Crossing the west beach nearly finished him: the sand seemed to suck at his feet, and he almost sank down into it, but he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to rise again. His legs felt leaden now, but he forced them to keep moving.

He made it to the first cave, where he’d left his lantern. With shaking fingers, he managed to squeeze a spark from the flint and light the wick.

He stumbled in the gloom, heading deeper into the caves. 63He came to the steps and realised dimly that he hadn’t checked his lantern properly. The flame guttered and went out.

It was the last straw, yet more proof of his stupidity, as if any were needed. Only a fool would have walked into a meeting of the Brotherhood without realising.

He cursed himself and threw down the lamp in fury, listening to it clank down the steps in the near darkness, spilling oil as it went.

‘Well done, Joe,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That really helped.’ He sighed and started trudging blindly after it.

Several things happened then, one after the other: Joe’s heel slipped on the spilt oil. He went flying down the steps. His head flew back and slammed down hard.

Everything went black.

64

CHAPTER NINE

Time passed strangely for Joe. He knew two states: pain or sleep. It was dark and he was dreaming. Dragons were searching for him, soaring low over black water, coming closer, closer, closer.

Finally he woke with a gasp, clammy and cold. His fingers moved first: he was lying on a bundle of roughspun fabric. It stank of old sweat, oil and grime. He found a flask next to him, and he fumbled for it, tugging the cork free and sucking the water down till his aching throat could take no more.

His head felt as if Iggie had sat on it, and his right shoulder burned when he moved. He twisted round and tried to prop himself up on his left side instead.

He moaned in pain, then bit it down.

Where was he? Who had brought him here? What was going on?

His thoughts cleared a little and he looked around for clues. 65

Joe was lying on a dusty black cloak in a small rocky cave. On a ledge above his head, an old-fashioned lamp burned low – no more than a little pool of oil in a large clam shell with a crude wick poking out one end. It would soon burn out, so he made the most of the light while he could. The cave was small and dry and otherwise empty.

Joe found that moving his head made him feel dizzy and sick, so he tried to keep as still as possible. Slowly, slowly, he got to his hands and knees. Then he realised this was tricky too, as his right arm wouldn’t take his weight. Leaning on the left and shifting very gradually, he shuffled himself to the cave mouth and peered out – it opened into one of the long straight tunnels, with a flight of stone steps leading up to the left.