Кэтрин Фишер - Sapphique

The stairs were ruined. Keiro climbed two, his back flat against the wall, but on the third tread his foot plunged through, and he tugged it out, swearing. ‘We’ll never get up this.’

‘We must get to the study, and the Portal.’ Jared looked up anxiously. He felt utterly weary, his head light and dizzy.

When had he last taken his medication? He leant against the wall and tugged out the pouch and stared at it in despair.

The small syringe had broken into pieces, as if the glass had brittled and aged instantly. The serum had congealed to a yellow crust.

Finn said, ‘What will you do?’ Jared almost smiled. He replaced the pieces and tossed the pouch out into the dark corridor, and Finn saw his eyes were remote and dark. ‘It was only ever a stopgap, Finn. Like everyone else, I must now live without my little comforts.’ If he dies, Finn thought, if I let him die, Claudia will never forgive me. He glared up at his oathbrother. ‘We have to get up there. You’re the expert, Keiro. Do something!’ Keiro frowned. Then he tugged off his velvet coat and tied back his hair in a scrap of ribbon. He tore away some of the hangings and bound them rapidly round his hands, swearing as he touched his scorched palm.

‘Rope. I need rope.’ Finn snatched down the thick tasselled ties that held the curtains and knotted them firmly together — bizarre cables of gold and scarlet. Keiro looped them over his shoulder.

Then he set off up the stairs.

The world had inverted, Jared thought, watching his inching progress, because a staircase he had climbed every day for years had became a treacherous obstacle, a deathtrap.

This was how tune transformed things, how your own body betrayed you. This was what the Realm had tried to forget, in its deliberate elegant amnesia.

Keiro had to ascend the stairs as a mountaineer climbs a scree slope. The whole central section was gone, and as he grabbed at the higher treads their edges crumbled away in his hands.

Finn and Jared watched, anxious. Above the house thunder rumbled; far off in the stableyard they heard the shouts of the guards, ushering everyone out, the neighing of horses, the screech of a hawk.

Finally, at Finn’s elbow, a breathless voice said, ‘The drawbridge is down, sire, and everyone across.’

‘Then you go too.’ Finn didn’t turn, willing Keiro on as he balanced precariously between a bannister and a fallen panel.

‘The Queen, sire.’ Ralph wiped his smeared face with a filthy rag that might once have been a handkerchief. ‘The Queen is dead.’ The stab of shock was so distant that Finn almost missed it.

And then the news sank in, and he saw that Jared had heard it too. The Sapient bowed his head, sadly.

‘So you are King, sire.’ Was it that simple? he wondered. But all he said was, ‘Ralph, go now.’ The old steward didn’t move. ‘I would like to stay and help. To rescue the Lady Claudia and my master.’

‘I’m not sure there are any masters now.’ Jared drew in his breath. Keiro had slithered to one side; now all his weight was on the curved bannister, and it was bending, the wood snapping out, dry and brittle. ‘Be careful!’ Keiro’s reply was inaudible. Then he heaved himself up, leapt two steps that cracked under him and flung himself at the landing.

He grabbed it with both hands, but as he did so the whole staircase collapsed behind him in a thunderous crashing of dust and worm-ridden timber, tumbling down on the hail, choking the stairwell.

Keiro swung, dragging himself up, every muscle in his arms straining, blinded by dust. Finally he got one knee over and crumpled on the landing in cold relief.

He coughed until the tears made tracks down his smudged face. Then he crawled to the edge and looked down. Below was a black swirling vortex of dust and debris. ‘Finn?’ he said. He stood, his legs aching. ‘Finn? Jared?’ He was either completely crazy or off his head on ket, Attia thought.

Rix stood before his audience in perfect confidence, and the people stared up at him, bewildered, excited, thirsting for truth. But this time the Prison was in the audience too.

Are you mad, Prisoner? it said.

‘Almost certainly, father,’ Rix said. ‘But if I succeed, you will take me with you?’ Incarceron spat a laugh. If you succeed you really would be the Dark Enchanter. But you’re just a fraud, Rix. A liar, a mountebank, a conman. Do you think to con me?

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Rix glanced at Attia. ‘I’ll need my old assistant.’ He winked, and before she could stammer an answer he had turned to the crowd and stepped forward to the edge of the pedestal.

‘Friends he said. ‘Welcome to my greatest wonder! You think you will see illusions. You think I will fool you with mirrors, with hidden devices. But I am not like other magicians. I am the Dark Enchanter, and I will show you the magic of the stars!’ The crowd gasped. So did Attia.

He raised his hand, arid he was wearing a glove. It was made of skin, dark as midnight, and flickers of light sparked from it.

Behind Attia, Claudia said, ‘I thought . . . Don’t tell me Keiro had the wrong one.’

‘Of course not. This is a prop. Just a prop.’ But the doubt had slid into Attia too, like a cold knife, because how could you know, with Rix, what was real and what was not?

He waved his hand in a great arc, and the snow stopped falling. The air grew warmer, lights in every colour rainbowing from the high roof. Was he doing this? Or was Incarceron amusing itself at his expense?

Whatever the truth, the people were transfixed. They stared upwards, crying out. Some fell on their knees. Some moved back, afraid.

Rix was tall. Somehow he had brought nobility to his craggy face, made the wildness in his eyes a holy glimmer.

‘There is much sorrow here,’ he said. ‘There is much fear.’ It was the patter of his act. And yet it was fragmented, changed. As if in the kaleidoscope of his mind it was falling into new patterns. Quietly he said, ’I need a volunteer. One who is willing to have its deepest fear revealed. Willing to bear its soul to my gaze.’ He looked upwards.

The Prison flickered white lights over its statue. Then it said, I volunteer.

For a moment all Keiro heard was his own heart thudding and the echoes of slithering wood. Then Finn said, ‘We’re all right.’ He stepped out of an alcove in the wall, and from the shadows behind him Ralph said in despair, ’How do we get up now? There’s no way …’

‘Of course there is.’ Keiro’s voice was brisk. From the darkness a red and gold tassel came down and hit Finn on the shoulder.

‘Is it safe?’

‘I’ve tied it to the nearest column. It’s the best I can do.

Come on.’ Finn looked at Jared. They both knew that if the column gave way or the rope fell apart the climber would fall to his death. Jared said, ‘It has to be me. With respect, Finn, the Portal is a mystery to you.’ It was true, but Finn shook his head. ‘You won’t manage...’ Jared drew himself up. ‘I’m not so weak.’

‘You’re not weak at all.’ Finn glanced up into the dimness.

Then he grabbed the rope and tied it fiercely around Jared’s waist and under his arms. ‘Use it to abseil. Use all the footholds you can find and try not to put all your weight on it. We’ll—’

‘Finn.’ Jared put a hand on his chest. ‘Don’t worry: He braced the rope, then turned his head. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘What?’

‘Thunder.’ Ralph said doubtfully.

They listened a moment, hearing the terrible storm rage across the Realm, the atmosphere loosed from its long control.

Then Keiro yelled, ‘Move!’ and Jared felt the rope jerk him up the first stairs.

The climb was a nightmare. Soon the rope was burning his hands, and the effort of clambering and hauling himself up left him breathless. The old pain burnt in his chest, and the ache of his back and neck as he groped from splintered step to panel, grabbing at cobwebbed sills and shifting timbers, exhausted him.