Sappique

by Catherine Fisher

  He shuffled his arm behind his head, feeling the prickle of grass down his neck.

  They were so far away. In Incarceron he had dreamt of them, his symbol of Escape; now he realized they were still that, that he was still imprisoned. Perhaps he always would be. Perhaps it would be best just to disappear, to ride away into the Forest and not come back. It would mean

  abandoning Keiro, and Attia.

  Claudia wouldn’t care. He moved uncomfortably as he thought it, but the thought stayed. She wouldn’t. She’d end 176

  up marrying this Pretender and being Queen, as she’d always meant to be.

  Why not?

  Why not just go?

  Where, though? And how would he feel riding through the endless Protocol of this stifled world and dreaming every night of Keiro in the metallic, livid hell of Incarceron, not knowing if he was alive or dead, maimed or insane, killing or already dead?

  He rolled over, curling up. Princes were supposed to sleep in golden beds with damask canopies, but the Palace was a nest of enemies, he couldn’t breathe there. The familiar prickle behind his eyes had gone, but the dryness in his throat warned him that the fit had been near. He had to be careful. He had to have more control.

  And yet the angry moment of the challenge was dear to him. He relished it, over and again, seeing the Pretender jerking aside, the slap of redness on his face. He’d lost his cool then, and Finn smiled in the dark, his cheek resting on the damp grass.

  He rolled swiftly and sat up. The wide lawns were grey in the starlight. Beyond the lake the woods of the estate raised black heads against the sky. The gardens smelt of roses and honeysuckle, sweet in the warm summer air.

  He lay back again, staring up.

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  The moon, a ruined hollow, hung like a ghost in the east. Jared had told him that it had been attacked in the Years of Rage, that now the ocean tides were altered, that the fixed orbit had changed the world.

  And after that they had stopped all change altogether. When he was King, he would change things. People would be free to do or say what they wanted. The poor wouldn’t have to slave on great estates for the rich. And he would find Incarceron, he would release them all.. . But then, he was going to run away.

  He stared up at the white stars.

  Finn Starseer doesn’t run. He could almost hear Keiro’s sarcasm.

  He turned his head, sighed, stretched out.

  And touched something cold.

  With a shiver of steel his sword was in his hand; he had leapt up, was alert, his heart thudding, a prickle of sweat on his neck.

  Far off in the lighted palace a drift of music echoed. The lawns were still empty. But there was something small and bright stuck in the grass just above where his head had been.

  After a moment, listening intently, he bent down and picked it up. And as he stared at it, a shiver of fear made his hand shake.

  It was a small steel knife, wickedly sharp, and its handle was a wolf, stretched thin, jaws open and savage.

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  Finn drew himself up and looked all around, his hand tight on the swordhilt.

  But the night was silent.

  The door gave at the third kick. Keiro dragged a cable of bramble away and ducked his head inside. His voice came back, muffled. ‘Corridor. Have you got the torch?’

  She handed it to him.

  He scraped in, and she waited, hearing only muffled movement. Then he said, ‘Come on.’

  Attia crawled through, and stood up beside him. The interior was dark, and filthy. It had obviously been abandoned years ago, maybe centuries. A lumber of junk lay in heaps under cobwebs and grime.

  Keiro shoved something aside and manoeuvred himself between a heaped desk and a broken cupboard. He wiped the dust off with his gloved hand and stared down at the litter of broken crockery ‘Just what we need:

  Attia listened. The corridor led into darkness, and nothing moved down there, but the voices. There were two of them now, and they faded oddly in and out of hearing.

  Keiro had his sword ready. ‘Any trouble, we’re out of here. One Chain-gang is enough for any lifetime.’

  She nodded, and made to move past him, but he grabbed her and shoved her behind him. ‘Watch my back. That’s your job.’

  Attia smiled sweetly. ‘And I love you too,’ she whispered. 179

  They walked warily down the dim space. At the end a great door stood ajar, fixed immovably half open, and when she slipped through behind Keiro Attia saw why; furniture had been piled and heaped against it, as if in some last desperate attempt to keep it closed.

  ‘Something went on here. Look there.’ Keiro flashed the handlight at the floor. Dark stains marred the paving. Attia guessed it might once have been blood. She looked closer at the junk, then around, at the galleried hall. ‘It’s all toys,’ she whispered.

  They stood in the wreckage of a sumptuous nursery. But the scale was all wrong. The doll’s house that she stared at was enormous, so that she could almost have crawled in, her head squashed against the ceiling of the kitchen, where plaster hams hung and a joint had fallen from its spit. The upstairs windows were too high to see into. Hoops and tops and balls and skittles were littered across the room’s centre; walking over to them she felt an amazing softness under her feet, and when she knelt and felt it it was carpet, black with grime.

  Light grew. Keiro had found candles; he lit a few and stuck them around.

  ‘Look at this. A giant, or dwarves?’

  The toys were bewildering. Most were too big, like the huge sword and ogre-sized helmet that hung from a hook. Others were tiny; a scatter of building blocks no bigger than salt grains, books on a shelf that started as vast folios at 180

  one end and went down to minuscule locked volumes at the other. Keiro heaved open a wooden chest and swore to find it overflowing with dressing-up clothes of all sizes. Still, he rummaged in there and found a leather belt with gilt trappings. There was a pirate’ coat too, of scarlet leather. Immediately he tugged off his own and put the new one on, strapping the belt tight around it. ‘Suit me?’

  ‘We’re wasting time.’ The voices had faded. Attia turned, trying to identify where the sound came from, edging between the vast rocking-horse and a row of dangling puppets that hung, broken-necked and tangle-limbed, on the wall, their small eyes watching her, red as Incarceron’s. Beyond them were dolls. They lay tumbled, princesses with golden hair, whole armies of soldiers, dragons of felt and cambric with long, forked tails.Teddies and pandas and stuffed animals Attia had never seen lay in a heap as high as the ceiling.

  She waded in and heaved them aside.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Keiro snapped.

  ‘Can’t you hear them?’

  Two voices. Small and crackling. As if the bears spoke, the dolls conversed. Arms and legs and heads and blue glass eyes tumbled apart.

  Under them was a small box, the lid inlaid with an ivory eagle.

  The voices were coming from inside it.

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  * * *

  For a long moment Claudia said nothing. Then she came close, picked up the watch and let the cube hang on its chain and turn so that it glittered in the light.

  Finally she whispered, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Your father told me.’

  She nodded, and he saw the fascination in her eyes. ‘You hold a world in your hands. That’s what he said to me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘I wanted to try some tests on it. None of them worked. I suppose I wanted to make sure he was telling the truth.’

  The screen crackled. Jared looked at it absently. Claudia watched the cube turn. Was this really the hellish world she had entered, the Prison of a million prisoners? Was this where her father was?

  ‘Why would he lie? Jared?’

  He wasn’t listening. He was at the controls, adjusting something, so that the hum in the room modulated. She felt a sudden nausea, as if the world had shifted, and she put the watch
down hurriedly.

  ‘The frequency’s changed!’ Jared said. ‘Maybe . . . Attia’

  Attia! Can you hear me?’

  Only silence crackled. Then, to their astonishment, faint and far away, they heard music.

  ‘What is that?’ Claudia breathed.

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  But she knew what it was. It was the high, silly tinkle of a musical box.

  Keiro held the box open. The tune seemed too loud; it filled the cluttered hail with an eerie, menacing jollity. But there was no mechanism, nothing to produce it. The box was wooden and completely empty but for a mirror inside its lid. He turned it upside down and examined the underside.

  ‘Doesn’t seem possible.’

  ‘Give it to me.’

  He glanced at her, then handed it over.

  She held it tight, because she knew the voices lay here, behind the music. ‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘It’s Attia.’

  ‘There was something Jared ran his delicate fingers over the controls, jabbing quickly. ‘There. There! Hear it?’

  A crackle of words. So loud that Claudia winced, and he reduced the volume instantly.

  ‘It’s me. ItsAttia.’

  ‘We’ve got her!’ Jared sounded hoarse with joy. ‘Attia, this is Jared! Jared Sapiens. Tell me if you can hear me.’

  A minute of static. Then her voice, distorted, but intelligible. ‘Is it really you?’

  Jared glanced at Claudia, but her face made his triumph die. She looked oddly stricken, as if the girl’s voice had brought back dark memories of the Prison.

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  Quietly he said, ‘Claudia and I are both here. Are you well, Attia? Are you safe?’

  Crackle. Then another voice, sharp as acid. ‘Where’s Finn?’

  Claudia breathed out, slowly. ‘Keiro?’

  ‘Who bloody else. Where is he, Claudia? Where’s the Prince? Are you there, oathbrother? Are you listening to me, because I’m going to break your filthy neck.’

  ‘He’s not here.’ Claudia moved closer to the screen. It was rippling frantically. Jared made a few adjustments. ‘There,’

  he said quietly.

  She saw Keiro.

  He looked just the same. His hair was long and he’d tied it back; he wore some flashy coat with knives in his belt. There was a fierce anger in his eyes. He must be able to see her too, because instant scorn broke over his face. ‘Still in the silks and satins then.’

  Behind him, she saw Attia, in the shadows of some cluttered room. Their eyes met. Claudia said, ‘Listen, have you seen my father?’

  Keiro let his breath out in a silent whistle. Glancing at Attia he said, ‘So it’s true? He’s Inside?’

  Her voice sounded small. ‘Yes. He took both Keys but the Prison has them now. It’s got this fanatical plan. . . It wants to build . .

  ‘A body. We know’ Keiro enjoyed the brief silence of their astonishment, but Attia snatched the box back and said, ‘Is Finn all right? What’s happening there?’

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  ‘The Warden sabotaged the Portal.’ Jared looked strained, as if time was short. ‘I’ve made some repairs but . . . We can’t get you Out yet.’

  ‘Then …’

  ‘Listen to me. The Warden is the only one who can help you. Try and find him. How are you seeing us?’

  ‘Through a musical box.’

  ‘Keep it with you. I might ...’

  ‘Yes, but Finn!’ Attia was pale with anxiety. ‘Where’s Finn?’

  Around her the nursery suddenly rippled. Keiro yelled in alarm. ‘What was that?’

  Attia stared. The whole fabric of the world had thinned. She had a sudden terror that she might somehow fall

  through it, down, like Sapphique, into the eternal

  blackness. And then the grimy carpet was firm under her feet and Keiro was saying, ‘The Prison must be furious. We have to go.’

  ‘Claudia!’ Attia shook the box, seeing only herself in the mirror. ‘Are you still there?’

  Voices, arguing. Noise, movement, a door opening. And then a voice said, ‘Attia. This is Finn.’ The screen lit, and she saw him.

  She couldn’t speak.

  Words eluded her; there were so many of them to say. She managed his name. ‘Finn...?’

  ‘Are you both all right? Keiro, are you there?’

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  She felt Keiro standing close behind her. His voice, when it came, was dark and mocking.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Look at you.’

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  14

  None of us know who we are any more.

  THE STEEL WOLVES

  Finn and Keiro stared at each other.

  Years of reading his oathbrother’s moods told Finn this one was savage. Knowing Claudia and Jared were watching he rubbed his flushed face. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Oh I’m just as you’d expect. My oathbrother’s Escaped. I have no gang, no Comitatus, no food, no home, no followers. I’m an outcast in every Wing, a thief who steals from thieves. I’m the lowest of the low, Finn. But then, what else do you expect from a halfman?’

  Finn closed his eyes. The dagger of the Steel Wolves was in his belt; he felt its edge against his ribs.

  ‘It’s not all Paradise out here.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Arms folded, Keiro surveyed hini. ‘You look well set up to me, brother. Hungry, are you?’

  ‘No, but …’

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  ‘Sore? Dead-beat? Bleeding from fighting off a chain of monsters?’

  ‘No’

  ‘Well I am, Prince Finn!’ Keiro exploded into rage. ‘Don’t stand there in your golden palace asking for my sympathy. What happened to your plans to get us Out!’

  Finn’s heart was beating too loud; his skin prickled. He felt Claudia close up behind him; as if she knew he couldn’t answer she said firmly, ‘Jared is doing everything he can. It’s not easy, Keiro. My father saw to that. You’ll have to be patient.’

  There was a snort of scorn from the screen.

  Finn sat on the metal chair. He leant forward, both hands on the desk, towards them. ‘I haven’t forgotten you. I haven’t abandoned you. I think about you all the time. You must believe me.’

  But it was Attia who answered. ‘We do. We’re all right, Finn. Please don’t worry about us. Do you still get the visions?’

  The concern in her eyes warmed him a little. ‘Some. They’re trying medicines, but nothing helps.’

  ‘Attia.’ It was Jared who interrupted, his voice intrigued.

  ‘Tell me, are you near any object that might be emitting power? Any part of the Prison’s systems?’

  ‘I don’t know.. . We’re in some sort of. . . nursery’

  ‘Did she say nursery?’ Claudia whispered.

  Finn shrugged. All he was, watching was Keiro’s silence. 188

  ‘It’s just …’ Jared was puzzled. ‘There are some peculiar readings coming in.As if some potent source of energy was very close to you.’

  Attia said, ‘It must be the Glove. The Prison wants—’ Her voice stopped, abruptly. There was a scuffle and a mutter, and the screen tilted and flickered and went black.

  Jared said, ‘Attia! Are you all right?’

  Muffled and angry; Keiro’s voice hissed, ‘Shut up!’Then, louder, ‘The Prison’s unstable. We’re getting out of here.’

  A muffled yelp. A whiplash of steel.

  ‘Keiro?’ Finn leapt up. ‘He’s drawn his sword. Keiro!

  What’s going on there?’

  A clatter. Distinctly they heard Attia’s hiss of fear. ‘The puppets,’ she breathed.

  Then nothing but static.

  She’d bitten Keiro’s hand; now he jerked it away from her mouth and she gasped. ‘Look. Look!’

  He turned, and saw. The puppet on the end of the row was moving. The strings that worked it were taut from the roof’s darkness, and its head was lifting, turning smoothly to look at them.

  One lank hand rose and pointed. The jaw clacked.

  I told you
not to betray me, it said.

  Attia backed, holding the musical box tight, but it gave a broken clank in her hands and the mirror cracked into pieces. She threw it down.

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  The puppet jerked upright, knock.-kneed, rickety as a skeleton. Its face was some ancient harlequin, the nose hooked and hideous. It wore a striped jester’s cap and bells. Its eyes were red.

  ‘We haven’t,’ Keiro said rapidly. ‘We heard a voice and came to find out what it was. We’ve got the Glove safe and we’re still bringing it to you. I didn’t let her tell them about it. You saw that.’

  Attia scowled at him. Her mouth was sore where he had clamped his hand over it.

  I saw. The wooden jaw opened and closed, but its voice, with its faint echo, came from nowhere. You interest me, Prisoner. I could destroy you and yet you defy me.

  ‘What’s new?’ Keiro’s drawl was sarcastic. ‘You could destroy us all, any time.’ He stepped up to the puppet, his handsome face to its ugliness. ‘Or is there some twisted remnant of your programming left? He says, the Sapient out there, that you were made to be a Paradise. We should have had everything. So what went wrong? What did you do, Prison? What turned you into a monster?’

  Attia stared at him, appalled.

  The puppet raised its hands and feet and danced, a slow, macabre caper.

  Men went wrong. Men like you, who seem so bold and are in fact riddled with fears. Crawl back to your horse and ride on my road, Prisoner.

  ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

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  No? Shall I tell you then, Keiro, the answer to u’hat torments you? It would end the pain for ever, because you’d know. The puppet’s face bobbed mockingly before him. You’d know how far the circuitry and plastic reaches into your body, how much of you is flesh and blood, how much of you belongs to me.