“Because he’s mad!” Maxim spat, then paused. He sighed. “I need it to give the emperor the one thing he hasn’t got. Life.”
“What do you mean?” asked Boy. “He’s alive now. . . .”
“You noticed? Hmm. But for how much longer? He’s seventy-eight now, and, as you see, as frail as a man twenty years older. He’s a puny, feeble, fake old man, and he wants to live forever.”
“He wants to what?” spluttered Boy.
“He wants to live forever,” Maxim said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “There is no one to succeed him. He is the last of a direct family line that stretches back for seven centuries at least. When he dies . . .”
“And so he wants to live forever, instead? He’s mad!”
Maxim glanced at Boy, not very interested.
“I should have you killed for that. But yes, you’re right. Unfortunately for me, I have to find a way of making him immortal, before he gets tired of my failing to do so.”
“I see,” said Boy. “Or rather, I don’t see. He wants to be made immortal. Say you find the book, say you find the book and find an answer. What then?”
Now Maxim did seem interested in what Boy was saying.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, suppose the book tells you a magical thing to do to him, to make him live forever. A spell or whatever. You do this thing to the emperor, and he thinks he’s immortal.”
“What of it?”
“Well, how’s he going to know any different unless he dies?”
There was a long silence, during which Maxim stared hard at Boy. The moment was broken by a knock at the door. The younger serving girl came in.
“Maxim, sir,” she began.
“Not now!” Maxim shouted.
“But, sir, the emperor wants you. Right now, sir.”
“Dammit!” Maxim said, rising from his chair. “Very well, I’m coming.”
He turned to Boy.
“Don’t go anywhere, will you?” he said, smiling. “You’ve reached the end of your usefulness. You will stay here until I think what to do with you.”
Boy stood up.
“But, sir,” the girl said to Maxim. “His Highness wants to see Boy, too. He says he’s to attend court from now on.”
Maxim swore and grabbed her by the arm.
“Are you sure?” he barked, but there was no reason to suppose otherwise. He let her go, kicked a chair over and stormed from the room.
“Get here!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Boy skittered out the door after Maxim, marveling at how his life might just have been saved by the City’s legendary, lunatic, decrepit emperor.
9
Willow. The first thing Boy saw on entering court, through the crowds of people, was Willow. She had spotted him immediately too, and smiled. Boy risked a smile back, while Maxim’s attention was taken with hurrying over to the emperor, who was already sitting in his throne, awaiting them.
“So, Maxim, you have failed again!”
The emperor’s weedy voice sailed over the hushed courtroom. The silence that followed was absolute.
Boy could sense the tension in the room. Even during his short time there he had learnt what a perilous existence they all led, living on the emperor’s whims. Maxim was no exception.
“Well, Maxim, what do you have to say?”
Boy took his chance.
He had lagged behind Maxim, on whom the whole attention of the court was now focused. Ever so slowly, trying to think himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, Boy sidestepped toward Willow and Kepler. No one seemed to notice; all eyes in the room were fixed on the scene playing out between Frederick and Maxim.
“Well! You have failed to find the book! What exactly do you intend to do now?”
Maxim took a step forward and seemed to be about to speak, but Frederick was working himself up into a rage.
“I charge you with one simple duty, and you consistently fail to deliver your promises! I swear you are doing it deliberately! You want me to die, do you? Do you? Well, you’ll be gone long before me, Maxim. I’ve had enough! I’ve had enough of your pathetic excuses, and it won’t be allowed to continue!”
Boy had made it to Willow’s side.
He brushed the back of her hand with his, but could think of nothing to say.
“Boy,” Willow said.
Kepler turned and saw who it was.
He smiled, then frowned. He glared at Boy.
“You mustn’t be seen with us,” he hissed. “It’s dangerous.”
“You don’t understand,” Boy whispered back. “It’s more dangerous here than you know.”
“What do you mean?” Willow asked.
Boy was about to answer, but one of the ladies standing nearby was looking at them. Boy turned away from Willow and pretended to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. After a while he spoke to Willow without looking at her, keeping his eyes on Frederick and Maxim.
“It’s dangerous. Those two for a start,” he whispered, and nodded slightly toward the dais. “But there’s something else. The Phantom. The Phantom lives here, under the palace.”
Boy risked looking round at Willow. Her face was a picture of confusion. Boy looked forward again.
“Later,” he whispered so quietly that only she could hear. “Meet me here tonight.”
Finally Maxim managed to speak.
“Sire, I wonder how you came across the news that I do not have the book?”
“From the captain of the Imperial Guard.”
“But my men—”
“Your men, Maxim? Your men? The Imperial Guard are mine. They do not serve you! They serve me! You forget your place. The Imperial Guard exist to serve me, and earlier today I spoke to their captain, who tells me that the book was not found on their expedition across the City!”
Frederick was so angry that he might do anything.
“But, sire,” Maxim said calmly, “we do have the book.”
He stopped to emphasize his words.
“What?” said Frederick, crisply.
Boy and Willow were transfixed.
“We do have the book,” Maxim continued. “It was found on the mission to the City. Even now it is in my chambers. I was on my way here to bring you this great news. I will begin consultation immediately, after I have . . . spoken to the captain of the Guard.”
Boy turned to Willow, who shook her head ever so slightly. Of course he didn’t have the book, so what game was he playing at? Whatever it was, Boy knew the stakes were being raised ever higher with each passing moment.
“When can I see it?” Frederick asked deliberately.
“But, sire, I thought it best if it remained safe with me,” Maxim said cautiously. He approached the dais, and whispered.
“After what happened . . . before, it might be best to keep it hidden. . . .”
Frederick’s face was a horrible picture. Memories contorted his features into anguish. The look froze on his face, briefly; then he shook himself.
“Yes,” he said, feebly. “Yes. You’re right.”
Maxim stood upright again and spoke brightly.
“Is it not wonderful news? At last our goal is in sight.”
Frederick nodded, looking like a child in his huge throne.
“Yes” was all he said.
“I shall ensconce myself in my rooms. I will devote all hours of day and night to this endeavor. I will consult and scry and when I have an answer from the book we will prepare to make you . . . immortal!”
He finished with a flourish so extravagant that the whole court burst into applause without even really wanting to.
Frederick sat on his throne, his mouth twitching slightly, as he tried and failed to regain his composure, though no one noticed.
While people were talking and clapping, Boy leant in to Willow so that only she could hear him.
“Are you locked in?”
Willow shook her head.
“Good, the
n tonight. After midnight.”
Kepler grabbed Willow’s arm and began to pull her away. She was about to protest when she saw that Maxim was striding toward Boy. The court was over and people were starting to leave. Maxim came up to Boy and glanced at Willow and Kepler. He seemed to be about to say something.
“Are we going now?” Boy said quickly to Maxim, trying to show no interest in Willow or Kepler. “Can I help you?”
Maxim was still looking at Willow, a question on his lips, but now he turned to Boy.
“Help me? Help me!” he snorted. He grabbed Boy and began to walk him out of the court. Boy dared not risk a look back at Willow.
“Of course you can’t help me. But unfortunately, Emperor Frederick thinks you are useful, so you will come with me for the time being. When I have made him immortal, however, it will be a different story.”
They had left the room now and were heading back upstairs.
“What?” Boy asked. “What will happen to me then?”
Maxim didn’t break step.
“You will have outlived your usefulness. You and all those tricksters and charlatans who hang around him like flies on a carcass.”
“But you don’t even have the book!” Boy cried.
That did make Maxim stop. He slapped his hand over Boy’s mouth and pushed him against a wall.
“Do you want everyone in the palace to hear?” he snapped. “Keep that to yourself, or I’ll finish you now, and tell Frederick you had an accident.”
He held his hand on Boy’s mouth, until a serving girl appeared at one end of the corridor. He let Boy go and pulled him into a walk again.
“So be careful,” he said. “Be careful what you say. Anyway, you won’t have a chance to speak to anyone else. You can stay in your room until I’m ready for you.”
“But how are you going to make him immortal? You don’t have the book.”
They were at the doors to Boy’s chamber.
Maxim pushed him inside and closed the door behind them, so the guard outside could not hear.
“No!” he said. “I don’t have the book. And I don’t need it either.”
He turned to leave, and opened the door again.
“I don’t understand,” Boy said.
“Really? You should. It was you who provided the solution. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself. I have been too absorbed by it all, maybe. It doesn’t matter now. You will excuse me. I have to visit the captain of the Guard. I think it’s time he was replaced.”
10
Night in the palace.
Different worlds enacted themselves in different parts of the palace, but it would have been a mistake to suppose these worlds were entirely isolated from each other, for they were all part of a single, if intricate, dance.
In the Royal Bedchambers, Frederick snored gently, muttering in his sleep, through which pleasant dreams of his coming immortality wrestled with nightmares of less pleasant things, things from the past that he had thought were forgotten. He wore a red nightcap, whose long red tassel dangled across his face, looking in the half-light like a trail of dried blood.
He turned in his sleep, calling out from time to time, but not waking. The guards at his door ignored it all, being well used to the emperor’s ways.
Nearby in the adjacent wing of the palace, the emperor’s right hand, confidante, doctor, servant, advisor and counselor, Maxim, paced around his study. Finally he sat down in a velvet armchair by the fire, and scratched his bald head. He was weighing up certain matters. He had an answer for Frederick now. He had a solution. If it worked, then all would be well, and Maxim would be safe. If it failed, then the irritable old fool might have him sent down that dreadful stairway. But he had decided one thing, and that was that to fail to act at all would probably be fatal anyway. Frederick was getting more erratic with each day that passed. Maxim knew he was living on borrowed time, and that he had stalled as much as he was able to. He had to do something now.
Idly he threw more coals onto the fire, and as he did so, thoughts flowed into his head. What a strange life it had been! He didn’t want it to end now, but there had been so much death, so much killing, and now that he was older, and maybe a little wiser, he saw it as a disease. Death had been all around him for so long, and he felt in very real danger of catching the dying disease himself.
When he’d been in the dungeons he’d heard Bedrich singing that song, the song from so long ago, written by Sophia Beebe. Since he’d heard it again he hadn’t been able to shift it from his mind for very long. It seemed so apt at the moment; maybe that was why all these thoughts of the past were coming back to him now, all these thoughts of death.
Had she even used the book herself? Foreseen her own future, and that of everyone else tied up in its demonic designs? It was an appalling thought, one that made him feel powerless. Still the tune ran through his head, and he hummed to himself.
Surely you won’t run,
When your boat is ready to sail.
Surely you will stand
And face the gentle rain?
In the morning you should think
You might not last unto the night,
In the evening you should think
You might not last unto the morn.
So dance, my dears, dance,
Before you take the dark flight down.
Maxim stopped humming and bitterly spat into the fire. He was far from ready to take the journey, the long dark journey to oblivion. He would beat the emperor at his own game yet, and do away with all the hangers-on who made his life so much more complicated than it need be. If it was just him and the emperor, he could control things. One way or the other, it would be over soon.
And then there was Boy, who once again sat by the darkening window watching the snow unbelievably still falling from the clouded heavens, hiding all trace of dirt and grime from view. He waited until it was dark and then waited some more. Someone brought him his supper, and he ate it gratefully enough. He reflected grimly that he was eating better than he ever had in his life, and yet he wanted nothing more than to escape.
Escape.
It was the only thing to do. Find Willow and escape. Kepler could look after himself as far as Boy was concerned.
Boy waited all through the dark evening, after his tray had been taken away, waited and waited for each tolling of the City and palace bells, until midnight came. As he waited he inevitably started to think about Valerian. Valerian, his father. No, he didn’t know that for sure, but he felt it. At least, he felt there was something in the way Kepler had tried to conceal what he had spoken, that told him it was the truth. And what then? If he had lived with his father all those years, being bullied and tormented, and not even realized it? Did that bring him peace? It might not tell him everything, and he might never know who his mother was, but it would be a start. At least then he would know something about himself, in the way other people did.
The midnight bells struck softly through the snow-laden night. Once again Boy made his way with his lockpick down the secret stairwell, but this time headed for the court itself. He knew his way around a few parts of the palace quite well now, from his rooms to the court, but nonetheless he felt on unknown ground as he approached the huge chamber. By night, and with no one else around, it was a very different place. During the day, it was full of color and life and people and wealth. By night, it was a different thing. The place seemed even bigger when empty, and the colors muted. It was a deserted, forgotten place. Haunted.
Boy stole across the marble ocean of the floor, and was happier when his footfalls landed on thick carpets instead. He tried to decide where to wait for Willow, and spotted a corner by the side of the fireplace that would be perfect. He was making for it when Willow stepped from the shadows.
“Boy!” she cried, and rushed to him.
They held each other for a long time before either of them spoke again.
Finally they pulled apart, and looked at each other. There were too many
questions. Too many words that needed to be spoken.
“How are you?”
“What happened? You didn’t come. . . .”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was captured. There was no way to tell you. . . .”
Willow held Boy’s hands. They moved and sat down next to each other on the dais, just in front of the throne. Two small figures dwarfed by the vastness of the darkened courtroom.
“What did you mean about the Phantom?” Willow asked.
“Just what I said!” Boy said. “It lives in the palace, under it really. I was kept in the dungeons, and there’s a flight of stairs that leads down to somewhere even deeper. That’s where it lives, then comes out to . . .”
Boy stopped. He didn’t want to think about it.
“And they don’t know about it?”
“Oh yes, they do. Well, Maxim does, at least. They seem to tolerate it, as long as it doesn’t murder in the palace itself.”
“Don’t worry,” Willow said, seeing Boy was upset by it. “We’re together again, now.”
“But what did you think when I didn’t meet you by the fountain?”
“I knew. I knew you wouldn’t just leave me. But I was so worried.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“A feather. They left a white feather behind in the house. Kepler said it was the Imperial Guard.”
“He was right. I should thank him for that, at least.”
Willow shrugged.
“I don’t like him. I suppose he’s trying to help, but I really don’t like him.”
“He’s come here to get me back, I suppose?”
Willow nodded.
“I don’t understand,” Boy said. “I know he thinks I belong to him now that Valerian’s gone, but you wouldn’t think he’d risk his life to get me, would you?”
“Never mind,” Willow said. “We can forget him. Boy, let’s just get out of here and start again, as we meant to.”
“Yes,” said Boy. “Yes.”
“There is one thing, though. I don’t know if there’s a good time to tell you, so I think I should tell you now.”
“What?” Boy asked, wondering why he suddenly felt scared.
Willow hesitated.
The Dark Flight Down Page 12
