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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.’
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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.’
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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
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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.’
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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 bowed. 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. 357
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 358
it, hauled it up, snatched the dry scaly thing it held, thrust it down her shirt.
Then arms grabbed her; she kicked and
bit but the Warden’s men hauled her up and she saw Keiro sprawled and the Warden standing over him, weapon in hand.
Claudia’s father stared at her in mock dismay. ‘Escape, Attia? There is no Escape. For any of us.’
Morose, he met her eyes and his gaze was bleak. Then he stalked away, down the long hail. ‘Bring them.’
Keiro wiped blood from his nose. He gave her one look. Rix too.
This time she nodded.
Jared turned slowly.
‘My Lord of Steen,’ he said.
Caspar leant against a tree-trunk. He wore a breastplate of such dazzling steel it hurt to look at it, and his breeches and boots were of finest leather.
‘I see my lord is dressed for war,’ Jared murmured.
‘You didn’t used to be so sarcastic, Master.’
‘I’m sorry. I have had a trying time.’
Caspar grinned. ‘My mother will be amazed you survived. She’s been waiting for a message from the Academy for days, but none has come: He stepped forward. ‘Did you kill him, Master, with some Sapient potion? Or do you have secret fighting skills?’
Jared looked down at his delicate hands. ‘Let’s say I 359
surprised even myself, sire. But is the Queen here?’
Caspar pointed. ‘Oh yes. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
A white horse. It was saddled with the finest white leather fittings, and on it Sia rode sidesaddle, in an austere gown of dark grey. She too wore a breastplate, and a hat with a feather, and around her and before her pikemen marched, their weapons slanted in perfect array.
Jared came to stand by the Earl. ‘What’s happening?’
‘It’s a parlay. They’ll talk each other to death. Look, there’s Claudia.’
Jared’s breath tightened as he saw her. She was standing on the gatehouse roof, and Soames and Alys were with her.
‘Where’s Finn?’ He murmured it to himself, but Caspar heard and snorted.
‘Tired out maybe.’ He grinned sidelong at Jared. ‘Ah, Master Sapient, she’s cast both of us off now. I admit I always had something of an eye for Claudia, but marrying her — that was my mother’s plan. She would have turned out far too fierce and bossy, so I don’t care. But it must be hard for you. You and she were always so close. Everyone says so. Until he came along.’
Jared smiled. ‘You have a poisonous tongue, Caspar.’
‘Yes. And it stings you, doesn’t it?’ He turned, with negligent ease. ‘Perhaps we’ll go down and hear what they’re saying. My mother will be rather proud when I drag you through the ranks and throw you down before her. 360
And I’d love to see Claudia’s face!’
Jared stepped back. ‘You don’t seemed to be armed, my lord.’
‘No. I’m not.’ Caspar smiled, sweetly. ‘But Fax is.’
A rustle. It came from the left, and Jared turned very slowly to face it, knowing his freedom was over.
Sitting on a tree-trunk, an axe slung between his knees, the huge bulk of his body rippling with chainmail, the Prince’s bodyguard nodded, unsmiling.
‘Not until my father returns.’
Claudia’s voice rang out clearly, so that everyone could hear it.
The Queen sighed daintily. She had dismounted and was sitting in a wicker chair before the gatehouse, so close that even a child could have shot her. Claudia had to admire her complete arrogance.
‘And what do you hope to gain, Claudia? I have enough men and arms to batter the Wardenry to pieces. And we both know your father — a man who led a plot to try and kill me
— will never return. He is where he belongs — in the Prison. Now, do be sensible. Hand over the prisoner Finn, and then you and I can talk. Perhaps I was hasty, in my decisions. Perhaps the Wardenry can remain in your possession.
Perhaps.’
Claudia folded her arms. ‘I’ll have to think about it
‘We could have been such friends, Claudia.’ Sia waved a 361
bee away. ‘When I told you once we were alike I meant it. You would have been the next Queen. Perhaps you still could be.’
Claudia drew herself up. ‘I will be the next Queen. Because Finn is the rightful Prince, the real Giles. Not that liar beside you.’
The Pretender smiled, took off his hat and bowed. His right arm was strapped into a black sling, and he wore a pistol in his sash, but otherwise he seemed as poised and pleasantly arrogant as ever. He called out, ‘You don’t believe that, Claudia. Not really.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know you won’t put your servants’ lives at risk on the word of some jailbird. I know you, Claudia. Now come out and let’s talk. We can sort this out.’
Claudia stared at him. She shivered in the cool wind. A few drops of rain struck her face. She said, ‘He spared your life.’
‘Because he knows I’m his Prince. So do you.’
For a desperate moment she had no idea what to say. And with her instinct for weakness, Sia said, ’I do hope you aren’t waiting for Master Jared, Claudia.’
Claudia’s head shot up. ‘Why? Where is he?’
Sia rose and shrugged her small shoulders. ‘At the Academy, I believe. But I have heard rumours that he is in poor health.’ She smiled icily. ‘Very poor.’
Claudia came forward till she was gripping the cold 362
stones of the battlement. ‘If anything happens to Jared she hissed, ‘if you touch a hair of his head I swear I’ll kill you myself before the Steel Wolves even get close
A commotion behind her. Soames was pulling her back. Finn was at the top of the stair, pale but alert, Ralph puffing behind him.
‘If I needed more proof of your treachery those words would be enough.’ The Queen signalled hastily for her horse, as if the mention of the Steel Wolves had alarmed her. ‘You would be wise to remember that Jared’s life is at stake, as well as that of every other person in that house. And if I have to burn it to the ground to end this matter I will.’ Stepping on to the bent back of a soldier she swung daintily into the saddle. ‘You have until exactly seven o’clock tomorrow morning to hand over the Escaped prisoner. If he is not in my hands by then, the bombardment begins’
Claudia watched her go.
The Pretender glared up scornfully at Finn. ‘If you’re really not Prison Scum you’d come out,’ he said. ‘And not hide behind a girl.’
Jared said quietly, ‘It seems a shame to have escaped one assassin to be faced with another.’
Caspar nodded. ‘I know. But that’s war.’
Fax lumbered to his feet. ‘Boss?’
‘I think we’ll tie him up: Caspar said, ‘and then I can lead him down. In fact, Fax, once we get to the camp
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you can keep out of the way: He smiled at Jared. ‘My mother adores me but she’s never had much confidence in me. This will be a chance to show her what I can do. Hold out your hands.’
Jared sighed. He lifted his hands and then a paleness came over him; he staggered, almost fell.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
Caspar grinned at Fax. ‘Nice try, Master...’
‘No. Really. My medication. It’s just in my saddlebag. . He crumpled and sat in the leaves, shakily.
Caspar pulled a face, then waved impatiently and Fax turned to the horse. As soon as the man moved Jared leapt up and ran, haring between the trees, jumping the sprawling roots, but even as his breath grew to an ache he heard the footfalls behind him, heavy and close, and then the growling laugh as he tripped and rolled and slammed up against a tree-trunk.
He scrambled round. Fax stood over him, swinging the axe. Behind, Caspar grinned with triumph. ‘Oh go on, then, Fax. One good blow’
The giant raised the blade.
Jared gripped the tree; he felt its smooth trunk under his hands.
Fax moved. He jerked, and his smile became glassy, a fixed rictus that seemed to go through his body, and his arm, and the axe, so that it fell, thudding blade down in the soft earth. 364
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bsp; After a frozen pause, eyes wide, he crashed after it. Jared breathed out, astonished.
An arrow, buried up to its plume, jutted from the man’s back.
Caspar let out a howl of rage and fear. He grabbed at the axe, but a voice from the left said quietly, ‘Drop the weapon, Lord Earl. Now.’
‘Who are you? How dare you …!’
The voice sounded grim. ‘We’re the Steel Wolves, Lord. As you already know.’
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Once he had crossed the sword-bridge he came to a room with a banquet of fine food spread on a table. He sat down and picked up a piece of bread but the power of the Glove turned it to ashes. He picked up water but the glass shattered. So he travelled on, because he knew now that he was close to the door.
WANDERINGS OF SAPPHIQUE
‘This is my kingdom now.’ The Warden waved at the table.
‘My seat of judgement. And here, my private suite.’ He flung the doors open and walked through. The three Prisoners shoved Rix, Attia and Keiro after him.
Inside, Attia stared.
They were in a small room hung with tapestries. There were windows in the walls, high stained-glass images impossible to see in the dimness, a few hands and faces lit by flamelight from the vast fire in the hearth.
The heat was fierce and welcome. The Warden turned.
‘Please sit.’
There were chairs of carved ebony, their backs formed
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by pairs of black swans with entwined necks. Heavy beams spread in intricate patterns in the roof; chandeliers splatted wax on the tiled floor. From somewhere nearby the throb of the vibrations echoed.
‘You must be tired after your terrible journey: the Warden said. ‘Bring them food.’
Attia sat. She felt weary and filthy; her hair was matted with the slime of the tunnel. And the Glove! Its claws scratched against her bare skin, but she dared not move it, in case the Warden noticed. His grey eyes were sharp and watchful.
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