‘Soon,’ Blue said in her dreamy voice. ‘The Trickster took my filament.’
Since clowns and serpents and filaments made no sense, Henry concentrated on the one thing that might. ‘Where are you, Blue. You have to tell me where you are.’
‘In the dark,’ Blue repeated; to Henry’s horror her voice seemed to be fading.
‘In the dark where?’ he asked desperately. ‘Are you in the Palace? Are you in the city? Blue, where are you?’
Blue said something, but so faintly now that Henry couldn’t catch it.
In a mounting panic he reached out to grip Ino’s arm. ‘Where are you, Blue?’ he shouted. ‘Please, darling, tell me where you are!’
‘She’s in the Mountains of Madness,’ Ino said crossly in Mr Fogarty’s voice. ‘And don’t call me "darling".’
Seventy-Eight
‘Do you have a diagnosis?’ Madame Cardui asked, buttoning her blouse.
Chief Wizard Healer Danaus, who had carried out the examination with his back turned, said quietly, ‘I’m afraid you test positive.’
‘I have the time plague?’
‘In its early stages, yes.’
They were in the Chief Wizard’s private consulting rooms. There was a guard on the door and military grade privacy spells were in place. With Queen Blue no longer in the Palace, her Gatekeeper dead and Pyrgus in stasis, Madame Cardui was painfully aware the state of her own health had political implications. She said quietly, ‘What do you suggest?’
‘Immediate stasis,’ Danaus said bluntly.
‘Impossible,’ said Madame Cardui. She finished adjusting her clothing and added, ‘You may turn round now.’
Danaus turned his large bulk slowly. He had a sober, strained expression on his face, impossible …?’ he echoed tiredly.
Madame Cardui said briskly, ‘Until Her Majesty returns, I am needed in the Palace.’
Danaus shook his head. ‘No one is indispensable.’
Madame Cardui sighed, ‘I’m afraid I am, Chief Wizard Healer. At least until Queen Blue returns, and possibly beyond then. It is simply impossible for me to go into immediate stasis.’
‘Impossible or not, it is necessary.’ They stood looking at each other in silence; then, to her astonishment and not a little shock, he reached out to take her hand. ‘Cynthia,’ he said quietly, ‘Prince Pyrgus is a young man hardly more than a child. You have seen how the fever has ravaged him. Gatekeeper Fogarty was a mature man when he caught the fever. You saw how quickly it killed him.’ He looked deep into her eyes. ‘Forgive me, Cynthia, but you are older even than Gatekeeper Fogarty. You may not feel it, you do not look it, but that’s the simple fact of it: I have your medical records.’
Madame Cardui extricated her hand gently and turned her head away. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s true. Alan never knew how many years there were between us the difference between faerie and human physiology, of course – and I felt no great need to tell him.’ She looked back at Danaus, her eyes suddenly fierce. ‘But it’s not the age that counts, is it? As I understand this plague, what is really important is the amount of future one has left remaining. Is this not so, Chief Wizard Healer? An eighty-year-old faerie with a hundred years remaining is surely better off than an eighty-year-old human who might be lucky to have ten?’
‘You are not an eighty-year-old faerie,’ Danaus said gently. ‘You do not have a hundred years remaining.’
‘No,’ Madame Cardui agreed, ‘but you take my point.’
‘I understand the point you are making, but there is something else that must be taken into consideration. Our research shows that the disease progresses more quickly when contracted late in life.’
That was something else he hadn’t mentioned before. She blinked, but managed to keep the irritation from her voice. ‘You’re saying that the disease uses up the remaining future of an adult at a faster rate than it uses up the future of a child?’
‘That is exactly what I am saying. The plague is at its most virulent when it first strikes. Had you contracted this disease fifty years ago, it might take months, perhaps even years, to burn up the future you now have remaining. But since you have only just become ill, the time left to you will be short.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Perhaps very short.’ He looked at her soberly. ‘Your only hope – your only hope – is immediate stasis. That at least will keep you alive indefinitely, even if it does not permit you to function.’
‘You did not recommend stasis in the case of Princess Nymphalis.’
‘Your case is entirely different – I’ve just explained that in great detail.’
She knew she was being an irritating old woman. She also knew he had her best interests at heart. The trouble was Chief Wizard Healer Danaus exactly lived up to his title. He was a healer first, foremost, always and nothing more. His grasp of politics was confined to lobbying for an increase in his department’s budget. He saw the time fever solely as a disease to be battled, a plague to be stopped. He had no realisation of its wider implications. He would not see, for example, how it weakened the Realm, left it open to revolution from within or attack from without. He would not see the importance of strong leadership at a time like this. Comma functioned perfectly well as a holding operation, but he did not have the experience to handle an emergency. Danaus could not realise how precarious a position they were all in with their Queen absent. (And Madame Cardui blamed herself for that little eventuality. She should never have allowed Blue to leave the Palace. But she had been so concerned with Alan’s visions that her judgement had been clouded – she admitted that now, at least to herself.)
Madame Cardui took a deep breath. ‘Your diagnosis of my condition is based on early warning signs, is it not?’
‘There is no doubt in my mind,’ said Danaus grimly. ‘You have the fever. To try to convince yourself otherwise would be a grave mistake.’
Madame Cardui shook her head, ‘I understand I have the disease, but the fever has not actually manifested yet.’
‘It could do so literally at any minute.’
‘But until it does, my future is not in peril?’
‘Technically no. But –’
‘Chief Wizard Healer,’ Madame Cardui said with a note of finality in her voice, ‘there can be no question of placing me in stasis now. I have far too much to do. I would suggest you put a stasis chamber on standby. When the fever manifests, you have my permission to place me in it immediately.’
‘That assumes I, or some other healer, will be with you when the fever manifests,’ Danaus said.
Madame Cardui said nothing.
Danaus said, ‘Madame Cardui, I cannot stress strongly enough the risk involved in what you are asking me to do. At your age, the fever could burn up your available future within an hour or so at most, probably less and possibly a great deal less. If the fever strikes while you are asleep tonight, you will be dead by morning. If the fever strikes while you are alone, you could be dead before anyone arrives to help. Even if the fever strikes while you are surrounded by people and I am miraculously standing by your side, you might be dead before we got you to the stasis chamber.’
‘That’s a risk I’ll have to take,’ said Madame Cardui.
Seventy-Nine
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn – the catsite was wearing off! Blue couldn’t believe it. Of all the foul luck. That creature, that clown, that disguised charno person had snatched her filament and disappeared, leaving her to find her way out of the maze of passages unaided. She might have managed it too – she had a good sense of direction and a fine visual memory – but without the catsite in her system she was blind. Already her eyesight was fading. Where once she could see for yards along the rocky corridor, now only a few steps ahead were visible. Beyond that everything faded into a thickening fog.
Dare she take more catsite?
Fortunately the creature had left her backpack. She rummaged in it now, found the catsite and felt her heart sink. The remaining crystals had clumped together and were
in the process of fusing. Catsite did that sometimes if you failed to separate out the crystal structures in advance, which – dammit – she hadn’t. She could break off a portion – she could still do that – but not a small portion. All the fused crystals were far larger than the originals. What it meant was she would have to take a massive second dose … or no dose at all.
Blue forced herself to stay calm. There was a good side and a bad side. The good side was that a massive dose of catsite would last a very long time, probably far longer than she’d need to explore these passages, rescue Henry if he was here, and make her escape. The bad side was a massive dose of catsite would almost certainly kill her.
After a long moment she decided to see how far she could get with the remains of the catsite in her system. No sense risking any more until she absolutely had to. After all, she could still see, if poorly, and she had no way of knowing how long it would be before the catsite cleared her system completely. Enough of it might hang around to let her do what she needed to do.
An hour later, Blue knew it wasn’t enough. She was on her knees in a narrow passageway, near blind now, inching forward more by touch than sight and very much aware she was completely lost. For a moment she experienced a massive sense of desolation. Did it matter if she took more catsite? Even with full vision again she would still be lost. When the creature stole her filament, he took away all hope of orientation. How could she hope to find Henry? How could she hope to rescue him? And if, miraculously, she did, how could they hope to find their way out?
The moment passed and something of her old self-confidence reasserted itself. She was no worse off now than she’d expected to be. If she risked another dose of catsite, there was every chance of doing what she’d set out to do.
She was reaching for the crystals when she saw a pinpoint of light ahead.
It was too good to be true. If there really was a light, it had to be another patch of the luminous fungus she’d seen earlier. But there was no greenish hue. The light was clean and clear, like sunlight. She began to crawl cautiously towards it. Minutes later she knew for certain this was no fungus patch. Minutes more and she was able to stand upright, able to move forward without reliance on the fading catsite. She began to run. She knew she should exercise more caution, but the light was a beacon now; her heart was pumping. This might even be a breakthrough to the surface, a way out, a means of starting again.
Blue ran from the passageway into a vast subterranean cavern. It was well lit, but not from any surface sun – the light was pouring from an opening into a second, smaller chamber. It was too bright to be sunlight, although where it came from she had no idea. There was a heady smell of magic in the air. She could have sworn it was the potent stench of summoning.
She stopped, confused. The floor of the cavern looked a little like an angry ocean, a grey turbulence with flecks of green and blue and white. She could make no sense at all of what she was seeing; then something moved and the scene resolved itself abruptly. The cavern was filled with the blue-green coils of a massive serpent, a creature so huge it could never have been the product of the natural world. The head that slowly turned to gaze at her was larger than a peasant’s cottage. Seated between the serpent’s tree-trunk horns was the clown who’d tracked her earlier. A small loop of filament dangled from his fingers.
He smiled at her brightly. ‘What kept you?’ he asked.
Eight
‘Who are you?’ Blue screamed. She felt suddenly furiously angry. With the Abbot and the Purlisa who had sent her here. With their charno, who had transformed into this clown (or this clown who had disguised himself as a charno – she wasn’t sure which). With Madame Cardui for transporting Henry. With Mr Fogarty for dying just when she most needed his advice. With Pyrgus for getting ill. Most of all with herself for somehow walking into this incredible, bewildering, nonsensical, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid situation. Then, because it was all she really cared about, she shouted, ‘Where is Henry?’
‘Ah, Henry,’ said the clown. ‘The hero of our tale.’ He looked around ostentatiously. ‘Henry?’ he called. ‘Where are you. Henry?’ Then, ‘Henry, Henry, Henry’ as if calling to a cat. He turned back to Blue and smiled again. ‘No one of that name here.’
Blue opened her mouth, then closed it again. The clown hadn’t said, Who’s Henry? or Who do you mean? Instead he’d done his stupid clown act, playing games with her as if he knew exactly who Henry was. This had to be a set-up. The clown had been sent by the Purlisa, disguised as a charno, to … to … to what? Lure her into the cavern? She’d already agreed to go into the cavern. Make sure she did? The reverse psychology business? But why a disguised charno? Or a disguised clown? And why send her into the cavern in the first place if Henry wasn’t here? The more she thought, the more confused she became. What was going on here?
It occurred to her suddenly that in her confusion, she was missing out on the biggest, most obvious puzzle of the lot. The clown was sitting on the head of the most massive reptile she’d ever seen in her life. Was this the Midgard Serpent the Purlisa had talked about? Had he been telling the truth about that at least? But if it was the Midgard Serpent – or even if it wasn’t – why didn’t it attack the clown?
‘Serpents eat charnos.’ The remark made by the charno echoed in her memory. But the charno had still followed her into the cave, then turned into a clown and stolen her only means of leaving and …
She stopped the train of thought. Maybe it wasn’t like that at all. She’d briefly seen a charno in the passageway before it turned itself into this clown, but maybe that wasn’t the same charno who’d accompanied her from the monastery. She wasn’t sure she could tell one charno from another in bright sunlight, let alone in the depths of a gloomy cave. Suppose her charno was still outside, waiting patiently. Suppose this clown thing had taken the shape of a charno – a simple illusion spell would do it – just to confuse her?
Then why turn back to a clown the minute she stepped out? And if the clown wasn’t sent by the Abbot or the Purlisa, who was the clown? And whoever the clown was, how did he manage to sit on the head of the world’s largest serpent without being eaten like a charno?
It was all too much for Blue. Too many questions, not enough answers. But there was an answer to the only question that mattered. Henry wasn’t here.
‘I’m going,’ Blue said shortly and turned to leave the cavern.
The serpent twitched and a segment of its enormous tail closed off her exit.
Blue swung round again. The serpent was staring at her with vast, glittering eyes. The clown hadn’t moved. His legs dangled down on either side of its nose.
‘Do you control this thing?’ Blue demanded. ‘Tell it to let me out!’
Back into the passages, Blue, with the catsite worn off and no filament to guide you? her mind whispered. She pushed the thoughts aside. First things first.
‘Control?’ asked the clown, affecting a look of astonishment. ‘He’s an adolescent, bless him. Nobody controls an adolescent.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Stays out all hours. Keeps bad company. Gets innocent girl serpents pregnant.’ He pursed his lips, opened his eyes wide. ‘Won’t do a thing I tell him.’
Blue pulled the Halek blade from her belt, turned and in a single movement plunged it into the serpent’s tail.
The energy discharge was massive. It poured from the knife like a lightning bolt, twisting and crackling. An overwhelming smell of ozone filled the air. The clown jerked suddenly and looked down as if something had bitten his bottom, then slid from his perch on the serpent’s head and leaped nimbly onto the floor. ‘That tickled!’ he exclaimed.
Blue withdrew the knife. The crystal blade was intact, but dull and lifeless as if every ounce of energy it had contained was now discharged. The serpent watched her curiously. It had not moved so much as a single coil.
Blue dropped the useless Halek knife and ran. She could not leave the cavern the way she entered, but there might be other exits. Maybe the light was
sunlight after all, pouring through the roof of a side-chamber. She ran towards it.
Without haste, the serpent coiled itself around her and held her fast.
Eighty-One
‘This isn’t right,’ said Henry.
‘What isn’t right, En Ri?’ asked Lorquin.
They had been trotting together for hours across the desert sands, baked by a relentless sun that somehow wasn’t having anything like the effect on Henry that it used to. His adventures with Lorquin and sojourn with the Luchti seemed to have toughened him up a lot.
‘You coming with me,’ Henry said. ‘This could be really dangerous.’
Lorquin said, ‘En Ri, you were my Companion when I became a man. It is fitting that I am your Companion now.’ He gave one of his sudden, broad smiles. ‘Besides, how would you find your way without me?’
That was true enough. Although Henry had picked up several tricks from the Luchti, finding his way in the desert was not one of them. Try as he might, he still could not see the patterns Lorquin saw. ‘All the same,’ he said, ‘I want you to stay out of the way if there’s any trouble. You just show me how to get to the mountains and then …’ He trailed off. He’d been about to say, And then you can go back to your people. But several things occurred to him at once. The first was that he didn’t want Lorquin to go back to his people. He’d come to love the kid (the man, Lorquin would say fiercely) and he didn’t want him simply to disappear. Lorquin was like the little brother Henry never had. That was part of the reality of his situation now. Another part was the fact that if he was going to rescue Blue (from what?) he might need all the help he could get, even from a youngster. Henry was no hero. He avoided fights whenever he could. He’d do anything in the world for Blue, but he knew his limitations. And assuming they did manage to get Blue out of whatever pickle she’d got herself into, there was the question of getting home again. They might need Lorquin’s help there too. ‘… then just keep out of the way,’ he ended lamely.
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