but I would be a fool to deny that the risks are very great. There have been times, I confess, when I have been tempted to forget the whole, mad scheme. Then I think of Sheevers & all the other sad, damaged souls that the Staff of Tier could make whole again, & I know I must go on.
I only have to find the strength to fight the lure of the Staff for as long as it takes to sail home from Illica.
I only have to be its Master till I can carry it to the palace of Del, where it can be passed safely on to our king by the same means that (I hope) it will pass from Bar-Enoch to me. With Deltora’s king, the Staff of Tier will be safe. The magic at his command will protect him from its corrupting power. In his hand, the Staff will cure, not harm. It will be a blessing instead of a curse.
I feel that my whole life has shaped me for this task. At last there is something I can do for my people and my land, some return I can make for what they have given me.
Mab looked up, marking her place with one finger. Her audience was utterly still. Captain Gripp’s hand was shaking on Britta’s shoulder. Many people were weeping.
Mab, too, had tears in her eyes. ‘That is the heart of it,’ she said. ‘But for those who knew Dare well, I had better read the rest.’ She smiled slightly, and looked down at the book again.
Ah ... how noble that sounds! I can almost hear Mab laughing at me. ‘Are you pretending that you are being purely selfless, Dare Larsett?’ my old friend would jeer, if she read this.
