‘It is important. I have information.’
‘Well tell me.’ He hesitated. Then he said, ‘The Queen plans to install a new Warden of Incarceron. It will not be you, my lady.’ She stared at him. 'What!’
‘Yesterday she held a private meeting of her advisors, the Privy Council. We believe the purpose was to—’ She couldn’t believe this. ‘I’m his heir! I’m his daughter!’ The tall secretary paused. When he resumed, his voice was dry . ‘But you are not his daughter, my lady.’ It silenced her. She found she was clutching her dress; she let go, and drew a deep breath. ‘So. That’s it.’
‘Of course your origin as a baby brought from Incarceron is known to the Queen. She told the members of the Council that you had no rights in blood to the Wardenship, or the house and lands of the Wardenry...’ Claudia gasped.
‘...and that there were no official documents of adoption — in fact the Warden had committed a serious crime by releasing you, an Inmate and the daughter of Inmates.’ She was so angry now she felt it like a chilly sweat on her skin. She stared at the man, trying to work out where he stood in this. Was he really from the Wolves, or was he working for the Queen?
As if he sensed her doubt he said, ‘Madam, you must know I owed everything to your father. I was merely a poor scrivener; he advanced me and I respected him greatly. I feel, in his absence, that his interests must be protected.’ She shook her head. ‘My father is an outlaw now. I don’t even know if I want him back.’ She paced over the stone floor, her skirt sending dust swirling up into the light. But the Wardenry! She certainly wanted that. She thought of the beautiful old house where she had lived all her life, its moat and rooms and corridors, Jared’s precious tower, her horses, all the green fields and woods and meadows, the villages and rivers. She could never let the Queen take them. And leave her penniless.
‘You’re agitated Medlicote said. ‘It is hardly surprising. My lady, if—’
‘Listen to me.’ She turned on him, sharply. ‘Tell these Wolves that they must do nothing. Nothing! Do you understand?’ Ignoring his surprise she said, ‘You mustn’t think Finn .... Prince Giles . . . is your enemy. He may be the Havaarna heir but I assure you he is as determined to abolish Protocol as you are. I insist you stop any plots against him.’ Medlicote stood still, looking at the stone floor. When he looked up she realized her show of temper had had no effect on him.
‘Madam, with respect, we too thought that Prince Giles might be our saviour. But this boy, if he is indeed the Prince, is not what we expected. He is melancholy, indeed sullen, and rarely appears in public. When he does his manner is awkward. He seems to brood on those he has left behind in Incarceron . . .’
‘Isn’t that understandable?’ she snapped.
‘Yes, but he is far more interested in finding the Prison than about what happens here. Then there are the fits he has, the loss of memory. . .’
‘All right!’ She was furious with him. ‘All right. But leave him to me. I mean that. I order you.’ Far off the stable clock chimed seven. The eagle opened its beak and made a harsh cry; the merlin, far down on its perch, flapped its wings and screeched.
A shadow darkened the mews door.
‘Someone’s coming,’ she said. ‘Go. Quickly.’ Medlicote bowed. As he stepped back into the shadows only the half—moons of his glasses glittered. He said, ‘I will report your order to the Clan, my lady. But I can give no assurances.’
‘You will,’ she hissed, ‘or I’ll have you arrested.’ His smile was grim. ‘I do not think you would do that, Lady Claudia. Because you too would do anything to change this Realm. And the Queen needs only a small excuse to remove you.’ She swept away from him and marched towards the door, tossing down the gauntlet. Her anger burnt her, but she knew it was not just at him. She was angry with herself, because he had said what she thought, what she had been secretly thinking for months, only she had never allowed herself to realize it. Finn was a disappointment to her.
Medlicote’s judgement had been coldly accurate.
‘Claudia?’ She looked up and saw Finn was standing in the doorway.
He looked hot and agitated. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere.
Why did you run off like that?’ He stepped towards her but she swept past him, as if irritated. ‘Jared called me.’ Finn’s heart leapt. ‘Has he got the Portal to work? Has he found the Prison?’ He grabbed her arm. ‘Tell me!’
‘Let go of me.’ She shook him off. ‘I suppose you’re in a panic because of this Proclamation. It’s nothing, Finn. It means nothing.’ He scowled. ‘I keep telling you, Claudia. I won’t be King till I can find Keiro. . .’ Something snapped in her. Suddenly all she wanted to do was hurt him. ‘You never will,’ she said. ‘Don’t you realize that? Are you so stupid? And you can forget all your maps and searches because the Prison isn’t like that, Finn. It’s a world so small that you could crush it between your lingers like an ant and not even notice!’
‘What do you mean?’ He stared at her. There was a warning itch behind his eyes, a prickle of sweat on his back, but he ignored it. He caught her arm again and knew he was hurting her; furious, she flung him away.
He couldn’t breathe. 'What do you mean?’
‘It’s true! Incarceron is only huge from inside. The Sapient miniaturized it to some zillionth of a nanometer! That’s why no one comes or goes. That’s why we have no idea where it is. And you’d better get it into your head, Finn, because that’s why Keiro and Attia and the thousands of Prisoners in there will never come out. Never! There’s not enough power left in the whole world to do it, even if we knew how.’ Her words were dark black spots that flew at him. He beat them away. ‘It can’t be . . . you’re lying . . . ‘ She laughed, harshly. The silk of her dress crackled in the sun. Its brilliance stabbed him like a bright dagger. He rubbed a hand down his face and his skin was dry as paper.
‘Claudia,’ he said. But no sound came out.
She was talking. She was saying something hard and scathing and storming away from him, but it was all too far for him to hear now. It was behind the sparkling itchy shimmer that was rising around him, the familiar, dreaded heat that crumpled his knees and turned the world black, and all he could think of as he fell was that the cobbles were stone and that his forehead would smack against them and that he would lie in his own blood.
And then there were hands, grabbing him.
There was a forest and he fell from his horse into it.
And then there was nothing.
Jared said softly, ‘I believe the Queen is expecting me.’ The guardsman outside the Royal Apartments barely nodded. He turned and gave a smart rap on the door; it opened instantly, and a footman in a coat as blue as the feathers had been stepped out.
‘Master Sapient. Please follow me.’ Jared obeyed, wondering at the amount of powder on the man’s wig. There was so much that it had dusted his shoulders with a faint greyness like ash. Claudia would have been amused. He tried to smile about it, but his nervousness tightened the muscles of his face, and he knew he was pale and scared. A Sapient should be calm. In the Academy they had taught techniques of detachment. He wished he could concentrate on them now.
The Royal Apartments were vast. He was led down a corridor frescoed on each side with murals of fish, so lifelike that it was like walking underwater. Even the light through the high windows was a filtered green. After that came a blue room painted with birds and a room with a carpet as yellow and soft as desert sand, with palm trees growing out of it in elaborate urns. To his relief he was ushered past the entrance of the Great State Chamber; he had not been in there since the terrible morning of Claudia’s non-wedding, and he didn’t want to. It brought back memories of how the Warden had looked at him through the crowd. He shivered even now to think of it.
The footman paused before a padded door and opened it, bowing low. ‘Please wait here, Master. Her Majesty will be with you shortly.’ He stepped in. The door closed with a soft click. Like a muffled trap.