Sappique

by Catherine Fisher

  ‘I already know.’

  Attia was shocked at the whisper his voice had become. No you don’t. None of you know. To find out you must open up your heart, and die. Unless I tell you. Shall I tell you, Keiro?

  ‘No.’

  Let me tell you now. Let me end the uncertainty.

  Keiro looked up. His eyes were blue and blazing with anger. ‘We’ll go back to your stinking road. But I swear one day it’ll be me doing the tormenting.’

  I can see you want to know. Very well. In fact, you are—

  The sword slashed. With a yell of fury Keiro sliced

  through the strings and the puppet collapsed, a heap of splinters and a mask.

  Keiro stamped on them; the face cracked under his boot. He raised his face, eyes blazing. ‘Do you see that! Having a body will make you vulnerable, Prison-puppet. If you have a body you can die!’

  The dark nursery was silent.

  Breathing hard, he whirled round and saw Attia’s face. He scowled. ‘I suppose that stupid grin is because Finn is alive.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ she said.

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  * * *

  Claudia ran down the stairs next morning, slipping past the retainers carrying the Queen’s breakfast. Probably the Pretender’s too, she thought. She glanced up at the Ivory Tower, wondering how he was enjoying his splendour. If he was some farm-boy, it would all be new to him. And yet his manner had been so assured. His hands so smooth!

  Quickly, before the doubts came back, she turned into the stables, past the rows of cybersteeds to the real horses at the end.

  Jared was adjusting his saddle.

  ‘You haven’t got much baggage,’ she muttered.

  ‘The Sapient carries all he needs in his heart. Which is from where, Claudia?’

  ‘Martor Sapiens. The Illuminatus. Book One.’ She watched Finn lead out his horse, surprised. ‘Are you coming too?’

  ‘You suggested it.’

  She had forgotten that. It rather annoyed her now; she wanted to see Jared on his way by herself, to say goodbye to him privately. He might be away for days, and the Court would be even more hateful in his absence.

  If Finn noticed he said nothing, turning and swinging himself up into the saddle expertly. Riding had come naturally to him, though he had no memory of doing it before the Prison. He waited, while Claudia’s horse was saddled and the groom held her foot while she mounted 192

  ‘Is that outfit in Era?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘You know very well it isn’t.’

  She wore a boy’s riding coat and trousers under her skirt. Watching Jared turn his horse she said suddenly, ‘Change your plans, Master, don’t go. After what happened last night

  …‘

  ‘I have to go, Claudia.’ His voice was strained and low; he rubbed the horse’s neck gently. ‘Please don’t make me feel worse than I do about it.’

  She didn’t see why. It would mean work on the Portal would pause, just when they were having success. But he was her tutor, and though he rarely exercised it, his authority was real. Besides, she sensed he had his own reasons for going. The Sapienti returned yearly to the Academy; perhaps his superiors had summoned him.

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  He looked up, and for a moment she thought there was a desolation in his green eyes. Then he smiled and it was gone.

  ‘And I you, Claudia.’

  They rode slowly through the courtyards and quadrangles of the vast palace. Servants drawing water and hauling in waggonloads of kindling stared, their eyes on Finn. It made him ride proudly, trying to look like a prince. Housemaids shaking sheets outside the laundry stopped to watch. At the corner of the scrivener’s offices Claudia saw Medlicote come out of the door. As she rode past he bowed, elaborately. 193

  Jared raised an eyebrow. ‘That looks meaningful.’

  ‘Leave him to me.’

  ‘I don’t like leaving you with that problem, Claudia.’

  ‘They won’t try anything, Master. Not if the Pretender is their candidate.’

  Jared nodded, the breeze lifting his dark hair. Then he said,

  ‘Finn, what did Attia mean by the Glove?’

  Finn shrugged. ‘Sapphique made a wager with the Prison once. Some say they played dice, but Gildas had a version where they told riddles. Anyway, the Prison lost.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘If you were a Prisoner you’d have guessed. Incarceron never loses. It shed the skin from its claw and vanished. But Sapphique took the skin and made a glove and used it to cover his maimed hand. The story says when he put it on he knew all the Prison’s secrets.’

  ‘Including the way Out?’

  ‘Presumably.’

  ‘So why did Attia mention it?’

  ‘Why did Keiro try to stop her mentioning it, rather?’

  Jared’s voice was thoughtful. He glanced at Finn. ‘Keiro’s anger troubles you.’

  ‘I hate him like that.’

  ‘It will pass.’

  ‘I’m more worried about what happened to cut them off.’

  Claudia glanced at Jared, who nodded.

  As they reached the cobbled entrance the noise of 194

  the clattering hooves drowned talk. They rode under three gateways and through the vast Barbican with its murder—

  holes and portcullis. The vaguely medieval arrowslits were not Era, of course, but the Queen thought them picturesque. They had always made the Warden tut with displeasure. Beyond, the green fields of the Realm stretched out in their morning beauty. Claudia breathed a sigh of relief. She grinned at Finn. ‘Let’s gallop.’

  He nodded. ‘Race you up the hill.’

  It was a joy to be riding, and free of the Court. She urged the horse on, and the breeze lifted her hair, and the sky was blue and sunlit. On all sides in the golden fields birds sang among the corn; as the lanes divided and narrowed vast hedges rose on each side, the deep tracks hollowed with apparent age. She had no idea how much of this landscape was real — certainly some of the birds, and the hosts of butterflies . . . surely they were real. In truth, if they weren’t, she didn’t want to know. Why not accept the illusion, just for one day?

  The three of them slowed on the top of a small hill and gazed back at the Court. Its towers and pinnacles earned in the sun. Bells were ringing, and the glass roof shone like diamond.

  Jared sighed. ‘It’s strange how beguiling illusion can be.’

  ‘You always told me to beware of it,’ Claudia said.

  ‘So you should. As a society we have lost the ability to 195

  tell the real from the fake. Most of the Court, at least, don’t even care which is which. It concerns the Sapienti greatly.’

  ‘Maybe they should enter the Prison,’ Finn muttered. ‘We never had any trouble.’

  Jared glanced at Claudia, and they both thought of the watch, which she wore now, safe in her deepest pocket. It was two leagues to the fringes of the Forest, and almost midday when they approached it.

  The road to this point had been broad and well-used —

  traffic between the Court and the western villages was steady, and the ruts of wheels had cut deep in the baked mud.

  But once under the green canopy the trees gradually closed in, and vast deer-nibbled boughs of mighty oaks gave way to the tangled undergrowth of the wildwood. Branches hung heavily overhead, the sky barely seen through their meshed leaves.

  Finally they came to the crossroads and the track that branched off to the Academy. It ran downhill through a green clearing, crossed a stream on a clapperbridge and wound its way up the other side into the wood again. Jared stopped. ‘I’ll go on from here alone, Claudia.’

  ‘Master . . .‘

  ‘You need to get back. Finn must be there for the investigation.’

  ‘I don’t see the point,’ Finn growled.

  ‘It’s vital. You have no memories, so you must impress 196

  them by your personality. By the strength you have
, Finn.’

  Finn gazed at him. ‘I don’t know I have any, Master.’

  ‘I believe you do.’ Jared smiled, calmly. ‘Now, I ask you to look after Claudia, while I’m gone.’

  Finn raised an eyebrow and Claudia snapped, ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘And you must look after him. I depend on both of you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about us, Master.’ Claudia leant over and kissed him. He smiled, and turned the horse, but she saw how under his calm there was a tension as if this separation meant more than she knew.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘For going.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’ll only be a few days.’

  ‘I did what I could.’ His eyes were dark in the forest shadows. ‘Remember me kindly, Claudia.’

  She suddenly had nothing to say. A chill struck her; she wanted to stop him, to call after him, but he had urged the horse and it was already striding away down the lane. Only when he had reached the bridge did she stand in the stirrups and yell, ‘Write to me!’

  ‘He’s too far Firm muttered, but Jared turned and waved his hand.

  ‘His hearing is excellent,’ she said, foolishly proud. They watched until the dark horse and its slim rider disappeared under the eaves of the wood. Then Finn sighed. 197

  ‘Come on. We should get back.’

  They rode slowly and silent. Claudia was moody; Finn barely spoke. Neither of them wanted to think about the Pretender, or what decision the Council would come to. Finally Finn looked up. ‘It’s darker. Isn’t it?’

  The slants of sunlight that had lit the Forest earlier had gone. Instead clouds had gathered, and the breeze had become a wind, threshing high branches.

  ‘There’s no storm ordered. Wednesday’s the Queen’s archery day.’

  ‘Well, it looks like a storm to me. Maybe it’s real weather.’

  ‘There is no real weather, Finn. This is the Realm.’

  But in ten minutes rain began. It came as a pattering and was suddenly a torrent, lashing with tremendous noise through the leaves. Claudia thought of Jared and said, ‘He’ll be soaked?

  ‘So will we!’ Finn glanced around. ‘Come on. Hurry!’

  They galloped. The ground was already soft; the hooves splashed into puddles that spilled over the track. Branches whipped at Claudia’s face; her hair flew out across her eyes and plastered itself to her cheek. She shivered, unused to the cold and the wet.

  ‘This is all wrong. What’s going on?’

  Lightning spat; from overhead the low, heavy grumble of thunder rolled down the sky. For a moment Finn knew it was the voice of Incarceron he heard, its terrible, cruel mockery, knew he had never Escaped at all. He turned and 198

  yelled, ‘We shouldn’t be under the trees. Hurry!’

  They whipped the horses up and raced. Claudia felt the rain like blows in her chest; as Finn pulled ahead she shouted at him to wait, to slow down.

  Only his horse replied. With a high whinny it reared, hooves kicking the air, and then to her horror it fell, crashing on one side, and he rolled from it, slamming into the ground.

  ‘Finn!’ she screamed.

  Something slashed past her, whipping into the wood,

  thudding into a tree.

  And then she knew it wasn’t rain, or lightning.

  It was a hail of arrows.

  199

  Ruin

  i ed,

  Like the Moon

  200

  201

  15

  Each man and woman will have their place and be content with it. Because f there is no change, what will disturb our peaceful lives?

  KING ENDOR’S DECREE

  ‘Claudia!’

  Finn rolled over as a firelock blazed; the tree next to him was scorched with diagonal fire. ‘Get down!’

  Did she have no idea how to act in an ambush? Her horse was panicking; he took a deep breath and ran from cover, grabbing it by the bridle. ‘Get down!’

  She jumped, and they both fell. Then they were

  squirming into the bushes, lying fiat, breathless. Around them the forest roared with rain.

  ‘Hurt?’

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘Bruised. Nothing serious.’

  Claudia dragged soaked hair from her eyes. ‘I can’t believe this. Sia would never order it. Where are they?’

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  Finn was watching the trees intently. ‘Over there, behind that thicket, maybe. Or high in the branches.’

  That alarmed her. She twisted to see but rain blinded her She wriggled further back, her hands deep in leaf-flitter, the stink of decaying foliage rich in her face.

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘We regroup,’ Finn’s voice was steady. ‘Weapons? I’ve got a sword and knife.’

  ‘There’s a pistol in my saddlebag.’ But the horse had already bolted. She glanced sidelong at Finn. ‘Are you enjoying this?’

  He laughed, a rare event. ‘It livens things up. But back in Incarceron we used to be the ones doing the ambushing.’

  Lightning blinked. Its brilliance lit the wood and the rain came down harder, hissing through the bracken.

  ‘I could try and crawl to that oak: Finn muttered in her ear.

  ‘And get round …’

  ‘There might be an army out there:

  ‘One man. Maybe two, no more: He squirmed back, the bushes rustling. Instantly two arrows thwacked into the bole of the tree above them. Claudia gasped.

  Finn froze. ‘Well, maybe not.’

  ‘This is the Steel Wolves,’ she hissed.

  Finn was silent a moment. Then he said, ‘Can’t be. They could have killed me last night:

  She stared at him through the downpour. ‘What?’

  ‘They left this next to my head.’ He held up the dagger; 203

  the snarling wolfshead dripping in his fingers.

  Then as one, they turned. Voices were approaching through the hissing forest.

  ‘See them?’

  ‘Not yet.’ She eased forward.

  ‘I think our enemy has.’ Finn watched the small

  movements of branches. ‘I think they’re puffing out.’

  ‘Look.’ A waggon was rumbling along the track,

  precariously laden with mown hay, the loose cover flapping in the wind. A brawny man walked beside it and another drove, sackcloth hoods covering their faces, their boots thick with mud.

  ‘Peasants.’ Claudia said. ‘Our only chance.’

  ‘The archers might still be—’

  ‘Come on.’ Before he could stop her she scrambled out.

  ‘Wait! Please, stop!’

  The men stared. The big one swung a heavy cudgel up as he saw Finn behind her, sword in hand. ‘What’s this?’ he said sourly.

  ‘Our horses were frightened and ran off. By the lightning.’

  Claudia shivered in the rain, puffing her coat around her. The big serf grinned. ‘Bet you had to hold each other tight then?’

  She drew herself upright, aware that she was soaked and her hair dripped in a tangled mess, made her voice cold and imperious. ‘Look, we need someone to go and find our horses, and we need...’

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  ‘The rich always need.’ The cudgel tapped against the raw red hands. ‘And we all have to jump but it won’t always be like that. One day soon…’

  ‘Enough, Rafe.’ The voice came from the waggon, and Claudia saw that the driver had pushed back his hood. His face was wrinkled, his body bent. He seemed old, but his voice was strong enough. ‘Follow us, missy. We’ll get you to the cottages, and then we’ll find your horses.’

  With a low hup! he whipped up the ox, and the heavy beast lumbered past. Claudia and Finn kept close under the shelter of the towering load of hay, wisps slipping off and drifting down on them. Above the trees the sky had begun to clear; the rain ended quite suddenly, and a shaft of sunlight broke through, lighting the distant aisles of the forest. The storm was passing as q
uickly as it had come.

  Finn glanced back. The muddy track was empty. A

  blackbird began to sing in its stillness.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ Claudia muttered.

  ‘Or they’re following.’ Finn turned. ‘How far are these cottages?’

  ‘Just here, lad, just here. Don’t you fret. I won’t let Rafe rob you, even if you are Court folk. The Queen’s people, are you?’

  Claudia opened her mouth indignantly but Finn said, ‘My girl works for the Countess of Harken. She’s a lady’ maid.’

  She fixed him with a stare of astonishment, but

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  the wizened driver nodded. ‘And you?’

  He shrugged. ‘A groom in the stables. We borrowed the horses, it was such a fine day. . . We’ll get into terrible trouble now. Beaten, probably.’

  Claudia watched him. His face was as doleful as if he believed the story himself; something about him had

  changed in a moment to an apprehensive servant, his best livery ruined by the mud and rain.

  ‘Ah well. We were all young once.’ The old man winked at Claudia. ‘Wish I was young again.’

  Rafe guffawed with mirth.

  Claudia set her lips tight, but tried to look miserable. She was cold and wet enough for it.

  When the waggon clattered through a broken gateway she muttered quietly to Finn, ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Keeping them on our side. If they knew who we were …’

  ‘They’d jump to help! We could pay …’

  He was watching her strangely. ‘Sometimes, Claudia, I think you don’t understand anything at all.’

  ‘Such as what?’ she snapped.

  He nodded ahead. ‘Their lives. Look at this.’

  Cottages was hardly a word for them. Two lopsided, squalid buildings squatted at the edge of the track. Their thatch was in holes, wattle and daub walls patched with hurdles. A few ragged children ran out and stared, silent, and as Claudia came closer she saw how thin they were, 206