Rix stared at him. 'I'm the master. Not you.'
Keiro pushed past him and waded on. 'Not for long.'
Rix looked at Attia. But before she could speak, he hurried on.
All day the tunnel narrowed. After about three hours the roof was so low that Rix could stretch up and touch it. The flow of the water was a river now; objects were washed down in it, small Beetles and tangles of metal. Keiro suggested a torch, and Rix lit one reluctantly; in its acrid smoke they saw that the walls of the tunnel were covered with scum, a milky froth obliterating graffiti that seemed to have been there for centuries — names, dates, curses, prayers. And there was a sound too, thudding softly for hours before Attia was aware she could hear it, a deep, pounding shudder, the vibration that she had felt in her dream in the Swan's Nest.
She came up to Keiro as he stood listening. In front of them the tunnel shrank into the dark.
'The heartbeat of the Prison,' she said.
'Shush...'
'Surely you can hear it?' 'Not that. Something else.'
She kept silent, hearing only the wading sloshes of Rix behind them, weighed down by his pack. And then Keiro swore, and she heard it too. With an unearthly screech a flock of tiny blood-red birds shot out of the tunnel, splitting in panic, so that Rix ducked.
Behind the birds, something vast was coming. They couldn't see it yet, but they could hear it; it scraped and sheared against the sides, as if it was metal, a great tangle of sharpness, a mass forced down by the current. Keiro swung the torch, scattering sparks; he scanned the roof and the walls. 'Back! It'll flatten us!'
Rix looked sick. 'Back where?'
Attia said, 'There's nowhere. We have to go ahead.' it was a hard choice. And yet Keiro didn't hesitate. I Ic raced into the dark, stumbling in the deep water, the torch shedding burning pitch like stars into the torrent. The roar of the approaching object filled the tunnel; ahead in the darkness Attia could see it now, an enormous ball of tangled wires, red light faceted from its angles as it rolled towards them.
She grabbed Rix and hustled him on, straight into the path of the thing, knowing it was death, huge, a pressure wave building in her ears and throat.
Keiro yelled.
And then he disappeared.
It was so sudden, like a magic trick, that Rix howled in anger and she almost stumbled, but then she was floundering towards the spot, and the rumble of the great mesh ball was on her, over her, above her.
A hand shot out.
She was hauled sideways and she fell, deep in the water, Rix crashing over her. Then arms went round her waist and hefted her aside, and the three of them felt the scorching heat as the object sheared past them, its blades scraping sparks from the walls. And she saw there were drowned faces in it; rivets and helmets and coils of wire and candlesticks. It was a compacted sphere of ore and girders, impaling a thousand coloured rags, a million scraps of steel flaking off in its wake.
As it passed she felt the friction, the condensed air imploding in her eardrums. It filled the tunnel fully; it scraped itself by with a million screeches and the darkness stank of scorching.
And then it was wedged tight in the dark, filling the world, and her knee was aching, and Keiro was picking himself up and swearing furiously at the state of his coat.
Attia stood, slowly.
She was deafened and stunned; Rix looked dazed.
The torch was out, floating in the thigh-high water, and there was no Eye here, but gradually she made out the dim shape of this fork in the tunnel that had saved them.
Ahead was a red glow.
Keiro slicked back his hair.
He looked up at the crushed and tangled surface of the sphere; it shuddered, the force of the water juddering it against the constricting walls.
There was no way back now. Over the noise he yelled something, and though Attia couldn't hear it, she knew what it was. He pointed ahead, and waded on.
She turned, and saw Rix reaching out to touch something that glared out from the metal, and she saw it was a mouth; the open snarling maw of a great wolf, as if some statue had been swept away in there, and was struggling to get out.
She pulled at his arm. Reluctantly, he turned away.
I want the drawbridge up.' Claudia marched along the corridor shedding her coat and gloves. 'Archers in the gatehouse, on every roof, on the Sapient's tower.'
' Master Jared's experiments . . .' the old man muttered.
'Pack the delicate things and get them down in the cellars. Ralph, this is F— Prince Giles. This is my steward, Ralph...'
The old man bowed deeply, his arms full of Claudia's scattered clothes. 'Sire. I am so honoured to welcome you to the Wardenry. I only wish... '
'We haven't got time.' Claudia turned. 'Where's Alys?'
'Upstairs, madam. She arrived yesterday, with your messages. Everything has been done. The Warden's levies have been raised. We have two hundred men billeted in the stable-block and more are arriving hourly.'
Claudia nodded. She flung open the doors of a large, wood-panelled chamber. Finn smelt the sweetness of roses outside its open casements as he strode in after her. 'Good. Weapons?'
'You'll need to consult with Captain Soames, my lady. I believe he's in the kitchens.'
'Find him. And Ralph.' She turned. 'I want all the servants assembled in the lower hail in twenty minutes.'
He nodded, his wig slightly askew. 'I'll see to it.'
At the door, just before he bowed himself out, he said, 'Welcome back, my lady. We've missed you.'
She smiled, surprised. 'Thank you.'
When the doors were closed Finn went straight to the cold meats and fruit laid out on the table. 'He won't be so pleased when the Queen's army comes over the horizon.' She nodded, and sat wearily in the chair. 'Pass me some of that chicken.'
For a while they ate silently. Finn gazed round at the room, its white plaster ceiling pargeted with scrolls and lozenges, the great fireplace with the emblems of the black swan. The house was calm, the stillness drowsy with bees and the sweetness of roses.
'So this is the Wardenry.'
'Yes.' She poured out some wine. 'Mine, and staying mine.'
'It's beautiful.' He put down his plate. 'But there's no way we can defend it.'
She scowled. 'It has a moat and a drawbridge. It commands the land around. We have two hundred men.'
'The Queen has cannon.' He stood and walked to the window, pushing it open. 'My grandfather chose the wrong Era for us. Something a bit more primitive would have kept us equal.' He turned, quickly. 'They will use the weapons of the time, won't they? Do you think they might have things we don't know about . . . relics of the War?'
The thought turned her cold. The Years of Rage had been a cataclysm that had destroyed a civilization; its energies had stilled the tides and hollowed the moon. 'Let's hope we're too small a target.'
For a moment she crumbled cheese on her plate. Then she said, 'Come on.'
The servants' hall was a buzz of anxiety. As he walked in beside Claudia, Finn felt the noise subside, but a fraction too slowly. Grooms and maidservants turned; powdered footmen waited in elaborate livery.
There was a long wooden table in the centre; Claudia stepped up on to a bench and then on to the tabletop.
'Friends.'
They were silent now, except for the doves cooing outside.
'I'm very glad to be back home.' She smiled, but he knew she was tense. 'But things have changed. You'll have had all the news from Court — you know about the two candidates for the throne. Well, things have come to such a point that we . . . I . . . have had to make a decision about which one I support.' She stretched out her hand, and Finn stepped up beside her.
'This is Prince Giles. Our future king. My betrothed.'
The last phrase astonished him but he tried not to show it. He nodded at them gravely and they all stared up at him, their eyes taking in every travel-worn detail of his clothing, his face. He found himself standing tall, steeling himself
not to flinch from that examination.
He should say something. He managed, 'I thank you all for your support,' but it produced not even a ripple. Alys was by the door, her hands gripped tight together. Ralph, near the table, said boldly, 'God bless you, sire!'
Claudia didn't wait for any response. 'The Queen has declared the Pretender as her candidate. Essentially, this means civil war. I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, but it's important you all understand what is happening here. Many of you have lived at the Wardenry for generations. You were my father's servants. The Warden is no longer here, but I have spoken to him... '
That did produce a murmur.
'Is he in favour of this prince?' someone asked.
'He is. But he would wish me to treat you with respect. Therefore I say this.' She folded her arms and gazed out at them. 'The young women and all the children will leave immediately. I'll give you an armed escort to the village, though it won't be needed. As for the men and the senior staff, the choice is yours. No one who wants to go will be prevented. There's no Protocol here any more.' — I'm saying this to you as equals. You must make up your own minds.' She paused, but there was silence, so into it she said, 'Assemble in the courtyard at the midday bell, and Captain Soames's men will take care of you. I wish you well.'
'But my lady,' someone said. 'What will you do?' It was a boy, near the back.
Claudia grinned at him. 'Hello, Job. We'll stay. Finn and I will use the . . . machinery in my father's study to try and contact him in Incarceron. It will take time but . . .'
'And Master Jared, ma'am.' One of the maids' voices, anxious. 'Where is he? He would know what to do.'
There was a ripple of agreement. Claudia's eyes slid to Finn. She said sharply, 'Jared's on his way. But we already know what to do. The true king has been found, and those who once tried to destroy him must not succeed again
She was in control, but she had not won them over. Finn could sense that. There was a silent discontent, an unspoken doubt. They knew her too well, from a child. And though she was an imperious mistress they had probably never loved her. She wasn't speaking to their hearts.
So he held his hand out, and took hers. 'Friends, Claudia is right to give you a choice. I owe everything to her. Without her I would be dead now, or worse, thrown back into the hell of Incarceron. I wish I could tell you what her support means. But to do that I would have to explain the Prison to you, and I won't do that, because I dare not speak about it, it hurts me even to think of it.'
They were intent; the word Incarceron was like a charm. Finn allowed his voice to tremble.
'I was a child. I was snatched from a world of beauty and peace to a torment of pain and hunger, a hell where men murder each other without a care, where women and children sell themselves to stay alive. I know about death. I've suffered the miseries of the poor. I know about loneliness, how wretched it is to be alone and terrified in a maze of echoing halls and dark dread. This is the knowledge Incarceron gave me. And when I am King, this is the knowledge I will use. There will be no more Protocol, no more fear. No more being locked in. I will do my best — I swear this to you my best to make this Realm a true paradise, and a free world for all its people. And Incarceron too. That's all I can say to you. All I can promise you. Except that if we lose I will kill myself rather than go back there
The silence was different. It was caught in their throats. And when a soldier growled, 'I'm with you, my lord: another answered at once, and then another, and suddenly the room was a hubbub of voices until Ralph's reedy 'God save Prince Giles' had them roaring their approval.
Finn smiled, wan.
Claudia watched him, and when their eyes met she saw there was a triumph in him, quiet but proud.
Keiro had been right, she thought. Finn could talk his way to a crown.
She turned. A footman was pushing his way through to her, white and wide-eyed. She crouched, and his voice, thin and terrified, silenced the hubbub.
'They're here, my lady. The Queen's army is here.'
26
Some say a vast pendulum swings in the heart of the Prison, or that there is a chamber there white-hot with energy, like the core of a star. For myself I think that if Incarceron has a heart it is icy, and nothing could survive there.
LORD CALLISTON'S DIARY
The tunnel narrowed rapidly. Soon Keiro was on hands and knees in the shallow water, struggling to keep the new torch alight. Behind her Attia heard Rix gasp as he crawled, the pack slung under his belly, the roof bruising his back. And was it her imagination, or was the air warmer? She said, 'What if it gets too small?'
'Stupid question,' Keiro muttered. 'We die. There's no way back.'
It was hotter. And choked with dust. She left it on her lips and skin. Crawling was painful; her knees and palms sore and cut. The tunnel had shrunk to a tube now, a red pulsing heat that they had to force their way through.
Suddenly Rix stopped dead. 'Volcano.'
Keiro twisted round. 'What!'
'Imagine. If the heart of the Prison is in fact a great magma chamber, sealed by terrible compression in the very centre of its being.'
'Oh for god's sake... '
'And if we reach it, if it is pierced by even so much as a needle-point . . .'
'Rix!' Attia said fiercely. 'This isn't helping.'
She heard him breathing hard. 'But it may be true. What do we know? And yet we could know. We could understand all things at once.'
She squirmed to look back. He was lying full length in the water. He had the Glove in his hand.
'No!' she hissed.
He looked up and his face was lit with that sly delight she had come to dread. And then he was shouting, his voice deafening in the confined space.
'I WILL PUT ON THE GLOVE. I WILL BECOME ALL-KNOWING.'
Keiro was beside her, knife in hand. 'I'll finish him this time. I swear I will.' 'LIKE THE MAN IN THE GARDEN...' 'What garden, Rix?' she asked quietly. "What garden?' 'The one in the Prison, somewhere. You know.' 'I don't.' She had her hand round Keiro's wrist, forcing him
still. 'Tell me.'
Rix stroked the Glove. 'There was a garden and a tree grew there with golden apples and if you ate one of them you knew everything. And then Sapphique climbed over the fence and killed the many-headed monster and picked the apple, because he wanted to know, you see, Attia. He wanted to know how to Escape.'
'Right.' She had wriggled back. She was close to his pocked face.
'And a snake came out of the grass and it said, "Oh go on, eat the apple. I dare you." And he stopped then with it to his mouth because he knew the snake was Incarceron.'
Keiro groaned. 'Let me...'
'Put the Glove away, Rix. Or give it to me.'
His fingers caressed its dark scales. 'And because if he ate it he would know how small he was. How much of a nothing he was. He would see himself as a speck in the vastness of the Prison.'
'So he didn't eat it, right?'
Rix stared at her. 'What?'
'In the patchbook. He didn't eat it.'
There was silence. Something seemed to pass over Rix's face; then he frowned crossly at her and tucked the Glove away inside his coat. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Attia. What patchbook? Why aren't we getting on?'
She watched him a moment, then shoved Keiro on with her foot. Muttering, he shuffled back. The moment was over, but it had been too close. Somehow, quickly, she had
to get the Glove from Rix before he went too far.
But as she gripped the slimy filth and pulled herself after Keiro she felt his boots ahead and he wasn't moving.
She looked up and saw the torchlight glowing on the end of the tunnel.
It was a rounded vault of corbelled stone, and a single gargoyle leered down at them with its tongue impudently out. The water was pouring from its mouth, a green slime down the walls.
'That's it? The end?' She almost dropped her forehead down into the water. 'We can't even turn!'
'End of the tunnel.
Not quite the end of the line.' Keiro had wriggled over on his back and was looking up, his hair dripping. 'Look.'
In the roof immediately above him was a shaft. It was circular and around it were letters, strange sigils in some language Attia didn't know.
'Sapient letters.' Keiro flinched as the sparks from the torch fell towards his face. 'Gildas used to use them all the time. And look at that.'
An eagle. Her heart leapt as she saw the sign that Finn wore on his wrist, its wings wide, a crown around its neck.
Down through the centre of the hole, its final links just drifting above Keiro's hand, hung a chain ladder. As they watched, it shuddered gently, in the vibrations from above.
Rix's voice was calm in the darkness behind her. 'Well climb it, Apprentice.'
* * *
There was no stable.
Jared stood in the centre of the clearing and looked blearily around.
No stable, no feathers. Only, on the floor of the clearing, a scorched circle, that might once have been the blackened scar of a fire. He walked round it. The bracken was deep and curled in the dawn light; spiderwebs, looking like cradles of wool meshed with dew, filled every crack between stem and stalk.
He sucked his dry lips, then ran his hand over his forehead, behind his neck.
He must have been here one, perhaps two days, rolled in that blanket, delirious, the horse snuffling and cropping leaves and wandering aimlessly nearby.
His clothes were sodden with damp and sweat, his hair lank, his hands bitten by insects, and he still couldn't stop shivering. But he felt as if some door had opened inside him, some bridge had been crossed.
Walking back to the horse, he took out his medication pouch and crouched, considering the dose. Then he injected the fine needle into his vein, feeling the sharp prick that always set his teeth on edge. He withdrew it, cleaned it and put it away. Then he took his own pulse, wiped a handkerchief in the dew and washed his face and smiled at a sudden memory of one of the maids at home asking him if dew was really good for her complexion.
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