It was certainly fresh and cold.
He took the horse's reins in hand, and climbed up on to its back.
He could not have survived such a fever without warmth. Without water. He should be parched with thirst, and he wasn't. And yet no one had been here.
As he urged the horse to a gallop he thought about the power of vision; whether Sapphique had been an aspect of his own mind, or a real being. None of it was that simple. There were whole shelves of texts back in the Library discussing the powers of the visionary imagination, of memory and dreams.
Jared smiled wanly to the trees of the wood.
For him it had happened. That was what mattered.
He rode hard. By midday he was in the lands of the Wardenry, tired, but surprising himself by his endurance. At a farm he climbed down a little stiffly and was given milk and cheese by the farmer, a stout, perspiring man who seemed on edge, his glance always wandering to the horizon.
When Jared offered money the man pressed it back at him. 'No, Master. A Sapient once treated my wife for free and I've never forgotten that. But a word of advice. Flurry on now, wherever you're bound. There's trouble brewing here
'Trouble?' Jared looked at him.
'I've heard the Lady Claudia is condemned. And that lad with her, the one who claims to be the Prince.' 'He is the Prince.'
The farmer pulled a face. 'Whatever you say, Master. High politics are not for me. But this I do know; the Queen has an army on the march, and they're maybe at the Wardenry itself by now. I had three outlying barns fired by them yesterday, and sheep snatched. Thieving scum.'
Jared stared at him in cold terror. Grabbing the horse he said, 'I would be grateful, sir, if you hadn't seen me. You understand?'
The farmer nodded. 'In these hard times, Master, only the silent are wise.'
He was afraid now He rode more carefully, taking field paths and bridleways, keeping to deep lanes between high hedges. In one place, crossing a road, he saw the tracks of hooves and waggons; deep ruts of wheels dragging some heavy ironware. He rubbed the horse's coarse inane.
Where was Claudia? What had happened at Court?
By late afternoon he came up a track into a small copse of beeches on a hilltop. The trees were quiet, their leaves brushed only by a faint breeze, full of the tiny whistlings of invisible birds.
Jared climbed down, and stood for a moment letting the ache ease in his back and legs. Then he tied up the horse and walked cautiously through the bronze leaf-litter, ankle — deep in its rustling crispness.
Under the beeches nothing grew; he moved from tree to tree, awkwardly, but only a fox confronted him. 'Master Fox,' Jared muttered.
The fox paused a second. Then it turned and trotted away.
Reassured, he moved to the edge of the trees and crouched behind a broad trunk. Carefully, he peered round it.
An army was encamped on the broad hillside. All around the ancient house of the Wardenry there were tents and waggons and the glint of armour. Squadrons of cavalry rode in arrogant display; a mass of soldiers were digging a great trench in the wide lawns.
Jared drew in a breath of dismay.
He could see more men arriving down the lanes; pikemen led by drummers and a fife-player, the reedy whistle audible even up here. Flags fluttered everywhere, and to the left, tinder a brilliant standard of the white rose, a great pavilion was being raised by sweating men.
The Queen's tent.
He looked at the house. The windows were shuttered, the drawbridge tightly raised. On the roof of the gatehouse metal glinted; he thought there were men up there, and perhaps the light cannon that were kept there had been prepared and moved up to the battlements. His own tower had someone on its parapet.
He breathed out and turned, sitting knees up in the dead leaves.
This was a disaster. There was no way the Wardenry could withstand any sort of sustained attack. Its walls were thick but it was a fortified manor and not a castle.
Claudia must simply be playing for time. She must be planning to use the Portal.
The thought made him agitated; he stood and paced. She had no idea of the dangers of that device! He had to get inside before she tried anything so foolish.
The horse whickered.
He froze, hearing the tread behind him, the footsteps through the rustling leaves.
And then the voice, lightly mocking. 'Well, Master Jared. Aren't you supposed to be dead?'
'How many?' Finn asked.
Claudia had a visor that magnified things. She was staring through it now, counting. 'Seven. Eight. I'm not sure what's on that contraption to the left of the Queen's tent
'It barely matters.' Captain Soames, a grey, stocky man, sounded gloomy. 'Eight pieces of ordnance could shell us all to pieces.'
'What do we have?' Finn asked quietly.
'Two cannon, my lord. One authentic Era, the other a mishmash of base metal — it will likely explode if we try to fire it. Crossbows, arquebuses, pikemen, archers. Ten men with muskets. About eighty cavalry'
'I've known worse odds,' Finn said, thinking of a few ambushes the Comitatus had tried.
'I'm sure,' Claudia said acidly. 'And what were the casualties like?'
He shrugged. 'In the Prison, no one counted.'
Below them, a trumpet rang out, once, twice, three times. With a great grinding of gears, the drawbridge began to creak down.
Captain Soames went to the circular stair. 'Steady there. And be prepared to pull it up if I give the order.'
Claudia lowered the visor. 'They're looking. No one's making any moves.'
'The Queen hasn't arrived. A man who came in last night says she and the Council are making a royal progress to show off the Pretender; they're in Mayfleld, and will be here in hours.'
With a thud, the drawbridge was down. The flock of black swans on the moat skidded noisily down to the weedy end and flapped.
Claudia leant over the battlements.
The women walked out slowly, with bundles on their backs. Some carried children. Older girls walked hand in hand with their brothers and sisters. They turned, waving at the windows. Behind, on a great wain pulled by the biggest carthorse, the older servants that were leaving sat stoically, rocking with the bumps on the wooden bridge.
Finn counted twenty-two. 'Is Ralph going?'
Claudia laughed. 'I ordered him to. He said, 'Yes, my
lady. And what will you be requiring for dinner tonight?" He thinks this place would fall down without him.'
'He, like all of us, serves the Warden,' Captain Soames said. 'No disrespect to you, my lady, but the Warden is our master. If he's not here, we guard his house.'
Claudia frowned. 'My father doesn't deserve any of you.' But she said it so quietly only Finn heard her.
When Soames had gone to supervise the drawbridge being raised Finn stood beside her, watching the girls trudge down into the Queen's camp.
'They'll be questioned. Who's here, our plans.'
'I know. But I won't be responsible for their deaths.'
'You think it will come to that?'
She glanced at him. 'We have to set up talks. Play for time. Work on the Portal'
Finn nodded. She walked past him to the stairs and said over her shoulder, 'Come on. You shouldn't stand up here. One arrow from that camp and it would be all over.'
He looked at her, and just as she got to the stairs he said, 'You do believe me, Claudia, don't you? I need you to believe that I remember.'
'Of course I believe you,' she said. 'Now come on.' But she had her back to him, and she didn't turn around.
'It's dark. Hold that torch higher.'
Keiro's voice came impatiently down the shaft; the echoes made it hollow and strange. Attia stretched up as high as she could, but the torchlight showed her nothing of him. Below her Rix shouted, 'What can you see?' 'I can't see anything. I'm going on.'
Scrapes and clangs. Muttered swearing that the shaft took and whispered to itself. Worried, Attia called, 'Be carefu
l.'
He didn't bother to answer. The ladder twisted and jerked as she struggled to hold it still; Rix came and hauled on it with all his weight, and it was easier. She said, 'Listen, Rix. While we're alone. You have to listen to me. Keiro will steal the Glove from you. Why not pull a stunt on him?'
He smiled, sly. 'You mean give it to you, and carry a fake one? Oh my poor Attia. Is this the limit of your cunning? A child could do better.'
She glared at him. 'At least I won't give it to the Prison. At least I won't kill us all.'
He winked. 'Incarceron is my father, Attia. I am born of its cells. It will not betray me.'
Disgusted, she gripped the ladder.
And realized it was still.
'Keiro?'
They waited, hearing the thud-thud, thud-thud, of the Prison's heart. 'Keiro? Answer me.'
The ladder swung easily now. No one was on it.
'Keiro!'
There was a sound but it was muffled and far away. Hastily she shoved the torch into Rix's hands. 'He's found something. I'm going up.'
As she hauled herself up the first slippery rungs he said, 'If it's trouble, say the word "problem". I'll understand.'
She stared at his pock-marked face, his gap-toothed grin. Then she swung down and put her face close to his. 'Just how crazy are you, Rix? A lot, or not at all? Because I'm beginning to be very unsure.'
He arched one eyebrow. 'I am the Dark Enchanter, Attia. I am unknowable.'
The ladder wriggled and slid under her as if it was alive. She turned and climbed quickly, soon breathless, hauling her weight up. Her hands slid on the mud Keiro's boots had left; the heat grew as she went up, a murky sulphurous stench that reminded her uneasily of Rix's idea of the magma chamber.
Her arms ached. Each step now was an effort and the torch, far below, was no more than a spark in the darkness. She hauled herself up one more rung and hung, giddily.
And then she realized there was no shaft wall in front of her, but a faintly lit space.
And a pair of boots.
They were black, rather battered, with a silver buckle on one and broken stitching on the other. And whoever wore them was bending down, because his shadow was over her and he was saying, 'How very pleasant to meet you again, Attia.'
And he reached down and grabbed her chin and jerked her face up and she saw his cold smile.
27
Watch, be silent, act only when the moment is right.
THE STEEL WOLVES
The study door looked exactly the same; black as ebony, the black swan spitting defiance down at them, its eye bright as diamond.
'This opened it once before.' Claudia waited impatiently as the disc hummed. Behind her, Finn stood in the long corridor, gazing down at the vases and suits of armour.
'A bit better than the Court cellars,' he said. 'But are you sure it will be the same Portal? How can it be?'
The disc clicked. 'Don't ask me.' She reached up and snapped it off. 'Jared had a theory it was some halfway point between here and the Prison
'Meaning we lose size in there?'
'I don't know.' The door lock chuntered, she turned the handle, and it opened.
When he followed her in through the dizzying threshold Finn stared around. Then he nodded. 'Amazing.'
The Portal was the room he had grown to know in the Palace. All Jared's contraptions and wires still trailed from the controls; the huge feather lay curled in a corner, drifting as the breeze took it. The room hummed in its tilted silence, its solitary desk and chair enigmatic as ever.
Claudia crossed the floor and said, 'Incarceron.'
A small drawer rolled open. Inside he saw a black cushion with an empty key-shape in it. 'This is where I stole the Key. It seems so long ago. I was so scared that day! So. Where do we start?'
He shrugged. 'You're the one who had Jared for a tutor.'
'He worked too fast to explain everything to me.'
'Well, there must be notes. Diagrams. .
'There are.' Piled on the desk were pages of writing in Jared's spidery script; a book of drawings, lists of equations. Claudia picked one up and sighed. 'We'd better start. This could take all night.'
He didn't answer so she looked up and saw his face. She stood quickly. 'Finn.'
He was pale; there was a tinge of blue around his lips. She grabbed him and made him sit on the floor, kicking circuits aside. 'Be calm. Breathe slowly. Have you got any of those pills Jared made up?'
He shook his head, feeling the prickling agony invade and darken his sight, feeling the shame and sheer anger flood him. 'I'll be fine he heard himself mumble. 'I'll be fine.'
He preferred darkness. He put his hands over his eyes and sat there, against the grey wall, numb, breathing, counting.
After a while Claudia went; there was shouting, running feet. A cup was pressed into his hand. 'Water: she said. Then, 'Ralph will stay with you. I have to go. The Queen has come.'
He wanted to stand but couldn't. He wanted her to stay but she was gone.
Ralph's hand was on his shoulder; the quavery voice in his ear. 'I'm with you, sire.' This shouldn't happen. If he remembered, he was cured. He should be cured.
Attia climbed over the top of the ladder and stood upright.
The Warden dropped her hand. 'Welcome to the heart of Incarceron.'
They eyed each other. He wore a dark suit still, but his skin was grained now with the dirt of the Prison, his hair unkempt and greying. A firelock was thrust into his belt.
Behind him, in the red room Keiro stood, looking as if his temper was under tight control. Three men held weapons on him.
'Our thief friend here does not seem to have the Glove. So you must.'
Attia shrugged. 'Wrong again.' She took her coat off and flung it down. 'See for yourself' The Warden raised an eyebrow. He kicked the coat to one of the Prisoners, who searched it rapidly. 'Nothing, sire.'
'Then I must search you, Attia.'
He was rough and thorough and she scorched with anger but when the muffled cry came up the shaft he stopped abruptly. 'Is that the mountebank Rix?'
She was surprised he didn't know. 'Yes.'
'Get him up here. Now.'
She walked to the edge of the shaft and crouched down. 'Rix! Come up. It's safe. No problems.'
The Warden pulled her back, and made a sign to one of his men. As Rix made his may noisily up the swinging ladder the man knelt, aiming his firelock directly at the hole. When Rix's head came up, he stared straight into the muzzle of the gun.
'Slowly, magician.' The Warden crouched, his eyes grey and ashen. 'Very slowly, if you want to keep your head.' Attia glanced at Keiro. He raised his eyebrows and she shook her head, the tiniest movement. They watched Rix. He climbed out of the shaft and held his hands wide of his body.
'The Glove?' the Warden said.
'Hidden. In a secret place which I will divulge only to Incarceron itself.'
The Warden sighed, took out a handkerchief that was still almost white, and wiped his hands. Wearily he said, 'Search him.'
They were even harder on Rix. A few blows to keep him quiet, his pack ripped apart, his body scoured.
They found hidden coins, coloured handkerchiefs, two mice, a collapsible dove cage. They found hidden pockets, false sleeves, reversible linings. But no Glove.
The Warden sat watching, and Keiro lazed defiantly on the tiled floor. Attia took the chance to stare round.
They were in a vast hail of black and white tiles. It stretched into the distance, the walls hung with red satin, sagging in great swathes. At the far end, so distant it could barely be seen, was a long table flanked by standing candlesticks, branches lit with tiny flames.
Finally the prisoners stood back. 'There's nothing else on him, sire. He's clean.'
Behind her, Attia felt Keiro sit up slowly.
'I see.' The Warden's smile was wintry 'Well, Rix, you disappoint me. But if you wish to speak to Incarceron, then speak. The Prison hears you.'
Rix bo
wed. He buttoned his ragged coat and summoned his dignity. 'Then the Prison's majesty will hear my request. I ask to speak to Incarceron face to face. As Sapphique did.'
There was a soft laughter.
It came out of the walls and the floor and the roof, and the armed men looked round in terror.
'What do you say to that?' the Warden asked.
I say the Prisoner is over-bold, and that I could devour him now and scour the very circuits of his brain for this knowledge.
Rix knelt, humbly. 'All my life I have dreamt of you. I have guarded your Glove, and I have longed to bring it to you. Allow your servant this privilege.'
Keiro snorted with scorn.
Rix glanced at Attia.
His eyes flickered to the shaft, then back. it was such a swift movement she almost missed it, but she looked, and saw the string.
It was barely visible, very thin and transparent, the stuff he used in his act for levitating objects. It was looped round a rung of the ladder, and it trailed down into the shaft. Of course. There had been no Eyes in the shaft.
She made a small step towards it.
The Prison's voice was cool and metallic. I am so moved, Rix. The Warden will bring you to me, and yes, you will see me face to face. You will tell me where the Glove is and then for your reward I will very slowly and very carefully destroy you, atom by atom, for centuries. You will scream like the prisoners in your patchbooks, like Prometheus eaten daily by the eagle, like Loki as poison drips on his face. When I have Escaped and everyone else is dead your struggles will still convulse the Prison.
Rix bowed, white-faced.
John Arlex.
The Warden said drily, 'What now?' Bring them all.
Attia moved. With a yell to Keiro she jumped for the shaft, was racing down it. The string swung; she grabbed at it, hauled it up, snatched the dry scaly thing it held, thrust it down her shirt.
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