The Ring of Five (28 page)

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utterly convincing when he joined the Ring, so Brunholm and Devoy had fooled him into thinking that his parents were dead!

Rufus Ness and Longford were talking about supplies. Nurse Flanagan was examining her highly polished nails. Conal sat without moving, his face looking as if it had been carved from wood.

At last the discussion about troop movements finished. The living map was hidden again. Longford got to his feet.

"The Ring is whole once more, for the first time in many years. You are part of us now, Danny. There is no force that can stand against the Five!"

Danny looked around the table, each face seeming crueler and more cunning than the next. He knew that he held the fate of the Two Worlds in his hands. He had to get back to Wilsons and warn them--but how?

"What will happen to the Messenger?" Danny asked, trying to stay casual.

"You're not still worrying about that, are you?" Nurse Flanagan snorted.

"Execution," Longford said. He saw the look on Danny's face. "Oh, it's not as bad as that--no hanging or anything of that sort. A physick does it. Kind of like an injection that sends you to sleep. You hardly feel a thing."

Danny gritted his teeth. What had he done? He felt something inside him harden. He was not leaving Grist without Les.

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Far away, in the library of the third landing, Devoy stared at Brunholm.

"Even for you, Marcus, that was a terrible thing."

"You said yourself, Devoy: we had to send the boy to the Ring the way we did. If we had not, they would surely have seen that he was trying to fool them when they entered his head. It had to be like that."

"But the young Messenger, Knutt."

"It was a sacrifice, but I know the way the Ring works. They needed Danny to make a choice, to betray his friend as a test, to prove that he was really part of the Ring. Knutt was the obvious choice, and a juicy bait to leave in their path. It was a simple and, I think, elegant plan. Need I remind you we must find out what the Ring are planning. I have sent many agents in and none have come back."

"But when Danny realizes that he has wronged his friend ..."

"He will also realize that it was necessary."

"No, he won't. You think everybody is as ruthless as you, Marcus. Danny will try to rescue Knutt--and if he gets caught, then all is lost. You may have jeopardized everything."

When the Five left the gallery Danny found that the reception to celebrate the completion of the Ring was in full swing. A small orchestra was playing with abandon, and the dance floor was filled. People were eager to meet Danny, and his hand was shaken so much that it became
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sore. He scanned the crowd for Dixie, but he didn't see her. A plan to rescue Les was forming in his head, but it was risky, and time was running short.

The band got louder and the atmosphere more hectic. Longford was dancing with Nurse Flanagan. Rufus Ness stood at the bar with a group of Cherb officers in uniform, drinking from large tankards of beer. Conal led a female Seraphim onto the dance floor. She wore a long silver chain-mail dress and black lipstick, and her dry dead-looking hair was piled high on her head. Danny shuddered.

At last he saw Dixie at the other side of the room and caught her eye. He circled the room until he found a small deserted scullery and ducked in. Just as the door swung shut, Dixie appeared beside him. Danny jumped.

"What--" Dixie began.

"Listen," Danny said, "we don't have much time. What happened when I left Wilsons?"

"Brunholm told everyone that you were a Cherb all along, and that you had betrayed us. They sent bloodhounds after you. Then Devoy called me and Les and Vandra in. He told us to go ahead and take up our positions in Westwald. He sent us across on a ship."

"I need to tell you what Devoy and Brunholm did. They arranged for me to find out that Brunholm killed my parents--it was a lie, but it made me hate them. I wanted to join the Ring to get revenge."

"But why?"

"They had to do it that way. They had to make me really hate them. If I had only been pretending to want to

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join the Ring, Longford would have found out--they go inside your head." Dixie shook her head, her face white in the gloom of the scullery.

"It's cruel. Poor you, Danny."

"I got what Devoy and Brunholm wanted. I know what the invasion plan is."

"Danny, I've been trying to tell you--they arrested Les."

"I know."

"You know?"

Danny hesitated; then, taking a deep breath, he told Dixie about the Ring of Five, and how Les had been brought in front of them.

"I named him, Dixie. I was ... I was so angry...."

Danny couldn't bring himself to tell the truth, that some dark part of him had wanted to see what it felt like to betray a friend. Danny waited for Dixie to tell him off, shout at him, anything. But she said nothing. Instead, he could see tears glisten on her cheeks.

"I'm going to get him out. I've got a plan," he said desperately. "I'm not going without him...."

"When ... when the Cherbs killed my mum and dad," Dixie said slowly, "I wanted to hurt somebody. Anybody. Just to make the pain go away."

"Thanks, Dixie."

"I didn't say I forgive you," she said fiercely. "Not until we get him back!"

"We will. I promise." Danny bowed his head, glad that Dixie couldn't see his burning cheeks. She sniffed.

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"Okay," she said, "what's the plan? What do you want me to do?"

"Listen," Danny said.

Forty minutes later, Danny was in the card room watching the game of Texas hold 'em. The noise from the reception next door was beginning to die down. The fat jailer Cranbull dispatched opponent after opponent. Only a razor-thin man wearing a pinstripe suit remained in the game.

"Is there nobody else out there who'll give me a game?" Cranbull grumbled, stuffing his mouth with an enormous handful of peanuts.

"I'll give it a go," Danny said.

"Ah." Cranbull's grin spread through the fat on his face. "The Fifth himself! An honor, I'm sure. By all means, sit down. Bring us new cards. It will be a pleasure to take on one of the Ring. Conal and Longford don't play, and even I wouldn't dare play with Nurse Flanagan in case she got vexed and put a bullet in my delicate little heart."

Danny pulled up a chair. He flexed his fingers. His throat was dry. He was about to play for Les's life, and he was pinning all on something he had seen as he had watched Cranbull play earlier. As he reached into his pocket for the bag of money Devoy had given him; he prayed that he wasn't wrong.

Cranbull dealt. The first few hands were cagey, Cranbull and Danny trying to figure out the way the

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other played. The thin man was skillful as well. Danny was trying to lose, but not too much--he wanted Cranbull confident. At one point he almost lost everything to the thin man. If not for a king in the last hand dealt, he would have been out of the game. He could feel sweat trickle down the back of his tunic, but he fought to keep his face still. He remembered the little maths teacher at Wilsons. "You have to play the cards," Docterow had said, "but you also have to play the man. Don't give anything away."

The minutes ticked away. Danny was winning more. The pots were growing bigger and bigger. Eventually the thin man threw down his hand.

"This is getting too rich for me," he said. There was only Danny and Cranbull left. It was time to put his idea into practice.

Danny could not know that high above them, in a darkened gallery, Conal and Longford were watching.

"He plays well," Longford said.

"But what is he playing for?" Conal replied.

"We'll see."

Danny started to raise the stakes, and soon there was a massive pile of cash and chips in the middle of the table. He was holding his own, but only just. It felt like only minutes had gone by, but the room outside had gone silent. They were on their own.

Danny had noticed that Cranbull wiped his sweating face with his spotted handkerchief at the end of every

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hand, but suspected that when he was bluffing and wanted his opponent to believe he had a really good hand when he didn't, he unconsciously flicked the handkerchief before he put it back into his pocket. Danny tried out his theory. He had a poor hand next time out. Cranbull looked at him through his little piggy eyes and shoved a pile of money into the middle of the table, He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. Flick. Danny matched the pot and showed his hand. Two kings. Cranbull's eyes narrowed--he put his cards facedown on the table. Danny scooped up the money.

They played on, heedless of the passing hours. For Danny there was only the green felt table under a single light, and his opponent. Although Cranbull's expression gave nothing away, Danny could feel the man's anger building, his cold little eyes unblinking in the dim light. All the spectators had long ago drifted away, but high in the gallery, Longford and Conal watched.

"It's the handkerchief," Longford said. "He flicks it when he's bluffing. Danny spotted it. A worthy Fifth, I think, Conal."

"We'll see," the Seraphim said coldly.

Cranbull's losses were huge, as was the pile of money in front of Danny. As Danny put another huge bet on the table, Cranbull hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Danny jeered. "Running out of money?"

"I can't match your bet," Cranbull said. Danny leaned across the table. Cranbull's face glistened with sweat.

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"I'll do you a deal," Danny said. "You have something I want. You can bet with that."

"What?" Cranbull's voice quavered.

"The Messenger. Knutt."

In the dark gallery, Longford and Conal exchanged glances.

"I can't turn over a prisoner to you! Conal would skin me alive."

"I don't want to take the boy," Danny's voice was cold. "I want him dead, and I want to see him die."

"I can't ..."

"He is nothing to you."

"Why ... why do you want him dead?"

"What do you think? He comes from Wilsons, and Wilsons killed my parents. Well, are you playing?"

Cranbull licked his lips. His eyes ran greedily over the money on the table.

"The execution has to be done lawfully. By a physick."

"I've arranged it."

He took out his handkerchief to wipe his face. This was it, Danny realized. He had to go on this hand. Cranbull took out his handkerchief. He wiped his brow with it, and went to put it back in his pocket. Then disaster struck--the handkerchief snagged on the edge of the table and dropped to the floor. Cranbull did not bend for it. Danny had no way of knowing whether the man was bluffing or not! He stared hard at the backs of Cranbull's cards as though they might reveal his hand. Concentrate! he urged himself. As he did he looked up sharply,

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knowing straightaway that Longford was above him in the darkness, and knowing, as clearly as if Longford had spoken, that the spymaster could see Cranbull's cards and that he was bluffing. The dark and deceitful joy that was the connection to the Ring coursed once more through his veins.

Danny shoved his pile of money into the center of the table.

"All the money against the boy. On this last hand."

"All the money?" Cranbull croaked. "All right."

Danny turned his cards up. Cranbull groaned. Danny had won. In the gallery above, Conal turned to Longford.

"Well?"

"We'll let him kill Knutt, if that's what he wants. It ties him to us all the more."

There was a knock at the card-room door. Danny opened it. Vandra was standing there, her head bowed.

"You asked for me, sir?" she said.

"Yes," Danny said coldly. "I need a physick."

"You're serious about this," Cranbull said. He stood up, all his chins trembling. He looked as if he was about to burst into tears as his eyes kept returning to the money on the table.

"Of course I'm serious about it. Let's go." Danny scooped the money on the table into one of his Marburg coat pockets, which was able to take it all without so much as a bulge on the outside. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Dixie, who had slipped through the door and concealed herself behind a statue of an ugly Cherb.

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Cranbull took a key from his pocket and unlocked a small door, wood-paneled like the wall around it. Danny and Vandra followed him into a dark corridor. In contrast to the rooms outside, the corridor was stone, caked with old filth and cobwebs. Cranbull produced a small torch from his pocket and turned it on, then closed the door. Danny was afraid that they had left Dixie behind, but he glimpsed her white face in the gloom behind them.

"Did Dixie tell you the plan?" Danny whispered. Vandra nodded. She looked nervous.

"Can you do it?"

"I think so. I've got the right drug in my teeth. I ... I hope so, anyway."

Without looking around, Cranbull set off at a great pace for such a big man, and they struggled to keep up as he led them through a labyrinth of corridors, each one murkier and filthier than the last, piled with ancient debris. There were rats too, rustling in the strewn rubbish, and once Danny jumped as a bat brushed his hair and disappeared into the dark. He kept looking back, making sure Dixie was still with them. In front of them the fat man scuttled along, the torchlight bobbing as he moved.

When they had lost track of time, weary and dirty, the corridor started to wind upward again. They were climbing up a cracked and broken staircase. Vandra fell and skinned her knees. By the time Danny had her on her feet, Cranbull had almost disappeared. They caught him just as he was opening a large, brass-bound door.

"Quickly, quickly," Cranbull said, his face slick with