The Prince of Mist

by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

  ‘Go to hell,’ she said, reining in her anger.

  The drops of saliva evaporated as if she’d spat onto a burning metal plate.

  ‘My dear girl, that’s exactly where I’ve come from.’

  Slowly, the magician stretched out his bare hand towards Alicia’s face. She closed her eyes and felt the icy touch of his fingers as the long sharp nails rested on her forehead. The wait seemed endless. At last, Alicia heard his footsteps moving away and the heavy metal door of the cabin closing behind him. An odour of decay seeped through the cracks around the door like steam hissing from a pressure cooker. Alicia felt like weeping, like banging on the walls to relieve her anger, but she needed to stay in control and keep her mind clear. She had to get out of there and she didn’t have much time.

  She walked to the door and felt around the edges in search of a gap or chink that she could use to force it open. Nothing. Cain had entombed her in a rusty sarcophagus in the company of the old captain’s bones. At that moment, a huge jolt shook the boat and Alicia fell to the floor. A few seconds later, she heard a dull sound coming from the bowels of the ship. Alicia pressed her ear to the metal and listened carefully; it was the unmistakable rush of running water. A lot of water. Alicia, in a panic, realised what was happening: the hull was flooding and the Orpheus was sinking once more. This time she was unable to suppress a terrified scream.

  *

  Roland had searched for Alicia all over the ship, but with no success. The Orpheus was transformed into a watery catacomb, a labyrinth of interminable corridors and barred doors. The magician could have hidden her in dozens of different places. Roland returned to the bridge and tried to work out where she might be trapped. Then came the crash and the whole vessel shuddered, making Roland lose his balance on the damp, slippery floor. Cain materialised out of the shadows, as if he had emerged through the cracked metal floor.

  ‘We’re sinking, Jacob,’ the magician explained calmly, pointing around him. ‘Timing has never been your strong point, has it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s Alicia?’ Roland demanded, ready to pounce on his opponent.

  The magician closed his eyes and joined the palms of his hands together as if in prayer.

  ‘Somewhere on this ship,’ he replied. ‘If you were stupid enough to follow her here, don’t ruin it now. Do you want to save her life, Jacob?’

  ‘My name is Roland,’ the boy snapped.

  ‘Roland, Jacob … What does it matter if it’s one name or the other? I have quite a few names myself. What is your wish, Roland? Do you want to save your friend?’

  ‘Where have you hidden her?’ Roland replied. ‘Damn you! Where is she?’

  The magician rubbed his hands, as if he were feeling cold.

  ‘Do you know how long a ship like this takes to sink, Jacob? Don’t tell me. A couple of minutes at the most. Surprising, isn’t it?’ Cain laughed.

  ‘You want Jacob, or whatever I’m called,’ Roland declared. ‘Well, you’ve got him; I’m not going to escape. So let her go.’

  ‘How original, Jacob,’ intoned the magician, drawing closer. ‘Your time’s running out, Jacob. One minute.’

  The Orpheus began to list to starboard. The water flooding the boat roared beneath their feet and the damaged metal structure shivered as the furious sea spread through it like acid dissolving a cardboard toy.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ begged Roland. ‘What do you want of me?’

  ‘Good, Jacob. I see you’re beginning to understand. I hope you’ll carry out the part of the agreement your father was unable to fulfil,’ the magician replied. ‘Nothing more. And nothing less.’

  ‘My father died in an accident. I …’ Roland began to explain in despair.

  The magician placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Roland felt the metallic touch of his fingers.

  ‘Half a minute, boy. It’s a bit late for family stories.’

  The waves were now crashing against the deck of the bridge. Roland threw a last beseeching look at the magician. Cain knelt in front of him and smiled.

  ‘Shall we make a deal, Jacob?’ he whispered.

  Tears sprang from Roland’s eyes and he slowly nodded.

  ‘Good, good, Jacob,’ murmured Cain. ‘Welcome home …’

  The magician stood up and pointed towards one of the corridors that led from the bridge.

  ‘The last door down that corridor. But here’s a piece of advice. By the time you manage to open it we’ll all be under water and your friend won’t have enough air to breathe. You’re a good diver, Jacob. You’ll know what to do. Remember our pact …’

  Cain smiled one last time and, wrapping himself in his cloak, disappeared into the night. Invisible feet echoed across the bridge, leaving behind footprints of molten metal. The boy stood where he was for an instant, paralysed, trying to recover his breath, until the ship gave another jolt, pushing him against the frozen wheel of the helm. Water had started to flood the bridge.

  Roland rushed down the corridor the magician had pointed out. Water was now pouring through the deck hatches, inundating the corridor, as the Orpheus gradually sank into the sea. Roland banged against the cabin door with his fist.

  ‘Alicia!’ he shouted, although he was aware that she could barely hear him. ‘It’s Roland. Hold your breath! I’m going to get you out of there!’

  Roland grabbed the wheel that opened the cabin door and struggled to turn it, hurting the palms of his hands as he did so. The freezing water was already up to his waist and kept on rising. The wheel only yielded a centimetre or so. Roland took a deep breath and tried again. This time it slowly rotated. The water was now over Roland’s head.

  When the door finally opened, Roland swam into the murky cabin, groping around blindly for Alicia. For a terrible moment he thought the magician had tricked him and there was nobody there. He opened his eyes under the water, battling against a stinging sensation, and tried to see through the darkness. At last his hands touched a torn piece of Alicia’s dress – she was still there, struggling between panic and suffocation. He hugged her and tried to calm her, but in the dark she didn’t know who or what had grabbed her. Aware that he had only a few seconds left, Roland put his hands round her neck and pulled her out into the corridor. The ship was still plunging towards the ocean bed. Alicia wrestled with Roland as he dragged her through the corridor towards the bridge, through the debris floating up from the depths of the Orpheus. He knew they couldn’t get out of the ship until the hull had touched the seabed – if they tried before then, the pressure would only pull them back down – yet he was aware that at least thirty seconds had elapsed since Alicia had taken her last breath: by this time and in her state of panic, she had probably started to inhale water. If so, the ascent to the surface would mean certain death for her. Cain had planned this game with great care.

  As they waited, it seemed as though the ship would never touch the bottom, and when the impact finally came, part of the ceiling in the bridge collapsed on top of them. A terrible pain shot up Roland’s leg, and he realised that a piece of metal had trapped one of his ankles. Meanwhile, the glow of the Orpheus was slowly fading in the depths of the ocean.

  Roland fought against the agonising pain, searching for Alicia’s face in the dark. Her eyes were open but she was struggling not to take in water. She couldn’t hold her breath for another moment, and the last bubbles of air escaped from her lips like pearls carrying away the final moments of a life.

  Roland held her face and tried to get Alicia to look at him. Their eyes locked and she understood immediately what he was proposing. Alicia shook her head, attempting to push Roland away from her. He pointed at his ankle, trapped under the metal beams from the ceiling. Alicia swam down through the icy water and tried to free him. They looked at one another in despair. Nothing and nobody would be able to move the tons of steel that were pinning Roland down. Alicia swam back to him and hugged him, aware that she was beginning to lose consciousness th
rough lack of air. Without waiting another moment, Roland cupped Alicia’s face with his hands and, placing his lips on hers, he breathed out the air he had kept for her, just as Cain had predicted he would. Alicia held Roland’s hands tight, and joined him in a life-saving kiss.

  Roland gave her one last, desperate look of farewell then pushed her out of the bridge. Slowly, Alicia began her ascent. As she neared the surface she kept her eyes fixed on Roland, his outline slowly fading in the murky shadows at the bottom of the sea. That was the last time Alicia saw Roland.

  Seconds later, the girl emerged in the middle of the bay and saw that the storm was gradually receding, taking with it all the hopes she had had for the future.

  *

  When Max saw Alicia’s face on the surface, he threw himself into the water and swam frantically towards her. His sister could barely stay afloat and was stammering incomprehensible words, coughing violently and spitting out the water she had swallowed on her way up. Max put his arms around her and swam with her until he was able to touch the stones with his feet, a few metres from the shore. The lighthouse keeper was waiting on the beach and rushed to help them. Together he and Max got Alicia out of the water and laid her down on her back. Victor Kray tried to take her pulse, but Max gently removed the old man’s trembling hand.

  ‘She’s alive, Mr Kray,’ Max explained, stroking his sister’s forehead. ‘She’s alive.’

  The old man nodded and left Alicia in Max’s care. Stumbling like a soldier after a long battle, Victor Kray wandered down to the shore and waded into the water.

  ‘Where’s my Roland?’ the old man moaned. ‘Where’s my grandson?’

  Max looked at him but could not find the words. He could see the soul of the poor man slipping away, and with it the strength that had sustained him all those years up in the lighthouse.

  ‘He won’t be coming back, Mr Kray,’ Max replied eventually, his eyes brimming with tears. ‘Roland won’t be coming back.’

  The lighthouse keeper looked at Max as if he didn’t understand what he was saying. Then he nodded his head, but turned his eyes seawards, still expecting his grandson to emerge and come back to him. The ocean gradually calmed and a garland of stars lit up over the horizon.

  Roland never returned.

  18

  THE DAY AFTER THE STORM THAT RAVAGED THE coast during the long night of 23 June 1943, Maximilian and Andrea Carver returned to the house by the beach with young Irina. She was no longer in danger, although it would be a few more weeks before she recovered completely from her injuries. The winds that had lashed the town until shortly before dawn had left a trail of fallen trees and electricity pylons; boats had been dragged in from the sea right up to the promenade and there were many broken windows. Alicia and Max were sitting quietly on the porch. The moment Mr Carver stepped out of the car that had brought them back from the hospital, he saw from their faces and their tattered clothing that something terrible had happened.

  But before he could ask them anything, the expression on Max’s face told him that all explanations, if there were to be any, would have to wait. Whatever it was that had happened, Maximilian Carver knew for certain, without any need for words or reasons, that the sadness of his two children signalled the end of a stage in their lives that would never return.

  Maximilian Carver looked into Alicia’s eyes before going into the house. She was staring absently at the horizon as if she thought it might hold the answer to all her questions; questions that neither he nor anyone else would be able to answer. Suddenly, and silently, he realised that his daughter had grown up, and that one day, and it wouldn’t be long, she would set off on a new path in search of her own answers.

  *

  A cloud of steam engulfed the station. The last passengers were hurrying into the carriages of the train, or biding farewell to relatives and friends who had come with them as far as the platform. Max looked at the old station clock that had welcomed him to the town and noticed that, this time, its hands had stopped. The porter came over to Max and Victor Kray, his hand outstretched, hoping for a tip.

  ‘Your suitcases are on the train, sir.’

  The old lighthouse keeper handed him a few coins and the porter walked away, counting them as he went. Max and Victor Kray exchanged a smile, as if they had found the incident amusing and this was only a routine farewell.

  ‘Alicia wasn’t able to come—’ Max began.

  ‘There’s no need to explain. I understand,’ the lighthouse keeper said quickly. ‘Say goodbye to her from me. And take care of her.’

  ‘I will.’

  The stationmaster blew his whistle. The train was about to leave.

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell me where you’re going?’ asked Max, pointing at the train waiting on the track. Victor Kray smiled and offered his hand to the boy.

  ‘Wherever I go,’ he replied, ‘I’ll never be able to get away from here.’

  The whistle blew again. Victor Kray was the only person left to board. The ticket inspector was waiting by the carriage door.

  ‘I must go, Max,’ said the old man. He put his arms around Max, who hugged him tightly. ‘By the way, I have something for you.’

  The lighthouse keeper handed over a small box. Something rattled inside it.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

  ‘After you’ve gone,’ Max replied.

  The lighthouse keeper shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the carriage. The ticket collector held out a hand to help him up. As Victor Kray climbed the last step, Max suddenly ran towards him.

  ‘Mr Kray!’

  The old man turned to look at him, an amused expression in his eyes.

  ‘It was an honour to meet you, Mr Kray,’ said Max.

  Victor Kray smiled one last time and gently tapped his chest with his index finger.

  ‘The name’s Victor, Max. And the honour was all mine.’

  Slowly the train pulled away, and soon its trail of steam was lost in the distance. Max stayed on the platform until he could no longer see the small dot on the horizon. Only then did he open the box the old man had given him and discover that it held a bunch of keys. Max smiled. They were the keys to the lighthouse.

  EPILOGUE

  THE LAST WEEKS OF SUMMER BROUGHT MORE news of the war – whose days, it was said, were numbered. Maximilian Carver had opened his watchmaker’s business in a small building near the market square and soon there was not a single local who hadn’t visited his shop of marvels. Irina had completely recovered and seemed to remember nothing about her accident on the staircase. She and her mother took long walks along the beach, looking for seashells and small fossils with which they had started a collection that promised to be the envy of Irina’s new school friends that coming autumn.

  Loyal to the old keeper’s legacy, Max cycled every afternoon to the lighthouse and lit the lantern so that its beam could guide ships safely until the following morning. He climbed up the tower and from there gazed out at the ocean, just as Victor Kray had done for most of his life.

  On one of these afternoons Max realised that his sister Alicia returned regularly to the beach where Roland’s hut stood. She went alone and sat by the water’s edge, her eyes lost in the sea, letting the hours pass by in silence. They no longer spoke the way they had done during the days they had shared with Roland, and Alicia never mentioned what had happened that night in the bay. Max had respected her silence from the first moment. When the last days of September arrived, announcing the arrival of the autumn, the memory of the Prince of Mist seemed to fade from his mind like a dream in the light of day.

  Often, when Max watched Alicia down on the beach, he remembered Roland’s words when he had confessed his fear that if he was called up this might be his last summer in the town. Now, although brother and sister barely spoke about it, Max knew that the memory of Roland and of that summer in which they had discovered magic together would stay with them, uniting them forever.

  The Prince of Mist

>   Reading Group Notes

  In Brief

  Max’s father had that look on his face. The one that meant another crazy idea was becoming a reality. It was June 1943 and Max’s thirteenth birthday, and it seemed that the Carver family were moving. Not only were they moving – but this was their last day in the lofty apartment that had been Max’s home for ever.

  They were moving to a beach house in a small coastal town to get away from the inevitable approach of the war. In truth, it wasn’t a complete surprise to the family – but so suddenly? Max hung back as the others rushed off to pack and his father reassured him that the move would turn out all right. Max’s father Maximilian was a watchmaker by profession, and he reached into his pocket and brought out a beautiful silver watch he had made for Max’s birthday. Engraved upon it were the words Max’s time machine. When Max looked back on the scene years later, he knew that day was when his childhood had ended.

  The morning brought a bustle of last-minute packing and sorting as they made their way to the station for the long train journey. Max would always remember his first sight of the sea as they ventured into the small town that seemed like a toy version of the city where Max had spent all his life. There was something unreal about the station as the family waited for Maximilian to find help with the luggage. Even the station clock was slow – a point that Maximilian used to illustrate the positive change of pace in the countryside. Max’s sister Irina insisted on adopting a sinister cat that stared at Max as they made their way to the new house. As Max turned back to look at the station, he realised that the clock wasn’t slow – it was running backwards.

  Max’s first sight of his new home did little to dispel the doll’s house impression. All pastel colours and sash windows, the houses of the peaceful town basked in the unusual luminosity the sea provided. Max was beginning to think that his father’s decision to move the family might have been an inspired one as they arrived at their new house, which stood at the end of a long beach.