No! Attia stepped forward. No. He belongs to me. Believe me, Ill fight anyone who tries to kill him. The masked girl stared at Keiro. Her golden eye glittered and Attia realized that it was not blind, that she saw through it in some way. A halfwoman.
Search him then for weapons. Two of the girls searched him; he pretended to enjoy it, but when they took the Glove from his pocket Attia knew it took all his self-control not to lash out.
What is this?The leader held up the Glove. It lay in her hands, the dragonskin iridescent in the gloom, the claws split and heavy.
Thats mine, Keiro and Attia said together.
I carry it for her, Keiro said. He smiled his most charming smile. I am the Slave of the Glove. The girl gazed at the dragonclaws with her mismatched eyes. Then she looked up. Both of you will come with us. In all my years taking toll on the Skywalk Ive never seen an object of such power. It ripples in purple and gold. It sings in amber. Attia moved forward cautiously. You can see that?
I hear it with my eyes. She turned away Attia flicked a fierce glance at Keiro. He had to shut up, and play along.
Two of the masked girls pushed him. Walk; one said. The leader fell in beside Attia. Your name?
Attia. You?
Rho Cygni. We give up our birth names. At the large hole in the floor the girls were sliding expertly through.
Down there? Attia tried not to let the fear into her voice, but she sensed Rhos smile behind the mask.
It doesnt lead to the ground. Go on. Youll see. Attia sat, her legs dangling over the edge. Someone caught her feet and steadied her; she slithered through and grabbed the rusty chain. There was a rickety walkway built close under the viaduct, half hidden by ivy It was as dark as a tunnel and it creaked underfoot, but at its end it divided into a maze of smaller passageways and rope stairs, hanging rooms and cages.
Rho walked behind her, noiseless as a shadow. At the end she guided Attia to the right into a chamber that moved slightly as if beneath it was nothing but sky. Attia swallowed. The walls were of interwoven wattle and the floor was hidden in a deep coating of feathers. But it was the ceiling that made her stare. It was painted a deep, amazing blue and gleaming in it were patterns of golden stones, like the one in Rhos eye.
The stars!
As Sapphique wrote of them. The girl stood beside her and looked up. Outside they sing as they cross the sky. The Bull, and the Hunter and the Chained Princess. And the Swan, of whose Constellation we are. She pulled off her feathered helm and her hair was dark and short, her face pale. Welcome to the Swans Nest, Attia. It was stiflingly warm, and lit by tiny lamps. She saw the shadowy figures remove armour and masks and become girls and women of all ages, some stout, some young and lithe. The smell of food rose from cooking pots. Deep divans filled with downy feathers littered the room.
Rho pushed her towards one. Sit down. You look exhausted: Anxious, she said, Wheres . . . my servant?
Caged. He wont starve. But this place is not for men. Attia sat. She was suddenly unbearably weary, but she had to stay alert. The thought of Keiros certain fury cheered her.
Please eat. We have plenty. A bowl of hot soup was put in front of her. She sipped at it hurriedly, while Rho sat, elbows on knees, watching.
You were hungry, she said after a while.
Weve been travelling for days:
Well, your journeys over now. Youre safe here. Attia savoured the thin soup, wondering what she meant.
These people seemed friendly, but she must be on her guard.
They had Keiro, and they had the Glove.
Weve been expecting you, Rho said quietly.
She almost choked. Me?
Someone like you. Something like this. Rho drew the Clove from her coat, laid it reverently in her lap. Strange things are happening, Attia. Wonderful things. You saw the tribes migrating. For weeks weve watched them down there, always searching, for food, for warmth, always fleeing from the commotion at the Prisons heart:
What commotion is that, Rho?
Ive heard it. The girls strange gaze turned to Attia. We all have. Late at night, deep in dreams. Suspended between ceiling and floor, weve felt its vibrations, in the chains and walls, in our bodies. The beating of Incarcerons heart. It grows stronger, daily. Were its providers, and we know. Attia put down the spoon and tore off some black bread.
The Prison is shutting down. Is that it?
Concentrating. Focusing. Whole Wings are dark and silent. The Fimbulwinter has begun, and that was prophesied. And still the Unsapient sends out his demands.
Unsapient?
So we call him. They say the Prison summoned him from Outside. . . From his chamber in the Prisons heart he is creating something terrible. They say he is making a man, out of rags and dreams and flowers and metal. A man wholl lead us all to the stars. It will happen soon, Attia Gazing at the girls lit face Attia felt only weariness. She pushed the plate aside and said sadly, What about you? Tell me about you. Rho smiled. I think that can wait till tomorrow. You need to sleep. She dragged a thick cover over to Attia. It was soft and warm and irresistible. Attia snuggled into it.
You wont lose the Glove, she said sleepily.
No. Sleep well. Youre with us now, Attia Cygni. She closed her eyes. From somewhere far off she heard Rho say, Was the slave given food?
Yes. But he spent most of the time trying to seduce me, a girls voice laughed.
Attia rolled over and grinned.
Hours later, deep in sleep, between breaths, in her teeth and eyelashes and nerves, she felt the heartbeat. Her heartbeat. Keiros. Finns. The Prisons.
17
The world is a chessboard, Madam, on which we play out our ploys and follies. You are the Queen, of course. Your moves are the strongest. For myself I claim only to be a knight, advancing in a crooked progress. Do we move ourselves, do you think, or does a great gloved hand place us on our squares?
PRIVATE LETTER; THE WARDEN OF INCARCERON TO QUEEN SIA
Were you responsible? Claudia stepped out of the shadow of the hedge and enjoyed the way Medlicote spun round, alarmed.
He bowed, the half-moons of his glasses flashing in the morning sunlight. For the storm, my lady? Or the fire?
Dont be flippant. She let herself sound imperious. We were attacked in the ForestPrince Giles and myself. Was it your doing?
Please: His inkstained fingers lifted. Please, Lady Claudia.
Be discreet. Fuming, she kept silent.
He gazed across the wide lawns. Only peacocks strutted and squawked. There was a group of courtiers in the orangery; faint giggles drifted from the scented gardens.
We made no attack, he said quietly. Believe me, madam, if we had, Prince Gilesif he is Gileswould be dead. The Steel Wolves deserve their reputation.
You failed to kill the Queen on several occasions. She was scathing. And you placed a dagger next to Finn
To ensure he remembers us. But the Forest, no. If I may say so you were unwise to ride out without an escort. The Realm is frill of discontents. The poor suffer their injustices, but they dont forgive them. It was probably a simple attempt at robbery. She thought it was the Queens plot, though she had no intention of letting him know that. Instead she snapped a bud from the rosebush and said, And the fire? He looked stricken. That is a disaster. You know who was responsible for that, madam. The Queen has never wanted the Portal reopened. And now she thinks shes won. Claudia jumped as a peacock rustled its magnificent tail into a fan. The hundred eyes watched her. She thinks that my father is cut off:
Without the Portal, he is.
You knew my father well, Master Medlicote? Medlicote frowned. I was his secretary for ten years. But lit, was not an easy man to know
He kept his secrets?
Always.
About Incarceron?
I knew nothing about the Prison. She nodded, and took her hand out of her pocket. Do you recognize this? He looked at it, wondering. Its the Wardens pocketwatch.
He always wore it. She was watching him closely, alert for any glimmer of hidden recognition, of knowledge. In the glasses she saw the reflection of the open watchcase, the silver cube turning on the chain.
He left it for me. You have no idea then, where the Prison is?
None. I wrote his correspondence. I ordered his affairs. But I never went there with him. She clicked the case shut. He seemed puzzled, had given no sign of knowing what he was looking at.
How did he travel there? she asked quietly.
I never discovered that. He would disappear, for a day, or a week. We . . . the Wolves . . . believe the Prison to be some sort of underground labyrinth, below the Court. Obviously the Portal gave access: He looked at her curiously. You know more about this than I do. There may be information in his study, at your house in the Wardenry. I was never allowed in there. His study.
She tried not to reveal by even a blink the shock his words sparked. Thank you. Thank you. Hardly knowing what she said she turned on her heel but his voice stopped her.
Lady Claudia. Something else. We have learned that when the false prince is executed you will share his fate:
What! He was standing with his glasses in his hands, his dusty shoulders stooped. In the sunlight he seemed suddenly a halfblind, agitated man.
But she cant
She will. I warned you, lady. You are an escaped Prisoner.
She would not be breaking any laws. Claudia was cold. She could hardly believe this. Are you sure?
One of the Privy Council has a mistress. The woman is one of our operatives. He told her that the Queen was adamant.
Did she hear anything else? Whether the Queen had brought in this Pretender? He stared at her. That interests you more than your own death?
Tell me!
Unfortunately, no. The Queen professes ignorance as to which of the boys is her true stepson. Shes told the Council nothing. Claudia paced, shredding the rosebud. Well, I dont intend to be executed, by her or your Wolves or anyone else.
Thank you. She had ducked under the rose arch when he took a step after her and said softly, Master Jared was bribed to stop work on the Portal. Did you know that? She stopped still as death, without turning. The roses were white, perfectly scented. Fat bees fumbled in their petals.
There was a thorn in the bud she held; it hurt her fingers and she dropped it.
He came no nearer. His voice was quiet. The Queen offered him...
Theres nothingshe turned, almost spitting the words
nothing, that she could offer that he would take. Nothing! A bell chimed, then another from the Ivory Tower. It was the signal for the Inquisition of the Candidates. Medlicote kept his eyes on her. Then he put his spectacles back on and bowed, clumsily. My mistake, my lad, he said.
She watched him walk away. She was trembling. She didnt know how much with anger, how much with fear.
Jared looked down with a rueful smile at the book in his hand. It had been a favourite of his when he had been a student here, a small red book of mysterious and cryptic poems that languished unread on the shelves. Now, opening the pages, he found the oak leaf he had once placed in it, on page forty-seven, at the sonnet about the dove that would cure the devastation of the Years of Rage, a flowering rose in its beak. Reading the lines now he let his memories slip back to that time. It had not been so long ago. He had been the youngest graduate of the Academy since Protocol began, considered brilliant, assured of a great career.
The oak leaf was as frail as cobweb, a skeleton of veins.
His fingers trembling slightly, he closed the book and slid it back. He was certainly above such selfpity.
The library of the Academy was a vast and hushed collection of rooms. Great oak cabinets of books, some of them chained, stood in ranks down the galleried halls.
Sapienti sat huddled over manuscripts and illuminated volumes, quill nibs scraping, each stall lit by a small lamp that looked like a candle but was in fact a high intensity personal diode powered by the hidden underground generators. Jared estimated that at least a third of the precious remaining power of the Realm was consumed here.
Not just in the library, of course. The apparent quills were linked to a central computer that also ran the lunar observatory and the extensive medical wing. The Queen, though he hated her, had been right. If there had once been a cure for him, this was the only place it might still be found.
Master? The librarian had returned, the Queens letter in his hand. This is all in order. Please follow me. The Esoterica was the heart of the library. It was rumoured to be a secret chamber, entered only by the First High Sapient and the Warden. Jared certainly had never been there. His heart fluttered a little with excitement.
They walked through three rooms, through a hall of maps and up a winding stair into a small gallery that ran round above the reading room, under the dusty cornice. In the far corner was a shadowy alcove, containing a desk and a chair, the arms carved with winding snakes.
The librarian bowed. If you need anything, please ask one of my assistants. Jared nodded and sat. He tried not to show his surprise, and disappointment; he had expected something more secret, more impressive, but perhaps that had been foolish.
He glanced round.
There were no obvious watching devices, but they were here, he sensed that. He put his hand into his coat and slid out the disc he had prepared. He slipped the disc under the desk and it clasped itself on tight.
The desk, despite appearances, was metal. He touched it, and a portion of the wainscoting became a screen that lit discreetly. It said YOU HAVE ENTERED THE ESOTERICA.
He worked quickly. Soon diagrams of the lymphatic and nervous systems rippled over the screen. He studied them intently, cross-referencing with the fragments of medical research that the system still held. The room below was silent, formal busts of ancient Sapienti staring in stiff rigour from their marble pedestals. Outside the distant casement a few doves cooed.
A librarian padded by, carrying a heap of parchment. Jared smiled gently.
They were keeping a good watch on him.
By three, the time for the brief afternoon rain shower, he was ready. As the light dimmed and the room grew gloomier, he slid his hand under the desk and touched the disc.
At once, under the diagrams of the nervous system, writing appeared. It had taken a long time to find the encrypted files on Incarceron, and his eyes were tired, his thirst a torment.
But as the first thunder rumbled, here they were.
Reading one script below another was a skill he had perfected long ago. It needed concentration, and always gave him a headache, but that would be bearable. After ten minutes he had worked out one symbol that unlocked others, then recognized an old variant o the Sapient tongue he had once studied.
As he translated, the words began to form out of the mass of strange glyphs.
Rota of the original Prisoners.
Sentences and Judicial reports.
Criminal Records; Photoimages.
Duties of the Warden.
He touched the last line. The screen rearranged, and under its web of nerves informed him curtly: This material is classified. Speak the password.
He swore, quietly.
Incorrect, the screen said. You have two more attempts before an alarm wilt be sounded.
Jared closed his eyes and tried not to groan. He glanced round; saw the rain slashing against the windows, the small lights on the desks below brighten imperceptibly.
He made himself breathe slowly, felt sweat prickle his back. Then he whispered, Incarceron. Incorrect. You have one more attempt before an alarm will be sounded.
He should withdraw and think about it. If they found out hed never get this far again. And yet time was against hint.
Time, that the Realm had been denied, was taking its revenge.
Pages turned below. He leant closer, seeing in the screen his own pale face, the dark hollows of his eyes. There was a word in his mind and he had no idea if it was the right one.
But the face was both his and anothers, and it was narrow and its hair was dark and he opened his mouth and whispered its name.
Sapphique? Lists. Rotas. Data.
It spread like a virus over the page, over the diagrams, over everything. The strength and speed of the information astounded him; he tapped the disc to record it as it rapidly came and went.
Master? Jared almost jumped.
One of the Academy porters stood there, a big man, his dark coat shiny with age, his staff tipped with a white pearl.
Sorry to disturb you at work, Master, but this came. From the Court. It was a parchment letter, sealed with Claudias black swan insignia.
Thank you. Jared took it, gave the man a coin and smiled calmly. Behind him the screen showed endless medical diagrams. Used to the austere ways of the Sapienti, the porter bowed and withdrew.
The red seal snapped as Jared opened it. And yet he knew it would have been read by the Queens spies.
My dearest Master Jared, The most dreadful thing has happened! A fire broke out in the cellars of the East Court, and most of the ground and upperfloors have collapsed. No one was hurt but the entrance to the Portal is buried under tons of rubble. The Queens Majesty assures me everything possible will be done but I am so dismayed! My father is lost to us, and Giles bemoans the fate of his friends. Today he faces the trial of the Inquisitors. Pray search hard, dear friend, for our only alternative lies in silence and secrecy.
Your most loving and obedient pupil, Claudia Arlexa.
He smiled ruefully at the Protocol. She could do much better. But then, the note was not just for him, it was for the Queen. A fire! Sia was taking no chancesfirst removing him and then sealing the entrance to the Prison. But what the Queen presumably didnt know and only he and Claudia did, was that there was another entrance to the Portal, through the Wardens study at home in the sleepy manor house of the Wardenry. Our only alternative lies in silence and secrecy. She had known he would understand.
The porter, fidgeting at a respectful distance, said, The messenger returns to Court in an hour. Will there be any answer, Master?
Yes. Please bring some ink and paper. As the man went, Jared took out a tiny scanner and ran it across the vellum. Scrawled in red across the neatly written lines was IF FINN LOSES THEY INTEND TO KILL US BOTH.YOU KNOW WHERE WELL BE. I TRUST YOU.
He drew in a sharp breath. The porter, anxious, placed the inkwell on the desk. Master, are you in pain? He sat, white. Yes, he said, crumpling the paper.
He had never guessed they would kill her. And what had she meant by I trust you?
The Queen rose and all the diners stood hurriedly, even those still eating. The summer meal of cold meats and venison pasties, of lavender cream and syllabub lay scattered on the white-clothed tables.
Now She dabbed her lips with a kerchief. You will all retire, except the Claimants. Claudia curtsied. I ask permission to attend the trial, Majesty The Queens lips made a perfect red pout. Im sorry Claudia. Not this time.
Nor me? Caspar said, drinking.
Or you either, my sweet. Run away and shoot things. But she was still looking at Claudia, and suddenly, almost rnischeviously, she took her by the arm. Oh Claudia! Its such a shame about the Portal! And you know Im so sorry to have to appoint a new Warden. Your dear father was so. . . astute. Claudia kept the smile plastered to her face. As Your Majesty wishes. She wouldnt beg. That was what Sia wanted.
If only youd married Caspar! In fact, even now. . . She couldnt stand this. She couldnt pull away either, so she stood rigid and said, That choice is over, Majesty.
Too right, Caspar muttered. You had your chance, Claudia. I wouldnt touch you now...
Even for twice the dowry? his mother said.
He stared. Are you serious? Sias lips twitched. You are so easy to tease, Caspar, darling. The doors at the end of the room opened. Beyond them Claudia saw the Court of Inquisition.
The Queens throne was a vast eagle, its spread wings forming the back, its raised beak open in a harsh cry. The crown of the Havaarna encircled its neck.
The Privy Council sat in a circle around it, but on either side of the throne were two empty seats, one white and one black. As the Council filed in, Claudia watched a small door in the wall open and two figures emerge. She had expected Finn and Giles. Instead she saw the Inquisitors of Sun and Shadow.
The Shadow Lord wore black velvet lined with sable, and his hair and beard were as jet as his clothes. His face was harsh and unreadable. The other, in white, was graceful and smiling, his robe satin, edged with pearls.
She had never seen either of them before.
My Lord of Shadow. The Queen went to her throne and turned, formally. And my Lord Sun. Your duty here is to question and draw out the truth, so that we and our Council may come to our verdict. Do you swear to deal faithfully in this enquiry? Both men knelt and kissed her hand. Then they walked, one to the black chair, one to the white, and sat. The Queen smoothed her dress, pulling a small lace fan out of her sleeve.
Excellent. Then lets begin. Close the doors. A gong rang.
Finn and the Pretender were ushered in.
Claudia frowned. Finn wore his usual dark colours, without ornament. He looked defiant, and anxious. The Pretender wore a coat of purest yellow silk, as expensive as could be made. The two stood and faced each other on the tiled floor.
Your name? the Lord Shadow snapped.
As the doors slammed in her face Claudia heard their joint response.
Giles Ferdinand Alexander Havaarna. She stared at the carved wood, then turned and walked quickly away through the crowd. And like a whisper in her ear her fathers voice came to her, coldly amused. Do you see them, Claudia? Pieces on the chessboard. How sad that only one can win the game.
18
What makes a prince?
A sunny sky, an open door.
What makes a prisoner?
A question with no answer.
SONGS OF SAPPHIQUE
Get me out, Attia.
I cant yet. She crouched by the wooden bars of the cage.
Youll have to be patient.
Having too nice a time with your pretty new friends? Keiro sat lounged against the far wall, arms folded, legs stretched out. He looked cool and scornful but she knew him well enough to see that, inside, he was blazing.
I need to keep in with them.You can see that.
So who are they?
All women. Most of them seem to hate mentheyve probably suffered at their hands. They call themselves the Cygni. They each have a sort of number for a name. The number of a star.
How poetic. Keiro tipped his head. Now tell me when theyre going to kill me.
Theyre considering. Ive begged them not to.
And the Glove?
Rhos got it.
Get it back.
Im working on it. She glanced at the door of the room warily. This nest is a sort of hanging structure. Rooms and passages, all woven together. I think theres some way down to the floor of the hail but I havent found it yet. Keiro was silent a moment. The horse?
No idea.
Great. All our stuff.
All your stuff. She pushed her tangled hair back. Theres something else. They work for the Warden. They call him the Unsapient. His blue eyes stared at her. They want to take him the Glove! He was always so quick, she thought. Yes, but
Attia, you have to get it back! He was up on his feet now, gripping the bars. The Glove is our only way to Incarceron.
How, exactly? Were outnumbered. He kicked the bars, furious. Get me out, Attia. Lie to them.
Tell them to throw me over the viaduct. Just get me out. As she turned he reached out and grabbed her. Theyre all halfmen, arent they?
Some of them. Rho. Zeta. A woman called Omega has pincers instead of hands. She looked at him. Does that help you hate them more? Keiro laughed coldly, and tapped his fingernail on the bars.
It rang, metal against metal. What hypocrisy that would be. She stepped away. Listen. I think were wrong. Before he could explode she hurried on. If we give the Prison this Glove it will carry out its crazy plan of Escape. Everyone here will die. I dont think I can do that, Keiro. I just dont think I can. He was staring at her, with that cold, intent look that always scared her.
She backed off. Maybe I should just take the Glove and go.
Leave you here. She got to the door before his whisper came, icy with threat. That would make you just the same as Finn. A liar. A traitor. You wouldnt do that to me, Attia. She didnt look back.
Tell us once more about the day you remember. The day of the hunt. The Shadow Lord loomed over him, eyes hard.
Finn stood in the empty centre of the room. He wanted to pace about. Instead he said, I was riding. . .
Alone?
No . . . there must have been others. At first.
Which others? He rubbed his face. I dont know. Ive tried to think, over and over, but
You were fifteen.
Sixteen. I was sixteen. They were trying to trick him.
The horse was chestnut?
Grey: He stared, angry, towards the Queen. She sat, eyes half closed, a small dog on her lap. Her fingers stroked it rhythmically.
The horse jumped he said. I told you, I felt a sort of sting in my leg. I fell off.
With your courtiers around you.
No I was alone.
You just said . . .
I know! Perhaps I got lost! He shook his head. The warning prickle moved behind his eyes. Perhaps I took the wrong path. I dont remember! He had to stay calm. To be alert. The Pretender lounged on the bench, listening with bored impatience.
The Shadow Lord came closer. His eyes were black and level. The truth is that you invented this. There was no ambush. You are not Giles. You are the Scum of Incarceron.
I am Prince Giles. But his voice sounded weak. He heard his own doubt.
You are a Prisoner. You have stolen. Havent you?
Yes. But you dont understand. In the Prison. . .
You have killed.
No. Never killed.
Indeed? The Inquisitor drew back like a snake. Not even the woman called the Maestra? Finns head shot up. How do you know about the Maestra? There was a movement of unease round the room. Some of the Council murmured to each other. The Pretender sat up.
How we know is not important. She fell, didnt she, inside the Prison, down a great abyss, because the bridge on which she stood had been sabotaged. You were responsible.
No! He was shouting now, eye to eye with the man. The Inquisitor did not back off.
Yes. You stole a device for Escape from her. Your words are a mass of lies. You claim visions. You claim to have spoken with ghosts.
I didnt kill her! He grabbed for his sword but it wasnt there. I was a Prisoner, yes, because the Warden drugged me and put me in that hell. He took away my memory. I am Giles!
Incarceron is not a hell. It is a great experiment.
Its hell. I should know
Liar.
No...
You are a liar. You have always been a liar! Havent you?
Havent you?
No. I dont know! He couldnt bear it. His throat was ashes, the blurring of the impending seizure tormenting him. If it happened here he was finished.