Sappique

by Catherine Fisher

  The heartbeat had changed.

  It was faster, the double-thump louder. As Attia listened the crystals in the chandelier above her tinkled with it; she felt the faintest reverberation in the chair she sat on. Then, so loud it made her jump, a bell rang.

  High and clear it pierced the darkness; she jammed her hands to her ears in a grimace of shock. Once, twice, three times it rang. Four. Five. Six.

  As the last chime ended, its silvery clarity almost painful,. the door opened and the Warden came in. His dark frockcoat was strapped with a belt and two firelocks. He wore a sword, and his eyes were grey points of winter.

  ‘Stand up,’ he said.

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  Keiro lounged to his feet. ‘No minions?’

  ‘Not now. No one enters the Heart of Incarceron but myself. You will be the first — and last — of its creatures to see Incarceron’s own face.’

  Attia felt Rix squeeze her hand. ‘The honour is beyond expression: the magician muttered, bowing.

  She knew he wanted the Glove from her, right now. She stepped away, towards the Warden, because this decision would be no one’s but hers.

  Keiro saw. His smile was cool, and it annoyed her. If the Warden noticed anything he made no sign. Instead he crossed to the corner of the room and tugged aside a tapestry of forest trees and stags.

  Behind it rose a portcullis, ancient and rusted. John Arlex bent and with both hands turned an ancient winch. Once, twice, he heaved it round, and creaking and flaking rust, the portcullis rose, and beyond it they saw a small, worm-eaten wooden door. The Warden shoved it open. A draught of warm air swept out over them. Beyond, they saw darkness, pounding with steam and heat.

  John Arlex drew his sword. ‘This is it, Rix. This is what you’ve dreamt of.’

  As Finn came into the study Claudia glanced up.

  Her eyes were red-rimmed. He wondered if she had been crying. Certainly she was furious with frustration.

  ‘Look at it!’ she snapped. ‘Hours of work and it’s still a 382

  mystery A total, incomprehensible mess!’

  Jared’s papers were in chaos. Finn set down the tray of wine Ralph had insisted he bring and stared round. ‘You should take a rest. You must be making some progress.’

  She laughed, harshly. Then she stood so quickly the great blue feather propped in the corner lifted into the air. ‘I don’t know! The Portal flickers, it crackles, sounds come out of it.’

  ‘What sounds?’

  ‘Cries. Voices. Nothing clear.’ She snapped a switch and he heard them, the distant, faintest echoes of distress.

  ‘Sounds like frightened people. In some big space.’ He looked at her. ‘Terrified, even.’

  ‘Is it familiar?’

  He laughed, bitter. ‘Claudia the Prison is full of frightened people.’

  ‘Then there’s no way of knowing which part of the Prison that is, or …’

  ‘What’s that?’ He stepped closer.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That other sound. Behind...’

  She stared at him, then went to the controls and began to adjust them. Gradually, out of the chaos of hissing and static, emerged a deeper bass, a repeated, double-pounding motif. Finn kept still, listening.

  Claudia said, ‘It’s the same sound we heard before,

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  when my father spoke to us.’

  ‘It’s louder now’

  ‘Have you any idea …’

  He shook his head. ‘In all my time Inside I never heard anything like that.’

  For a moment only the heartbeat filled the room. Then from Finn’s pocket came a sudden pinging that startled them both. He pulled out her father’s watch.

  Startled, Claudia said, ‘It’s never done that before.’

  Finn flicked open the gold lid. The clock hands showed six o’clock; the chimes rang out like tiny urgent bells. As if in response the Portal chuntered and went silent.

  She came closer. ‘I didn’t know it had an alarm. Who set it?

  Why now?’

  Finn didn’t answer. He was staring gloomily at the time. Then he said, ‘Perhaps to tell us there’s only an hour left till the deadline.’

  The silver cube that was Incarceron spun slowly on its chain.

  ‘Take care here, both of you.’ Jared climbed over the roof-fall. He turned and held up the lantern so that Caspar could manage. ‘Perhaps we should untie his hands?’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it.’ Medlicote prodded the Earl with the firelock. ‘Quickly, sire.’

  ‘I could break my neck!’ Caspar sounded more irritable than worried. As Jared helped him over the pile of stones 384

  he slid and swore. ‘My mother will have both of you

  beheaded for this. You do know that?’

  ‘Only too well.’ Jared peered ahead. He had forgotten the state of the tunnel; even when he and Claudia had first explored it it had been in a state of collapse, and that had been years ago. She had always meant to have it repaired, but had never got round to it. There was nothing false about its age or the frequent crumbling of its walls. A brick vault loomed over him, green with dripping slime and infested with mosquitoes that whined around the lantern.

  ‘How much further?’ Medicote asked. He looked worried.

  ‘I think we’re under the moat.’

  Somewhere ahead an ominous plopping noise told them of a leak.

  ‘If this roof comes down … Medlicote muttered. He didn’t finish. Then he said, ‘Perhaps we should go back.’

  ‘You may go back any time you wish, sir: Jared ducked through hanging webs into the dark. ‘But I intend to find Claudia. And we would do well to be out of here before the cannon start firing.’

  But as he pushed on into the stinking darkness he wondered whether they had started already, or whether the pounding in his ears was just his own heartbeat.

  Attia walked through the small door and staggered, because the world was tilted. It straightened itself under

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  her feet, so that she almost fell, and had to grab Rix to keep her balance.

  He, staring upwards, did not even notice.

  ‘My god!’ he said. ‘We’re Outside!’

  The space had no roof, no walls. It was so vast it had no ending, nothing but steamy mist through which they

  couldn’t see.

  In that instant she knew she was tiny in the face of the universe; it terrified her. She edged close to Rix and he grasped her hand, as if he, too, was moved by that sudden giddiness.

  Swirls of steam curled miles above them like clouds. The floor was made of sonic hard mineral, the squares of it enormous. As the Warden led them forward their footsteps were loud across the shining black surface. She counted. It took thirteen steps to reach the next white square.

  ‘Pieces on a chessboard: Keiro voiced her thoughts.

  ‘As Outside, so within,’ the Warden murmured, amused. And there was silence. That was what scared her most. The heartbeat had stopped as soon as they passed the door, as if they had somehow entered its very chambers, and here, so deep within itself, no sound lived.

  A shadow flickered on the clouds.

  Keiro turned, quickly. ‘What was that?’

  A hand. Enormous. And then, a beam of light moving over feathers, vast feathers each taller than a man.

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  Rix stared up, bewildered. ‘Sapphique,’ he gasped. ‘Are you here?’

  It was a mirage, a vision. It hung in the clouds and rose like a colossus into the sky, a great being of white shimmers and drifts of steam; a nose, an eye, the plumage of wings so wide they could enfold the world.

  Even Keiro was awed. Attia couldn’t move. Rix muttered under his breath.

  But the Warden’s voice, behind them, was calm.

  ‘Impressed? But that too is an illusion, Rix, and you don’t even spot it?’ His scorn was rich and deep. ‘Why should mere size impress you so much? It’s all relative. What would you say if I told you that the whole of Incarcer
on is actually tinier than a cube of sugar in a universe of giants?’

  Rix tore his eyes from the apparition. ‘I’d say you were the madman, Warden.’

  ‘Perhaps I am. Come and see what causes your mirage.’

  Keiro pulled Attia on. At first she was unable to stop staring back, because the shadow on the clouds grew as they moved away from it, rippling and fading and reappearing. Rix, though, hurried, after the Warden, as if he had already forgotten his wonder. ‘How tiny?’

  ‘Tinier than you could imagine.’ John Arlex glanced at him.

  ‘But in my imagination, I am immense1 I am the universe. There’s nothing else but me.’

  Keiro said, ‘Just like the Prison, then.’

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  Ahead of them the steam cleared. Alone in the centre of the marble floor, pinpointed by a ring of spotlights, they saw a man.

  He was standing on a platform reached by five steps, and at first they thought he was winged, the plumage black as a swan’s. Then they saw he wore a Sapient’s robe of darkest iridescence and it was threaded with feathers. His face was narrow and beautiful, shining with radiance. Each eye was perfect, the lips held in a smile of compassion, his hair dark. One hand was lifted, the other hung at his side. He did not move, or speak, or breathe.

  Rix stepped up on to the lowest step, staring up. Sapphique he murmured. ‘The Prison’s face is Sapphique’s

  ‘It’s just a statue,’ Keiro snapped.

  All around them, as close as a caress against their cheeks, Incarceron whispered, No, it isn’t. It’s my body.

  The Portal said something.

  Finn turned and stared at it. Wisps of grey, like curls of cloud, were moving over its surface. The hum in the room modulated and changed. All the lights flickered off and on.

  ‘Get back.’ Claudia was already at the controls.

  ‘Something’s happening inside.’

  ‘Your father, he warned us ... about what might come through.’

  ‘I know what he said!’ She didn’t turn, her fingers playing on the controls. ‘Are you armed?’

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  He drew his sword, slowly.

  The room dimmed.

  ‘What if it’s Keiro? I can’t kill Keiro!’

  ‘Incarceron is cunning enough to look like anyone.’

  ‘I can’t, Claudia!’ He moved closer.

  Suddenly, without warning, the room tipped. It spoke. It said, My body …

  Finn staggered, slamming against the desk. The sword clattered out of his hand as he grabbed at Claudia but she slid back with a gasp, missing her footing, crashing into the chair, falling back into its seat.

  And before she could stand up, she was gone.

  Rix moved. He snatched the sword from the Warden’s belt and swung it to Attia’s neck. He said, ‘It’s time to give me my Glove back.’

  ‘Rix ...‘ Beside her was the right hand of the statue. Small red circuits rippled at its fingers ends.

  Do what you have to, my son, the Prison said eagerly. Rix nodded. ‘I hear you, Master.’ He pulled Attia’s coat open and snatched out the Glove. He held it up in triumph and from all sides the beams of light swivelled and focused on it, throwing swollen replicated shadows not only of the statue now but of all of them, great cloudy Keiros and Attias on the clouds.

  ‘Behold,’ Rix murmured. ‘The greatest illusion the Prison has ever seen.’

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  The sword tip whipped away from Attia’s neck. She moved, but Keiro was quicker. Diving forward he batted the blade aside and punched Rix hard in the chest.

  But it was Keiro who cried out. He was flung hack jerking with shock, and Rix laughed, his gap-tooth grin wide.

  ‘Magic! How powerful it is, my Apprentice! How it guards its master!’

  He turned to the image, lifted the Glove towards its sparking fingers.

  ‘No!’ Attia cried. ‘You can’t do this!’ She turned to the Warden. ‘Stop him!’

  The Warden said quietly, ‘There is nothing I can do. There never has been.’

  She grabbed at Rix but even as she touched him the shock burnt into her nerves, an electric spark of recoil that screamed in her own voice. Then she was on the floor and Keiro was standing over her. ‘Are you all right?’

  She crouched over her burnt fingers. ‘He’s wired up. He’s beaten us.’

  Rix. Incarceron’s order was urgent. Give me my Glove. Give me my freedom. Do it NOW.

  Rix turned, and Attia rolled. She shot out her foot and the magician tripped and fell, crashing on the white floor, the Glove falling from his hand and skidding over the shiny marble, Keiro diving after it and grabbing it with a whoop of joy.

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  He scrambled back, out of reach. ‘Now, Prison, you get your freedom. But from me. And only if you do what you promised. Tell me I’m the one who gets to Escape with you.’

  The Prison laughed, ominous. Do you really think I keep such promises?

  Keiro circled, gazing up ignoring Rix’s howls of anger. He showed no disappointment. ‘Take me or I wear the Glove You would not dare.

  ‘Watch me.’

  The Glove will kill you.

  ‘Better than living in this hell.’

  Their stubborness made them equal, Attia thought. Keiro turned, a slow circle. He slid his metal fingernail towards the Glove’s opening.

  I will torment you. Incarceron’s voice was a high metallic whine. I will make you pray for death.

  ‘Keiro, don’t,’ Attia whispered.

  For a second he hesitated. And then from behind her the Warden’s cool voice cut the air. ‘Wear it. Put it on.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put it on. The Prison won’t risk destroying its only way Out. I think the result will surprise you.’

  Keiro stared at him in surprise, and the Warden stared back. Then Keiro slipped his fingers deeper.

  Wait. Incarceron’s voice thundered. The cloud flickered

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  with invisible lightnings. I will not allow that. No. Stop. Please.

  ‘You stop me Keiro breathed. A spark leapt between his metal nail and the Glove. He gasped with the pain. And then he was gone.

  There was no light, no blinding brilliant flash. Instead, as Finn stared at Claudia he saw she was no longer there. She had become a vacuum of herself, a shadow, a negative image. And as he watched she re-emerged from the

  darkness, pixel by pixel, atom by atom, the reassembly of a fragmented being, all its thoughts and limbs and dreams and features, and it wasn’t Claudia, it was someone else. He groped for the sword, his eyes blinded by what might be tears, the blade whipping up to the face that stared at his, the amazed blue eyes, the dirty blond hair.

  For a long moment Finn was still, both of them were, face to face, and then Keiro reached forward and took the sword from him and turned the point to the ground.

  The door burst open. Jared took one look around the Portal and stood stock-still. His heart was hammering so hard he was breathless, and he leant back against the wall.

  Behind him Medlicote pushed Caspar in, and they stared. They saw, facing Finn, a stranger in a filthy red coat, his eyes blue with triumph, his muscled hand tight around the hilt of a sharp sword. There was no one else in the room. 392

  ‘Who are you?’ Caspar demanded.

  Keiro turned and gazed at the shining breastplate and splendid clothes.

  He levelled the blade an inch from Caspar’s eyes.

  ‘Your worst nightmare,’ he said.

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  The

  Win

  i ge

  g d

  d Man

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  Did he Escape? For there is a rumour that is whispered in the dark, a rumour that he remains, trapped deep in the Prison’s heart, his body turned to stone; that the cries we hear are his cries, that his struggles shake the world.

  But we know what we know.

  THE STEEL WOLVES

  Jared
stepped forward and grabbed the Glove from Keiro’s hand, flinging it down on the floor as if it was alive. ‘Did you hear its dreams?’ he said. ‘Did it control you?’

  Keiro laughed. ‘Does it look like it?’

  ‘But you wore it!’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’ Keiro was too amazed to think about the Glove. He flicked Caspar’s coat—collar with the sword tip.

  ‘Nice material. And just my size.’

  He was glowing with delight. If he felt sick or dazzled by the room’s white light he didn’t show it. He took in everything — the four of them, the cluttered Portal, the huge feather — with one avid sweep of his eyes. ’So this is Outside.’

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  Finn swallowed. His mouth felt dry. He glanced at Jared and almost felt the Sapient’s dismay.

  Keiro tapped Caspar’s breastplate with the sword. ‘I want that too.’

  Finn said, ‘It’s different here. There are wardrobes full of clothes.’

  ‘I want his.’

  Caspar looked terrified. ‘Do you know who I am?’ he stammered.

  Keiro grinned. ‘No.’

  ‘Where’s Claudia?’ Jared’s agonized question cut the tension. Keiro shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

  ‘They changed places Finn kept his eyes on his oathbrother.

  ‘She was sitting in the chair and she just dissolved. Keiro appeared. Is that what the Glove does? Is that the power it has? Can I put it on now, and...’

  ‘No one puts it on until I say.’ Jared moved past him. He went to the chair and gripped it, leaning on its back. His face was pale with weariness and he looked more anxious than Finn had ever seen him. Quickly, Finn said, ‘Master

  Medlicote, pour some wine please.’

  The fragrant smell filled the air. Keiro sniffed it. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Better than the Prison muck.’ Finn watched him. ‘Try some. And you, Master.’