She had never seen either of them before.
‘My Lord of Shadow.’ The Queen went to her throne and turned, formally. ‘And my Lord Sun. Your duty here is to question and draw out the truth, so that we and our Council may come to our verdict. Do you swear to deal faithfully in this enquiry?’ Both men knelt and kissed her hand. Then they walked, one to the black chair, one to the white, and sat. The Queen smoothed her dress, pulling a small lace fan out of her sleeve.
‘Excellent. Then let’s begin. Close the doors.’ A gong rang.
Finn and the Pretender were ushered in.
Claudia frowned. Finn wore his usual dark colours, without ornament. He looked defiant, and anxious. The Pretender wore a coat of purest yellow silk, as expensive as could be made. The two stood and faced each other on the tiled floor.
‘Your name?’ the Lord Shadow snapped.
As the doors slammed in her face Claudia heard their joint response.
‘Giles Ferdinand Alexander Havaarna.’ She stared at the carved wood, then turned and walked quickly away through the crowd. And like a whisper in her ear her father’s voice came to her, coldly amused. ‘Do you see them, Claudia? Pieces on the chessboard. How sad that only one can win the game.’
18
What makes a prince?
A sunny sky, an open door.
What makes a prisoner?
A question with no answer.
‘Get me out, Attia.’
‘I can’t yet.’ She crouched by the wooden bars of the cage.
‘You’ll have to be patient.’
‘Having too nice a time with your pretty new friends?’ Keiro sat lounged against the far wall, arms folded, legs stretched out. He looked cool and scornful but she knew him well enough to see that, inside, he was blazing.
‘I need to keep in with them.You can see that.’
‘So who are they?’
‘All women. Most of them seem to hate men — they’ve probably suffered at their hands. They call themselves the Cygni. They each have a sort of number for a name. The number of a star.’
‘How poetic.’ Keiro tipped his head. ‘Now tell me when they’re going to kill me.’
‘They’re considering. I’ve begged them not to.’
‘And the Glove?’
‘Rho’s got it.’
‘Get it back.’
‘I’m working on it.’ She glanced at the door of the room warily. ‘This nest is a sort of hanging structure. Rooms and passages, all woven together. I think there’s some way down to the floor of the hail but I haven’t found it yet.’ Keiro was silent a moment. ‘The horse?’
‘No idea.’
‘Great. All our stuff.’
‘All your stuff.’ She pushed her tangled hair back. ‘There’s something else. They work for the Warden. They call him the Unsapient.’ His blue eyes stared at her. ‘They want to take him the Glove!’ He was always so quick, she thought. ‘Yes, but—’
‘Attia, you have to get it back!’ He was up on his feet now, gripping the bars. ‘The Glove is our only way to Incarceron.’
‘How, exactly? We’re outnumbered.’ He kicked the bars, furious. ‘Get me out, Attia. Lie to them.
Tell them to throw me over the viaduct. Just get me out.’ As she turned he reached out and grabbed her. ‘They’re all halfmen, aren’t they?’
‘Some of them. Rho. Zeta. A woman called Omega has pincers instead of hands.’ She looked at him. ’Does that help you hate them more?’ Keiro laughed coldly, and tapped his fingernail on the bars.
It rang, metal against metal. ‘What hypocrisy that would be.’ She stepped away. ‘Listen. I think we’re wrong.’ Before he could explode she hurried on. ‘If we give the Prison this Glove it will carry out its crazy plan of Escape. Everyone here will die. I don’t think I can do that, Keiro. I just don’t think I can.’ He was staring at her, with that cold, intent look that always scared her.
She backed off. ‘Maybe I should just take the Glove and go.
Leave you here.’ She got to the door before his whisper came, icy with threat. ‘That would make you just the same as Finn. A liar. A traitor. You wouldn’t do that to me, Attia.’ She didn’t look back.
‘Tell us once more about the day you remember. The day of the hunt.’ The Shadow Lord loomed over him, eyes hard.
Finn stood in the empty centre of the room. He wanted to pace about. Instead he said, ‘I was riding. . .‘
‘Alone?’
‘No . . . there must have been others. At first.’
‘Which others?’ He rubbed his face. ‘I don’t know. I’ve tried to think, over and over, but …’
‘You were fifteen.’
‘Sixteen. I was sixteen.’ They were trying to trick him.
‘The horse was chestnut?’
‘Grey: He stared, angry, towards the Queen. She sat, eyes half closed, a small dog on her lap. Her fingers stroked it rhythmically.
‘The horse jumped he said. ‘I told you, I felt a sort of sting in my leg. I fell off.’
‘With your courtiers around you.’
‘No I was alone.’
‘You just said . . .’
‘I know! Perhaps I got lost!’ He shook his head. The warning prickle moved behind his eyes. ‘Perhaps I took the wrong path. I don’t remember!’ He had to stay calm. To be alert. The Pretender lounged on the bench, listening with bored impatience.
The Shadow Lord came closer. His eyes were black and level. ‘The truth is that you invented this. There was no ambush. You are not Giles. You are the Scum of Incarceron.’
‘I am Prince Giles.’ But his voice sounded weak. He heard his own doubt.
‘You are a Prisoner. You have stolen. Haven’t you?’
‘Yes. But you don’t understand. In the Prison. . .’
‘You have killed.’
‘No. Never killed.’
‘Indeed?’ The Inquisitor drew back like a snake. ‘Not even the woman called the Maestra?’ Finn’s head shot up. ‘How do you know about the Maestra?’ There was a movement of unease round the room. Some of the Council murmured to each other. The Pretender sat up.
‘How we know is not important. She fell, didn’t she, inside the Prison, down a great abyss, because the bridge on which she stood had been sabotaged. You were responsible.’
‘No!’ He was shouting now, eye to eye with the man. The Inquisitor did not back off.
‘Yes. You stole a device for Escape from her. Your words are a mass of lies. You claim visions. You claim to have spoken with ghosts.’
‘I didn’t kill her!’ He grabbed for his sword but it wasn’t there. ‘I was a Prisoner, yes, because the Warden drugged me and put me in that hell. He took away my memory. I am Giles!’
‘Incarceron is not a hell. It is a great experiment.’
‘It’s hell. I should know’
‘Liar.’
‘No...’
‘You are a liar. You have always been a liar! Haven’t you?
Haven’t you?’
‘No. I don’t know!’ He couldn’t bear it. His throat was ashes, the blurring of the impending seizure tormenting him. If it happened here he was finished.
He became aware of movement, dragged his head up. The Sun Lord was standing, beckoning for a chair to be brought, and the Shadow Lord had gone back to his seat.
‘Please, sire. Be seated. Be calm.’ The man’s hair was silver, his words sweet with concern. ‘Bring water, here.’ A footman brought a tray. A cool goblet was pressed into Finn’s hand and he drank, trying not to spill it. He was shaking, his sight blurred by spots and itches. Then he sat, gripping the padded arms of the chair. Sweat was soaking his back. The eyes of the Council were fixed on him; he dared not look at their disbelief. The Queen’s fingers fondled the silky fur of her dog. She was watching calmly.