‘Then let me.’ He swapped his dish for hers, politely. ‘You were saying?’
‘Only two months to train you. Not enough, but you’re clever. You’d learn fast. First they’d use a skinwand, get the likeness exact. Then they’d drill you in etiquette, family history, what Giles ate, rode, liked, who he played with, what he studied. They’d teach you to ride and dance. They’d make you memorize his whole childhood.’ She glanced at him. ‘They must have a few Sapienti in their pay. And they must have promised you a fortune.’
‘Or be holding my poor dear mother in a dungeon, maybe.’
‘Or that.’
‘But I’m to be King, remember?’
‘They’ll never let you be King.’ Claudia glanced down at Sia. ‘They’ll kill you, when you’ve served your purpose.’ For a moment he was silent, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin, and she thought she’d scared him. Then she saw he was gazing at Finn through the haze of candle smoke, and when he answered his light humour had vanished.
‘I came back to save the Realm from being ruled by a thief and a murderer He turned. ‘And to save you from him too.’ Startled, she glanced down. His fingers touched hers on the white tablecloth.
Carefully, she drew her hand away. ‘I don’t need saving.’
‘I think you do. From that barbarian, and from my evil stepmother. We should stand together, Claudia. We should watch each other’s back, and think of the future.’ He turned the crystal glass carefully. ‘Because I will be King. And I will need a Queen I can trust.’ Before she could answer a loud rapping came from the high end of the table. The majordomo was beating the floor with his staff. ‘Your excellencies. Lords, Ladies, Masters. The Queen will speak.’ The babel of chatter hushed. Claudia caught Finn’s dark glare, fixed on her; she ignored it and looked at Sia. The Queen was standing, a white figure, her pale neck glistening with a diamond necklace that caught the flamelight in its rainbow brilliants. She said, ‘Dear friends. Let me give you a toast.’ Hands went to glasses. Down the table Claudia saw the peacock-bright coats of the men and the women’s satins shimmer. Behind, in the shadows, rows of silent footmen waited.
‘To our two Claimants. To dear Giles She raised her glass archly to the Pretender, then turned to Finn. ‘And dear Giles.’ Finn glowered. Someone tittered a nervous laugh. In the moment of tension no one seemed to breathe.
‘Our two Princes. Tomorrow the investigation will begin into their stories.’ Sia’s voice was light; she smiled coyly.
‘This . . . rather unfortunate … situation will be resolved.
The true Prince will be discovered, I do assure you. As for the other, the Impostor, I’m afraid he will pay dearly for the inconvenience and anxiety he has caused our Realm.’ Her smile was icy now. ‘He will be shamed and tortured. And then he will be executed.’ Utter silence.
Into it she said lightly, ‘But with a sword, not an axe. As befits royalty.’ She raised her glass. ‘To Prince Giles of the Havaarna.’ Everyone stood, in a rattle of chairs. ‘Prince Giles,’ they murmured.
As she drank Claudia tried to hide her shock, tried to catch Finn’s eye, but it was too late. He stood slowly, as if the long tension of the meal had broken, glaring across at the Pretender. His stillness made the buzz and chatter subside into quiet curiosity.
‘I am Giles,’ he said,’ and Queen Sia knows it. She knows my memory was lost in Incarceron. She knows I have no hope of answering any of the Council’s questions.’ The bitterness of his voice made Claudia’s heart thump. She put down her glass hurriedly and said, ’Finn,’ but he stormed on as if he hadn’t heard her, his gaze hard on the courtiers.
‘What should I do, ladies and gentlemen? Do you want me to take a DNA test? I’ll do it. But then, that wouldn’t be Protocol, would it? That would be forbidden! The technology for that is hidden and only the Queen knows where. And she’s not saying.’ The guards at the door edged forwards. One drew his sword.
If Finn saw he didn’t care. ‘There’s only one way to solve this, the way of honour, the way we’d do it in Incarceron.’ He pulled a glove from his pocket, a studded gauntlet, and before Claudia realized what it meant he had shoved the dishes aside and flung it between the candles and flowers. It struck the Pretender full in the face; a shocked murmur rippled down the table.
‘Fight me.’ Finn’s voice was thick with anger. ‘I challenge you. Any weapons. Your choice. Fight me for the Realm.’ Giles’s face was white, his control icy. He said, ‘I would be most happy to kill you, sir, at any hour and with any weapon I can find.’
‘Absolutely not.’ The Queen’s voice was sharp. ‘There will be no duelling. I totally forbid it.’ The two Claimants glared at each other, like reflections in a smoky mirror. From down the table Caspar’s drawl rose. ‘Oh let them, Mama. It would save so much bother.’ Sia ignored him. ‘There will be no duel, gentlemen. And the investigation will begin tomorrow’ She held Finn with her ice-pale eyes. ‘I will not be disobeyed.’ He bowed, stiffly, and then thrust back his chair and stalked out, the guards moving hastily aside. Claudia stood but Giles said softly, ‘Don’t go, Claudia. He’s nothing, and he knows it.’ For a moment she paused. Then she sat. She told herself it was because Protocol forbade anyone leaving before the Queen, but Giles smiled at her, as if he knew something else.
Furious, she fidgeted for twenty minutes, her fingers tapping her empty glass, and when finally the Queen rose and she could slip away, she raced up to his room and knocked on the door.
‘Finn. Finn, it’s me.’ If he was there he would not answer.
Finally, she walked down the panelled corridor to the casement at its end and gazed out at the lawns, leaning her forehead on the cool glass. She wanted to storm and yell at him. What was he thinking of? How would fighting help! It was just the sort of stupid, arrogant thing Keiro would have done.
But he wasn’t Keiro.
And biting her nail, she recognized, deep inside herself, the sickening doubt that had been growing in her mind for two months. That perhaps she had made a terrible mistake. That perhaps he wasn’t Giles either.
He opened the window and looked out at the night. ‘The world is an endless loop,’ he said. ‘A Möbius strip, a wheel in which we run.
As you have discovered, who have travelled so far just to find yourself where you started from.’ Sapphique went on stroking the blue cat. So you can’t help me?’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t say that.’
SAPPHIQUE AND THE DARK ENCHANTER
The trackway undulated over the leaden sea.
At first Keiro let the horse gallop, and whooped at the speed and the freedom, but that was dangerous, because the metal trackway was slippery, slushy water washing right over it. The mist hung close, so that Attia felt they were riding through cloud with only glimpses now and then of distant dark shapes, which might have been islands, or hills.
Once, a jagged chasm gaped to one side.
Finally the horse was so weary it could barely run. After nearly three hours Attia came back from drowsiness to realize that the sea was gone. Around them the mist was shredding, to reveal a jungle of spiny cacti and aloes, head high, the great leaves blade-sharp. A path ran straight into it, the plants at each side curled and crisp, smoking blackly, as if Incarceron had drilled this road only minutes ago.
‘It’s not going to let us get lost, is it?’ Keiro muttered.
They dismounted and made an uncomfortable camp in the fringe of the forest. Gazing in, Attia smelt the scorched soil, saw the skeletons of leaves like cobwebs of fine metal.
Though neither of them said anything, she saw Keiro eyeing the undergrowth uneasily, and as if the Prison mocked their fear it put the lights out, abruptly.
There was little left to eat — some dried meat and a cheese that Attia sliced the mould from, and two apples stolen from Rix’s stores for the horse. As she chewed, she said, ‘You’re crazier than Rix He looked at her. ‘Am I?’
‘Keiro, you can’t make deals with Incarceron! It will never let you Escape, and if we bring it the Glove . . .‘
‘Not your problem.’ He threw the apple core away, lay down and wrapped a blanket around him.
‘Of course it is.’ She glared at his back, furiously. ‘Keiro!’ But he didn’t answer, and she had to sit, nursing her anger, until the change in his light breathing told her he was asleep.
They should have taken turns to keep watch. But she was too tired to care, and so they both slept at once, curled in musty blankets while the tethered horse snuffled hungrily.
Attia dreamt of Sapphique. Some time in the night he came out of the forest and sat down next to her, stirring up the glowing ashes of the fire with a long stick, and she rolled over and stared at him. His long dark hair shadowed his face. The high collar of his robe was worn and frayed. He said, ‘The light is going.’
‘What?’
‘Can’t you feel it being used up? Fading away?’ He glanced at her sideways. ‘The light is slipping through our hands.’ She glanced at the hand holding the charred stick. The right forefinger was missing, its stump seamed white with scars.
She whispered, ‘Where is it going, Master?’
‘Into the Prison’s dreams.’ He stirred the fire, and his face was narrow and strained. ‘This is all my fault, Attia. I showed Incarceron that there is a way Out.’
‘Tell me how.’ Her voice was urgent; she shuffled up close to him. ‘How you did it. How you Escaped.’
‘Every Prison has a crack.’
‘What crack?’ He smiled. ‘The tiniest, most secret way. So small the Prison does not even know it exists.’
‘But where is it? And does the Key open it, the Key the Warden has?’