The Ghost Roads (Ring of Five) (28 page)

“They were lucky,” he said to Valant. “The poison was made for humans, but the Messengers have a lot of bird in their makeup. That protected them. If we could find that dratted Toxique boy, he could do more for us.”

The teachers were uneasy. Duddy in particular was unnerved by the wailings of the dead.

“I can’t sleep,” she complained, her hands shaking.

“Don’t be such a fusspot, Dorothy,” Spitfire snapped. In the end a decision was made to move all the teachers to the apothecary. It was then that they discovered that Devoy was missing.

“I was talking to him just yester—well, maybe the day before …,” Blackpitt, who had also moved to the apothecary, began. Then they realized that no one had seen Devoy for days on end. Brunholm was vague and dismissive when asked where he was.

“Master Devoy has better things to be doing in these hard times than mollycoddling you lot,” he growled, before shooting off, waving a dismissive hand.

The staff often forgot about the very existence of the Storeman, who kept to his Stores, but McGuinness kept an eye on him, and it was McGuinness who found a devastated Storeman wandering on the parade ground in the morning light. Someone had opened a valve to the school water pumping station and the Stores had flooded.

“Forty years of work lost,” the Storeman moaned.

“More than that,” McGuinness told Spitfire, after he had brought the Storeman to the apothecary. “Nearly all
of our guns and ammunition were in the Stores. The water has destroyed them.”

The Messengers were not easy patients, and Jamshid was often exasperated with them. He could not have coped had it not been for Agent Pearl, who moved uncomplainingly among the Messengers, dispensing food and medicine. Even when Smyck and his sidekicks forced their way into the apothecary “for reasons of security” and attempted to search the Messengers’ beds, Pearl urged patience.

“Can you not see that they are frightened, and lost as well?” she said as Spitfire, with Jamshid’s backing, threatened to “bust open a few skulls.”

Docterow, the maths teacher, and Bartley, the Inks and Ciphers instructor, sat together beside the fire, playing bezique and twenty-five. Bartley, who was given to cryptic comments, muttered things like “The owl is in the November sky, but who will feed the offspring of the moon?”

Everyone was waiting without being sure what they were waiting for, and a growing sense of dread filled the apothecary. Only Pearl did not allow fear to dominate her, dispensing soothing words and smiles to all as night fell over the strange old building.

D
anny had not realized how deep the Butts were, or how complex. For hours he and Nala tried to find their way out, moving through dark corridors and chambers, catching glimpses of the dead from time to time, knowing they
were being watched. Nala jumped at shadows. Danny knew that the dead would not challenge him, that they would feel the power, but neither would they help him. He and Nala could wander for days in the Butts. They could wander for the rest of their lives.

“Help us get out of here!” Danny shouted into the dark spaces in front of him. He sat down heavily on a carved wooden bench. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. He had not dared to drink from the dark stream, and although there was water running down the walls of the Butts in places, there was an unwholesome look to it. Nala stopped and stayed very still.

“Sit down, Nala,” Danny said crossly. “Even you must be getting tired.” But Nala didn’t move.

“Listen.”

“What?”

“Quiet.” Danny strained, but at first all he could make out was the steady drip of water and his own heartbeat. Then he heard it: a distant voice.

“Danny! Danny!”

“Les!” Danny shouted back. “Les, we’re down here!”

“Keep shouting!” he heard Dixie yell. “We’ll find you.”

It was ten minutes before he and Nala saw a light approaching, bobbing along an unlit corridor Danny hadn’t spotted before.

“Dixie!” Danny exclaimed as the girl flickered and appeared right beside him.

“Danny! Oh, Danny—you’re all right! And you too, Nala!” she said, smiling brightly at the Cherb, the smile
made even whiter by the fact that her face was covered in soot and there were singe marks on her dress.

“What … How … Oh, never mind. You can tell me later,” Danny said as Les came into view, a broad smile on his sooty face. “I can see there are more stories than mine!”

“There are indeed,” Les said, “but we have to hurry. Wilsons is falling to bits and we don’t understand what’s happening.” He looked around furtively and lowered his voice. “Even the lot down here are getting pretty uppity. I think the ravens were keeping them in check, but now there’s no sign of the ravens.”

“Right,” Danny said. “Do you know the way out?”

“Follow us,” Dixie said. Les seemed to notice Nala for the first time. He frowned.

“Let it go, Les,” Danny said. “He’s saved my bacon more than once.”

“Still …,” Les said.

“Stop it,” Dixie said. “Wilsons is more important. We’ve got friends up there, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“I suppose,” Les said, glaring at Nala.

“We’re a long way from the surface,” Dixie said to Danny. “You can tell us what happened as we go.”

Danny told them everything about the ghost roads, about Longford and how the armies of the Upper World were poised to destroy each other.

“Longford was trying to get me to use the power of the Fifth. It would start the war. When the two sides had fought each other to exhaustion, he’d be able to move in and take over.”

“If the Treaty Stone hadn’t been broken …,” Dixie began, but trailed off with a look at Danny. “I’m sorry, Danny, I don’t mean to blame you.”

“I blamed myself enough,” Danny said, “but it might have been a good thing. We couldn’t stay the way we were. If we can win this fight, then the future might be better for the Upper and the Lower Worlds.”

They were climbing an old spiral staircase, and they soon had no breath for talking, the stale air rasping their lungs. When the staircase leveled out, they were able to speak again. Les quickly told Danny about the mansion and the Lost Boys, and the fire that had been set.

“We found letters spelling ‘arcus’ on a satchel in the bedroom,” Les said. “We reckon it’s part of Marcus Brunholm’s name. It figures, with Devoy missing and the school falling apart around us.”

“Devoy’s missing, all right.” A gravelly voice spoke from the darkness. There was a shuffling sound and then they saw the hideous features of the dead spy Hinault. Dixie gaped at him.

“It’s all right, little miss,” Hinault said. “I was never any oil painting to begin with.”

“What do you know about Devoy?” Danny said warily, remembering his last encounter with the dead man.

“Word down here is that Brunholm has Devoy locked up in the teachers’ quarters, and he’s plotting with Longford to bring down Wilsons. Things are getting a bit out of hand down here and all. Without the ravens, some of this lot … well, they’re just plain wicked.”

If anybody had been watching Danny, they would have seen him shake his head slowly, but they were all too intent on Hinault’s words.

“The ravens should be back soon,” Dixie said, “as long as Toxique’s antidote worked.”

“There’s more,” Hinault said rapidly. “Word is that Rufus Ness has gathered up a ragtag gang of Cherbs. The only fighting men left alive were the prisoners in the dungeons of Grist—they’re a pretty dangerous lot. The last I heard was that they’d gotten a boat to bring them across the sound.”

“We have to move quickly,” Danny said.

“The school is wide open,” Les said, “but if they’re expecting an attack they can defend themselves.”

“Them that’s left are holed up in the apothecary,” Hinault said. “That’s where you need to get to. Follow that staircase there.” He pointed. “It’ll take you to the rooms underneath the apothecary. Run!”

Hinault’s mouth opened and a blast of rancid air struck them. They didn’t need to be told again. The staircase was narrow and steep, and they climbed in single file. Les and Dixie led, moving faster than Danny, sometimes almost getting out of sight so that he could see them only faintly in the distance, their bodies lit by a phosphorescent glow from the walls. Nala could have run faster, but he had insisted on taking up the rear; Danny guessed that the Cherb wanted to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Les.

At last the staircase opened out into a broad balcony carved with ravens. At the end of the balcony was a small
wooden door. Dixie and Les were standing by it. Danny reached them, Nala following, but staying a little behind. Danny grabbed the door handle and threw it open, revealing an old sitting room with suits of armor around it.

“Okay,” he said, “Les, you and Dixie lead—you’ll know the way better. Nala can watch the rear.”

“We can’t, Danny,” Dixie said.

“Why not?” Danny looked at her in surprise.

“It’s not allowed,” Les said.

“What are you talking about?” Danny said. “This is no time for silly rules.”

“Really, Danny,” Les said, “we aren’t allowed.”

“I don’t understand,” Danny said.

“He does.” Les nodded toward Nala, who was standing warily several yards away.

“Danny,” Dixie said gently, “we didn’t make it out of the fire.”

“You mean … No …”

“They dead, Danny,” Nala said, fear in his voice. “They both dead.”

BESIEGED

D
anny slumped back against the wall, staring at Dixie and Les.

“We were trapped, Danny. There was no way out of the fire, the smoke …” Dixie looked almost apologetic.

“It can’t be true,” Danny said. “It
can’t
be.”

“Afraid it is, old mate,” Les said. “It’s taking a bit of getting used to, I can tell you that. At the same time, it’s not too bad. The crowd in the Butts—well, you’ve met old Hinault, but most of them aren’t too bad.”

“No!” Danny said angrily. “They can’t take you away!”

“We haven’t gone nowhere, Danny,” Les said. “We’re still here. And will be for the foreseeable future, as far as I can tell. But there are rules, and one of them is that we’ve got to stay in the Butts.”

“The ferryman put us down in his book as Faithless, even though we aren’t really, so that we could stay. Said you probably needed all the help you could get.”

“You’re so … I don’t know … normal about it or something,” Danny said. “I want you to stop it.”

“Stop what?” Les said, a gruff tone to his voice. “Being dead? Can’t do that, I’m afraid, Danny.”

But Dixie had seen the tears in Danny’s eyes. She took his hands in her own now quite cool hands.

“Danny, we didn’t choose to be here. But we are, and we have to make the best of it. We’re still your friends, and we can still do some things together and talk all the time. I know you’re hurting, and you feel that every time you get close to someone they leave you, but that’s not an excuse for not getting close to people.”

“Sorry, Danny,” Les said. “I didn’t mean to get cross with you. Should be glad that you feel a bit sad. Be worse if you didn’t care.”

“Course I care,” Danny said, pulling a sleeve across his eyes. He looked down at Dixie’s pale hands. “It’s just not fair.”

“It’s
not
fair,” Les said, his tone changing. “Someone put a match to that mansion, and we want you to find out who it was, Danny. My money’s on Brunholm. He and Longford have to be the Lost Boys.”

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so, an explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet.

“Go, Danny!” Les said. “Quick!” Still, Danny hesitated.

“We’ll still be here when you get back,” Dixie said. “Go on, you twit!”

Nala grabbed Danny by the elbow and pushed him roughly forward.

“Go!” he said.

“Hate to say it, but he’s right,” Les said. “You don’t want any more of your friends ending up in the Butts.”

Danny allowed Nala to push him away. When he looked back he could barely see his friends, not because they had faded, but because his eyes had filled, and tears were streaming down his face.

“Not cry,” Nala said fiercely, “revenge!”

V
andra saw Pearl’s face light up on their entry. The agent almost ran over to her.

“Have you heard anything of Danny?” she asked, her face falling when she saw Vandra’s expression.

“Nothing,” Vandra said, “but that might be a good thing.”

“She means that we probably would have heard if he had used his power,” Toxique said. He looked tired. He had decided not to cross from the Roosts to the school until Vandra woke up, but it was dark by the time she stirred. He made her a cup of tea, and then watched over her when she went back to sleep. He had spent the night guarding the Roosts, barricading the door. He had dreaded the return of Smyck and Exspectre and their gang, but they had not come. All they had to keep them
company was the distant glow of the apothecary and a single light burning in the teachers’ quarters.

Toxique had woken Vandra in the dawn light and they had crept across the empty lawns and into Wilsons, which had sunk into dereliction with a speed that astonished them. Plaster was falling from the ceilings. Water pipes had burst, flooding corridors. There were molds and ferns sprouting from the walls, and a wind that seemed to have no origin blew unchecked through the building.