dismayed! My father is lost to us, and Giles bemoans the fate of his friends. Today he faces the trial of the Inquisitors. Pray search hard, dear friend, for our only alternative lies in silence and secrecy.
Your most loving and obedient pupil, Claudia Arlexa.
He smiled ruefully at the Protocol. She could do much better. But then, the note was not just for him, it was for the Queen. A fire! Sia was taking no chances — first removing him and then sealing the entrance to the Prison. But what the Queen presumably didn’t know and only he and Claudia did, was that there was another entrance to the Portal, through the Warden’s study at home in the sleepy manor house of the Wardenry. Our only alternative lies in silence and secrecy. She had known he would understand.
The porter, fidgeting at a respectful distance, said, ‘The messenger returns to Court in an hour. Will there be any answer, Master?’
‘Yes. Please bring some ink and paper.’ As the man went, Jared took out a tiny scanner and ran it across the vellum. Scrawled in red across the neatly written lines was IF FINN LOSES THEY INTEND TO KILL US BOTH.YOU KNOW WHERE WE’LL BE. I TRUST YOU.
He drew in a sharp breath. The porter, anxious, placed the inkwell on the desk. ‘Master, are you in pain?’ He sat, white. ‘Yes,’ he said, crumpling the paper.
He had never guessed they would kill her. And what had she meant by I trust you?
The Queen rose and all the diners stood hurriedly, even those still eating. The summer meal of cold meats and venison pasties, of lavender cream and syllabub lay scattered on the white-clothed tables.
‘Now’ She dabbed her lips with a kerchief. ‘You will all retire, except the Claimants.’ Claudia curtsied. ‘I ask permission to attend the trial, Majesty’ The Queen’s lips made a perfect red pout. ‘I’m sorry Claudia. Not this time.’
‘Nor me?’ Caspar said, drinking.
‘Or you either, my sweet. Run away and shoot things.’ But she was still looking at Claudia, and suddenly, almost rnischeviously, she took her by the arm. ‘Oh Claudia! It’s such a shame about the Portal! And you know I’m so sorry to have to appoint a new Warden. Your dear father was so. . . astute.’ Claudia kept the smile plastered to her face. ‘As Your Majesty wishes.’ She wouldn’t beg. That was what Sia wanted.
‘If only you’d married Caspar! In fact, even now. . .‘ She couldn’t stand this. She couldn’t pull away either, so she stood rigid and said, ‘That choice is over, Majesty.’
‘Too right,’ Caspar muttered. ‘You had your chance, Claudia. I wouldn’t touch you now...’
‘Even for twice the dowry?’ his mother said.
He stared. ‘Are you serious?’ Sia’s lips twitched. ‘You are so easy to tease, Caspar, darling.’ The doors at the end of the room opened. Beyond them Claudia saw the Court of Inquisition.
The Queen’s throne was a vast eagle, its spread wings forming the back, its raised beak open in a harsh cry. The crown of the Havaarna encircled its neck.
The Privy Council sat in a circle around it, but on either side of the throne were two empty seats, one white and one black. As the Council filed in, Claudia watched a small door in the wall open and two figures emerge. She had expected Finn and Giles. Instead she saw the Inquisitors of Sun and Shadow.
The Shadow Lord wore black velvet lined with sable, and his hair and beard were as jet as his clothes. His face was harsh and unreadable. The other, in white, was graceful and smiling, his robe satin, edged with pearls.
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
