Deltora Quest #4: The Shifting Sands (3 page)

D
ays later, when Rithmere was at last in sight, Lief was not feeling so hopeful. The way had been long and weary, and he was very hungry. Berries growing at the side of the road were the only food the companions had been able to find, and they were few. Travellers who had passed along the highway before them had almost stripped the bushes bare.

The longer they had walked, the more crowded the highway had become. Many other people were moving towards Rithmere. Some were as ill-prepared for the journey as Lief, Barda, and Jasmine. Their clothes were tattered and they had little or nothing to eat. A few, famished and exhausted, fell by the roadside in despair.

The companions managed to keep moving, stopping often for rests. They spoke to their fellow travellers as little as possible. Though they were feeling safer
concealed in a crowd, they still felt it wise to avoid questions about where they had come from.

They kept their ears open, however, and quickly learned that the Games had been held every year for the past ten years. Their fame had grown and spread — now hopeful contestants came from everywhere to seek their fortune at Rithmere. The friends also learned, to their relief, that Grey Guards were seldom seen in the town while the Games were in progress.

“They know better than to interfere with something the people like so much,” Lief heard a tall, red-haired woman say to her companion, a giant of a man whose muscles bulged through his ragged shirt as he bent to tighten the laces of his boot.

The man nodded. “A thousand gold coins,” he muttered. “Or even a hundred! Think of the difference it would make to us — and to all at home.” He finished tying his lace, straightened, and gritted his teeth as he stared at the city ahead. “This year we will be finalists at least, Joanna. I feel it.”

“You have never been stronger, Orwen,” the woman agreed affectionately. “And I, too, have a good chance. Last year I was not watchful enough. I let that vixen Brianne of Lees trip me. It will not happen again.”

Orwen put his great arm around her shoulders. “You cannot blame yourself for losing to Brianne. After all, she went on to become Champion. She is a great fighter. And think how hard the people of Lees worked to prepare her.”

“She was treated like a queen, they say,” said Joanna bitterly. “Extra food, no duties except her training. Her people thought she would be their salvation. And what did she do? Ran off with the money as soon as she had it in her hand. Can you believe it?”

“Of course,” the man said grimly. “A thousand gold pieces is a great fortune, Joanna. Very few Games Champions return to their old homes after their win. Most do not want to share their wealth, so they hurry away with it to start a new life elsewhere.”

“But you would never do that, Orwen,” Joanna protested fiercely. “And neither would I. I would
never
leave my people in poverty while I could help them. I would rather throw myself into the Shifting Sands.”

Lief stiffened at her last words and glanced at Jasmine and Barda to see if they had heard.

Joanna and Orwen strode on, shoulder to shoulder, towering above the rest of the crowd.

“That she mentions the Shifting Sands means nothing, Lief,” Barda said in a low voice, looking after them. “The Sands are as familiar a nightmare to folk who live in these parts as the Forests of Silence are to the people of Del.”

His face was grim, deeply marked with lines of weariness. “A more important matter is to decide whether we are wasting our time trying to compete with such as Joanna and Orwen. In our present state —”

“We have to try,” Lief mumbled, though his own heart was very heavy.

“There is no point in talking of this now!” Jasmine broke in impatiently. “Whether we compete in the Games or not, we must enter the city. We must get some food — even if we have to steal it. What else are we to do?”

Rithmere seethed with people. Stalls lined the narrow streets, packed together, filling every available space, their owners shouting of what they had to sell and watching their goods with eagle-sharp eyes.

The noise was deafening. Musicians, dancers, fire-eaters, and jugglers performed on every corner, their hats set out in front of them to catch coins thrown by passersby. Some had animals — snakes, dogs, even dancing bears, as well as strange creatures the companions had never seen before — to help them attract attention.

The noise, the smells, the bright colors, the confusion, made Lief, already light-headed with hunger, feel faint and sick. Faces in the crowd seemed to loom out at him as he stumbled along. Some he recognized from the highway. Most were strange to him.

Everywhere were the hunched forms of beggars, their gaunt faces turned up pleadingly, their hands outstretched. Some were blind, or had missing limbs. Others were simply starving. Most people paid no attention to them at all, stepping over them as if they were piles of rubbish.

“Hey, girl! You with the black bird! Over here!”

The hoarse shout had come from somewhere very near. They looked around, startled.

A fat man with long, greasy hair was beckoning urgently to Jasmine. The three companions edged through the crowd towards him, wondering what he wanted. As they drew closer they saw that he was sitting at a small table which had been covered by a red cloth that reached the ground. Leaning against the wall behind him was a pair of crutches. On the table stood a perch, a basket of painted wooden birds, and a wheel decorated with brightly colored pictures of birds and coins.

It was plainly some sort of gambling game.

“Like to make some money, little lovely?” the man shouted above the noise of the crowd.

Jasmine frowned and said nothing.

“She cannot play,” Lief shouted back. “Unless it costs nothing.”

The man snorted. “How would I make my living that way, young fellow-me-lad? No, no. One silver coin for a spin of the wheel, that is my price. But I am not asking your friend to play. No one can play at present. My bird just died on me. See?” He held up a dead pigeon by its feet and swung it in front of their noses.

Jasmine glared at him, stony-faced. The man’s mouth turned down mournfully. “Sad, isn’t it?” he said. “Sad for Beakie-Boy, sadder for me. I need a bird to turn the wheel. That’s the game. Beat the Bird, you see? I have another two pigeons back in my lodgings, but if I go and fetch one now I’ll lose my spot. Lose half a day’s earnings. Can’t afford that, can I?”

His small eyes narrowed as he looked Jasmine up and down. “You and your friends look as if you could do with a good meal inside you,” he said slyly. “Well, I will help you out.”

He threw the dead pigeon on the ground, kicked it under the table, and pointed at Kree. “I will buy your bird. How much do you want for him?”

J
asmine shook her head. “Kree is not for sale,” she said firmly, and turned to go. The fat man clutched at the sleeve of her jacket.

“Don’t turn your back on me, little lovely,” he whined. “Don’t turn your back on poor old Ferdinand, for pity’s sake.”

Kree put his head to one side and looked at the man carefully. Then he hopped onto the table and stalked right up to him, inspecting him closely, his head darting this way and that. After a moment he squawked loudly.

Jasmine glanced at Lief and Barda, then back at Ferdinand. “Kree says, how much would you give for his help just for today?” she said.

The fat man laughed. “Talks to you, does he?” he jeered disbelievingly. “Well now, that is something you don’t see every day.”

He took a small tin from his pocket, opened it, and took out a silver coin. “Tell him from me that I’ll give him this if he turns the wheel till sunset. Would that suit him?”

Kree flew back to perch on Jasmine’s arm and squawked again. Jasmine nodded slowly. “For one silver coin, Kree will turn the wheel thirty times. If you want him to do more, you pay again.”

“That is robbery!” Ferdinand exclaimed.

“It is his price,” said Jasmine calmly.

Ferdinand’s face crumpled, and he buried it in his hands. “Ah, you are a cruel girl! Cruel to a poor unfortunate trying to make a living,” he mumbled. “My last hope is gone. I will starve, and my birds with me.” His shoulders shook as he began to sob.

Jasmine shrugged, apparently quite unmoved. Lief, glancing at Ferdinand’s crutches propped against the wall, felt very uncomfortable.

“It seems harsh, Jasmine,” he whispered in her ear. “Could you not —?”

“He is acting. He can afford ten times as much,” Jasmine hissed back. “Kree says he has a purse at his belt that is bulging with coins. It is hidden from us by the cloth that covers the table. Just wait.”

Sure enough, when after a moment the fat man peeped through his fingers and saw that Jasmine was not going to change her mind, he stopped pretending to sob and took his hands away from his face. “Very well,”
he snapped, in quite a different voice. “For a bird, he drives a hard bargain. Put him on the perch.”

“The money first, if you please,” Barda put in quickly.

Ferdinand shot him an angry look, then, with much groaning and sighing, passed the silver coin he had taken from the tin to Jasmine.

Satisfied, Kree fluttered onto the perch.

“Stand aside, you three,” Ferdinand said sharply. “Make way for the customers.”

The companions did as they were told, but remained close by so that they could watch what happened. None of them trusted Ferdinand. The smell of food wafting from a nearby stall made Lief’s mouth water, but he knew that they could not buy anything with the silver coin until Kree was safely back on Jasmine’s arm.

“Roll up, roll up!” Ferdinand bellowed. “Beat the bird and win! One silver coin for a spin of the wheel! Every player wins a prize!”

A small crowd began to cluster around his table as he began pointing at the numbers on the coins painted around the wheel. “Two silver pieces for one!” he shouted. “Or would you prefer three silver pieces? Or four? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Four silver pieces for one!”

People began feeling in their pockets for coins.

Ferdinand’s pudgy hand moved around the wheel,
his finger stabbing at one number after another. “But why stop at four?” he shouted. “This is your lucky day! Why, you could win five, six, or
ten
silver pieces!” He tore at his hair and rolled his eyes. His voice rose to a shriek. “Ten silver coins for one! A prize for every player! Why do I do it? I must be losing my wits!”

Several people pressed forward, holding out their money. Lief moved restlessly.

“Perhaps we should use our coin on the game,” he muttered to Barda. “We could double our money. Or even better!”

Barda smiled at him pityingly. “Or, which is more likely, we could lose our coin and finish with nothing but a worthless wooden bird,” he said. “If the wheel stops at a bird instead of a coin …”

Lief was not convinced. Especially when he saw Kree spin the wheel for the first time, hitting it sharply with his beak. The wheel spun smoothly around and around. The player, an eager-looking woman with flowing hair, watched anxiously, then cried out with delight as the wheel stopped and the marker showed that she had won two coins.

“She has beaten the bird!” shrieked Ferdinand, scrabbling in his money tin and handing the woman her prize. “Oh, mercy me!” He turned to Kree and shook his fist. “Try harder!” he scolded. “You will ruin me!”

The crowd laughed. Another player stepped forward.
Kree spun the wheel again. The second player was even luckier than the first, winning three coins.

“This bird is hopeless!” Ferdinand howled in despair. “Oh, what will I do?”

After that, he could not take his customers’ money fast enough. People crowded in front of his table, eager for their turn to play.

Kree spun the wheel again and again. And, somehow, no one else seemed to have the luck of the first two players. More and more often the wheel would stop at a bird picture, and the disappointed player would creep away clutching a wooden bird. Only rarely did the marker point to a picture of a coin, and when it did it was usually a coin marked “1” or “2.”

But whenever that happened Ferdinand would make an enormous fuss, congratulating the winner, saying he was ruined, shouting at Kree for playing badly, and fretting that next time the prize would be even bigger.

But the pile of silver in the money tin was growing. Every few minutes, Ferdinand would quietly take some coins and tuck them away in the purse at his belt. And still the players pressed forward, eager to try their luck.

“No wonder his purse is bulging,” Jasmine muttered in disgust. “Why do these people give him their money? Some of them are plainly very poor. Can they not see that he wins far more often than they do?”

“Ferdinand only makes noise when players win,” said Barda heavily. “The losers are ignored and quickly forgotten.”

Jasmine made a disgusted face. “Kree has made twenty-nine turns,” she said. “After one more, we can take him back. I have no wish to go on with this. I do not like Ferdinand, or his wheel. Do you agree?”

Barda nodded, and Lief did also. However much they needed money, neither of them wanted to help Ferdinand any longer.

Barda pointed to a banner fixed high to a building a little way along the road.

“We may find shelter and some food there,” he suggested. “They may let us work for our keep. At least we can try.”

Kree had spun the wheel for a final time. The player, a thin-faced man with deep shadows under his eyes, watched desperately as it slowed. When it stopped at the picture of a bird, and Ferdinand handed him the
little wooden trinket, his mouth quivered and he slunk away, his bony shoulders bowed.

Jasmine stepped to the table and held out her arm for Kree. “The thirty turns have been made, Ferdinand,” she said. “We must go now.”

But Ferdinand, his plump face glistening with sweat and greed, turned his small eyes towards her and shook his head violently.

“You cannot go,” he spat. “I need the bird. He is the best I have ever had. Look at the crowd! You cannot take him!”

His arm shot out, his pudgy hand grasping at Kree’s feet. But Kree fluttered from his perch just in time, landing at the edge of the table.

“Come back here!” hissed Ferdinand, reaching for him. Kree bent his head and with his sharp beak tweaked at the red cloth that covered the table. As it was pulled aside, the crowd gasped, then began to roar with anger.

For on the ground under the table was a pedal with some wires that led up through the table top to the wheel.

“He can stop and start the wheel as he wills!” someone shouted. “He uses his feet. See? He cheats!”

The crowd pressed forward angrily. Kree hopped hastily onto Jasmine’s arm. Ferdinand swept up the wheel and leaped to his feet, tipping over the table. The wooden birds and the tin of silver coins crashed to the ground as
he took to his heels, hurtling down the street with surprising speed, the wheel tucked under his arm, the remains of its cheating wires trailing. Some of his customers stopped to pick up the money which was rolling everywhere. Most sped off in pursuit of the escaping man, shouting in fury.