‘Take care of yourself, Rix,’ Attia said. She put up her arm, and Keiro leant down and pulled her up behind him.
They turned the horse in a circle of sparks. Then they galloped away into the icy dark.
The Boy in The Yellow Coat
8
Our Realm will be splendid. We will live as men should live, and the land will be tilled for us by a million yeomen. Above us the ruined moon will be our emblem of the Years of Rage. It will flicker through the clouds like a lost memory.
Finn lay deep in a softness of pillows so comfortable that his whole body was relaxed. Sleep was a drowsy content; he wanted to slip back into it, but already it was receding, withdrawing from him like a shadow from the sun.
The Prison was quiet. His cell was white and empty and only a small red Eye watched him from the ceiling.
‘Finn?’ Keiro’s voice came from somewhere close. Behind it the Prison remarked, ‘He looks younger when he sleeps.’ Bees hummed through an open window. There was a sweet scent of flowers he had no name for.
‘Finn? Can you hear me?’ He turned, licked dry lips.
When he opened his eyes the sun dazzled him. The figure bending over him was tall and fair but it was not Keiro.
Claudia sat back with relief. ‘He’s awake.’ Finn felt all the knowledge of where he was flood him like a wave of despair. He tried to sit but Jared’s hand came down gently on his shoulder. ‘Not yet. Take your time.’ He lay in the enormous four-poster bed, on soft white pillows. Above him the dusty canopy was embroidered with suns and stars and intricate twining briar—roses. Something sweet smouldered in the hearth. Servants moved discreetly round, bringing water, a tray.
‘Get them out,’ he croaked.
Claudia said, ‘Stay calm.’ She turned. ‘Thank you all.
Please tell the Queen’s Majesty that His Highness is quite recovered. He will attend the Proclamation.’ The chamberlain bowed, ushered the footmen and maids out, and closed the double doors.
At once Finn struggled up. ‘What did I say? Who saw me?’
‘Don’t distress yourself.’ Jared sat on the bed. ‘Only Claudia. When the seizure ended she summoned two of the groundsmen. They brought you up the back stairs. No one saw.’
‘But they all know.’ He felt sick with anger and shame.
‘Drink this.’ The Sapient poured a cordial into a crystal glass; he held it out and Finn took it quickly. His throat was parched with thirst. It always was, afterwards.
He didn’t want to meet Claudia’s eyes but she seemed unembarrassed; when he looked up she was pacing impatiently at the foot of the bed.
‘I wanted to wake you, but Jared wouldn’t let me. You slept all night and half the morning! The ceremony is in less than an hour.’
‘I’m sure they can wait for me.’ His voice was sour. Then, slowly, he gripped the empty glass and looked at Jared. ‘Is it true? What she told me? That the Prison . . . that Keiro is so small?’
‘It’s true.’ Jared refilled the glass.
‘It’s not possible.’
‘It was only too possible for the Sapienti of old. But Finn, listen to me. I want you to try not to think of it, not now You have to prepare yourself for the ceremony.’ Finn shook his head. Astonishment was like a trapdoor inside him; it had opened under him and he could not stop falling into it. Then he said, ‘I remembered something.’ Claudia stopped.’ What?’ She came round the bed. ‘What was it?’ He lay back and glared at her. ‘You sound just like Gildas.
All he ever cared about were the visions. Not about me.’
‘Of course I care.’ She made a real effort to calm her voice.
‘When I saw you were ill I—’
‘I’m not ill.’ He swung his feet out of bed. ‘I’m a Starseer.’ They were silent. Then Jared said, ‘The seizures have an epileptic nature but I suspect they were triggered by whatever drug they gave you to forget your past.’
‘They? You mean the Queen.’
‘Or the Warden. Or indeed the Prison itself. If it’s any consolation, I do think the fits will become less severe with time.’ Finn scowled. ‘Fine. Meanwhile the Crown Prince of the Realm collapses into a twitching cripple every few weeks.’
‘This is not the Prison,’ Jared said quietly. ‘Illness is not a crime here.’ His voice was sharper than usual. Claudia frowned, annoyed at Finn’s clumsiness.
Finn put the glass on the table and his head in his hands, dragging his fingers through his tangled hair. After a moment he said, ‘I’m sorry, Master. I’m always thinking only of myself.’
‘But what did you remember?’ Claudia was impatient. She leant against the bedpost, staring at him, her face tense with expectation.
Finn tried to think. ‘The only things I’ve ever been sure of as memories have been blowing out the candles on the cake, and the boats on the lake. .
‘Your seventh birthday. When we were betrothed.’
‘...So you say. But this time, it was different.’ He wrapped his arms round his chest; Claudia took the silk robe from the chair arid brought it quickly. He put it on, concentrating. ‘I think . . . I’m sure really, that I was older this time. I was certainly riding a horse. A grey horse. There was undergrowth whipping against my legs bracken, very high. The horse crashed through it. There were trees.’ Claudia took a breath; Jared’s hand came up to keep her silent. Calmly he said, ‘The Great Forest?’
‘Maybe. Bracken and brambles. But there were Beetles too.’
‘Beetles?’
‘They’re in the Prison. Small metal things; they clear away rubbish, eat metal and plastic and flesh. I don’t know if this was a forest here, or Inside. How could they have been here.
. .?‘
‘You just might be mixing things up.’ Claudia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. ‘But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a real memory. What happened?’ Jared took a small scanner from his pocket, and placed it on the bedclothes. He made an adjustment to it, and it beeped.
‘The room is almost certainly full of listening devices. This will give us some protection, if you speak quietly.’ Finn stared at it. ‘The horse jumped. There was a pain in my ankle. I fell.’
‘A pain?’ Claudia came and sat next to him. ‘What sort of pain?’
‘Sharp. Like a sting. It was …‘ He paused, as if the memory was fiickering, just beyond reach. ’Orange. Orange and black. Small.’
‘A wasp? A bee?’
‘It hurt. I looked down at it.’ He shrugged. ‘Then nothing.’ Hurriedly he pulled up his ankle and examined it. ‘Just here. It went through the boot leather.’ There were many old marks and scars. Claudia said, ‘Could it have been some sort of tranquillizer? Like your false insects, Master.’
