strength, some certainties.
The landscape changed slowly. It became hilly, the fields smaller, the hedges thick, untrimmed masses of oak and birch and holly. All night they rode through them, down lanes and bridlepaths and secret ways as Claudia became more and more certain of where she was.
And then, when Finn was almost asleep in the saddle, his horse slowed to a halt, and he opened his eyes and looked down on an ancient manor house, pale in the glimmer of the broken moon, its moat a silver sheen, its windows lit with candles, the perfume of its ghostly roses sweet in the night. Claudia smiled in relief. ‘Welcome to the Wardenry.’ Then she laughed ruefully. ‘I left in a carriage full of finery to go to my wedding. What a way to come back
Finn nodded. ‘But you still brought the Prince,’ he said.
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People will love you f you tell them of your fears.
THE MIRROR OF DREAMS TO SAPPHIQUE
‘Well?’
Rix grinned. With a showman’s flourish he pointed to the third tunnel from the left.
Keiro walked over to it and peered in. It seemed as dark and smelly as the rest. ‘How do you know?’
‘I hear the heartbeat of the Prison.’
There was a small red Eye just inside each of the tunnels. They all watched Keiro.
‘If you say so.’
‘Don’t you believe me?’
Keiro turned. ’Like I said, you’re the boss. Which reminds me, when do I start my training?’
‘Right now.’ Rix seemed to have got over his
disappointment. He had a self-important air this morning; he took a coin out of the air before Keiro’s eyes, spun it, and held it out to him. ‘You practise moving it between
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your fingers like this. And so. You see?’
The coin rippled between his bony knuckles.
Keiro took it. ‘I’m sure I can manage that:
‘You’ve picked enough pockets to be deft, you mean.’
Keiro smiled. He palmed the coin, then made it reappear. Then he ran it pleasantly through his fingers, not as smoothly as Rix but far better than Attia could have done.
‘Room for improvements’ Rix said loftily. ‘But my Apprentice is a natural.’
He turned away, ignoring Attia completely, and strode into the tunnel.
She followed, feeling gloomy and a little jealous. Behind her the coin tinkled as Keiro dropped it, and swore. The tunnel was high, its smooth walls perfectly circular. It was lit only by the Eyes, which were placed at regular intervals in the roof, so that the red glow of one was distant before the next made their shadows loom on the floor.
‘Are you watching us so closely?’ Attia wanted to ask. She could feel Incarceron here, its curiosity; its need, breathing in her ear, like a fourth walker in the shadows.
Rix was far in front, with a bag on his back and the sword, and somewhere, hidden on his person, the Glove. Attia had no weapons, nothing to carry. She felt light, because everything she knew or owned had been left behind, in some past that was slipping from her mind. Except Finn. She still carried Finn’s words like treasure in
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her hands. I haven’t abandoned you.
Keiro came last. His dark red coat was torn and ragged but he wore a belt with two knives from the waggon stuck in it and he had scrubbed his hands and face and tied up his hair. As he walked he tipped the coin between his fingers, tossed it and caught it, but all the time his blue eyes were fixed on Rix’s back. Attia knew why. He was still smarting at the loss of the Glove. Rix might no longer want revenge, but she was sure Keiro did.
After hours she realized the tunnel was narrowing. The walls were appreciably closer, and the colour of them was changing to a deep red. Once she slipped, and looking down, saw that the metal floor was wet with some rusty liquid, running from the gloom ahead.
It was just after that that they found the first body. It had been a man. He lay sprawled against the tunnel wall, as if washed there by some sudden flood, his crumpled torso barely more a rag-hung skeleton.
Rix stood over it and sighed. ‘Poor human flotsam. He came farther than most.’
Attia said, ‘Why is it still here? Not recycled?’
‘Because the Prison is preoccupied with its Great Work. Systems are breaking down.’ He seemed to have forgotten he wasn’t speaking to her any more.
As soon as he had walked on, Keiro muttered, ‘Are you with me or not?’
She scowled. ‘You know what I think about the Glove.’
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‘That’s a no then.’
She shrugged.
‘Suit yourself. Looks like you’re back being the dog-slave. That’s the difference between us.’
He walked past her and she glared at his back.
‘The difference between us; she said, ‘is that you’re arrogant Scum and I’m not.’
He laughed, and tossed the coin.
Soon there was debris everywhere. Bones, carcasses of animals, wrecked Sweepers, tangled masses of crumpled wires and components. The rusty water flowed over them, deeper now, and Incarceron’s Eyes saw everything. The travellers picked their way through, the water knee-high, and flowing fast.
‘Don’t you care?’ Rix snapped suddenly, as if his thoughts had burst out of him. He was gazing down at what might have been a halfman, its metallic face grinning up through the water.
‘Don’t you feel for the creatures that crawl in your veins?’
Keiro’s hand was at his sword but the words were not for him. The answer came as laughter; a deep rumble that made the floor shake and the lights flicker.
Rix paled. ‘I didn’t mean it! No offence
Keiro came up and grabbed him. ‘Fool! Do you want it to flood this and sweep us all away!’
‘It won’t do that.’ Rix’s voice was shaky but defiant. ‘I have its greatest desire
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‘Yes and if you’re dead when you deliver it what does Incarceron care? Keep your mouth shut!’
Rix stared at him. ‘I’m the master. Not you.’
Keiro pushed past him and waded on. ‘Not for long.’
Rix looked at Attia. But before she could speak, he hurried on.
All day the tunnel narrowed. After about three hours the roof was so low that Rix could stretch up and touch it. The flow of the water was a river now; objects were washed down in it, small Beetles and tangles of metal. Keiro suggested a torch, and Rix lit one reluctantly; in its acrid smoke they saw that the walls of the tunnel were covered with scum, a milky froth obliterating graffiti that seemed to have been there for centuries — names, dates, curses, prayers. And there was a sound too, thudding softly for hours before Attia was aware she could hear it, a deep, pounding shudder, the vibration that she had felt in her dream in the Swan’s Nest.
She came up to Keiro as he stood listening. In front of them the tunnel shrank into the dark.
‘The heartbeat of the Prison,’ she said.
‘Shush...’
‘Surely you can hear it?’
‘Not that. Something else.’
She kept silent, hearing only the wading sloshes of Rix behind them, weighed down by his pack. And then Keiro swore, and she heard it too. With an unearthly screech a 329
flock of tiny blood-red birds shot out of the tunnel, splitting in panic, so that Rix ducked.
Behind the birds, something vast was coming. They couldn’t see it yet, but they could hear it; it scraped and sheared against the sides, as if it was metal, a great tangle of sharpness, a mass forced down by the current. Keiro swung the torch, scattering sparks; he scanned the roof and the walls. ‘Back! It’ll flatten us!’
Rix looked sick. ‘Back where?’
Attia said, ‘There’s nowhere. We have to go ahead.’
it was a hard choice. And yet Keiro didn’t hesitate. I Ic raced into the dark, stumbling in the deep water, the torch shedding burning pitch like stars into the torrent. I’he roar of the approach
ing object filled the tunnel; ahead in the darkness Attia could see it now, an enormous ball of tangled wires, red light faceted from its angles as it rolled towards them.
She grabbed Rix and hustled him on, straight into the path of the thing, knowing it was death, huge, a pressure wave building in her ears and throat.
Keiro yelled.
And then he disappeared.
It was so sudden, like a magic trick, that Rix howled in anger and she almost stumbled, but then she was
floundering towards the spot, and the rumble of the great mesh ball was on her, over her, above her.
A hand shot out.
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She was hauled sideways and she fell, deep in the water, Rix crashing over her. Then arms went round her waist and hefted her aside, and the three of them felt the scorching heat as the object sheared past them, its blades scraping sparks from the walls. And she saw there were drowned faces in it; rivets and helmets and coils of wire and candlesticks. It was a compacted sphere of ore and girders, impaling a thousand coloured rags, a million scraps of steel flaking off in its wake. As it passed she felt the friction, the condensed air imploding in her eardrums. It filled the tunnel fully; it scraped itself by with a million screeches and the darkness stank of scorching.
And then it was wedged tight in the dark, filling the world, and her knee was aching, and Keiro was picking himself up and swearing furiously at the state of his coat.
Attia stood, slowly.
She was deafened and stunned; Rix looked dazed.
The torch was out, floating in the thigh-high water, and there was no Eye here, but gradually she made out the dim shape of this fork in the tunnel that had saved them. Ahead was a red glow.
Keiro slicked back his hair.
He looked up at the crushed and tangled surface of the sphere; it shuddered, the force of the water juddering it against the constricting walls.
There was no way back now. Over the noise he yelled 331
something, and though Attia couldn’t hear it, she knew what it was. He pointed ahead, and waded on.
She turned, and saw Rix reaching out to touch something that glared out from the metal, and she saw it was a mouth; the open snarling maw of a great wolf, as if some statue had been swept away in there, and was struggling to get out. She pulled at his arm. Reluctantly, he turned away.
I want the drawbridge up.’ Claudia marched along the corridor shedding her coat and gloves. ‘Archers in the gatehouse, on every roof, on the Sapient’s tower.’
‘ Master Jared’s experiments . . .’ the old man muttered.
‘Pack the delicate things and get them down in the cellars. Ralph, this is F— Prince Giles. This is my steward, Ralph...’
The old man bowed deeply, his arms full of Claudia’s scattered clothes. ‘Sire. I am so honoured to welcome you to the Wardenry. I only wish...’
‘We haven’t got time.’ Claudia turned. ‘Where’s Alys?’
‘Upstairs, madam. She arrived yesterday, with your messages. Everything has been done. The Warden’s levies have been raised. We have two hundred men billeted in the stable-block and more are arriving hourly.’
Claudia nodded. She flung open the doors of a large, wood-panelled chamber. Finn smelt the sweetness of roses outside its open casements as he strode in after her. ‘Good. Weapons?’
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‘You’ll need to consult with Captain Soames, my lady. I believe he’s in the kitchens.’
‘Find him. And Ralph.’ She turned. ‘I want all the servants assembled in the lower hail in twenty minutes.’
He nodded, his wig slightly askew. ‘I’ll see to it.’
At the door, just before he bowed himself out, he said,
‘Welcome back, my lady. We’ve missed you.’
She smiled, surprised. ‘Thank you.’
When the doors were closed Finn went straight to the cold meats and fruit laid out on the table. ‘He won’t be so pleased when the Queen’s army comes over the horizon.’
She nodded, and sat wearily in the chair. ‘Pass me some of that chicken.’
For a while they ate silently. Finn gazed round at the room, its white plaster ceiling pargeted with scrolls and lozenges, the great fireplace with the emblems of the black swan. The house was calm, the stillness drowsy with bees and the sweetness of roses.
‘So this is the Wardenry.’
‘Yes.’ She poured out some wine. ‘Mine, and staying mine.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ He put down his plate. ‘But there’s no way we can defend it.’
She scowled. ‘It has a moat and a drawbridge. It commands the land around. We have two hundred men.’
‘The Queen has cannon.’ He stood and walked to the window, pushing it open. ‘My grandfather chose the wrong 333
Era for us. Something a bit more primitive would have kept us equal.’ He turned, quickly. ‘They will use the weapons of the time, won’t they? Do you think they might have things we don’t know about . . . relics of the War?’
The thought turned her cold. The Years of Rage had been a cataclysm that had destroyed a civilization; its energies had stilled the tides and hollowed the moon. ‘Let’s hope we’re too small a target.’
For a moment she crumbled cheese on her plate. Then she said, ‘Come on.’
The servants’ hall was a buzz of anxiety. As he walked in beside Claudia, Finn felt the noise subside, but a fraction too slowly. Grooms and maidservants turned; powdered
footmen waited in elaborate livery.
There was a long wooden table in the centre; Claudia stepped up on to a bench and then on to the tabletop.
‘Friends.’
They were silent now, except for the doves cooing outside.
‘I’m very glad to be back home.’ She smiled, but he knew she was tense. ‘But things have changed. You’ll have had all the news from Court — you know about the two candidates for the throne. Well, things have come to such a point that we . . . I . . . have had to make a decision about which one I support.’ She stretched out her hand, and Finn stepped up beside her.
‘This is Prince Giles. Our future king. My betrothed.’
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The last phrase astonished him but he tried not to show it. He nodded at them gravely and they all stared up at him, their eyes taking in every travel-worn detail of his clothing, his face. He found himself standing tall, steeling himself not to flinch from that examination.
He should say something. He managed, ‘I thank you all for your support,’ but it produced not even a ripple. Alys was by the door, her hands gripped tight together. Ralph, near the table, said boldly, ‘God bless you, sire!’
Claudia didn’t wait for any response. ‘The Queen has declared the Pretender as her candidate. Essentially, this means civil war. I’m sorry to put it so bluntly, but it’s important you all understand what is happening here. Many of you have lived at the Wardenry for generations. You were my father’s servants. The Warden is no longer here, but I have spoken to him...’
That did produce a murmur.
‘Is he in favour of this prince?’ someone asked.
‘He is. But he would wish me to treat you with respect. Therefore I say this.’ She folded her arms and gazed out at them. ‘The young women and all the children will leave immediately. I’ll give you an armed escort to the village, though it won’t be needed. As for the men and the senior staff, the choice is yours. No one who wants to go will be prevented. There’s no Protocol here any more.’
— I’m saying this to you as equals. You must make up your own minds.’ She paused, but there was silence, so into it 335
she said, ‘Assemble in the courtyard at the midday bell, and Captain Soames’s men will take care of you. I wish you well.’
‘But my lady,’ someone said. ‘What will you do?’
It was a boy, near the back.
Claudia grinned at him. ‘Hello, Job. We’ll stay. Finn and I will use the . . . machinery in my father’s study to try and contact him i
n Incarceron. It will take time but . . .’
‘And Master Jared, ma’am.’ One of the maids’ voices, anxious. ‘Where is he? He would know what to do.’
There was a ripple of agreement. Claudia’s eyes slid to Finn. She said sharply, ‘Jared’s on his way. But we already know what to do. The true king has been found, and those who once tried to destroy him must not succeed again She was in control, but she had not won them over. Finn could sense that. There was a silent discontent, an unspoken doubt. They knew her too well, from a child. And though she was an imperious mistress they had probably never loved her. She wasn’t speaking to their hearts.
So he held his hand out, and took hers. ‘Friends, Claudia is right to give you a choice. I owe everything to her. Without her I would be dead now, or worse, thrown back into the hell of Incarceron. I wish I could tell you what her support means. But to do that I would have to explain the Prison to you, and I won’t do that, because I dare not speak about it, it hurts me even to think of it.’
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They were intent; the word Incarceron was like a charm. Finn allowed his voice to tremble.
‘I was a child. I was snatched from a world of beauty and peace to a torment of pain and hunger, a hell where men murder each other without a care, where women and
children sell themselves to stay alive. I know about death. I’ve suffered the miseries of the poor. I know about loneliness, how wretched it is to be alone and terrified in a maze of echoing halls and dark dread. This is the knowledge Incarceron gave me. And when I am King, this is the
knowledge I will use. There will be no more Protocol, no more fear. No more being locked in. I will do my best — I swear this to you my best to make this Realm a true paradise, and a free world for all its people. And Incarceron too. That’s all I can say to you. All I can promise you. Except that if we lose I will kill myself rather than go back there
The silence was different. It was caught in their throats. And when a soldier growled, ‘I’m with you, my lord:
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