“I’m all right,” Josh said. “I’m all right.” He looked well enough. His cheeks were a healthy color. “I wasn’t all that badly wounded, and I managed to get away when the guard went to sleep.”
Beorn came closer. “The guard went to sleep? That doesn’t sound like the Dark Lord’s guards!”
“What difference does it make?” Jake said impatiently. “Josh is here.” He threw his arms around the boy. “Am I glad to see you! You must be hungry. How did you get here?”
“Did you come through the Caverns of Doom?” Beorn asked. His eyes were half shut, and he was studying Josh with a careful stare.
Josh faced the dwarf. “I’ve been in the city of the magicians. After I made my escape, I went there, and I learned many things. They know what is happening to all of us.”
His speech, Sarah thought, seemed strangely stilted, somewhat mechanical and harsh. Her brow furrowed. “Josh, what’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’ve had a hard time,” Josh said. And then he pointed at Beorn. “But there is the problem. That is who has brought all the terror into our lives.”
Sarah stared at Josh in disbelief. “What are you saying?”
“The magicians have ways of knowing things. They say it was Beorn who betrayed us. He’s responsible for Wash’s death. He gave you away. He was responsible for my ambush too. All along he’s been sending word to the servants of the Dark Lord.” Josh suddenly drew his sword and started toward the dwarf.
“Wait!” Sarah stepped in front of him. “That’s what Glori wanted to do. But—”
“She was right. She’s been the true guide. There’s the traitor!”
“But we can’t kill a helpless man,” Jake said. “If he is a traitor, we’ll have to let Goél make that decision.”
“He’s responsible for Wash’s death! Doesn’t that make you want to kill him, Reb?”
Reb stared at Josh and then at Beorn. Slowly he said, “I don’t know he’s responsible, and I don’t think you do either, Josh. These magicians, they’re a little bit too slick for me.”
“I’m the leader,” Josh said. “That’s what Goél said, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, he advanced again on Beorn, sword in hand.
Abruptly Beorn said, “Look at his chest.”
“What did you say?” Sarah asked in bewilderment.
“Pull his shirt open and look at his chest. He has the smell of the Dark Lord about him—and if he is of the Dark Lord, he is not the Josh we knew. He’ll have the mark of doom on his chest.”
Josh let out a screech and threw himself at the dwarf. Sarah managed to push Josh so that the sword blade went wide. In one swift movement, Beorn knocked Josh down. At once he rolled him over and jerked the shirt aside.
“There, you see? The mark of the Dark Lord—the mark of doom.”
“I don’t understand. This is not Josh?”
“No,” Beorn said. “The enemy has many such foul tricks as this. I’ve heard of this before. Somehow they can conjure up what looks like a real person, but he’s not a real person. Look.”
Before they could stop him, Beorn plunged his dagger into the throat of the form lying on the ground. Sarah screamed and then covered her eyes, for the figure suddenly shriveled up. It shrank and shrank until nothing was left but a little bit of black ash.
“It wasn’t Josh,” Sarah whispered. “I knew it wasn’t Josh!”
“This proves one thing,” Beorn said. “Somehow the Dark Lord knows where we are.”
“Could one of the magicians in the city have done this?” Abbey asked. “If they can do a thing like this, we are not safe anywhere.”
“We’re not safe,” Beorn agreed. “We must be on our guard. Anything we see must be tested. No one is to be trusted. No one.”
The next day Dave awoke, his eyes clear. But his shoulder was painful, and he was not hungry. “Where are we?” he asked feebly.
“We’re waiting for Glori to come back with a horse and wagon to take us into the city,” Abbey said. “Here, you’re spilling stew all over yourself. You must eat.”
“What’s happened since I’ve been unconscious?”
“For one thing, we saw a false Josh,” Abbey said.
When Dave expressed astonishment, she told him the whole story.
He said slowly. “That’s going to make things harder. We won’t know a friend when we see one.”
“Sure we will,” Abbey said. “All we have to do is look at his chest. If they’ve got the mark of doom, they’re the enemy.”
“Did this Josh fool you?”
“Yes, he did, but I was so nervous and so ecstatic to see him, I guess it wasn’t hard to fool me. He didn’t fool Sarah, though.”
“Well, she knows him better than anyone else. She’s still grieving over him, of course. We all are.”
“I haven’t given up hope. I think Josh’s still alive, and I somehow believe that we’ll find him.”
Dave took her hand. “You always believe good things will happen, that the good people will always win.” He held her hand lightly, then smiled. “I hope you always think like that.”
Abbey flushed but did not pull her hand away. “I’m glad you’re better, Dave,” she whispered. “I was so worried about you. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”
His hand tightened on hers. She sat quietly beside him. They said nothing for long periods. It was a way they had come to have—to be comfortable with their silences.
On the third morning, Reb spotted someone approaching. “It looks like Glori coming, and she’s got a wagon.”
They all stood up to look. It was indeed Glori, riding a white horse. She was accompanied by a horse and wagon driven by a sturdy driver.
“How is Dave?” she called out.
“Much better,” Abbey answered. “But I’m glad you brought the wagon. He really shouldn’t walk.”
“None of you will have to walk. Everyone get in. We’re starting back at once for the city of the magicians.”
As Abbey made a bed for Dave in the wagon, Reb asked, “What about these magicians? Did you meet any of them?”
“No,” Glori said. “I was too anxious to get back here, but they know we’re here. You can be sure of that.”
“The Dark Lord knows we’re here too,” Beorn said grimly. “One of his emissaries found us last night. He came from that same direction.” He pointed toward Celethorn.
She stared at him coldly and said, “Get in, dwarf, or walk if you please. I still think you’re a traitor.”
All were soon in the wagon. When Glori nodded, the driver spoke to the horses, and they moved ahead.
“I can’t think Beorn is a traitor,” Reb said softly to Jake. “Remember how he stood in the way of that polar bear? That was the act of a brave man. That was no coward’s act.”
“I know he’s not a coward,” Jake said. “That doesn’t prove he’s not a traitor. He could have done it to save his own hide.”
“Do you think he’s a traitor, Jake?” Reb asked directly.
Jake was a clever young man, smarter than most of the other Sleepers. He said nothing for a while. Then he said, “I think for sure we’ll find out who’s the traitor when we face Goél. No one could stand before him.”
10
Land of the Magicians
By the time Glori had led the wagonload of Sleep ers deep into the plain toward Celethorn, Dave ap peared to be worse again. He groaned every time the wagon hit a pothole. Indeed, all the Sleepers had their teeth jarred by the rough ride.
“We need to take it much slower,” Beorn muttered. “Your friend is being shaken to pieces!” Beorn was sitting next to Abbey, who was supporting Dave in her arms to ease the ride as much as possible. The dwarf glanced at Glori; she was forging ahead at a rapid pace. “What good will it do to get to that blasted city of magicians quickly if the young man dies?”
“You’re right, Beorn,” Abbey said. “Tell the driver to slow down.”
B
eorn positioned himself behind the driver. “Slow down!” he commanded.
“I don’t take my orders from no dwarf!” The driver was a bullnecked man with a beet-red face. He looked around and sneered. “Now, sit down, dwarfy, before I put you out to walk—”
He had no chance to say more. Quicker than thought, Beorn snatched a short, wicked-looking knife from his belt. Throwing his arm around the driver’s throat, he pressed the tip of its razor edge into his backbone and said pleasantly, “I can drive a wagon better than you. If you don’t slow down, I’ll leave you to feed the buzzards.”
“Wait . . . give a man . . . a chance . . . can’t you?” The driver was choking, for the dwarf’s muscular arm was cutting off most of his air. When the arm gave a little, he gasped, “All right. . .slower it is.”
“I knew you would be agreeable to suggestions.” Beorn removed his arm but gave the knife a little push, bringing a yelp from the driver. “I don’t want to have to bring this matter to your attention again,” he remarked.
The driver brought the horses down to a slow walk, and Abbey flashed a smile at the dwarf. “Thank you, Beorn,” she said. “This is much better.”
“I don’t expect her majesty up there will like it,” Beorn prophesied.
He was exactly right, for Glori soon rode back, saying, “Why have you slowed down, driver?”
Beorn rose up once again and pulled his knife from his belt. “I requested he do so. He’s shaking our injured man to pieces.”
Glori glared at him, her eyes flashing. She was, indeed, a beautiful woman, but her beauty obviously made no impact on Beorn, who exchanged glares evenly with her.
“I see you’re still creating all the trouble you can,” she grated and clenched her teeth.
“It was necessary, Glori,” Sarah spoke up. “Dave can’t stand any more of that rough ride.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t think. I was so anxious to get some medical aid for him . . .” Glori did appear repentant. She said, “We’ll be there soon, even at this slow pace. I’ll ride ahead and make sure things are ready. You can see the city from here.” She pointed toward a smudge that broke the flat horizon—evidently the city of Celethorn.
As soon as Glori had ridden away, Beorn said sourly, “I wish that blasted woman would get lost!”
“You two really don’t get along, do you, Beorn? Are you a woman hater?” Jake asked.
“I don’t trust her.”
“Well, she doesn’t trust you.” Jake shrugged. “I guess that’s the way it is. Some people just don’t get along together.”
“My Uncle Seedy and his wife, Mamie, they didn’t get along together,” Reb remarked. “Stayed married for sixty years. Never had a pleasant day in their whole marriage.”
“Why did they stay married?” Jake asked.
Reb stared at him in disbelief. “Why, they stayed married because they was married! You Yankees ain’t got no idea of what marriage is really like. When a man gets married, he’s got the woman that will have to do him as long as they live. Didn’t you know that?”
Abbey smiled. “I like that idea, Reb.” She wiped the perspiration from Dave’s brow and studied his face. “I think that’s the way it ought to be. One man and one woman, married as long as they live.”
“That’s the way it was done in Gum Springs, Arkansas.”
“Gum Springs, Arkansas. That doesn’t sound like a very big town,” Jake said. “I don’t remember that in my geography lessons. Where is Gum Springs?”
“Why, it’s only two miles from Wet Wash—down next to Two Egg,” Reb explained.
“Oh.” Jake nodded. “I should have known that, of course.”
Beorn listened in silence to all of this. The wagon rolled on. The driver, from time to time, cast a venomous glance at the dwarf, who stared back at him with a pleasant smile.
When they drew close enough to see the outlines of Celethorn, Sarah stood up in the wagon and marveled at it. “That’s some city!” she said with wonder. “Look at it!”
The wagon moved into the outskirts, and all the Sleepers expressed amazement. They were so used to rough villages built of whatever material was at hand— mostly logs or mud, and thatch for a roof—that Celethorn struck their eyes as a marvel.
The buildings, Sarah saw, were all constructed of some smooth material that she could not identify. They did not appear to be painted, and yet she could not discern a seam anywhere. The structures rose from the ground in graceful towers with turrets on top. Many were large and had rounded domes that seemed to be made of glass. The sun caught these, and the reflection of its beams made the city sparkle like a fairyland.
The streets were paved with a smooth, hard material over which the wagon wheels passed without a bump. The fronts of the buildings were pierced with glass windows, but Sarah could not see in through them.
“I’ll bet those are like two-way mirrors,” Jake announced. “People inside can see out, but those of us outside can’t see in. Pretty neat!”
They passed through a business district lined with the usual enterprises selling food and drink and clothing. There were also many signs advertising “spiritual doctors.”
“Spiritual doctor? I wonder what that is,” Abbey remarked. “But the people do wear pretty clothes, don’t they?”
She was looking at some citizens who stood watching the wagon trundle along the street. Their garments appeared to be made of silk and were of the brightest colors imaginable—red, orange, purple, vivid green. The women wore tall, peaked hats, and the men rather flat, soft caps. All seemed to have long hair, and the men, young and old, had beards.
Sarah noticed that many wore huge rings of various colored stones. “They look like emeralds and rubies,” she said, “but they couldn’t be. They’re too big.”
All in all, they beheld a colorful scene as they passed into the city of Celethorn.
Jake said, “If they can fight as well as they can build cities, Goél can use them in this battle that’s coming up—but they just don’t look like fighters to me.”
“No, they sure don’t,” Reb agreed. “They look like stage actors all dressed up in their pretty clothes and fancy jewelry.” He looked about uncomfortably. “Besides, I don’t feel right about this place.”
“Nor do I,” Beorn spoke up. He was watching with a suspicious eye the citizens who lined the streets. “There is a strange air about this place,” he said. “I don’t like it.”
“What have you heard about Celethorn, Beorn?” Sarah asked him.
“Some good things and some bad. From what I understand, there’s plenty of both here.”
“You mean, beside Goél’s people there’s black magic too?”
The dwarf glowered at a tall man who wore a pointed hat with stars and moons and suns imprinted on it. “I don’t know anything about magic,” he growled. “But they do strange things here, and we’d better be on our guard.”
“But if Goél wants people from here, they can’t be bad,” Abbey said quickly.
“As I say, we can expect good and bad in Celethorn.”
“That’s true of every place we’ve ever been.” Jake shrugged his sturdy shoulders. “We’ll just take the meat and spit out the bones.”
“That’s easy enough with meat and bones,” Beorn said, “but people aren’t meat and bones. Sometimes fair seems foul, and foul seems fair. You can’t always tell a book by its cover.”
“Nor a man by his appearance,” Sarah said. “Think about that awful thing that pretended to be Josh.”
“And there may be worse than that here,” Beorn said. “So beware. Look,” he interrupted himself, “I think we’ve arrived at the palace.”
The palace was a white structure, so white that it glistened and almost hurt the eyes. It was crowned with seven turrets from which colorful banners fluttered. Sarah noticed again that there were strange symbols on the banners.
The wagon pulled to a stop where Glori stood with a small, silver-haired woman dressed in a simple wh
ite gown. As they climbed down, Sarah noted that the woman had a stern face but at the same time had a kind look in her eye.
“This is Deormi, the chief priestess of Celethorn,” Glori said. “May I present the five Sleepers?” She gave their names, then added, “And a dwarf who has helped guide them.”
Deormi was small boned and unimpressive appearing, though her silvery hair was beautiful. It was impossible to guess her age—she could have been anywhere between forty and eighty—and though she was frail in body, something in her countenance and in her cool gray eyes told Sarah that they were in the presence of a powerful woman indeed.
“We have heard of the loss of your companions,” Deormi said quietly. “It is a blow to lose a loved one.”
Her words went right to Sarah’s heart, and tears came to her eyes. She understands, she thought. She really understands. It’s not just talk. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered.
“Not ‘Your Majesty.’ We have no queen here. We are ruled by a council. I am the chief priestess at the moment, but you will learn about our ways later. For now, you have one who is seriously wounded . . .”
“Yes, Deormi,” Abbey said quickly. She was still sitting in the wagon, holding Dave’s head. “Please, can you do something to help him?”
“I will do what I can. Bring him into my quarters,” Deormi said.
At once four servants—they wore simple gray clothing and appeared to be of the working class— stepped forward and lifted Dave from the wagon as though he were a child.
The Sleepers followed Deormi into the palace. Inside were richly tiled floors and fine paintings on the walls, and everywhere there were cleanliness and elegance.
The room that the priestess led them into was simple, however. “Put him on the couch,” she said, then pulled up a low stool and sat beside Dave. Staring down at his still, gray face, she smoothed back his hair.
The Sleepers did not so much as say a word, for there was something of authority in the manner of the little woman.
Deormi removed Dave’s shirt then and examined the injured arm. It had turned an angry red with fingerlike swellings around the wounded area. Then she went to a cabinet across the room where she quickly and efficiently mixed two potions. She brought back both and set one on a low table. The other was a paste that gave off a pleasant scent. She cleansed the wound, put the ointment on it, then said, “We will leave the wound unbandaged and let the air get to it.” Then she reached down and with surprising strength lifted Dave to a sitting position.
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