The Ghost Roads (Ring of Five) (4 page)

“Danny, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head, but his eyes were shining. The S & Gs, he thought, a secret force for good!

THE SKELETON OF A MESSENGER

A
mile away, Fairman’s taxi pulled up outside the gates to Wilsons. Agent Stone woke from his uneasy doze with a start.

“Get out!” Fairman snarled.

“Where am I?” Stone said.

“Wilsons.”

“Wilsons? The school for spies? I’m actually in the Lower World?”

“I’m a taxi driver, not a tour guide. Get out.”

Stone climbed out of the taxi. He was exhausted, hungry and thirsty, his body bruised and torn, but none of that counted for anything. He barely noticed the taxi pulling off. Despite everything he had been told and had read about another world, some part of Stone had resisted
admitting its existence. Now here he was, standing in the Lower World! He swayed as a wave of fatigue struck him; then he started to walk into the growing dusk.

As soon as the taxi had rounded the next bend, the driver reached for the car radio.

“This is Fairman,” he growled. “Your bait has been delivered.”

Despite his wonder at finding himself in the Lower World, Stone was desperately tired. The avenue to Wilsons snaked and turned so that he had no idea how far he had to go, but he knew he couldn’t walk much farther without rest; the temperature was falling, and in his present condition a night outside could be fatal. Then he caught a glimpse of lights through the trees, the lights of a great building flickering as the wind tossed the trees. Wilsons, it had to be.

He looked at the avenue, which appeared to be heading away from the building. He would take a shortcut through the trees! Using his last reserves of energy, Stone plunged into the forest.

Nala, the Cherb, sat on the veranda of the summerhouse. He was used to the cold stone walls of Grist, the fortress of the Lower World, and the forest around him and its noises made him nervous. He was used to disciplined Cherb life and its unforgiving laws and had never experienced freedom. He had been tracked from Grist by fellow Cherbs, who hunted him as he fled, sleeping rough and stealing food to survive, and his nerves were stretched to the breaking point. He had come to Danny
not because he had absolute trust in him, but because he had nowhere else to go. And he had seen the hostility in Les the Messenger’s eyes, If Nala wanted to stay alive, he had to be alert.

His eyes darted among the trees. He heard the sounds of a bird roosting and some night creature rustling in the leaves, and above those, the sound of someone plunging through the forest, panting, moving fast directly toward the summerhouse. Nala reached into his boot, took out a short knife and turned to face the threat. A man, half stumbling, half running, broke from the cover of the trees, saw the summerhouse and changed course for it. Nala shrank back into the shadows, but there was no way to avoid confrontation. The man was on the steps, one foot on the veranda. Nala stepped out of the shadows.

“A real Cherb!” Stone’s face lit up in wonder. “I really am in the Lower World.” He reached out with one hand as though to touch Nala, to verify the fact that he existed. It was too much for the Cherb. He leapt out and plunged the knife into Stone. The man gasped and fell to his knees.

“Nala, is that you?” a voice whispered. Danny appeared from the shrubberies, a bag of food under his arm, and took in the scene.

“What happened?” Danny dropped the bag and darted forward. In the dusk he could just make out the features of the man lying on the ground.

“Dad!” he cried out. He spun round to Nala and saw the bloodied knife in his hand.

“What have you done? Look at him!” Danny crouched down. Nala raised the knife. It had tasted blood
once that night. It could do so again. But it was not to be. A spotlight blazed in the darkness.

“Halt, or die where you stand! Put down the knife, Cherb! Now!” It was the voice of Master Brunholm.

Slowly Nala lowered the knife. Detective McGuinness stepped out from behind the spotlight and handcuffed Nala. Devoy moved into the light and knelt beside the wounded man.

“Get Jamshid and the physick,” he said. “Have this man brought to the apothecary.”

“I’m going with him,” Danny said.

“You’re coming with me,” Devoy ordered. “Mr. McGuinness, escort Mr. Caulfield to my study.”

“He’s my …” Danny started to say “father” but stopped himself.

“Yes,” Brunholm said, “and he’s severely wounded, thanks to your stupidity in concealing a Cherb on the premises!”

McGuinness stepped forward. Danny knew that deep in his mind lay a limitless power, and that if he chose to use it, none could withstand him. Stone groaned, and blood bubbled on his lips. Danny felt all fight drain from him, replaced by despair. When McGuinness took his arm, he did not resist.

Twenty minutes later Danny stood in Devoy’s study, a grim-faced McGuinness behind him. The door burst open and Devoy entered. He sat down at his desk without looking at Danny.

“Mr. Devoy,” Danny said miserably, “Agent Stone … How …”

“His condition is very grave,” Devoy said. “He was weak to begin with, and the wound is deep. What were you thinking of, bringing a Cherb into the heart of our defenses!”

“I didn’t bring him, he came on his own.”

“Perhaps,” Devoy said, “but you should have informed us straightaway.”

“He helped me and Dixie when we were escaping from Morne.”

“So that’s the Cherb you were talking about,” Devoy said. “I understand a little better now.”

“Do you?” Brunholm appeared from a secret entrance. “I don’t. A Cherb is an evil, a blot on the face of this world to be exterminated. Even if this Nala did help you, it was only to further some end of his own.”

“He was scared,” Danny said.

“A rat in a trap is scared,” Brunholm said, “but it’s nonetheless a rat for all that.”

“You put us all in danger by not telling us about the presence of this Cherb.”

“In cahoots with him, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Brunholm sniffed.

“In light of your behavior, you are suspended from all classes and defensive activities at Wilsons,” Devoy said. Danny looked at the floor miserably.

“Make sure you are available for interrogation at all times,” Brunholm said. “If we can’t find you on the premises, it will be evidence that you have gone to the other side.”

“Can I go to see him now?” Danny asked.

“Who?”

“Agent Stone.”

“Get out of here,” Brunholm snapped.

D
anny ran from Devoy’s office to the apothecary. He met Vandra at the door. She looked grave.

“How is he?” Danny gasped.

“Not good,” she said. “Jamshid is operating now. The knife pierced the main artery to the heart. He is very weak, Danny.”

“I didn’t mean this to happen,” Danny said despairingly.

“I know you didn’t.”

“At least it teaches me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Why try to do a good thing? It always comes back to hurt you,” he said bitterly.

“I hope that’s not all you learn from it,” Vandra said gently.

Danny sat outside the apothecary long into the night. Vandra waited with him, and was joined by Dixie and Les, who sat down silently and still would not meet Danny’s eyes. As the hours stretched on, Dixie fell asleep first, followed by Les. Finally even Danny closed his eyes. Only Vandra stayed alert. And when tiredness threatened to overwhelm her, she was joined by Toxique. The serious, dark-haired boy had worked with the apothecary to make sure there was no poison in Stone’s wound. He came from a long line of assassins and had an instinctive
understanding of death. He looked at Vandra, and his look said much.

Danny was wakened by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. It was Vandra. A solemn Jamshid stood behind her. Danny got to his feet. Jamshid motioned and he followed. They passed under the skeleton of a Messenger in flight suspended from the ceiling and went through a doorway. Toxique watched them with mournful eyes.

Stone lay alone in the infirmary. His breathing was shallow, his color dreadful. Danny stopped in the middle of the floor, but Jamshid touched him gently on the shoulder and urged him on. Danny went alone to the bed. He touched Stone’s hand. The skin was cold. Danny looked back at Vandra. The tears in her eyes told him all he had to know. He touched the man’s forehead, smoothing his hair back. Stone blinked once, twice, then his eyes opened. The ghost of a smile touched his lips when he saw Danny.

“Hey, Danny.” His voice was barely audible. “I saw a Cherb!”

“I’m sorry.” Danny’s voice broke.

“Sorry? Sorry for what? You’ve shown me incredible things—Seraphim …” Stone started to cough. A thread of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Jamshid stepped forward, but Stone waved him away.

“It is I who should be sorry. I should have spent more time with you.…” Stone looked suddenly agitated. He grabbed Danny’s sleeve and tried to sit up.

“Agent Pearl … she’s in trouble. She’s at a government facility. You’re the only one who can help.…”

Stone fell back on the pillow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He lifted a finger slowly and pointed into the darkness behind Danny.

“What’s that?” he said so faintly he could barely be heard. Danny followed the pointing finger.

“It’s a skeleton,” he said, “the skeleton of a Messenger.”

“A Messenger? A real Messenger? How marvelous.” A smile of wonder lit Stone’s face; then he turned his head to the side and breathed no more.

“Dad?” Danny whispered, but there came no answer.

For several minutes no one moved. It was Vandra who broke the spell. She put one arm around Danny and with the other pried his hand out of Stone’s grasp.

“He’s gone, Danny,” she said. His friends surrounded him. He felt Dixie’s hand on his shoulder, the brush of Les’s wings. With kind words and touches they led him away, under the shadow of the mournful skeletal Messenger. They brought him back to their dormitory, the Roosts, where his friends gathered around him until dawn touched the eastern sky. They spoke to him, but he would not reply. There was a cold light in his eyes that worried them. When they went to bed and woke again halfway through the morning, he was still sitting in front of the stove. Les put his hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“You have to try to get some sleep, Danny,” he said.

“It’s a trap,” Danny said. His eyes were cold and hard.

“What?”

“A trap, and Pearl’s the bait.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can sense it, Les. I could nearly hear the jaws of the trap shutting when Stone told me that they were holding Pearl. They want me to try to rescue her so they can get their hands on me.”

“How do you know? How can you be sure?”

Danny looked into his friend’s eyes.

“Because it’s what I would do in their place.”

S
tone was buried in the old Wilsons graveyard, a place of shadows and mystery, where you felt, as Dixie said, that you weren’t sure if the dead were really asleep. His grave was beside a small triumphal arch where an eternal flame burned to the Unknown Spy. Devoy made a short oration. Danny watched, dry-eyed and silent, as the coffin was lowered into the grave. He stepped forward and laid a small bunch of flowers he had gathered in the forest on the coffin. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the flowers. When Dixie finally looked around, Danny was gone.

In the small jail in the master’s quarters, Nala sat alone, shackled to the wall. He had heard Brunholm talking about “the interrogation of the prisoner.” Nala knew what interrogation meant in Grist, the Ring of Five fortress in Westwald, and how few survived it. All his life the Cherb had known nothing but pain and cruelty, and he expected nothing different from Wilsons. He knew that the torturer would not accept his first answer, even
if it was the truth. The torture would continue to make sure that every scrap of information was forced from him. He had tried to pick the lock from the inside, but it was no use. It was a Lock of Ineluctable Closing, which was unpickable. Nala sat back in the darkness and waited for the hurt to come.

CRUEL ANGELS

G
abriel the Messenger was disturbed. He had heard about the Cherb killing the man from the Upper World, of course. The whole of Wilsons was in an uproar. Several of the elderly Messengers were so afraid they had hidden themselves in a wardrobe and refused to come out. But that wasn’t what worried him. The Messengers had once been a noble breed, but they had become timid. Several times in the past Gabriel had managed to summon courage from them, but now, with the threat that the Lower World would invade the Upper, they appeared to have resigned themselves to slavery and even death. “That’s what will happen if the Ring of Five takes over Wilsons!” Gabriel had cried, but his protests had fallen on deaf ears. He had taken it upon himself to hold daily defensive flying classes, but only Daisy, a small, feisty Messenger,
had turned up. Every evening they exercised. Daisy, who had always been a good flyer, had built up impressive strength, but what good would the two of them be against a Cherb army?