‘My wife died these five years. But some of Rafe’s young ones sleep here. He has six, and his sick mother to care for…’ Claudia noticed something in a dim doorway; she realized after a moment that it was a pig, snuffling the straw of the adjoining room. That would be the byre.
She shivered. ‘You should glass the windows. The draught is terrible.’ The old man laughed, pouring out thin ale. ‘But that wouldn’t be Protocol, would it? And we must abide by the Protocol, even as it kills us.’
‘There are ways round it,’ Finn said softly.
‘Not for us.’ He pushed the pottery cups towards them.
‘For the Queen maybe, because them that make the rules can break them, but not for the poor. Era is no pretence for us, no playing at the past with all its edges softened. It’s real. We have no skinwands, lad, none of the precious electricity or plastiglas. The picturesque squalor the Queen likes to ride past is where we live. You play at history. We endure it.’ Claudia sipped the sour beer. She realized she had always known this. Jared had taught her, and she had visited the poor of the Wardenry, ruled over by her father’s strict regime. Once, in a snowy January; seeing beggars from the coach, she had asked him if more couldn’t be done for them.
He had smiled his remote smile, smoothed his dark gloves.
‘They are the price we pay, Claudia, for peace. For the tranquillity of our time.’ A small cold flame of anger burned in her now, remembering. But she said nothing. It was Finn who asked, ‘Is there resentment?’
‘There is.’ The old man drank, and rapped his pipe on the table. ‘Now, I have little food but...’
‘We’re not hungry.’ Finn hadn’t missed the evasion, but Claudia’s voice interrupted him.
‘May I ask you, sir. What is that?’ She was staring at a small image in the darkest corner of the room. A slant of sunlight caught it; showed a crude carving of a man, his face shadowy; his hair dark.
Tom was still. He seemed dismayed; for a moment Finn was sure he would yell for the brawny neighbour. Then he went on knocking dust from his pipe. ‘That is the Nine-
Fingered One, missy.’ Claudia put down her cup. ‘He has another name.’
‘A name to be spoken in whispers.’ She met his eye. ‘Sapphique.’ The old man looked at her, then Finn. ‘His name is known in the Court then. You surprise me, Miss lady’s maid.’
‘Only among the servants: Finn said quickly. ‘And we know very little of him. Except that he Escaped from Encarceron.’ His hand shook on the cup. He wondered what the old man would say if he knew that he, Finn, had spoken to Sapphique in visions.
‘Escaped?’The old man shook his head. ‘I know nothing about that. Sapphique appeared from nowhere in a flash of blinding light. He possessed great powers of magic — they say he turned stones into cakes, that he danced with the children. He promised to renew the moon and free the Prisoners.’ Claudia glanced at Finn. She was desperate to know more, but if they asked too much the old man would stop. ‘Where exactly did he appear?’
‘Some say the Forest. Others a cave, far to the north, where a charred circle is still burnt on the mountainside. But how can you pin down such a happening?’
‘Where is he now?’ Finn asked.
The old man stared. ‘You don’t know? They tried to silence him, of course. But he turned himself into a swan. He sang his final song and flew away to the stars. One day he will return and end the Era for ever.’ The fetid room was silent. Only the fire crackled. Claudia didn’t look at Finn. When he spoke again his question shocked her.
‘So what do you know of the Steel Wolves, old man?’ Tom paled. ‘I know nothing of them.’
‘No?’
‘I don’t talk of them.’
‘Because they plan revolution, like your loose-tongued neighbour? Because they want to murder the Queen and the Prince, and destroy Protocol?’ Finn nodded. ‘Wise to keep silent then. I suppose they tell you when that happens the Prison will be opened and there will be no more hunger. Do you believe them?’ The hunchback stared back evenly at him across the table.
‘Do you?’ he whispered.
A tense silence. It was broken by the stamp and rattle of hooves, a child’s shout.
Tom rose slowly. ‘Rafe’s boys have found your horses: He looked at Claudia, then back at Finn and said, ‘I think perhaps too much has been said here. You’re no groom, lad.
Are you a prince?’ Finn smiled ruefully. ‘I’m a Prisoner, old man. Just like you.’ They mounted and rode back as quickly as they could.
Claudia had given all the coins she had to the children.
Neither spoke. Finn was alert for another ambush, Claudia still brooding over the injustice of Era, her own unthinking acceptance of riches. Why should she be rich? She had been born in Incarceron. If it hadn’t been for the Warden’s ambitions she would be there still.
‘Claudia, look,’ Finn said.
He was staring through the trees, and glancing up at the alarm in his voice she saw a tall plume of smoke rising ahead.
‘It looks like a fire.’ Anxious, she urged her horse on. As they emerged from the forest and clattered under the barbican the acrid smell grew. Smoke filled the inner courtyards of the Palace and as they galloped in the wind was crackling. A frenzied army of ostlers and grooms and servants were running, dragging out horses and squawking hawks, hauling pumps, buckets of water.
‘Where is it?’ Claudia swung down.
But she could already see where it was. The whole ground floor of the East Wing was ablaze, furniture and hangings being tossed out of windows, the great bell ringing, flocks of disturbed doves flapping in the hot air.
Someone came up beside her and Caspar’s voice said, ‘Such a pity, Claudia. After all dear Jared’s hard work: The cellars. The Portal. She gasped, and raced after Finn. He was already at one of the doorways, black smoke billowing out into his face, flames flickering deep in the building. She grabbed him and he shook her away. Then she grabbed him again and hauled him back and he turned, his face white with shock. ‘Keiro! It’s our only way to him!’
‘It’s finished; she said. ‘Don’t you see? The ambush was to keep us away. They’ve done this.’ Following her gaze, he looked behind.
Queen Sia stood on the balcony, a white lace handkerchief to her face. Behind her, calm and unconcerned, his eyes on the collapsing crash of stone and flame, was the Pretender.
‘They’ve sealed the Portal,’ Claudia said bleakly. ‘And it’s not only Keiro. They’ve trapped my father Inside.’
A great Fimbulwinter will close down on the world.
Darkness and cold will spread from Wing to Wing. There will come one called the Unsapient, from far away, from Outside.
He wiIl plot and scheme with Incarceron.
They will make the Winged Man …
SAPPHIQUE’S PROPHESY OF THE WORLD’S END
Attia, holding tight to Keiro on the horse, stared past his shoulder.
They had finally reached what seemed the end of the spiny jungle, because the road led out and downhill. The horse stood wearily, snorting frosty breath.
Framing the road was a black archway. It bristled with spikes, and on its top perched a long-necked bird.
Keiro frowned. ‘I hate this. Incarceron is leading us by the nose.’ She said, ‘Maybe it’ll lead us to some food then. We’ve eaten nearly everything.’ Keiro kicked the horse on.
As they neared it, the black arch seemed to grow, its massive shadow stretching out towards them until they entered its darkness. Here the road glittered with frost; the horse’s hooves rang with metallic clarity on the iron paving.
Attia stared up. The bird on the summit was enormous, dark wings spread wide, and just as she rode under it she realized it was a statue, and not of a bird but a man with great wings, as if he was ready to leap, and fly.
‘Sapphique,’ she whispered.