The Golden Door by Emily Rodda Page B

powers to aid you in your quest.
    All the guilt that had plagued Rye in the pool clearing came rushing back. He glanced again at the despairing words scratched on the back wallof the shed. Sonia had not noticed them, and he was glad of it. He wished he had never seen them himself.
    Something was going to happen on Midsummer Eve. Something terrible, of which the barbarians themselves were afraid.
    Edelle had known of it. That was why she had whispered to him, urging him to make haste.
    The light crystal and whatever other wonders the little bag contained had been intended for someone who was going to try to stop the dread happening.
    And here they were with him.
    “I should not have taken this,” he muttered, gingerly prodding the bag with a fingertip. “I might just as well have stolen it.”
    “What in Weld do you mean?” Sonia exclaimed. “The Fellan wanted you to have it.”
    “They were wrong.” Rye shook his head. “I cannot keep it. It is too important. I must return it, and explain —”
    “ Return it?” Sonia exploded, sitting bolt upright. “Go back into the Fell Zone, when it has just taken us so long to get out?”
    Rye set his lips stubbornly. He told himself that he had to do what was right, whatever the cost.
    Sonia was eyeing him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “Rye, do you want to find your brother or not?” she demanded.
    Rye glared at her.
    “Then behave as if you do!” she snapped. “Thankthe Wall that magic has fallen into your hands, because in the days to come, you will certainly need it!”
    It was like being dashed with icy water, full in the face. Shocked and sobered, Rye stared at the blazing crystal in his hand. He looked down at the little bag on his lap and thought of all the other amazing powers it might contain. Things, perhaps, that would help him find Dirk — save Dirk, who was in danger.
    Was the unknown barbarian who had scratched the pleas on the back wall of the shelter more important to him than Dirk? Was his own honor more important to him than Dirk?
    Rye knew that they were not. A cold, hard determination slid like a shield between his conscience and his need.
    “Hold this,” he said, thrusting the crystal at Sonia and picking up the little bag. “I will see what else is here.”
    But the instant the crystal left his fingers, its light went out. It shone again only when Rye took it back. In the end, he was forced to keep hold of it in one hand and search the bag with the other.
    He began with his heart beating fast, but gradually puzzled disappointment took the place of excitement. The things remaining in the bag seemed very ordinary compared to the light crystal. He had expected wonders, but nothing astonishing happened as he held each object up before placing it on his knee with the others.
    When he had finished, he and Sonia gazed at the motley collection in silence.
    A red feather, slightly ragged around the edges. A shabby ring made of tightly braided gray threads. A tiny gold key. A little brown ball that looked like some sort of nut. A curiously patterned snail shell. The twist of waxed paper, which by its smell seemed to contain a stale honey sweet.
    To Rye, the items looked like nothing more than the sorts of interesting but rubbishy treasures he used to collect in his pockets when he was young.
    Telling himself that this could not be true, that any objects packed in a bag with the light crystal could not possibly be ordinary, he picked up the ring and slid it on. He waited self-consciously for something to happen — for Sonia to cry out that he had become invisible, for example, or for a feeling of superhuman strength to flow through him.
    But he could feel no difference in himself, and the ring did nothing at all.
    “All these things are magic,” Sonia murmured beside him. “I am sure they are. But what do they do?”
    “We may never know, if they only show their powers when they are needed, as the light crystal did,” Rye said lightly,