The Guide

by Trudie Collins

  “First, how are you going to get the door open?” Sam asked. “What is a cicerone and how are you going to get it to scream in agony?” Everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on something else, either in the sky or on the ground. Nobody would look at her. “What is going on?”

  Unbeknown to Sam, while she had been washing the cooking utensils the previous evening, the others had taken a vote on who should be the one to tell her. Ellen lost. Putting her arm around her, she led Sam away from the others; this was not something she wanted to do in front of an audience. Once they were out of earshot, she turned her around so they were facing each other, took both her hands in hers, looked her directly in the eye and spoke. “Cicerone is another word for guide.”

  “Okay,” Sam said and started to head back, confused as to why she had been taken aside. She had only taken two steps when she understood what she had just heard. She stopped and turned back to Ellen. “Me? I am the cicerone?” Ellen nodded. “I have to give an agonized scream? How the hell are you planning on making me do that?” Ellen did not answer. There was no need.

  Sam’s legs gave way and she sank to the ground. “Oh god,” she moaned, rocking back and forward as though in shock. “How long have you known?”

  Ellen sat on the ground beside her. “Ever since we heard the clue. We decided it was kinder not to tell you.”

  Sam sprang up, fury raging through her. “We? Who is we?”

  “Everyone,” Ellen replied timidly.

  Sam stormed over to where the others were nervously watching the encounter.

  “You knew? You all knew? You dragged me away from my world, my home, my life and brought me into a world where there aren’t even any proper toilets for god’s sake. Despite that I stuck by you, I helped you out, I even drank poison for you, yet not one of you had the decency to tell me.” She looked around. Nobody was prepared to meet her gaze. Even Samson hung his head. Her eyes settled on Brin. She did not say anything, but he felt her watching him. He reluctantly raised his head to meet her gaze. His eyes looked sad, full of regret. Regret for not telling her or regret that he was not able to take her place? She felt her anger subsiding and quickly looked away, wanting and needing to keep her fury alive. She turned to Tor.

  “No. I won’t do it and you have no right to ask me to. Find some other sucker to go through agony for you. I’m through with this quest, I’m through with endless travelling and I’m through with all of you.”

  She furiously turned and stalked away from them, not knowing where she was going and not caring. Tor started after her, but Bellak held him back.

  “Let me,” he said gently.

  “Bellak, I do not think−” but Bellak did not give him chance to finish his sentence.

  “Trust me.”

  Tor remained motionless, watching as Bellak caught up to Sam and took her by the arm.

  “Come with me,” he instructed. “There is something you need to see.”

  He walked up the hill and, reluctantly, she followed. He kept ahead of her, so she was unable to see his lips moving and his hands gesticulating. A few hours later they reached the top. Exhaustion had replaced anger. Bellak was probably leading her to her death now that she was refusing to help, but she was past caring. She had a momentary pang of regret that, if she died on this hill, she would never know what sex with an elf would be like, but she quickly put it aside. Looking up, she noticed that Bellak had stopped and was staring forward from the crest of the hill. As she moved alongside, he pointed in front of him.

  “Look into the distance and tell me what you see.” Using her hand for shade, her eyes followed the direction of his arm. She could just about make out a metal structure, pointed like the top of a triangle, but it was too far away for her to work out what it was. She turned toward the old man, a puzzled look on her face.

  “If I told you we are currently standing in what used to be called France, would that help?” he continued.

  “My god,” she exclaimed loudly. “It’s the bloody Eiffel tower.”

  Bellak nodded. “You see, this is your world. It may be a different time, but it is still your world.” She was no longer looking at him, but back at the tower. “I have visited it. Up close it is spectacular. I am amazed that something so ancient still exists. Not a single nut or bolt seems to have rusted. We can take a detour there once we have our next clue, if you like.”

  Sam spun around and stared at him. “Can you repeat what you just said?” Sam asked, thinking she must have misheard him.

  “I said we can take a detour if you would like to visit it.”

  “No. The bit before that. The bit about the rust.”

  Frowning, Bellak did as he was asked. “None of the nuts or bolts appear to have any rust.”

  Sam looked at him for a long while before speaking in a voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. “But all of the nuts and bolts were replaced with rivets before I was even born.” All colour dropped from Bellak’s face. He gaped at her, mouth hanging open.

  “You’ve been lying to me!” Sam yelled at him. “Why? What good did you think it would do?” She was answered by silence. She had never seen him look so dejected. “What else have you lied to me about?”

  When he looked up at her, defeat filled his eyes. He uttered just one word and that one word made her go cold.

  “Everything.”

  Tor’s Quest continues in book 2: The Maze.

  From Trudie:

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