Sappique

by Catherine Fisher

  ‘Has it?’

  ‘So he says.’

  ‘And the fits?’

  Claudia shrugged.

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  ‘Does he . . . think about us?’ It was a whisper.

  ‘He thought about Keiro all the time,’ Claudia said acidly.

  ‘So I hope he’s happy now’ She didn’t say what else she thought — that Finn had barely mentioned Attia’s name. The Warden had reached the small door. Outside it, the noise was terrible. Blades whacked into wood and metal; with one almighty smash the corner of an axe glinted through the ebony. The door shook to its foundations.

  ‘Silence out there,’ the Warden yelled.

  Someone called out. A woman howled. The blows were redoubled.

  ‘They can’t hear you,’ Claudia said. ‘And if they get in …’

  ‘They don’t want to listen to anyone.’ Attia went round and stood before the Warden’s face. ‘Least of all you. They’ll blame you.’

  Through the tumult he smiled coldly at them. ‘We’ll see. I’m still the Warden here. But perhaps before we start we should take a few precautions’ He drew out a small disc of silver. On its lid was a wolf, the snarling mouth wide. He touched it and it lit.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Claudia jumped back as another blow sent wood splinters into the snow.

  ‘I told you. Making sure the Prison doesn’t win.’

  She held his arm. ‘What about us?’

  ‘We are expendable.’ His eyes were grey and clear. Then he said into the device, ‘It’s me. ‘What’s the situation Out there?’

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  As he listened his face darkened. Attia moved away from the door; it was buckling now, the hinges straining, rivets cracking. ‘They’re coming through.’

  But Claudia was watching her father as he said harshly,

  ‘Then do it now! Destroy the Glove. Before it’s too late.’

  Medlicote slipped the receiver shut, dropped it into his pocket and gazed up the ruined corridor. Voices echoed from the Great Chamber; he walked quickly towards it, through a crowd of scared footmen, past Ralph, who caught his arm and asked, ‘What’s happening? Is this the end of the world?’

  The secretary shrugged. ‘The end of one world, sir, perhaps the beginning of another. Is Master Jared in there?’

  ‘Yes. And the Queen! The Queen herself!’

  Medlicote nodded. The half-moons of his spectacles were empty the lenses gone. He opened the door.

  In the ruined chamber someone had found a real candle; Keiro had made a flame and lit it.

  The Prison had taught survival, at least, Finn thought. They would all need those skills now He turned. ‘Madam?’

  Sia stood just inside the door. She had not spoken since crossing the drawbridge, and her silence scared him.

  ‘I presume our war is at a standstill?’

  ‘You presume wrong,’ the Queen whispered. ‘My war is over.’

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  Her voice was broken, a faint quaver. Through her veil her eyes, pale as ice, watched him. She seemed bent, even bowed.

  ‘Over?’ He glanced at the Pretender. The boy who had claimed to be Giles stood grimly before the empty hearth, his right arm still bandaged, his fine armour tarnishing even as they watched. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She means it’s finished.’ Jared came forward and stood before the Queen and Finn was shocked at how she had shrunk. Jared’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m sorry this has happened to you,’ he said.

  ‘Are you?’ Sia whispered. ‘Maybe you are, Master Jared. Maybe only you can know something of what I feel. I once taunted you with your own death. You would be justified now in doing the same to me.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I thought you said the Queen was young?’ Keiro muttered in Finn’s ear.

  ‘She is.’

  But then her fingers caught at Jared’s sleeve, and Finn swallowed a gasp because they were the fingers of an ancient woman, mottled and sagging with wrinkled skin, the nails dry and splintered.

  ‘After all, of us both I will be the one now to die first.’ She glanced aside, with a trace of her old coquettish manner. ‘Let me show you death, Jared. Not these young boys. Only you, Master, will see what Sia really is.’

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  Hands trembling, she moved before him and raised her veil. Over her shoulder, Finn saw how Jared was caught between horror and pity; how he gazed silently on the Queen’s ruined beauty without lowering his eyes.

  The room was silent. Keiro glanced back at Medlicote, standing humbly inside the door.

  Sia dropped her veil. She said, ‘Whatever else I was, I have been a Queen. Let me die like a Queen.’

  Jared bowed. He said, ‘Ralph. Light a fire in the red bedroom. Do the best you can.’

  Uncertain, the steward nodded. He took the old woman’s arm, and helped her out.

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  32

  The dove will rise above destruction

  With a white rose in her beak.

  Over storm

  Over tempest.

  Over time and the ages.

  And the petals will fall to the ground like snow.

  SAPPHIQUE’S PROPHECY OF THE WORLD’S END

  As soon as the door closed Keiro said, ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘She tried to preserve her youth.’ Jared sat, as if the moment had weakened him. ‘They called her a witch, but she almost certainly used skinwands and some sort of ongoing genetic implants. Now all her stolen years have come crashing down on her at once.’

  ‘It sounds like one of Rix’s fairtytales,’ Keiro said calmly.

  ‘So she’ll die?’

  ‘Very soon.’

  ‘Fine. That just leaves him.’ Keiro jabbed his injured hand at the Pretender.

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  Finn lifted his head and he and the Pretender gazed at each other. ‘You don’t look so much like me now,’ Finn said. The boy’s appearance had altered too, his lips thinner, nose longer, hair too dark. There was still a resemblance but it had no real substance any more. It had died with the Era.

  ‘Look,’ the Pretender said. ‘It wasn’t my idea. They found me. They offered me a kingdom! You would have done it

  — anyone would! They promised my family enough gold to keep my six brothers fed for years. I had no choice.’ He drew himself up. ‘And I was good, Finn. You have to admit it. I had everyone fooled. Maybe I even fooled you.’ He glanced down at his wrist, where the eagle tattoo had vanished. ‘Another piece of Protocol,’ he murmured.

  Keiro found a chair and lounged in it. ‘I think we should put him in that tiny cube you call the Prison.’

  ‘No. He writes a confession and admits publicly that he was an imposter. That the Queen and Caspar were behind a plot to place a false Giles on the throne. And then we let him go Finn looked at Jared. ‘He’s no threat to us now’

  Jared nodded. ‘I agree.’

  Keiro looked less than convinced, but Finn stood. ‘Take him away.’

  But as the Pretender reached the door Finn said softly,

  ‘Claudia never believed in you.’

  The Pretender stopped and laughed. ‘No?’ he whispered. He turned his head and gazed back at Finn. ‘I think she believed in me more than she ever believed in you.’

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  The words stabbed Finn; a breathtaking pain. He whipped his sword out and advanced on the Pretender, wanting only to run him through, to destroy this venomous infuriating image of all he had never been. But Jared was in his way, and the Sapient’s green gaze held him still.

  Without turning, Jared said, ‘Get him out,’ and the guards hustled the Pretender away.

  Finn threw the sword down on the wrecked floor.

  ‘So we’ve won.’ Keiro picked it up and examined the blade.

  ‘A ruined kingdom, maybe, but all ours. We’re Winglords at last, brother.’

  ‘There’s a greater enemy than the Queen.’ Finn stared at Jared, still sore. ‘There always was. We have to save our
selves and Claudia from the Prison.’

  ‘And Attia.’ Keiro looked up. ‘Don’t forget your little dogslave.’

  ‘You mean you’re concerned about her?’

  Keiro shrugged. ‘She was a pain. But I got used to her.’

  ‘Where’s the Glove?’ Finn snapped.

  Jared drew it from his coat. ‘But I told you, Finn, I don’t understand. . .‘

  Finn came and took it. ‘This hasn’t changed.’ His fingers crumpled the soft skin. ‘Not at all, while everything around falls into dust. It brought Keiro Out and Incarceron wants it more than anything in the Realm. It’s our only hope now.’

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  ‘Sire

  Finn turned. He had forgotten Medlicote was there. The thin man had stood just inside the door all this time, his slightly stooping posture more obvious in his faded coat.

  ‘Might I suggest that it is also our only danger?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The secretary came forward, hesitant. ‘It’s clear the Prison will destroy us all if it can’t have this object. And if we hand it over then Incarceron will leave its Prison and all the Inmates will be left to die. It is a terrible choice you face.’

  Finn frowned.

  Jared said, ‘But you have a suggestion?’

  ‘I do. A radical one, but it might work. Destroy the Glove.’

  ‘No.’ Finn and Keiro said it together.

  ‘Sirs, listen to me.’ He seemed scared, Finn thought, and not of them. ‘Master Jared admits he is puzzled by this device. And have you thought, that it might be the very presence of the Glove here that is draining the Realm of its power? You only believe that to be caused by the Prison’s malice. You do not truly know’

  Finn frowned. He turned the Glove over, then glanced at Jared. ‘Do you think he’s right?’

  ‘No, I don’t. We need the Glove.’

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘Give me time.’ Jared rose and came over. ‘Give me time and I’ll work it out.’

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  ‘We don’t have time.’ Finn looked at the Sapient’s frail face.

  ‘You don’t, and neither do those in the Prison.’

  Medlicote said, ‘You are the King, sire. No one — not even the Privy Council — will doubt that now. Destroy it. This is what the Warden would want us to do.’

  Jared said sharply, ‘You can’t know that.’

  ‘I know the Warden. And do you think, sir, that the Steel Wolves will stand by and allow this new danger, now that Protocol is gone?’

  As the candle guttered Finn said, ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘How could I, sire?’ Medlicote kept one eye on Keiro, but his voice was meek and anxious. ‘You must decide. Destroy it, and the Prison is trapped for ever in its self. Allow it access to Sapphique’s power, and you will unleash its horrors on us. Where do you think Incarceron will come, when it is free? What sort of tyrant will it become Out here?

  Will you allow it to make us all its slaves?’

  Finn was silent. He glanced at Keiro, who just gazed back. More than ever he wished that Claudia would open the door and stalk in. She knew her father. She would know if this was what they should do.

  In the shattered room a broken casement banged in the wind. A gale was howling around the house, and rain began to patter hard against the cracked glass. ‘Jared?’

  ‘Don’t destroy it. It’s our last weapon.’

  ‘But if he’s right, if—’

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  ‘Trust me, Finn. I have an idea.’

  Thunder rumbled. Medlicote shrugged. ‘I am loathe to say this, sire, but Master Jared may not be the one to listen to. Perhaps his reasons are not ours.’

  Finn said, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Master Jared is a sick man. Perhaps he feels such an object of power could be his cure.’

  They stared at him.

  Jared was pale; he seemed both astonished and confused.

  ‘Finn...’

  Finn held up a hand. ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Master.’ He advanced on Medlicote as if his anger had found its outlet. ‘I would never, never believe that you would put your own life before the safety of millions.’

  Medlicote knew he had gone too far. He stepped back. ‘A man’s life is everything to him.’

  A great crash echoed in the house, as if some part of the structure had fallen. ‘We should get out.’ Keiro stood, restless. ‘This place is a deathtrap.’

  Jared had not taken his gaze from Finn. ‘We need to find Claudia. The Glove will help us. Destroy it and the Prison has no reason to keep her alive:

  ‘If they are still alive.’

  Jared glanced at Medlicote. ‘I would suggest that the Warden certainly is.’

  Finn took a moment to understand. Then with a speed that made Keiro turn, he threw Medlicote back against the 435

  wall, one arm jammed under his throat. ‘You’ve spoken with him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Sire . . .’

  ‘Haven’t you!’

  The secretary gasped for breath. Then he nodded.

  Claudia said, ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘Medlicote.’ Her father turned to face the door. ‘One of the Steel Wolves. A good man. He’ll deal with the Glove. Now we’ll see who commands here.’

  But the roar of the angry Prisoners almost drowned his words. Claudia glared at him, infuriated by his pride and his stubbornness. Then she said, ‘They’ll trample you down. But there’s another thing we can do to stop Incarceron. We can burn the statue.’

  Her father stared. ‘It will never allow us.’

  ‘It’s preoccupied. You said so yourself.’ She turned to Attia.

  ‘Come on!’

  The two of them raced across the snowy waste of the hail. On the walls the hangings were frozen in their folds. Claudia grabbed the nearest and tugged, dust and shards of ice crashing around her. ‘Rix! Help us!’

  The magician sat on the pedestal, all knees and elbows. He was rippling coins through his hands, muttering to himself.

  ‘Heads they kill us. Tails we Escape.’

  ‘Forget him.’ Attia jumped up and heaved the tapestry down. ‘He’s crazy. They both are.’

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  Together they dragged down all the hangings. Close to, the tapestries were holed and ragged under their film of ice, and on them Attia recognized all the old legends of Sapphique —

  his crawling over the sword-bridge, offering his finger to the Beast, stealing the children, conversing with the King of the Swans. With a clatter of rings the woven scenes crumpled into clouds of fibres and icy mildew, and she and Claudia dragged them to the statue, piling them around its feet, while its beautiful face gazed out at the howling mob behind the door.

  The Warden watched. Beyond him, blow by blow, the last panels were shattered. A hinge smashed; the door jerked down.

  ‘Rix!’ Attia yelled. ‘We need a flame!’

  Claudia raced back across the floor, grabbing the Warden’s hand. ‘Father. Come away! Quickly!’

  He stared at the broken door, the arms thrusting through, as if he would stop them with only his authority. ‘I’m the Warden, Claudia. I’m in charge.’

  ‘NO!’ She hauled him back and pulled him and as she did the door collapsed.

  They saw a mass of Prisoners, those in front crushed and trampled by others behind. They hammered with fists and flailing chains. Their weapons were manacles and iron bars. They howled the cries of the desperate millions of

  Incarceron, the lost descendants of the first Prisoners, the Scum and the Civicry and the Ardenti and the Magpies 437

  and all the thousands of gangs and tribes, Wingtowns and outlaws.

  As they poured into the hail Claudia turned and ran, her father at her back, both of them fleeing over the trampled snowfield that the floor had become, and in its mockery the Prison picked them out in intense spotlights that crossed and recrossed from its invisible roof.

  ‘Here it
is.’ Keiro tugged the receiver out of Medlicote’s pocket and tossed it to Finn, who let the man go and flicked it open.

  ‘How does this work?’

  Medlicote crumpled on to the floor, half choked. ‘Touch the dial. Then speak.’

  Finn looked at Jared. Then he jabbed his thumb down on the small disc at one edge.

  ‘Warden he said. ‘Can you hear me?’

  Rix stood.

  Attia grabbed a piece of wood as a weapon and tested it. But she knew that before the sweeping anger of that mob nothing would be strong enough.

  On the steps the Warden turned.

  A tiny bleep sounded inside his coat; he reached for the disc but as he brought it out Claudia grabbed it, her eyes widening as the Prisoners poured in, a jostling, stinking, roaring host.

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  A voice said, ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘Finn?’

  ‘Claudia!’ The relief was clear in his voice. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘We’re in trouble. There’s a riot here. We’re going to burn the statue, Finn, or try’ She caught, out of the corner of her eye, the flicker of flame in Rix’s hand. ‘Then Incarceron has no way out.’

  ‘Is the Glove destroyed?’ the Warden hissed.

  A murmur. A blur of static. And then, in her ear, Jared’s voice. ‘Claudia?’

  She felt only a stab of joy.

  ‘Claudia, it’s me. Listen to me please. I want you to promise me something.’

  ‘Master . . .’

  ‘I want you to promise me that you will not burn the image, Claudia.’

  She blinked. Attia stared.

  ‘But. . . we have to. Incarceron. . .’

  ‘I know what you think. But I’m beginning to understand what is happening here. I have spoken to Sapphique.

  Promise me, Claudia. Tell me you trust me.’

  She turned. Saw the crowd reach the bottom step, the front runners flinging themselves up.

  ‘I trust you, Jared,’ she whispered. ‘I always did. I love you, Master.’