Sapphique - Incarceron 02 (11 page)

Jared fingered the collar of his robe. 'But Finn, you have ridden in the forest many times since you left the Prison. This may not be an old memory. It may not even be a memory at all.' He paused, seeing the defiance come into the boy's face. 'I say this because others may
say it. They'll say you dreamt
it.'

'I know the difference.' Finn's voice was angry. He stood up, tying the robe around him. 'Gildas always said the visions came from Sapphique. But this was memory. It was so . . . sharp. It happened, Jared. I fell. I remember falling.' His eyes held Claudia's. 'Wait for me. I'll get ready.'

They watched him walk into the wood-panelled dressing-room and slam the door.

Bees hummed peacefully in the honeysuckle outside. 'Well?' Claudia whispered.

Jared got up and crossed to the window. He opened the casement wider and sat on the sill, leaning his head back. After a moment he said, 'In the Prison, Finn had to survive. He learnt the power of lies.'

'You don't believe him?'

'I didn't say that. But he is skilful at telling the stories his listeners want to hear.'

She shook her head. 'Prince Giles was hunting in the Forest when he fell. What if this is that memory? What if he was drugged then, and taken to wherever they wiped his mind?' Excited, she jumped up, came over to him. 'What if it's all coming back to him?'

'Then that's good. But do you remember his story of the Maestra, Claudia? The woman who gave him the Key? We have heard several versions of that. Each time he tells it differently. Who knows which if any is the truth?'

They were silent a moment. Claudia smoothed the silk of her dress, trying not to feel deflated. She knew Jared was right, that at least one of them had to keep a clear head. It was the method he had always taught her, to weigh up arguments, to probe them without favour. But she so wanted Finn to remember, to change, to become suddenly the Giles they needed. She wanted to be sure of him.

'You don't resent my sc
epticism, Claudia?' Her tutor's
voice was wistful; she looked up, surprised, and saw he was looking at her closely.

'Of course not!' Caught by some sadness in his eyes she came over and sat by him, gripping his arm. 'Are you well, Master? All this worry over Finn...'

'I am quite well, Claudia.'

She nodded, not wanting to know if he was lying. 'But I haven't asked you about the Queen. What did she have to say that was so urgent?'

He looked away, out at the green lawns. 'She wanted to know how the efforts to open the Portal went. I told her about the feathers.' He smiled his rare smile. 'I don't think it impressed her.'

Claudia said, 'No.'

'And I broached the subject of the Academy.'

'Don't tell me. She won't let me go.'

It was his turn to be surprised. 'Correct. You think it is because of what Medlicote told you? That she plans to disinherit you?'

'She can try;' she said fiercely. 'She'll have a battle on her hands.'

'Claudia, there is more. She . . . is happy for me to go.

Alone.'

She opened her eyes wider. 'To search for the way In? But why? We both know she doesn't want it found.' He nodded, gazing down at his thin fingers. 'It's some sort of plot. She wants to get you out of

Court.' Claudia bit her nails, thinking hard.' Out of the way. Perhaps she knows you won't find anything, that you'll be wasting your time. Maybe she already knows where Incarceron is. .

'Claudia, I have to tell you. . .' He looked up and turned but at that moment the tower clock began to strike, and the dressing-room door opened.

Finn ran out. 'Where's my sword?'

'Here.' Claudia took the foil from the chair and watched him buckle it on. 'You should have a servant to do that.'

'I can do it myself.'

She looked at him. His hair had grown longer since his Escape; now it was hastily tied back in a black ribbon. His frockcoat was a rich midnight blue, and though the sleeves were edged with gold it had none of the laced and ruffled extravagance of the other courtiers. He wouldn't wear powder, or bright colours, or any of the perfumed sashes and stars and plumed hats the Queen had sen
t him. It was as if he was in m
ourning. The austerity reminded her of her father.

He stood there nervously. 'Well?'

'You look fine. But you should have more gold lace. We have to show these people. .

'You look every inch the Prince Jared said, coming and opening the door.

Finn didn't move. His hand
gripped the swordhilt as if it
was the only familiar thing there. 'I don't know if I can do this,' he said.

Jared stepped back. 'Yes you can, Finn.' He moved closer and his voice was so quiet Claudia barely caught the words. ' You will do it for the Maestra's sake.'

Startled, Finn stared at him. But then the bell rang again, and Claudia slipped her arm firmly in his and led him from the room.

All the corridors of the Court were lined with people. Well-wishers, servants, soldiers, secretaries, they gathered in hallways and peered from doors and galleries to see the Crown Prince of the Realm going to his Proclamation. Preceded by a guard of thirty men-at—arms, sweating in their shining cuirasses, ceremonial swords upright in their hands, Claudia and Finn walked quickly towards the State Apartments. Flowers were thrown at Finn's feet, applause rippled from doorways and stairs. But it was muted, and Claudia knew that, and she wanted to frown under the gracious smile she had to keep on her face. Finn wasn't popular enough. People didn't know him. Or they thought he was surly and remote. It was all his own fault.

But she smiled and nodded and waved at them, and Finn walked stiffly, bowing here and there at faces he recognized, and she knew Jared was reassuringly behind her, his Sapient coat swirling the dust on the floor. They were escorted through the myriad apartments of the Silver Wing, and the Gold Rooms, and the Turquoise Ballroom,

massed with staring crowds, and the Mirrored Salon where the walls of looking-glass made the gathering seem overwhelmingly huge. Under glittering chandeliers they walked, through air that was hot and cloying with perfume and sweat and pomander oils, through whispers and polite cheers and curious scrutiny. Music tinkled from viols and cellos on a high balcony; rose petals were tossed in showers from the ladies-in-waiting. Finn looked up and managed a smile; the pretty women tittered and hid their faces behind fans.

His arm was hot and tense in Claudia's; she squeezed his wrist in reassurance. And as she did so she realized how little she really knew of him, of the agony of his memory loss, of the life he had lived.

As they came to the entrance of the Crystal Court two livened footmen bowed and flung the doors back.

The vast room shimmered. Hundreds of people turned their heads.

Claudia loosened her arm, and stepped back beside Jared. She saw how Finn gave her one glance; then he drew himself up and marched on, one hand on his sword. She followed, wondering what terrors of the Prison had taught him such cold bravado.

Because the room was full of danger.

As the crowd fell back she walked between their sweeping bows and elegant curtsies and wondered how many secret weapon
s were concealed here, how many
assassins lurked, how many spies pushed close. A silken flock of smiling women, Ambassadors in full regalia, Countesses and Dukes and all the ermine robes of the Privy Council opened to show the scarlet carpet that led the length of the room, and the tiny birds in bright cages that sang and fluttered in the high arches of the roof. And everywhere, like a bewildering maze, the thousand crystal pillars that gave the room its name reflected and twisted and entwined from the vaulted ceiling.

On each side of the dais ranks of Sapienti stood, their iridescent robes catching the light. Jared joined them, quietly moving to the end of the line.

The dais itself was raised on five wide marble steps, and on the top of it were two thrones. Queen Sia rose from one.

She wore a hugely looped gown of white satin, a cloak trimmed with ermine, and the crown. It was oddly small on her elaborate hair, Claudia thought, stopping at the front row of courtiers next to Caspar. He glanced at her, and grinned, and the hulking bodyguard called Fax stood close behind him. Claudia turned away, frowning.

She watched Finn.

He climbed the steps swiftly, his head slightly bowed. At the top he turned to face the crowd and she saw his chin go up, the steady defiant stare he sent out at them all. But for the first time she thought,
If he tried he could look like a prince.

The Queen held u
p her hand. The murmuring crowd
fell silent; only the hundreds of finches cheeped and warbled high above.

'Friends. This is a historic day. Giles, who was once lost from us, has returned to take up his inheritance. The Havaarna Dynasty welcomes its Heir. The Realm welcomes its King.'

It was a pretty speech. Everyone applauded it. Claudia caught Jared's eye and he blinked slowly. She tried not to smile.

'And now we will hear the Proclamation.'

As Finn stood rigidly beside Sia the First Lord Sapient, a thin austere man, stood and handed his silver wand tipped with its crescent moon to a footman. From another he took a parchment scroll, unrolled it and began to read from it in a firm, sonorous voice. It was long and tedious, full of clauses and titles and legalese, but Claudia realized it was essentially an announcement of Finn's intention to be crowned, and the assertion of his rights and fitness. When the phrase, 'sane in mind and whole in body and in spirit' rolled out she stiffened, sensing rather than seeing Finn's tension. Beside her, Caspar made a small tutting noise.

She glanced at him. He still wore the stupid smirk.

Suddenly a cold fear sprang up in her. Something was wrong. They had something planned. She moved, agitated; Caspar's hand caught hers.

'I hope you're not going to interrupt,' he breathed in her ear, 'and ruin Finn's lovely day.'

She stared at him.

The Sapient ended, rolling the scroll. '. . . Thus it is Proclaimed. And unless there be any who cry out against it, I affirm and announce here and before these witnesses, before the Court and the Realm, that the Prince Giles Alexander Ferdinand of the Havaarna, Lord of the Southern Isles, Count of—'

'I object.'

The Sapient faltered, fell silent. The crowd turned, astonished. Claudia whipped her head round.

The voice had been quiet but firm, and it came from a boy. He pushed his way through and past her, and she saw he was tall and had brown hair and there was a clear, purposeful look in his eyes. He wore a coat of fine golden satin. And his resemblance to Finn was astonishing.

'I object.'

He looked up at the Queen and Finn and they stared back, and the First Sapient made a sharp gesture, and the soldiers lifted their weapons quickly.

'And who are you, sir, that you think you may object?' the Queen said in amazement.

The boy smiled, and held out his hands in a curiously regal gesture. He stood on the step and bowed low.

'Madam Stepmother,' he said, 'don't you know me? I am the real Giles.'

10

So he rose up and sought the hardest way, the road that leads inward. And all the time he wore the Glove he did not eat or sleep and Incarceron knew all his desires.

LEGEND OF SAPPHIQUE

The horse was tireless, its metal legs deep in snow. Attia held tight to Keiro, because the cold made her stiff and her hands numb, and several times she almost, felt she would fall.

'We have to get far enough away,' Keiro said over his shoulder.

'Yes. I know.'

He laughed. 'You're not a bad little operator. Finn would be proud.'

She didn't answer. The plan of how they should steal the Glove had been hers and she had known she could do it, but she felt a curious shame at betraying Rix. He was crazy, but she'd liked him and his ramshackle troupe. As they rode she wondered what he wo
uld be doing now, what story he
would be spinning them. But he'd never used the real Glove in the act, so they should be able to carry on. And she shouldn't feel sorry for him. There was no place for pity in Incarceron. But as she thought that she thought of Finn, who had pitied her, once, and rescued her. She frowned.

The Ice Wing glittered in the darkness. It was as if the artificial light of the Prison had been stored deep in its frozen strata, so that even now, in darkness, the vast tundra was pale and phosphorescent, its pitted surface swept by cold winds. Shimmers of aurora rippled in the sky, as if Incarceron amused itself with strange effects in the long hours of the arctic night.