flickered.
The Enchanter stared up; Attia blinked.
Thunder rumbled like laughter.
For a moment everyone listened to it, tensed for the Prison to act, for the streets to fall, the sky roll away, the gas and the lights to pin them down.
But Incarceron did not interfere.
'My father the Prison,' the Enchanter said quickly, 'watches and approves.' He turned.
Metal links hung from the couch; he fastened them around Attia's wrists. Then a belt was looped over her neck and waist. 'Keep very still, he said. His bright eyes explored her face. 'Or the danger is extreme.'
He turned to the crowd. 'Behold,' he cried. 'I will release her. And I will bring her back!'
He raised the sword, both hands on the grip, the point hovering over her chest. She wanted to cry out, gasp, 'No,' but her body was chilled and numb, her whole attention focused on the glittering, razor-sharp point. Before she could breathe, he plunged it into her heart.
2
This was death.
It was warm and sticky and there were waves of it, washing over her like pain. It had no air to breathe, no words to speak. It was a choking in her throat.
And then it was pure and blue and as empty as the sky she had seen Outside, and Finn was in it, and Claudia, and they were sitting on golden thrones, and they turned to look at her.
And Finn said, 'I haven't forgotten you, Attia. I'm coming back for you.'
She could only manage one word, and as she said it she saw his shock.
'Liar.'
She opened her eyes.
Her hearing seemed to pop, to come back from somewhere far; the crowd were roaring and howling with joy, and the fastenings were undone. The Enchanter was helping her up. She stared down and saw that the blood on her clothes was shrivelling, vanishing away, that the sword in his hand was clean; that she could stand. She took a great breath and her eyes cleared; she saw that people were on the buildings and roofs, hanging on awnings, leaning out of windows, that the storm of applause went on and on, a screaming tide of adoration.
And the Dark Enchanter gripped her hand and made her bow with him, and his gloved fingers held the sword high above the crowd as the jugglers and dancers discreetly moved in to collect the rain of coins that showered like falling stars.
When it was all over, when the crowd was streaming away, she found herself standing in the corner of the square clutching her arms around herself. A low pain burned in her chest. A few women clustered at the door that the Enchanter had entered, their sick children already in their arms.
Attia breathed out slowly. She felt stiff, and stupid. She felt as if some great explosion had deafened and stunned her.
Quickly, before anyone noticed, she turned and ducked under the awnings, past the bearpit, through the ragged camp of the jugglers. One of them saw her, but stayed sitting by the fire they had lit, cooking slivers of meat.
Attia opened a small door under an overhanging roof and slipped in.
The room was dark.
He was sitting in front of a smeared mirror lit only by a single guttering candle, and he looked up and saw her in the glass.
As she watched he took off the black wig, unfurled his missing finger, wiped the smooth make-up from his lined face, tossed the ragged coat on the floor. Then he leant his elbows on the table and gave her a gap-toothed grin. 'An excellent performance,' he said.
She nodded. 'I told you I could do it.'
'Well, I'm convinced, sweetie. The job's yours, if you still want it He slipped a wad of ket into his cheek and began to chew.
Attia glanced round. There was no sign of the Glove. 'Oh yes,' she said. 'I want it.'
3
How could you betray me, Incarceron ? How could you let me fall? I thought I was your son. It seems I am your fool.
SONGS OF SAPPHIQUE
Finn flung the documents at the wall. Then he picked the inkwell up and hurled it after them. It exploded into a black, dripping star.
'Sire,' the chamberlain gasped. 'Please!'
Finn ignored him. He heaved the table over; it collapsed
The Enchanter stared up; Attia blinked.
Thunder rumbled like laughter.
For a moment everyone listened to it, tensed for the Prison to act, for the streets to fall, the sky roll away, the gas and the lights to pin them down.
But Incarceron did not interfere.
'My father the Prison,' the Enchanter said quickly, 'watches and approves.' He turned.
Metal links hung from the couch; he fastened them around Attia's wrists. Then a belt was looped over her neck and waist. 'Keep very still, he said. His bright eyes explored her face. 'Or the danger is extreme.'
He turned to the crowd. 'Behold,' he cried. 'I will release her. And I will bring her back!'
He raised the sword, both hands on the grip, the point hovering over her chest. She wanted to cry out, gasp, 'No,' but her body was chilled and numb, her whole attention focused on the glittering, razor-sharp point. Before she could breathe, he plunged it into her heart.
2
This was death.
It was warm and sticky and there were waves of it, washing over her like pain. It had no air to breathe, no words to speak. It was a choking in her throat.
And then it was pure and blue and as empty as the sky she had seen Outside, and Finn was in it, and Claudia, and they were sitting on golden thrones, and they turned to look at her.
And Finn said, 'I haven't forgotten you, Attia. I'm coming back for you.'
She could only manage one word, and as she said it she saw his shock.
'Liar.'
She opened her eyes.
Her hearing seemed to pop, to come back from somewhere far; the crowd were roaring and howling with joy, and the fastenings were undone. The Enchanter was helping her up. She stared down and saw that the blood on her clothes was shrivelling, vanishing away, that the sword in his hand was clean; that she could stand. She took a great breath and her eyes cleared; she saw that people were on the buildings and roofs, hanging on awnings, leaning out of windows, that the storm of applause went on and on, a screaming tide of adoration.
And the Dark Enchanter gripped her hand and made her bow with him, and his gloved fingers held the sword high above the crowd as the jugglers and dancers discreetly moved in to collect the rain of coins that showered like falling stars.
When it was all over, when the crowd was streaming away, she found herself standing in the corner of the square clutching her arms around herself. A low pain burned in her chest. A few women clustered at the door that the Enchanter had entered, their sick children already in their arms.
Attia breathed out slowly. She felt stiff, and stupid. She felt as if some great explosion had deafened and stunned her.
Quickly, before anyone noticed, she turned and ducked under the awnings, past the bearpit, through the ragged camp of the jugglers. One of them saw her, but stayed sitting by the fire they had lit, cooking slivers of meat.
Attia opened a small door under an overhanging roof and slipped in.
The room was dark.
He was sitting in front of a smeared mirror lit only by a single guttering candle, and he looked up and saw her in the glass.
As she watched he took off the black wig, unfurled his missing finger, wiped the smooth make-up from his lined face, tossed the ragged coat on the floor. Then he leant his elbows on the table and gave her a gap-toothed grin. 'An excellent performance,' he said.
She nodded. 'I told you I could do it.'
'Well, I'm convinced, sweetie. The job's yours, if you still want it He slipped a wad of ket into his cheek and began to chew.
Attia glanced round. There was no sign of the Glove. 'Oh yes,' she said. 'I want it.'
3
How could you betray me, Incarceron ? How could you let me fall? I thought I was your son. It seems I am your fool.
SONGS OF SAPPHIQUE
Finn flung the documents at the wall. Then he picked the inkwell up and hurled it after them. It exploded into a black, dripping star.
'Sire,' the chamberlain gasped. 'Please!'
Finn ignored him. He heaved the table over; it collapsed
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