by Darren Shan
The queen’s eyes narrow. “Maybe we’ve put up with their thieving for too long,” she says. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“Maybe,” I concede, “but it should be for the right reasons.”
“What if I send you to prison in the rat’s place?” she asks.
I sigh. “You’re a queen. You can do whatever you want.”
“But it would be wrong,” Cal says hotly.
The queen looks around at her subjects, who are staring at her with a mix of fear, confusion and hope. “This will never be a realm of injustice,” she declares. “Even if we become SubMerged, we’ll never treat anyone unjustly. If there’s cause for fair punishment, we’ll punish, but we’ll always respect courage and honesty.” She faces me. “I don’t agree that the rat should have been released, but I understand why you did it. You’re free to go, Archibald Lox.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“I’ll see that your jewels are restored, Edward,” the queen continues. “If we can’t recover those that the rat made off with, I’ll replace them with items from my own collection.”
“I would never ask that of you,” the duke says hastily.
“That’s my decision nonetheless,” she says, waving a hand at him to indicate that the conversation is over. Then she smiles at Dermot. “My apologies. We interrupted your performance.”
“That’s alright,” Dermot says. “May I ask if you’re enjoying it?”
The queen laughs. “It’s provided me with food for thought. Please pick up where you stopped and we’ll do our best not to put you off your stride again.”
Queen Pitina sits to a round of applause and the actors resume. The sketch seems more relevant than ever, and although people were listening closely before, they concentrate deeply now, and not a word is uttered by any of the spectators between that point and the end.
An hour later, after a few more sketches, the show draws to its conclusion and the crowd disperses. I want to discuss what happened, but we’re all sent out to pitch the next performance and I’m paired with a vain actor called Tino, who isn’t the least bit interested in politics.
By the time we get back, word of the queen’s attendance and the disturbance has spread like wildfire and a huge audience has formed. The actors play to a packed house all the way through. (That’s an old theatrical term, one they use even when they don’t have a house to play in.)
Dermot decides to put on another show after a short break. The actors grumble but nobody argues — they’re loving the attention.
It’s late when we finish and everyone’s exhausted. We have a light meal and a few drinks, then turn in as soon as we’re done.
I sleep deeply, and when I wake in the morning there’s a present sitting at the foot of my bed, deposited there by a pair of small hands in the dead of the night — a very familiar typewriter.
TWO — THE MATCH
8
IT’S A COUPLE OF DAYS after our run-in with Queen Pitina. We staged four shows yesterday, and the plan is to do another four today. We’ve already completed our early morning performance. I’m helping Inez and the others clean up when someone says, “I hear you guys are the talk of the town.” I look up, smiling, but the smile disappears when I see who it is.
“Well, well,” Inez says drily. “Duke elect Kurtis. Fancy seeing you here.”
The SubMerged duke-to-be flashes Inez a smile but she’s not impressed.
“Where are your bodyguards?” I ask.
He blinks. “What do you...? Oh, Dai and Poppy. I didn’t ask them to come.”
“You should have,” I growl, cracking my knuckles, wishing I was bigger, so that it would have more of an effect.
Kurtis ignores me and says to Inez, “Sorry I didn’t come before.”
“Like I care,” Inez sniffs.
“I wanted to,” Kurtis insists, “but I’m not like the saps who’ve come to Cornan to gawp. I’m here to witness the vote.”
“You have an invite to the palace?” Inez is sceptical.
“My uncle’s the duke of a massive kingdom,” Kurtis says. “I accompany him on state affairs. When I got back the other day, he sent me to a meeting, and I’ve been rushed off my feet ever since. The vote takes place five days from now and there’s much we have to do in preparation.”
“Five days?” Inez is startled. “I thought we had a couple of weeks at least.”
“That’s what most people think,” Kurtis smirks, “but everyone who matters is present. Hugo kept trying to defer the vote – his people are still searching for Ghita – but he ran out of excuses. Anyway, I’ve managed to clear some time in my schedule and I was hoping to take you up on your offer of a tour around Cornan.”
“What makes you assume my schedule’s less pressing than yours?” Inez replies.
“I don’t assume that at all,” Kurtis says. “I come in hope, not surety.”
I expect Inez to tell the smarmy git to get lost, but instead she says shyly, “Maybe I can get away for an hour or two.”
“That would be excellent,” Kurtis beams.
“Hang on,” I stop her. “Have you forgotten we’re putting on four shows today?”
“I’ll ask Dermot,” Inez says.
“Mary...” I mutter.
“What?” she asks when I don’t continue.
“I don’t trust him,” I growl.
Kurtis laughs. “Do you think I’m going to spirit her away to Ruby?”
I blank him and say to Inez, “I want to come with you.”
“No way,” Kurtis barks.
Inez is looking at me oddly.
“You know nothing about this guy,” I hiss. “He might have been sent to trap you.”
Kurtis stares at me as if I’m insane. “Why would I want to trap a girl who makes costumes for actors?” He turns to Inez. “Is he right in the head?”
“Maybe not,” Inez smiles, “but he wants to protect me, and I like that. Very well, Archie, if you want to be my chaperone, I’d be honoured.”
“Wait a minute,” Kurtis cries.
“No argument,” Inez says. “Archie comes or I stay here.”
Kurtis shoots me a piercing look but there’s nothing he can say, so he shrugs. “Fine. Bring him along. Why should I care?”
“Wonderful,” Inez says. “Let me go clear it with Dermot.”
She scoots off, leaving me alone with the glowering Kurtis. We stare daggers at one another for a good twenty minutes before Inez saunters back. She’s brushed her hair and changed her clothes, which accounts for the delay.
“Well?” I ask.
“Dermot thinks they’ll struggle by without us,” Inez says, and off we set.
Inez leads us far away from Lot 173T. She shows us a well, apparently the deepest in all the Merge. “If you fell in, it would take you a minute of freefall before you’d hit the water,” she says.
“A good place to get rid of bodies,” Kurtis jokes.
“Don’t give me ideas,” I purr.
We climb up a ladder inside a tree and set off across some of the walkways linking the higher levels of the forest. Inez points out a house where a famous queen used to live — not a Family member, but a Born queen who was beheaded in the French Revolution.
“She doesn’t live there still?” Kurtis asks.
“No,” Inez says. “She didn’t stay long in the Merge. There wasn’t enough cake.”
The pair laugh heartily, but I don’t get the joke.
“I used to live in France,” Kurtis says.
“When?” I ask.
“The early 1800s,” he says.
“A troubled time,” Inez notes.
Kurtis nods sombrely. “I saw a lot of corpses, but they were work for me. I picked their pockets.”
“You stole from the dead?” I gasp.
“My uncle Noah and I took part in several battles,” Kurtis says. “If you can call going through the pockets of dead soldiers taking part.”
“You don’t sound ashamed,” I growl.
<
br /> “Why should I? That happened in the Born.”
“Still, to steal from the dead...”
Kurtis shrugs. “The corpses had no use for their possessions, and it wasn’t as if the bodies were going to be returned to their families. We even saved a few lives when we found people who’d been left for dead. We didn’t steal from them. Noah always treated the living with respect.”
“Is he the uncle who’s now a duke?” Inez asks.
“Yes. We were killed at the same time.”
“Were you caught robbing?” I ask.
“No,” Kurtis says icily. “We were sharing an abandoned house with strangers — there were others in the same game as us and we often bunked together as we trailed an army around. The trouble was these guys weren’t pickpockets but traitors on the run. Their enemies tracked them down and set the house on fire. Noah and I tried to get out. The soldiers thought we were two of the traitors and shot us.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“Why?” Kurtis replies.
“That must have been a horrible way to die.”
He snorts. “We all died in horrible ways. That’s why we’re here.”
We stop at a bakery with a long line of people outside. Inez says their cupcakes are the best in the city. Kurtis talks about his life in Ruby while we shuffle towards the front of the queue. His uncle swiftly rose through the ranks. Kurtis doesn’t tell us what that entailed, but I imagine it involved a lot of backstabbing and slit throats.
“When will you take over?” I ask.
“No time soon,” Kurtis grunts.
“I’ve heard that most replacements in Ruby involve hostile takeovers,” Inez says with a mischievous chuckle.
Kurtis reddens, then laughs. “You’re not far off the mark. Sometimes there are smooth transitions, but they’re the exception.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to kill your uncle to fill his shoes?” I ask.
“Probably,” Kurtis says as if it’s no big thing. He catches my horrified expression and sighs. “I’m not saying anything I wouldn’t say in front of my uncle. If I don’t bump him off when he weakens, someone else will, and since I’m the duke elect, that person would kill me too.”
“It must be hard, living with that in your future,” Inez says, touching the back of Kurtis’ hand.
“It’s a burden, but one I bear willingly.” He’s trying to look sad, but I can see him struggling to suppress a smile.
“Pass me the sick bag,” I growl, but neither of them seems to hear.
We finally get to the front of the line and Inez trades a knitted napkin for three cupcakes. Kurtis raves about them, and I note with dismay how Inez blushes.
We press on, Kurtis and Inez holding hands now. Soon we come to a river of blood and trail along beside it. The river is bustling with boats, different sizes and shapes, the steers a mix of men and women. They all wear the same type of faded robes as Preston – the steer I met in Diamond – albeit in a variety of colours, and they’re all barefoot, with silver eyes.
The river loops back on itself and we cut away from it. We’re close to Cornan’s palace, the giant tree I noticed when I first set eyes on the city. We wind our way through a dense grove, and when we emerge, the palace is towering above us.
“It’s called Canadu,” Inez says. “The name was given to it as a joke by a Canadian who liked the Coleridge poem, but it stuck.”
“Nice one,” I chuckle. (I’ve no idea what poem she’s talking about, but I don’t want Kurtis thinking I’m dumb.)
We’re so close to the tree that I can barely see the upper branches or the building that perches among them – locals call it the Cuckoo’s Nest – but we’ve a great view of the main entrance. A huge door has been gouged out of the trunk. Three paths run into it and three run out. The doorway is adorned with intricate carvings and lovingly twisted strands of ivy.
Hundreds of people are lined up. Guards are checking them, and Inez tells me there are more guards inside, and at every entranceway to the higher levels.
“We stayed in the Cuckoo’s Nest the last time we visited,” Kurtis says.
She tuts. “You should have said. I could have taken you somewhere else.”
“That’s alright. See the ring of windows?” he says to me, pointing to a series of small holes around the tree. “That’s a defensive platform. There are two more rings, one halfway up, one near the top. There’s a guard at every window, every minute of the day or night. A few brave souls used to climb the tree in the old days – it was the Everest of Sapphire – but that’s forbidden now.”
“That measure was put in place when the SubMerged started to show an interest in the realm,” Inez says. “The royals were worried that an assassin might scale the tree and kill them.”
Kurtis laughs. “They were wise to be wary. They blocked all the vines inside the tree too – the ones that are thick enough to crawl through – and put locks on them.”
“Can we go in?” I ask Inez.
“I don’t think they’re admitting many people at the moment,” she says.
“I’m sure I can get us in,” Kurtis says, beaming at her.
Inez shakes her head. “No, we’ve been away from the thesps too long. Archie and I should be getting back.”
Kurtis sighs. “I probably need to show my face back at base too.” He hesitates, reluctant to let go of Inez’s hand. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”
“You mean come back to Canadu?” Inez teases him.
“I’ll go wherever you guide me,” he says.
“Swing by the lot,” Inez says. “Maybe I’ll grace you with my presence.”
Kurtis chuckles, then looks at me. “Can we do it without the chaperone next time?”
I stare at him angrily. Then Inez rips at my heart by saying, “Perhaps.” My gaze shoots to her and she flinches. She starts to say something, then scowls. “Don’t be a child, Archie. You can’t expect me to take you everywhere I go.”
I force myself to shrug. “Whatever,” I say dismissively, just about managing to keep the tremble out of my voice.
Inez bids Kurtis farewell and watches as he slips away and is quickly lost to sight in the gloom of the grove.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“You don’t have to apologise,” I say stiffly. “I’m not your keeper. Do whatever you want. I’d have thought, after what you said a few days ago, that you’d be more focused on trying to find a way to complete your mission, but if you want to go make out instead, who am I to object?”
“That’s not fair,” Inez snaps. “And it’s...” She was going to say something else, but pauses and then shakes her head.
“Just check your pockets after you’re done with him,” I jeer. “Although you’re probably safe, since it’s only the stone-cold dead that he steals from.”
“Archie...” she says, but I’m not in the mood to listen, and I start back through the grove, walking quickly, blinking away bitter tears.
9
INEZ HEADS OFF WITH Kurtis for most of the next day, and a few hours on the morning of the day after that, before returning to spend the afternoon in camp. I don’t see much of her when she returns. I don’t actively avoid her, it’s just that we’re doing different things.
Word has spread about the vote, and there’s been a change in the atmosphere. People are throwing extravagant parties, dancing in the streets until they drop, trying to squeeze as much as they can out of their last few days of freedom.
There’s tension in the air as well. Tempers fray, arguments are common, I see a few savage fights, and hear reports of more serious disturbances elsewhere.
Our audience numbers drop, people either staying at home because they fear the violence, or roaming the streets in search of it.
Since things are quieter, I wander down to the river of blood in the evening and find it bobbing with more boats than ever. Some are bringing latecomers to the city, but most are spiriting people out — locals who are abandoning t
he realm.
Everything is orderly at the moment – the passengers wait calmly and patiently on the riverbanks as the steers guide their crafts in to dock – but I think the river will be a place of chaos three days from now, as tens of thousands of Sapphirites attempt to flee by any means possible.
I stand by the riverbank in gloomy silence, trying to imagine what it will be like. There won’t be enough boats. The area will be packed with scared refugees jostling to board and escape. There’ll be fights. Some bystanders might get knocked into the river, to unravel within its destructive waters.
They should have fled earlier. If they’d started evacuating weeks ago, they could have escaped in a peaceful fashion. It was madness waiting this long. Although if this had been my home for decades or even centuries, maybe I wouldn’t be so quick to desert it either.
I head back to camp, troubled by what I’ve seen. I try to keep busy, but there’s not much to do. The audiences for the last two shows are way down, no more than forty people at each. Nobody wants to be on the streets after lights-out tonight.
Dermot tells us that we’ll only do two shows tomorrow and the next day, both while it’s light. Nothing will happen the day after that — the entire city will come to a standstill as everyone waits anxiously for the result of the vote to be announced.
The first of the next day’s shows goes well, and I laze on the grass in the middle of the lot afterwards with Cal and Inez. I’m trying to get back on normal terms with her, but it’s hard, especially when the smirking Kurtis comes strutting along.
“What’s up?” he asks, settling beside us and kissing Inez on the cheek.
“The crowds have dried up, so we’re only doing two shows today,” Inez says.
“It’s like that everywhere,” Kurtis says. “I’ve seen lots of performers heading for the hills. It’s quiet in our camp too. Noah excused me from my duties for the rest of the day, though I have to get back for a victory rehearsal tonight.”
“Will you have a parade through the streets?” I snarl.
“No,” he says. “We’re going to erect a guillotine outside the palace and chop off the heads of people we dislike.”
