The Golden Door by Emily Rodda Read Free Book Online Page B

would make a very uncomfortable wife.
    “Yes, ma’am,” the deep voice muttered. “Sorry, ma’am.”
    “Sorry, ma’am,” the other man echoed.
    There was an impatient snort and the sound of rustling silk. A door slammed.
    “Why should I run her messages?” grumbled the man with the deep voice. “Do I look like a lady’s maid? It is time someone told her that Keep soldiers work for the Warden of Weld, not his useless daughter!”
    “Shh!” his companion hissed.
    A door creaked. Two pairs of heels snapped smartly together.
    “At ease, men,” a rather hesitant, mumbling voice said. “And how are you both today?”
    “Very well, Warden, sir,” the two men replied together.
    “Good, very good,” the newcomer said. “Now, I understand we have a new volunteer — the first for quite a while. Quite a surprise! Dear me, yes! I will just go and …”
    Rye heard shuffling footsteps. He stepped back a little.
    A plump man wearing the Warden’s traditional long red robe came into the room. He had a mild, slightly vacant-looking face with sagging cheeks and watery blue eyes. He was clutching a large sheet of paper in his stubby fingers.
    He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of Rye. His mouth fell open a little, and his eyes bulged. Rye stood up very straight, making himself look as tall as possible, and held his breath.
    But the Warden’s hesitation, whatever its cause, did not last. He recovered himself almost immediately and bustled forward again.
    “Ah!” he said. “Greetings, Volunteer!”
    And now it was Rye’s turn to stare. The Warden looked only vaguely like the official portrait that hung on the schoolhouse wall. In the portrait, he was younger and slimmer, his chin looked firmer, his hair was browner and thicker, and his eyes were bluer. Also, in the painting, the Warden was mounted on a Keep horse, which made him look far more important.
    In some confusion, Rye realized that the Warden was waiting expectantly, his sparse eyebrows slightly raised.
    Hurriedly, Rye bowed. The bow felt clumsy, but it seemed to satisfy the Warden, for he nodded, shuffled forward, and put the paper down on the polished table.
    “This is your Volunteer Statement,” he said, taking up the pen and dipping it fussily into the ink. “Read it very carefully before you sign. You can still change your mind at this point, and no harm done. But once you have signed, there is no turning back.”

R ye crept to the table, took the pen the Warden was holding out to him, and looked down at the paper.

    Wondering if this document was what had made Crell discover that his ankle was injured, Rye set his lips and signed.
    The Warden sighed, picked up the paper, blew on it to dry the ink, and put it carefully into the carved box, which seemed to contain many other signed papers exactly like it.
    No doubt Dirk’s statement is in there, Rye thought. And Sholto’s.
    “Very well, Rye,” the Warden said, closing the lid of the box. “Collect your belongings and follow me.”
    He led the way to the curtain covering the padlocked door, pulled the red velvet aside, and drew out a small key.
    “Is this the secret way?” Rye asked.
    The Warden frowned and shook his head. He removed the padlock and opened the door to reveal a steep, narrow stone stairway that spiraled down into darkness.
    As he ushered Rye through the doorway, torches fixed to the stone walls sprang into life, flooding the stairs with dancing light.
    Dann’s magic, Rye thought, his skin prickling.
    Clever tricks , he seemed to hear Sholto jeering in his mind. But if this was a trick, it was impossible to see how it had been done. He was sure the Warden had touched nothing.
    “Hold tightly to the safety rail, Volunteer,” theWarden advised, shutting the door behind them. “These steps are old and very dangerous.”
    Despite himself, Rye had to smile. Steep steps were surely the least of his problems, considering the peril he was about to face.
    The Warden must have