Sappique

by Catherine Fisher

  Attia dreamt of Sapphique. Some time in the night he came out of the forest and sat down next to her, stirring up the glowing ashes of the fire with a long stick, and she rolled over and stared at him. His long dark hair shadowed his face. The high collar of his robe was worn and frayed. He said, ‘The light is going.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can’t you feel it being used up? Fading away?’ He glanced at her sideways. ‘The light is slipping through our hands.’

  She glanced at the hand holding the charred stick. The right forefinger was missing, its stump seamed white with scars. She whispered, ‘Where is it going, Master?’

  ‘Into the Prison’s dreams.’ He stirred the fire, and his face was narrow and strained. ‘This is all my fault, Attia. I showed Incarceron that there is a way Out.’

  ‘Tell me how.’ Her voice was urgent; she shuffled up close to him. ‘How you did it. How you Escaped.’

  ‘Every Prison has a crack.’

  ‘What crack?’

  He smiled. ‘The tiniest, most secret way. So small the Prison does not even know it exists.’

  ‘But where is it? And does the Key open it, the Key the Warden has?’

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  ‘The Key unlocks only the Portal.’

  She suddenly felt cold with fear, because he replicated before her, a whole line of him like images in a mirror, like the Chain-gang in its manacles of flesh.

  She shook her head, bewildered. ‘We have your Glove. Keiro says—’

  ‘Don’t put your hand into that of a beast.’ His words whispered through the spiny undergrowth. ‘Or you will be made to do its work. Keep my Glove safe for me, Attia.’

  The fire crackled. Ashes shifted. He became his own shadow, and was gone.

  She must have slept again because it seemed hours later when the clink of metal woke her, and she sat up and saw Keiro saddling the horse. She wanted to tell him about the dream, but it was already hard to remember. Instead she yawned, and stared up at the Prison’s distant ceiling. After a while she said, ‘Do the lights seem different to you?’

  Keiro tugged the girth straps. ‘Different how?’

  ‘Weaker.’

  He glanced at her, then up. For a minute he was still. Then he went on loading the horse. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’m sure they are.’ Incarceron’s lights were always powerful, but now there seemed a faint flicker to them. She said,’lf the Prison is really building a body for itself it must be using enormous reserves of power to do it. Draining energy from its systems. Maybe the Ice Wing isn’t the only 163

  wing shut down. We haven’t seen anyone since that creature back there. Where are they all?’

  Keiro stood back. ‘Can’t say I care.’

  ‘You should.’

  He shrugged. ‘Rule of the Scum. Care for no one but your brother.’

  ‘Sister

  ‘I told you, you’re temporary.’

  Later, climbing up behind him on to the horse she said,

  ‘What happens when we get to wherever Incarceron is

  taking us? Are you just going to hand over the Glove?’

  She felt Keiro’s snort of laughter through his gaudy scarlet jerkin. ‘Watch and learn, Iitt1e dog—slave.’

  ‘You haven’t got a clue. Keiro, listen to me! We can’t help it do this!’

  ‘Not even for a way Out?’

  ‘For you, maybe. But what about the others? What about everyone else?’

  Keiro urged the horse to a run. ‘No one in this hell-hole has ever cared for me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Finn...’

  ‘Not even Finn. So why should I care for them? They’re not me, Attia. They don’t exist for me.’

  It was useless arguing with him. But as they rode into the dim undergrowth she let herself think of the terror of it, of the Prison shutting down, the lights going off and never coming back on, the cold spreading. Systems would seize 164

  up, foodslots shut down. Ice would form quickly and

  unstoppably, through whole wings, down corridors, over bridges. Chains would become masses of rust. Towns would freeze, the houses cold and deserted, the market stalls collapsed under howling snowdrifts. The air would turn to poison. And the people! There was no way to imagine them, the panic, the fear and loneliness, the trampling savagery such a collapse would unleash, the bloody struggle for survival. It would be the destruction of a world.

  The Prison would withdraw its mind, and leave its children to their fate.

  Around them, light faded to a green gloom. The path was cindery and silent, the horse’s hooves muffled in the incinerated dust. Attia whispered, ‘Do you believe that the Warden is in here?’

  ‘If so, things are not going smoothly for my princely brother.’ He sounded preoccupied.

  ‘If he’s still alive.’

  ‘I told you, Finn can bluff his way out of anything. Forget him.’ Keiro peered into the gloom. ‘We’ve got our own troubles.’

  She scowled. The way he talked about Finn annoyed her, his pretence of not caring, of not being hurt. Sometimes she wanted to scream her anxiety at him but that would be useless, would only draw the grin, the cool shrug. There was an armour round Keiro. He wore it flamboyantly and

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  invisibly. It was as part of him as his dirty yellow hair, his hard blue eyes. Only once, when the Prison had cruelly shown them his imperfection, had she ever glimpsed

  through it. And she knew he would never forgive Incarceron for that, or for what he felt he was.

  The horse stopped.

  It whickered. Its ears flattened.

  Alert, Keiro said, ‘See anything?’

  Great briars wreathed round them, barbed with spines.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  But she could hear something. A small sound, very far off, like a whisper from a nightmare.

  Keiro had heard it too. He turned, listening. ‘A voice? What’s it saying?’

  Faint, repeated over and over, a tiny breath of triple syllables.

  She kept very still. It seemed crazy, impossible. But.

  ‘I think it’s calling my name,’ she said.

  ‘Attia! Attia, can you hear me?’

  Jared adjusted the output and tried again. He was hungry but the bread roll on the platter was hard and dry. Still, it was better than feasting upstairs with the Queen.

  Would she notice he wasn’t there? He prayed not, and the anxiety made his fingers tremble on the controls.

  Over his head the screen was a stripped—down mass of wires and circuitry, cables rigged into and out of its 166

  connectors. The Portal was silent, apart from its usual hum. Jared had grown to like its silence. It soothed him, so that even the pain that pushed its jagged edge into his chest seemed blunted down here. Somewhere high above, the

  labyrinth of the Court teemed with intrigue, tower on tower, chamber within chamber, and beyond the stables and

  gardens lay the countryside of the Realm, wide and perfect in its beauty under the stars.

  He was a dark flaw in the heart of that beauty He felt the guilt of it, and it made him work with agitated concentration. Since the Queen’s silken blackmail, her offer of the Academy’s bidden lore, he had barely been able to sleep, lying awake in his narrow bed, or pacing the gardens so deep in hope and fear that it had taken hours for him to notice how closely she was having him followed.

  So, just before the banquet, he had sent her a brief note. I accept your offer. I leave for the Academy tomorrow at dawn. Jared Sapiens

  Every word had been a wound, a betrayal. That was why he was here now.

  Two men had followed him to the Sapients’ Tower, he had made sure of that, but Protocol meant that they had not been able to enter. The Tower here at Court was a great stone keep full of the apartments of the Queen’s Sapienti, and unlike his own at home at the Wardenry this was a

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  model of Era, a maze of orreries and alchemical alembics and leatherbound books, a mockery of lea
rning. But it was a true labyrinth, and in his first days here he had discovered passageways and covered vaults that led discreetly out to the stables, the kitchens, the laundry rooms, the stills. Losing the Queen’s men had been almost too easy.

  But he had made sure. For weeks now the staircase down to the Portal had been guarded by his own devices. Half of the spiders that hung on plastic webs in the dirty cellars were his observers.

  ‘Attia. Attia. Can you hear me? This is Jared. Please answer.’

  This was his last chance. The Warden’s appearance had shown him that the screen still worked. That artful flickering out had not fooled Jared — Claudia’s father had switched off rather than answer Finn’s question.

  At first he had thought of searching for Keiro, but Attia was safer. He had sampled the recordings of her voice, the images of her he and Claudia had seen through the Key; using the finding mechanism he had once seen the Warden use he had experimented for hours with the complicated imputs. Suddenly, when he had been almost ready to give up, the Portal had sparked and crackled into life. He hoped it was searching, pinpointing the girl in the vastness of the Prison, but it had been humming all night now and in his weariness he could no longer keep out the feeling that it wasn’t really achieving anything at all.

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  He drank the last of the water, then reached into his pocket and brought out the Warden’s watch and put it on the desk. The tiny cube clicked on the metal surface.

  The Warden had told him that this cube was Incarceron. He spun it gently, with his little finger.

  So small.

  So mysterious.

  A prison you could hang on your watchchain.

  He had subjected it to every analysis he knew, and there were no readings. It had no density, no magnetic field, no whisper of power. No instrument he possessed had been able to penetrate its silvery silence. It was a cube of unknown composition, and inside it was another world.

  Or so the Warden had told him.

  It struck Jared now that they had only John Arlex’s word for that. What if it had just been his last taunting legacy to his daughter? What if it had been a lie?

  Was that why he, Jared, hadn’t told her yet?

  He had to do it now. She should know.The thought that she should also know about his arrangement with the Queen rose up at once and tormented him.

  He said, ‘Attia, Attia. Answer me. Please.’

  But all that answered was a sharp beep in his pocket. He whipped out the scanner and swore softly. Maybe the

  watchers had got tired of snoring on the Tower doorstep and come looking for him.

  Someone was creeping through the cellars.

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  * * *

  ‘We should stay on the path,’ Keiro snapped down at her; she was staring intently into the undergrowth.

  ‘I tell you I heard it. My name.’

  Keiro scowled and slid down from the horse. ‘We can’t ride in there.’

  ‘Then we crawl’ She had crouched, was on hands and knees. In the green gloom a tangle of roots sprawled under the high leaves. ‘Underneath. It has to be fairly close!’

  Keiro hesitated. ‘If we turn aside the Prison will think we’re double-crossing it.’

  ‘Since when were you scared of Incarceron?’ She looked up at him and he stared back hard, because she always seemed to know just how to needle him. Then she said, ‘Wait here. I’ll go on my own,’ and crawled in.

  With a hiss of irritation Keiro tethered the horse tight and crawled in after her. The leaf litter was a mass of tiny brittle foliage; he felt it crunch under his knees, stab through his gloves. The roots were vast, a snaky smooth mesh of metal. After a while he realized they were great cables, snaking out into the Prison’s soil, supporting the foliage like a canopy. There was hardly room to raise his head, and over his bent back briars and thorns and brambles of steel tore and snagged his hair.

  ‘Keep lower,’ Attia muttered. ‘Lie flat.’

  Keiro swore long and viciously as his scarlet coat ripped at the shoulder. ‘For god’s sake, there’s nothing—’

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  ‘Listen.’ She stopped, her foot in his face. ‘Hear it?’

  A voice.

  A voice of static and crackle, as if the spiny branches themselves had picked up its repeated syllables.

  Keiro rubbed his face with a dirty hand. ‘Go on,’ he said quietly.

  They crawled under the razor-sharp tangle. Attia dug her fingers in the litter and pulled herself along. Pollen made her sneeze; the air was thick with micro—dust. A Beetle scurried, clicking, through her hair.

  She wriggled past a thick trunk and saw, as if it was wreathed in the forest of thorn and razorwire, the wall of a dark building.

  ‘It’s like Rix’s book,’ she gasped.

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘A beautiful princess sleeps for a hundred years in a ruined castle.’

  Keiro grunted, dragging his hair from thorns. ‘So.’

  ‘A thief breaks in and steals a cup from her treasure. She turns into a dragon and they fight.’

  Keiro wriggled up next to her. He was breathless, his hair lank with dirt and sweat. ‘I must be thick even to listen to you. Who wins?’

  ‘The dragon. She eats him, and then . . .‘

  Static crackled.

  Keiro hauled himself into a dusty space. Bines sprawled up a wall of dark glossy brick. In its base a very tiny 171

  wooden door was smothered with ivy.

  Behind it, the voice sparked and crackled.

  ‘Who’s there?’ it whispered.

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  13

  I fooled the Prison

  I fooled my father.

  I asked a question

  It could not answer.

  SONGS OF SAPPHIQUE

  ‘It’s me! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’

  Jared closed his eyes in relief. Then he opened the door and let Claudia dart in. Her evening dress was covered with a dark cloak. She said, ‘Is Finn here?’

  ‘Finn? No …’

  ‘He’s challenged the Pretender to a duel. Can you believe that?’

  Jared went back to the screen. ‘I’m afraid I can, Claudia.’

  She stared beyond him at the mess. ‘Why are you here in the middle of the night?’ Coming closer, she looked at him closely. ‘Master, you look so drained. You should sleep.’

  ‘I can sleep at the Academy.’ There was a bitter note in his voice that she didn’t recognize.

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  Worried, she crouched on the workbench, pushing the fine tools aside. ‘But I thought …’

  ‘I leave tomorrow, Claudia.’

  ‘So soon?’ It shook her. She said, ‘But . . . you’re getting so close to success. Why not take a few more days. .

  ‘I can’t.’

  He was never so short with her. She wondered if it was the pain, driving him on. And then he sat, folding his long thin fingers together on the desk, and said sadly, ‘Oh Claudia, how I wish we were safely at home at the Wardenry. I wonder how my foxcub is doing, and the birds. And I miss my observatory, Claudia. I miss looking out at the stars.’

  Gently she said, ‘You’re homesick, Master.’

  ‘A little.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sick of the Court. Of its stifling Protocol. Of its exquisite meals and endlessly sumptuous rooms where each door hides a watcher. I should like a little peace.’

  It silenced her. Jared was rarely gloomy; his grave calm was always there, a safe presence at her back. She fought down her alarm. ‘We’ll go home then, Master, as soon as Finn is safely on the throne. We’ll go home. Just you and me.’

  He smiled, nodding, and she thought he looked wistful.

  ‘That may be a long time. And a challenge won’t help.’

  ‘The Queen’s forbidden them to fight.’

  ‘Good.’ His fingers tapped together on the desk. She realized that the systems were all live, the Portal humming with distorted energy.

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  He said, ‘I have something to tell you, Claudia. Something important.’ Leaning forward, he didn’t look at her.

  ‘Something I should have told you before, that I shouldn’t have kept from you. This journey to the Academy. There is a reason that . . . the Queen has allowed me to go …’

  ‘To search the Esoterica, I know,’ she said impatiently, pacing up and down. ‘I know! I just wish I could come. Why let you and not me? What’s she up to?’

  Jared raised his head and watched her. His heart was hammering; he felt almost too ashamed to speak. ‘Claudia

  …’

  ‘But then perhaps it’s just as well I’m staying. A duel! He’s got no idea how to behave! It’s as if he’s forgotten all he ever was …’

  Catching her tutor’s eye she stopped and laughed an awkward laugh. ‘Sorry What were you going to say?’

  There was an ache in him that was not caused by his illness. Dimly he recognized it as anger, anger and a deep, bitter pride. He had not known he was proud. You are her tutor, her brother, and more her father than I have ever been. The Warden’s scorching words of jealousy came back to him; for a moment he savoured them, gazing at Claudia as she

  waited, so unsuspecting. How could he destroy the trust between them?

  ‘This,’ he said. He tapped the watch that lay on the desk.

  ‘I think you ought to have it.’

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  Claudia looked relieved, then surprised. ‘My father’s watch?’

  ‘Not the watch. This.’

  She came closer. He was touching the silver cube that hung on the chain. It had been so familiar in her father’s hands that she barely noticed it, but now a sudden wonder swept her that her father — so austere a man — should have worn a charm.

  ‘Is it for good luck?’

  Jared did not smile. ‘It’s Incarceron,’ he said.

  Finn lay in the long grass looking up at the stars. Through the dark blades the distant brilliance of their light brought him a sort of comfort. He had come here with the hot jealousy of the banquet still burning in him, but the silence of the night and the beauty of the stars were easing it away.