by Emily Rodda
‘Are you pretending that the very thought of capturing the lost Staff that has fascinated you since you were a boy does not send your cursed treasure-hunter’s blood racing?’
No, I will not pretend that, Mab. I am doing this for Sheevers & all who still suffer from the horrors of the Shadowlands invasion, certainly. But I am doing it for myself as well. The thrill of the chase is bubbling in my veins. At this moment, I feel more alive than I have ever done in my life.
Mab tightened her lips and closed the book. ‘So there you have it,’ she said simply. ‘Dare Larsett was neither villain nor saint. He was a clever, conceited, reckless, loving, generous rascal—and a great trader, who all of us can be proud to have known.’
She drew herself up, ruthlessly forcing Sky and Kay to bear her full weight. ‘The Apprentice ceremony will now continue. Britta of Del, daughter of Maarie and Larsett, please step forward!’
18 - Friends
Mab had her way for the next half hour, but the moment the solemn ceremony was over, Healer Kay took command. As frenzied applause and cheers rang out over the harbour, Britta was whisked away from the flock of chattering well- wishers surging towards her, and taken below.
There, in the blessed peace of the traders’ dining room, she was able to collect her scattered thoughts. She was able to come to terms with her recovered memories of the Hungry Isle and decide which ones she could safely share. She was able to read a little of her father’s diary. After a time, Jewel and Sky were allowed to join her, for Kay was shrewd enough to know that their company would do her patient good, not harm.
While the beaming Davvie ran in and out bringing hot tea and a basket of fresh fruit, soft cheese and crusty bread rolls from shore, the three friends talked little, and then only of small things. Jewel and Sky asked no questions about the two little pottery lanterns, the delicate silver brooch and the small black book ranged on the table in front of Britta. They knew she would talk about the contents of the secret safe when she was ready.
‘If Sorrel knew that Vashti had cheated in Del, I cannot understand why he was still going to let her win!’ Jewel complained.
Sky shrugged. ‘He felt had no other choice, I daresay. Then Mab rose from what was supposed to be her deathbed, and everything changed. Then Sorrel could make his veiled threat to expose Vashti’s little game and force Loy to back down.’
‘Sorrel should not have just threatened!’ Jewel fumed, snatching up a sweetplum and biting into it as savagely as if it were Trader Loy himself. ‘It makes me wild to think that Vashti has walked off this ship with people believing she is generous when she is quite the opposite—and dishonest into the bargain!’
‘Vashti lost,’ Sky pointed out calmly. ‘The cheating gained her nothing. And as things are, public scandal has been avoided and the dignity of the Rosalyn Trust has been preserved. Those things mean a lot to old Sorrel, you know.’
Jewel snorted. Plainly she was not convinced.
‘The sad thing is,’ Britta found herself saying, ‘that Vashti could no doubt be a very good trader if only her father would trust in her talent and leave her alone.’
‘There is such a thing as being too softhearted, Britta,’ Jewel said severely. ‘What has got into you?’
‘I daresay she has been taking lessons from Mab,’ Sky said with a straight face. ‘Why, just last night we had yet another example of Mab’s tender heart!’
It was a blessing to laugh, and laugh they did, very heartily. By now they had all realised that Mab’s refusal to see anyone the night before had been simply a matter of vanity. Mab’s hair had grown during her illness, and she had been determined to stay hidden until the red dye Kay had applied to the white roots had done its work. She had not cared a jot for anyone else’s suffering.
‘Still, the dye must surely have dried by this morning,’ Jewel said, wiping her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Why did the old rogue not show herself as soon as we landed?’
‘She was reading this,’ Britta said quietly, touching the small book in front of her.
She felt the mood in the room grow tense. She knew that her friends were both longing to know more of what the diary said. They would not press her, but she was very aware that this precious, private time with them would soon be ending.
Very soon, Traders Sorrel and Freck would reach the little shop in the city’s centre. They would break the day’s astounding news to Britta’s mother and sister. Then, almost certainly, they would bring Maarie and Margareth to the harbour. And after that, it would be some time before Britta would see Jewel and Sky alone again.
So, though her feelings were still very tender, Britta opened the book and turned to the page she wanted. ‘I have not had time to read it all,’ she murmured. ‘I have only glanced through it. But this part—right at the end—I want you to hear.’
Her voice a little unsteady, she began to read:
1 hour out from Illica: The deed is done. The Staff passed from Bar-Enoch’s hand to mine as safely as I hoped. I am sure that Bar-Enoch took it from the turtle man Tier’s body in the same way. Bar-Enoch is known to have spent time with the turtle people of Two Moons. Then, of course, there are those tales about him ‘talking to himself’ in his cabin ...
‘So your father learned something in Two Moons that helped him break the curse,’ Sky whispered eagerly, as Britta stopped for breath. ‘Some sort of chant or spell, perhaps! Does he say what it was?’
Britta shook her head. Even in his private journal, Dare Larsett had not revealed the secret of the goozli she was sure he had carried out of the Two Moons swamplands to help him secure the Staff of Tier.
She stared into space for a moment, wondering about that goozli. What had happened to it when her father died at Mikah’s hands? Then, suddenly, she knew. She remembered her own goozli shaking its head when she begged it to help her friends if she was killed. The goozli knew more than she did about the magic that bonded them. It knew that if Britta died, its own life would end.
So Dare Larsett’s goozli had returned to the clay of which it was made. Its dust had mingled with Larsett’s blood in the Star’s cargo hold. Just as the far older dust of Bar-Enoch’s goozli had no doubt mingled with the sand of the death chamber in Illica.
‘Britta?’
Jewel’s anxious voice recalled Britta to herself. She looked back down at the diary, and read on.
Thank the stars, I managed to keep my head. I told before thrusting it into the lead-lined box. But still, what I felt while it was in my hand was ... intense. Dangerous.
Mikah came in from the cavern mouth where I had made him wait, and together we got the box back to the ship. Now it is chained securely in the cargo hold and the Star is underway once more.
It was a good night’s work, but for one thing. I have lost the odi shell hairclip I had bought for Maarie. I took it from the safe & carried it with me, thinking it would bring me luck, & now I cannot find it. It must have fallen from my pocket in that cursed cavern. I hate to think of it lying there in the foul darkness. I hope its loss is not a bad omen ...
Jewel and Sky had both gasped at the mention of the hairclip, but Britta did not look up. She took a breath to steady herself, turned the page and went on reading.
1 day out from Illica: The Staff nags at me from its place in the cargo hold, but I grit my teeth and try to busy myself with other things. My main problem at present is Mikah, whose maimed arm has begun paining him terribly, poor fellow. He says he hurt it while we were moving the Staff to the ship, though he said nothing at the time ...
2 days out from Illica: Healer Vine is baffled as to the cause of Mikah’s trouble, & the usual remedies seem to have no effect. The pain must be truly agonising, because Mikah has even left off wearing the hook that serves him as a left hand, saying that he cannot bear to strap it on.
He keeps pleading with me to go with him to the hold & use the Staff to help him. I have refused so far, but I confess that the thought of feeling the Staff’s power a
gain is very tempting—and, after all, it would be in a good cause ...
3 days out from Illica: Today Mikah begged me on his knees to ease his suffering, and I agreed. Why not? Mikah needs help and surely I have the right to experience—just once— what it means to be Master of the Staff that cures all ills! We will go to the hold tonight.
Britta closed the book. There was no more to read. The rest of the pages were blank.
‘So that was how Mikah did it,’ she heard Jewel hiss. ‘Ah, the cunning, lying villain!’
‘The lure of the Staff overpowered him,’ said Sky in a flat voice. ‘He did not have the strength to resist it.’
Looking up, Britta met his troubled eyes and knew that he was thinking of his own longing for the Staff.
‘Even Father’s will was weakening by the end, despite all his planning,’ she murmured. ‘You can see by what he wrote how badly he wanted to feel the power of the Staff again.’
‘Perhaps!’ barked a voice from the doorway. ‘But unlike Mikah he would not have killed for it.’
Startled, the friends jumped to their feet as Mab hobbled in, forcing Kay to stumble along with her or let her fall.
‘Mikah was always jealous of Dare—ever since they were boys,’ Mab said. ‘He was wild to be a trader, you know. I told him he did not have it in him to be a good one, and I was right. He knew nothing of people.’
She snorted. ‘If he had, he would still be alive today, because he would not have broken his bargain on the island. He would not have felt he needed to. He would have known that Britta’s honour as a trader would have forced her to keep her part of the bargain till her life’s end. Is that not so, Britta?’
Britta nodded and bowed her head.
‘Very well, Kay!’ Mab snapped, as Kay tugged at her arm. ‘By all the little fishes, girl, I have the whole day to lie on my bunk! But I am nearly done here. Britta, this was just found under the deck planks of the landing boat. Kay tells me it is yours.’
She plumped something into Britta’s hand. It was the odi shell hairclip.
‘I will not ask how you came by it,’ Mab said, darting a suspicious look at Sky. ‘But from what I read in your father’s diary, it is treasure trove, so nothing to do with the Rosalyn Trust.’
‘Thank you, Mab,’ Britta managed to say.
‘You might also like to know that I had a few words with Vorn and Collin of Illica just now,’ Mab went on. ‘As I suspected, the young fools had no idea in the world how much gold their sunrise pearl would bring. I have promised to sell it for them at the best possible price, and in return they have agreed to give you half of the proceeds.’
She scowled as Britta began faltering a confused protest. ‘Curse you, girl, stiffen your spine! The money is owed to you! Your family needs it! And Collin and Vorn will have enough gold left to build ten boatyards, if they wish.’
At last she let Kay drag her to the door, but in the doorway she dug in her heels and turned back.
‘Oh, just one more thing,’ she said carelessly. ‘Jewel and Sky, it seems that while I am by no means cured, I am not to die quite yet. So I have decided that if you are willing you might join Britta and me on the Star of Deltora’s next few trading voyages. If I cannot be young myself, I can at least surround myself with the young. Besides, you need experience and Del trading needs some new blood.’
Her lips twitched as Jewel punched the air, hooting with delight, and Sky stammered his amazed thanks.
‘But there is to be no more wilful damage to property, Jewel of Broome!’ she warned, shaking her bony finger. ‘And as for you, Sky of Rithmere—no more treasure-hunting!’
With that, Mab took her leave. Britta, whose cup of joy was now overflowing, wondered if she had noticed that while Jewel had rashly sworn to be a model of caution in future, Sky had only smiled.
19 - And Then?
A week later, Britta sat in the little shelter at the end of the harbour graveyard with Jantsy by her side. Behind her, waves lapped gently against the sea wall. Her heart was very full. The king and queen of Deltora had attended the ceremony to honour Dare Larsett, but now they had gone. The crowds who had come to witness the great event had gradually faded away as well.
Now, as the day ebbed, only a few people still lingered among the gravestones. Britta’s eyes drifted lazily from one group to another.
There were Jewel and Sky, talking with Collin and Vorn, Erin of Broome and Captain Hara. Now and then Sky glanced in Britta’s direction as if he wished she would join them, but for the moment she was content to stay where she was.
There was Mab, with Healer Kay and Captain Gripp, moving slowly towards the Traders’ Hall. Bosun the polypan was dancing around them, madly chewing a toffee that Kay had found for him.
There was Trader Sorrel, standing in the shadows with Lean Alice and Master Sheevers, who clutched to his chest the two lanterns that his great friend Larsett had found for him in Maris. Sheevers was calmer now, and Britta knew why. She herself had heard the king tell the old potter gently that he did not have to fear—if he wished to remain in his den and seek lanterns, then in his den he could stay. But from now on food and clothing would be brought to him from the palace—a gift, the king had said, from Dare Larsett.
And finally Britta’s eyes rested on the last, and ^nearest, group.
Her mother, the odi shell clip shining in her hair, a new, sad peace shining in her worn but still beautiful face, was standing by the fresh stone that marked Larsett’s grave. Close beside Maarie was Margareth, her hand pressed to the flower-shaped silver brooch pinned to the collar of her shirt.
Words from her father’s diary swam before Britta’s eyes. Larsett had found gifts for his family, as well as for Sheevers, in Maris.
... for my dear Maarie, who puts up with me despite my faults, an odi shell hair clip that says what is in my heart. For my gentle Margareth, a silver brooch that is almost as pretty as she is herself. For Britta, my restless little bird, a length of silk in all the colours of the rainbow-including soffa blue, which is becoming very rare.
Maarie, of course, will say that such colours are not proper for a young lady of Del. Perhaps they are not, but they could not be better for a trader of the kind that Britta wants to be. I will keep the silk on a shelf where I can see it, I think. It pleases my eye as much as I think it will please Britta’s.
I hope that whenever she looks at it, she will remember that there will be a time when she can wear it-when she is grown, and we are sailing the wide seas together in the Star of Deltora.
Hot tears sprang into Britta’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
She felt Jantsy stir and put his arm around her. She wanted to tell him that she did not need comfort—not really—but she could not speak, and after a moment she realised that she did not need to say a word. Jantsy understood. So she just leaned into his shoulder and let the tears fall, feeling the bitterness and mourning of the last eight years draining from her heart. And Jantsy simply waited, while slowly the light faded from the graveyard, and the people standing among the graves became little more than shadows.
Even when the tears ended at last, and Britta pulled a little away from him to sit upright, Jantsy said nothing, but kept his soothing silence. Britta sniffled, and with a watery smile pulled her handkerchief from the pocket of the straight blue skirt she had put on for her mother’s peace of mind.
‘So much has changed, Jantsy,’ she found herself saying.
‘But some things have not, and never will,’ he said. ‘Like the stars in the sky, some things are forever.’
Impulsively she put out her hand to him, but at that moment the harbour clock began to strike seven and her mother called her name in an anxious voice that could not be ignored. With a sigh Britta stood up, pushing the loose hairpins back into the knot at the nape of her neck, tucking her shirt more firmly into the waistband of her skirt.
She thought of the soft silk blouse and the scarlet skirt still hanging in the Star, and just for an instan
t the old, trapped feeling stabbed at her again.
‘There, you see?’ Jantsy said lightly, standing up with her. ‘Some things never change. Mothers, for example.’ She saw his teeth flash white as he grinned.
Maarie and Margareth were already hurrying after the others to the Traders’ Hall. The reception that had been planned was to begin at seven, and it would not be polite to be late. Food and drink would be waiting.
And more speeches, no doubt, Britta thought, smothering a sigh.
At her father’s grave, she stopped. The air was 169 heavy with the scent of the flowers that lay heaped on the mound below the newly carved stone.
The world is wide, Britta, and full of wonders ...
‘I am glad Father’s name will be remembered,’ she said. ‘But he is not here, Jantsy. His spirit is out there.’
She turned back to the dark harbour that opened its arms to the wide, open sea. She saw the lights of the Star of Deltora, rocking gently at anchor.
And suddenly she was filled with piercing joy.
For now there would be speeches and chatter. Then, for a time, there would be the safe, familiar comforts of home. She would say goodnight to Margareth in their tiny bedroom above the shop. She would help her mother choose new clothes and furniture. She would face the neighbours who flocked in, filled with goodwill, wanting to share in her family’s joy. She would sit in the bakery, watching Jantsy work in the early morning, and walk with him in the cool of the evening.
But soon, very soon, she would return to the harbour.
And when she did, the Star of Deltora would be waiting.
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