Rix reached out with his Gloved hand, and from above a tiny pencil-thin light beam came down to touch him. It rippled softly over his palm, and after a while he nodded.
‘I see strange things in your mind, my father. I see how they made you in their own image, how you woke in the darkness. I see the people that inhabit you, I see all the corridors and cells and dusty dungeons where they live.’
‘Rix!’ Attia’s voice was sharp. ‘Stop this.’ He smiled, but didn’t look at her. ‘I see how lonely you are, and how crazed. You have fed on your own soul, my master.
You have devoured your own humanity You have fouled your own Eden. And now you want to Escape.’ You see a beam of light in your hand, Prisoner.
‘As you say. A beam of light.’ But the smile was gone now, and Rix raised the Glove so that the light caught a glitter of silver dust that fell through his open fingers.
The crowd gasped.
The dust fell and fell. There was too much of it. It became a cascade of tiny sparkles in a black sky
‘I see the stars,’ Rix said, his voice tight. ‘Beneath them lies a ruined palace, its windows dark and broken. I peep at it through the keyhole of a tiny doorway. A storm roars about it. It is Outside.’ Claudia gripped Atha’s wrist. ‘Is he . . ?’
‘I think it’s a vision. He’s done this before.’
‘Outside!’ She turned to the Warden. ‘Does he mean the Realm?’ His grey eyes were hard. ‘I fear so.’
‘But Finn . . .’
‘Hush, Claudia. I need to understand this.’ Furious, she stared at Rix. He was shivering, his eyes thin slits of white. ‘There is a way,’ he whispered, rapt.
‘Sapphique found it.’ Sapphique? Incarceron’s voice hummed and rumbled round the hail. And then it spoke again, and there was sudden fear in it, and wonder. How are you doing this, Rix? How are you doing this?
Rix blinked. For a moment he seemed shaken. The people were silent.
Then he moved his fingers, and the shower of silver became gold.
‘The Art Magicke,’ he breathed.
Jared stood back from the door. If Finn was beating on it, as he suspected, the sound did not come through.
He turned.
The Realm might be ruined but nothing in this room had changed. As the Portal straightened itself he felt the quiet hum of its mystery calm him, the grey walls and single desk focus his vision. He raised a shaking hand to his mouth and licked blood from the grazed skin.
Suddenly, fatigue rippled through him. All he wanted to do was sleep, and he slumped in the metal chair before the snowy screen and fought the desire to lay his head on the desk and close his eyes and forget everything.
But the snow held his gaze. Behind its mystery Claudia was trapped, and the Prison and the Realm were caught in that destruction.
He made himself sit up, wiped his face with a grubby sleeve, brushed the hair from his eyes. He took the Glove out and laid it on the grey metal surface. Then he made a few adjustments to the controls and spoke.
He used the Sapient tongue. He said, ‘Incarceron!’ The snow still fell, but its patterns changed, to a swirl of wonder. It answered him, its voice amazed. How are you doing this, Rix? How are you doing this?
‘I’m not Rix.’ Jared spread his fine hands on the desk and stared at them. ‘You spoke to me once before. You know who I am.’ I knew a voice like this, long ago. The Prison’s murmur hung in the still air of the room.
‘Long ago,’ Jared whispered. ‘Before you were old, and evil. When the Sapienti first created you. And many times since, in my endless journeying.’ You are Sapphique.
He smiled, wearily. ’I am now. And you and I, Incarceron, have the same problem. We are both trapped in our bodies.
Maybe we can help each other.’ He picked up the Glove and fingered its fine scales. ‘Perhaps the hour has come that all the prophesies tell of. The hour that the world ends, and Sapphique returns.’ Claudia said, ‘They’re out of their minds with terror. They’ll rush us and kill him.’ The crowd were increasingly disturbed. She could feel their panic, sense the urgency in the way they pushed forward, craning to see, their hot sweaty stench rising towards her.
They knew if Incarceron Escaped it was the end for them. If they began to believe Rix could do this, they would have nothing left to lose.
Attia grabbed Rix’s knife. Claudia lifted the firelock and looked at her father. He didn’t move, his eyes fixed in fascination on Rix.
She pushed past him, Attia with her, and together they edged round to stand on the steps between Rix and the crowd, even though it was futile, a mere gesture of defence.
I knew a voice like this, long ago, the Prison murmured. Rix laughed harshly. The words of his act seemed charged now, like prophecy.
‘There is a way Out. Sapphique found it. The door is tiny, tinier than an atom. And the eagle and the swan spread their wings to guard it.’ You are Sapphique.
‘Sapphique returns. Did you ever love me, Incarceron?’ The Prison hummed. Its voice was hoarse. I remember you.
Out of them all, you were my brother and my son. We dreamt the same dream.
Rix swung to the statue. He gazed up at its calm face, its dead eyes. ‘Keep very still,’ he whispered anxiously, as if for only the Prison to hear. ‘Or the danger is extreme.’ He turned to the crowd. ‘The time has come, friends. I will release him. I will bring him back!’
‘Again!’ Finn and Keiro threw themselves at the door but it didn’t even shudder. There was no sound from inside.
Breathless, Keiro turned his back to the ebony swan and said, ‘We could get one of those planks and—’ He stopped.
‘Hear that?’ Voices. The clamour of men in the house, men swarming up the rope in the stairwell, shadowy figures crowding the fragmenting corridor.
Finn stepped forward. ‘Who’s there?’ But he knew who they were even before the flickering lightning showed him. The Steel Wolves had come in a pack of silver muzzles, their eyes bright behind the masks of assassins and murderers.
Medlicote’s voice said, ‘I’m sorry, Finn. I can’t leave it like this. No one will be surprised if you and your friend perish in the ruins of the Wardenry. Then a new world will begin, without kings, without tyrants.’
‘Jared is in there,’ Finn snapped. ‘And your Warden...’
‘The Warden has given his orders.’ Pistols were raised.
Beside him, Finn felt Keiro’s arrogant defiance, that odd way he had of making himself taller, every muscle taut.
‘Our last stand, brother,’ Finn said bitterly.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Keiro said.
The Steel Wolves advanced, a tentative line across the corridor.
Finn tensed, but Keiro seemed almost languid. ‘Come on, my friends. A little closer, please.’ They stopped, as if his words made them nervous. Then, just as Finn had known he would, he attacked.
Jared held the Glove in both hands. Its scales were curiously supple, as if the centuries had worn them. As if only Time had worn the Glove.
Aren’t you afraid? Incarceron asked, curious.