The Serpents of Arakesh (14 page)

‘It's humungous!'

‘Awesome! A real city, with walls and gates and everything!'

‘Why is everyone wearing such dull clothes? And those floppy-eared donkeys with strange mops of hair — they look like lop-eared rabbits!'

‘It's like something out of a fairy tale! Do you think that tall building in the centre is a castle?'

We were standing in the dappled shade at the edge of the forest. A strip of open grassland with a few scattered trees lay between us and the sprawling city of Arakesh, with a wide road leading up to the main gates.

From the cliff above the forest Arakesh had looked like a toy town, distant and unreal. Now, it hummed with life. A steady stream of traffic moved along the road, to and from the city gate: mostly people on foot, but the occasional handcart, and one or two covered wagons, drawn by the strange donkeys and the odd mangy-looking
llama. Peddlers, perhaps, or farmers, bringing their wares to market.

The gates stood open, but they were flanked by sentry boxes — and they were manned. The sun glinted off the helmets of two tall guards, and I could make out what looked like a pike leaning against the wall. Though the guards were paying close attention to everyone who entered, they seemed to concentrate on the carts and wagons. Whenever one approached, they'd pull it over to one side and interrogate the owner, rifling through the contents and making notes on a kind of slate. All this seemed to be accompanied by a fair amount of ill feeling on both sides, and angry gestures.

Clustered at the foot of the sentry boxes, and huddled in the shade beneath the city walls, was a ragged band of beggars. They wore hooded grey cloaks and crouched motionless, heads sunk, like resting vultures. Now and then, for no reason I could see, one of the guards would toss a coin towards them; there'd be a brief scuffle, and then one of them would melt away through the gates, presumably to spend his pickings.

Beyond the gates, wisps of smoke were rising from what I imagined must be houses. The faint ringing sound of metal being rhythmically struck travelled clearly through the still air, and I had a sudden, vivid image of a blacksmith at his forge.

It was a real city, full of real people, waking up to another day. Somewhere, a rooster crowed — a simple sound, reminding me of a world that seemed suddenly very far away.

‘Adam? Are you OK?'

I turned away so Kenta wouldn't see my sudden tears. Why would a dumb rooster crowing make anyone feel like crying? ‘Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?' I muttered. ‘Come on, let's get going.'

The night before, we had agreed Arakesh was the logical place to start our search. We'd calculated the city must lie pretty much east of where we had camped. Jamie had appointed himself official navigator, claiming he'd learned how to use a compass in Scouts.

So far, it looked as though Q had thought of everything we could possibly need: sleeping bags, food, lighters and compasses. Even the pocketknives had come in useful for cutting the green twigs to toast our marshmallows. We also had torches and a coil of light, strong nylon rope. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you might need it for,' Q had said, ‘but it certainly can't hurt to have it.' Stowed safely away in one of the inner compartments of my backpack were my
Bible
, penny whistle and ring. Crazy though it seemed in daylight, I couldn't shake the certainty that there'd been someone — or some unseen presence — in the room that night. There was no way I was going to leave my most precious possessions at Quested Court. Earlier, I'd offloaded some of my gear into Richard's pack to make room for Tiger Lily, but I'd kept my shawl scrunched up at the bottom, and she'd settled down happily in its soft folds for a nap.

We trudged along the rough road towards the city gate, keeping our heads down and our mouths shut. That was another thing we'd agreed on: we would talk as little as possible. We were all aware that words, once spoken, could never be taken back.

I had a nervous, fluttery feeling in my stomach as we approached the guards. I was certain they would sense something different about us, something that didn't belong.

But we timed it perfectly. Just ahead of us trundled a heavy wagon, laden with produce. With a brusque order, one of the guards motioned it off the road, and both of them closed in on it.

Eyes lowered, hardly daring to breathe, we edged past on their blind side, praying we wouldn't be noticed. But avoiding the guards brought us close to the beggars — too close for comfort. Their hoods obscured their faces, and a rank, putrid smell hung about them. Though they didn't turn their heads, I could feel them watching us, hungry and waiting …

The guards didn't so much as spare us a glance. The second we were through the gate we scurried into the shadow of the nearest building. My heart was hammering, and my mouth felt dry. Behind us, I dimly registered the chink of a coin striking cobblestones, and the scrabbling, scuffling sound of the beggars, like ravens squabbling over a crust of bread.

‘Right — so far, so good,' Rich whispered hoarsely. Lines of sweat had carved clean paths down his dusty face, although the morning was still cool. He pushed his damp thatch of hair off his forehead with the back of his hand, and made a rueful face. ‘The sooner we find that potion and get out of here, the better. Which way now?'

The road branched into three like a trident. The middle branch was clearly the most well-used — a broad track of cobblestones polished smooth by use, heading straight towards what I imagined would be the town centre. Most of the wagons and carts seemed to be heading that way.

The other two forks wound off to the left and right. Smaller lanes led off them with houses on either side fronting directly onto the street, in earthy shades of ochre, brown, cream and grey. The narrow streets twisted and wound in a haphazard way that made me worry about how easy it would be to get lost.

Even huddled in the shadow of the wall, keeping our voices low and our heads down, we were attracting curious glances from the passers-by. And it was easy to see why — like Argos and Ronel, they all had darker skin and the
pale faces of the other four stood out like beacons. ‘I hate the way everyone keeps looking at us,' muttered Gen, turning towards the wall. ‘Let's get off this main road. At this rate, it's only a matter of time till someone asks us who we are and what we're doing here, and where our parents are. And then what?'

‘Yeah, you'd better be our spokesman if anyone challenges us, Adam,' grinned Rich with a wink, and for once I was glad of the dusky skin I'd so often been teased about at school.

‘Help — here comes one of those beggar people,' hissed Gen. ‘They give me the creeps.'

‘In every civilisation there are the downtrodden and unfortunate,' said Kenta earnestly. ‘Perhaps these are lepers, or something similar — whoever they are, it is certain they would not choose to spend their lives begging.'

‘Well, you can launch a campaign to help them another time, Kenta,' said Rich. ‘Right now, we've got more important things to do.'

We took the left fork and followed it deeper into the city, looking about us curiously. Mostly, there were houses on either side, but now and then I saw what looked like an inn, and once caught a glimpse of a grassy courtyard and a splash of bright flowers through a half-open gate. Fat, speckled birds like small chickens pecked between the cobblestones, scuttling away with curious, chuckling cries when we came too close.

We passed two women in aprons standing at their front doors exchanging gossip. They stopped talking and watched us pass, tight-lipped, with narrow, suspicious eyes. Occasionally we'd catch a glimpse of one of the beggars — not squatting at a street corner waiting for a coin, but slipping away round a corner, crouched in an alley, or motionless and almost invisible in the shadows.

It was beginning to seem a long time since breakfast.
When we rounded a corner and saw a wide open, grassy square ahead of us with a shady tree in one corner, we headed straight for it and sank down thankfully. To my relief, Tiger Lily showed no inclination to emerge from her snug nest in my bag, but merely opened one golden eye a slit, gave a token purr, and settled back to sleep.

‘This must be the village green,' said Jamie, his mouth full of apple. ‘Look at all the shops. I'll bet they have a market here, too.'

Gen wasn't listening. ‘Oh, look!' she said. ‘There's one of those sweet donkey things, and it has a little foal! Can I go and stroke it? If I promise not to talk to anyone?'

Sure enough, tethered to a hitching post on the edge of the green was a donkey, and its tiny foal. The mum was a dusty brown colour, with a mop of black mane in a clump on her head like a feather duster. The baby was creamy white, with a dark brown mane and long, knobbly legs — it did look kind of cute. Their droopy ears gave them both a mournful, gloomy expression.

In the end, Gen, Kenta and I all went over to say hello to them. They seemed friendly enough, and especially liked having their heads scratched. To my surprise, I could feel two little nubs of horn, like a calf's, under the mother's mop of stiff hair.

The girls were ooh-ing and aah-ing over the foal when suddenly the mother stretched her neck out and upwards, pulled her long lips away from her teeth, rolled her eyes, and emitted the longest, loudest burp I'd ever heard. I jumped back; the two girls squealed and shrieked and burst into fits of giggles.

A cheery voice spoke up from behind us.

‘You should know better than to tickle a glonk. You be lucky you didn't get a rear-ender!'

I wheeled round, my heart lurching. Facing us stood a boy about our own age, so different from the silent, hostile
townspeople that he could have come from another planet.

‘What's a rear-ender?' Gen couldn't resist asking.

The dimple in his cheek deepened. He was about Jamie's height, and his face sparkled with mischief and fun. His brown hair was cropped short and stuck up in front in an untidy cow's-lick, giving him a comical, startled air. ‘What a question for a lady to ask!' he laughed. ‘Well, if you don't know,
I
sure ain't going to demonstrate!'

Right on cue the foal flipped up its fluffy brown bunny tail and let rip an ear-splitting fart. That set the girls off again, of course, and the boy and I grinned at each other.

‘My name's Kai,' he told me. ‘Who be you?'

‘I'm … er … Adam,' I mumbled.

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed when Richard rescued me, as we'd agreed to do if necessary: ‘Hey, Adam — come over here a minute!'

I gave the boy an apologetic smile, muttered ‘Sorry — gotta go,' and we made our escape.

Kai wasn't alone for long. The village green was like the hub of a wheel, with streets like spokes joining it from every angle. Soon, from all directions, boys came running — almost as if it was break time at school. One of them was carrying what looked like a kind of soft football. With a great deal of jostling and discussion, they quickly separated into two groups.

We watched curiously as the teams ranged themselves into straggling lines, one at each end of the green. Whatever the game was going to be, it seemed slow to start.

Kai strutted out to the front of his team ‘You've got one more,' he called. ‘You'll have to choose someone to sit out!'

‘Well, we won't, so put
that
in your gob and chew it!' retorted the leader of the other team, a dark-haired, belligerent-looking boy.

‘If it wasn't the final, I wouldn't care,' said Kai. ‘We're short one, so there ain't nothing
we
can do about it. But you have one extra, so it be your call. Choose your weakest player to be arbiter. But playing an extra man just ain't fair!'

‘It's not our problem if one of your players didn't show. It be the way the geld falls — too bad for you!'

‘Hob couldn't help it — his pa's sick, and he has to mind the shop!'

‘Oh, boo-hoo — hark to the baby cry! Are you playing or aren't you? Because if we don't start soon, we'll all have to go back to trentice, and we'll win by default!'

The two boys stood there, glaring at each other.

Then, taking everyone by surprise, Kai wheeled round and ran over to our tree. ‘Can you play force-back?' he demanded.

‘Force-back?' We looked at him blankly.

He rolled his eyes impatiently, and glanced up at the sun — his equivalent of looking at his watch, I guessed. ‘Aye!
You
know — two lines, kick the fob, try to catch it,
force
the other team
back
.
Force-back!
'

Suddenly, I could hear Q's words in my mind, as clearly as if he was next to me:
Like a computer game, it'll be about observing, acting and reacting. And sometimes, you'll have to trust your instincts.

‘Go on, Rich,' I said, giving him a shove. ‘I bet you can play a simple game of force-back, no problem!'

Richard's face lit up — but his grin was a faint shadow of Kai's, as he held out one hand and pulled Rich to his feet. Talking earnestly, Kai led Richard to his place in the line, and the game began.