Zed did not dare raise his head. To his shame, he felt a trembling deep in the pit of his stomach, and he had to resist the urge to wipe his sweaty palms upon his breeches. After a long moment he saw a faint movement from within the shadows under the canopy, and a herald intoned, ‘You may rise.’
Zed got to his feet, feeling pins and needles in his legs from crouching for so long. He helped Priscilla up, then lifted his eyes for his first glimpse of the king.
He sat hunched on his throne, wrapped in so many rugs and shawls it was at first hard to distinguish his spidery shape within. King Zabrak was as pale as a maggot, as bald as a tortoise, and as wrinkled as a prune. His blue eyes were rheumy and faded, with heavy pouches hanging below. A few pale threads of hair hung down from his liver-spotted skull, floating above his jewel-embroidered collar like spiderwebs, while a long and wispy beard hung down past his lap.
On his bald head, the king wore a silver crown set with flashing diamonds and sapphires, framing a glittering blue diamond as big as a goose egg. The crown seemed so heavy the king could scarcely lift his head, his chin resting on his bony chest. On his fingers he wore long fingernail guards, forged of silver filigree set with jewels. The nails of his little fingers, however, were far too long for jewelled guards, growing down in two pale spirals past his knees and towards the floor. Zed stared at them in astonishment. The king surely could do nothing at all for himself without risk of breaking his nails. He could not feed himself, or dress himself, Zed thought, and felt a stir of pity amidst his revulsion and awe.
The king mumbled something, and a man dressed in a long white robe stepped forward. His eyes were ice-blue, and his ash-grey hair had been shaved close to his skull. His skin was unnaturally pale, as if it had been years since it last saw the sun, and two deep grooves ran from his nose down past the corners of his thin, colourless mouth. The grooves spoke of years of repressing the muscles about his mouth, so it seemed impossible that he could ever smile. The lines of his linen robe were simple and austere, pressed to an unnatural crispness.
A white panther stepped forward with him, held by a very short chain attached to a collar of glittering diamonds. It snarled at Zed, showing a red mouth, and its eyes glared an eerie blue. Zed had to stiffen his legs and back to stop himself from instinctively flinching. He was proud of Priscilla, who did not scream or shrink away in her usual theatrical way, but stood stiff and silent beside him.
‘I am Ambrozius, the court astronomer. I speak on behalf of His Majesty, King Zabrak of Ziva, who bids you welcome to Zarissa, Count Zedrin,’ the man said, in a cold, inflectionless voice.
Zed had heard of the king’s astronomer who was, rumour had it, also his spymaster.
‘He says it is indeed unfortunate that you should come at such a grievous time, when all the world is in mourning for his son, cut down in the prime of his life, cruelly slaughtered by radical insurgents who shall feel the weight of the king’s wrath.’ As the astronomer spoke, his ice-blue gaze moved slowly and deliberately from Zed’s face to Priscilla’s, then over their shoulder to the faces of their retinue. Zed’s body prickled with nervous sweat. Would such sharp eyes notice that Liliana was both a girl and a wildkin? He wished he had been able to convince her to stay behind in their quarters, but she was as stubborn as a mule.
There was a long silence. Zed said hurriedly, bobbing his head, ‘Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.’ He hoped that was the right thing to do. Or should he have asked Ambrozius to thank the king on his behalf?
The king coughed and coughed into a red silk handkerchief. When he raised his face, it was flushed and sweating, and the rims of his eyes were scarlet. The crown had slipped a little sideways, and he lifted a trembling hand to push it straight again. He mumbled something else, and Ambrozius listened courteously, then turned to face Zed again.
‘The king says that he sees you are young and tall and strong. He has heard you fought off a dozen men and killed them all. He says he is glad to see not all of the Ziv are grown weak and milky-blooded.’
The panther snarled and strained against the chain, looking hungry. The astronomer thinned his lips and awaited a reply.
Zed did not know what to say. He bent his head and said, ‘The king is too kind.’
A voice whispered from the swaddle of shawls, then Ambrozius said, ‘The king says he shall set you a sacred task, Zedrin ziv Estaria. Bring him the head of the Hag and he will give you the hand of his granddaughter, the crown princess, in marriage.’
A disturbance ran over the crowd. A thousand fans fluttered as courtiers hid their faces and their words. Zed was frozen, unable to move. He hoped his face showed none of his shock and distress. Could the king really want him to murder Mags, his best friend’s mother, his own parents’ best friend? He could not think what to say or how to react. High heels clattered and Zakary was suddenly beside Zed, bowing low to the ground with an elaborate sweep of his red-feathered hat.
‘Your most high and honourable Majesty,’ he said unctuously, ‘forgive me my intrusion, but my dear cousin is newly arrived from the country and still, no doubt, stupefied with grief over the cruel assassination of his uncle. Indeed, I too still suffer the most dreadful heart palpitations . . .’
The bundle of shawls muttered angrily.
Zakary fluttered his fan frantically. ‘You will not wish to hear of my trials, though. I fear that I must have somehow misheard you, or misunderstood you, worn out and frazzled as I am after the fatigue of our dreadful, dreadful journey.’ He pressed one hand to his heart. ‘Did I just hear you say . . . crown princess?’
‘That is what I said.’ The king’s voice, though weak and hoarse, was filled with malice.
‘But, Your Majesty . . . surely you cannot mean to allow a woman . . . a mere girl . . . a half-breed . . .’ Zakary could scarcely speak, so great was his dismay.
‘The king is pleased to announce a further amendment to the law. In order to ensure that our noble king’s superior bloodline does not perish, he is declaring his granddaughter his heir, as long as she swears to submit herself to marrying and being mastered by one of the starborn, to ensure the continuance of the great house of ziv Zitaraz,’ the astronomer said smoothly.
Gasps could be heard all over the vast throne room, and a rising mutter of shock and outrage. Zed could not reply, he was so surprised and, for a moment, disappointed. He had taken it for granted that he would be declared the new crown prince. Although he had dreaded the announcement, he still felt taken aback and even indignant to have the law changed on what seemed little more than an old man’s whim. I should’ve been warned, he thought. At least, had the matter discussed with me in private. It’s humiliating to be told I’m not the new crown prince in front of a crowd of a thousand people. How am I meant to react? Should I protest?
Zakary had no hesitation. ‘But, Your Majesty! Only if there are no surviving male heirs! What of Zedrin? What of myself? Oh, surely you cannot be serious!’
‘Whoever brings me the head of the Hag may marry my granddaughter with my blessing and, once I am dead, share the crown and the throne with her,’ the king said, his thin lips lifting in a strange, cruel smile. ‘Somehow, Zakary, I do not think it will be you.’
CHAPTER 21
The Tower of Stars
‘SO, DO YOU INTEND TO DO AS HE BIDS AND MURDER MY MOTHER?’ Merry hissed as soon as they had retreated from the throne room.
‘Shhh!’ Zed urged, looking about him. He caught Merry’s arm and drew him through an archway and into the inner bailey. Liliana went with them and, when Aubin tried to follow her, said in a shocked voice, ‘Should you not be guarding my lady?’
As Aubin glanced back to where Priscilla sat on a gilded bench, her shoes kicked off and one hand bent down to massage her feet, Liliana shut the door in his face.
‘Of course I’m not going to hunt your mother down!’ Zed said as soon as he was sure they were alone. ‘How can you think such a thing, let alone say it? You’ve got to be more careful, Merry, else it?
??ll be you losing your head!’
Merry jerked his arm away but did not speak again, his lips pressed together, his face white as parchment.
‘Come and sit down,’ Zed said. ‘You look worn out. Is your chest hurting?’
‘A little,’ Merry admitted.
‘Are you feeling sick? Dizzy?’ Zed asked anxiously.
‘I’m fine. I’ll sit down for a moment. Stop fussing,’ Merry replied irritably.
He took his lute bag off his shoulder and looked around for somewhere to sit. They were standing at the edge of a vast courtyard with a long oblong pool in its centre, surrounded by lines and squares of trees clipped into fantastic shapes. Gleaming towers of glass and steel soared high on each side, with the tallest and most fragile at the far end. The wide blue expanse of the sea could be seen through the translucent tower, which contained nothing inside but a spiral staircase winding up and up and up to a small room at the very height. At the base of the tower was a long arcade, its roof supported by delicate iron columns forged to look like stylised vines and flowers. It met in the centre, with an immense, iron filigree gate that barred the entrance into the tower. On either side was a series of huge glass windows, but Merry could not see what lay within because they glared red, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.
Swans floated peacefully on the water. Zed seized Merry’s arm and pointed. Without a word, the three friends rushed to the pond, leaning over the stone embankment and calling to the swans, trying to reach them. They were too far away, though, and there was no way they could seize a feather.
Liliana bent and began to unbuckle her shoes, but Zed caught her arm. ‘You can’t strip off and swim in the king’s pond! It’ll cause a scandal! No, we’ll have to try and entice the swans to swim closer. Maybe if we threw them some bread?’
‘We’d better be quick,’ Merry said. ‘Any moment now, everyone will start moving to the banqueting hall for the feast.’
‘We’ll come back after the feast. It’ll be dark then and no-one will see us plucking a feather.’ Liliana sat down on the embankment and stared at the Tower of Stars with grey, troubled eyes. ‘How do they keep those glass walls from toppling down? Imagine if some child accidentally kicked a ball into it.’
‘I don’t think this is the sort of place a child is allowed to kick a ball around.’ Merry tilted his head back to gaze up at the top of the tower. ‘Look, there’s a window up there, at the very top. I wonder if it’s true clouds float through?’
Zed and Liliana craned their necks to see. The pointed roof of the glass tower caught and refracted the last rays of the sun, shining so bright it hurt their eyes.
‘I thought I saw someone move up there!’ Merry said. ‘Do you think she’s watching us?’
It made him feel somehow uneasy.
‘There’s no-one there,’ Zed said. ‘It must’ve been your imagination.’
Merry stared up at the window, where he had seen a brief flash of white, then fell to studying the tower, wondering how on earth they could ever manage to rescue the princess without alerting every soldier in the palace.
The sun set, and Merry slowly became aware that figures were moving rapidly in the rows of windows at the base of the Tower of Stars, waving and jumping up and down. In the gathering twilight, Merry could not see very clearly. He got up and walked quietly forward, and with each step his heart grew heavier.
Each of the glass windows looked into a pen in which were held captive wildkin. There were ten omen-imps, leaping and shrieking in one glass cage, and a poor old broken-down river-roan, asleep on his feet in another. A whole host of wood-sprites pressed their sad triangular faces against the glass nearby. In another a grabvast was crouched, his massive shoulders pressed up against the ceiling, his head hunched down as he mournfully played with his bare toes which were splayed against the glass. An ancient, bald boobray hooted sadly, his immense black wings looking moth-eaten and grey. There were greengrigs, and pexies, and dobbies, and spunkies, and wild-wights, and one immensely tall, dark-skinned man who came to the window and stared out at Merry with glittering black eyes set in deep hollows on either side of a nose like a ship of bone. He raised his skeletal hands, chained together with bells, and beckoned urgently at Merry, who took a few steps back, his throat constricted.
He called to Zed and Liliana, who joined him at once, their faces filled with horrified dismay.
‘The wildkin zoo,’ Zed said. ‘I’ve heard of it, but I had no idea . . .’
‘We’ll have to set them all free!’ Liliana declared. ‘Look at that poor grabvast! He can’t even stretch out his legs, or sit up straight.’
‘Look, in there,’ Merry said in a low voice. ‘Is that not . . .’
‘Lord Grim!’ Liliana cried. ‘Can it be? Surely it cannot be?’
‘He is chained with bells,’ Merry said.
Liliana flushed angrily. ‘Oh, it’s a crime! It must be torture for him. How can they be so cruel?’
‘But why? What does it mean?’ Merry asked.
‘It’s the only way they could keep him confined,’ Liliana said. ‘Come away! I cannot bear to see it. We have to do something.’
‘We need to make plans,’ Merry said. ‘It’s the spring equinox tomorrow. They have a feast that goes all day, and then they have a display of fireworks once the sun has gone down. It would be the perfect time to rescue Rozalina, I think, and the wildkin too, if we can. Everyone will be watching the fireworks, there’ll all be that noise and smoke, people will be celebrating.’
‘Except we still have to get three more feathers.’ Liliana looked longingly at the swans, floating on the still water.
‘And then we have to mend the cloak of feathers,’ Merry said. ‘I’m guessing we just sew the feathers to the cloak, but which feather where?’
Zed and Liliana stared at him blankly.
‘Don’t you remember? The Erlrune said we needed to sew the feathers to the cloak in their “true and rightful order” for the magic to be restored.’
‘But how are we meant to know what order? Did she tell us?’ Liliana demanded.
‘I don’t remember,’ Zed said.
‘Neither do I,’ Merry admitted.
‘Maybe in the order in which we found them?’ Zed suggested.
Merry shook his head. ‘Surely not. The order in which we found the feathers has more to do with chance than design. I’m sure there must be a better reason behind which feather goes where.’
Zed sighed. ‘The Erlrune could have told us.’
‘Maybe she did, and we’ve forgotten. Or maybe it’s important we work it out ourselves.’ Even as he spoke, a dreamy expression came over Merry’s face as his brain went to work on the problem.
They heard a distant clarion call of trumpets. ‘Time to eat,’ Zed said, and got rather reluctantly to his feet. He was dreading the forthcoming banquet, with every eye of the court upon him, and the king’s hunched and withered form to his left. ‘We’ll try for the swan feather after supper.’
A pair of immense, filigree gates at the base of the tower were dragged open, and then guards in full armour marched out, holding long fusilliers. They stood at attention on either side of the door.
Out walked a girl, barefoot, dressed simply in white, her black hair falling in a silken curtain to her knees. A silver chain encircled her waist, the other end held by the gnarled hands of a stooped old woman who hobbled along painfully.
The black-haired girl walked across the courtyard to the pool, her cupped hands full of bread scraps. The swans all swam to her eagerly, honking in greeting, and snatching at the bread. As they squabbled eagerly, the girl reached out her slender white hand and plucked a feather from one outstretched wing. She then brought it to Zed, holding the swan feather upright as if it were a flower. She bowed her head to him, then looked up into his face with eyes of the deepest, most intense blue, offering him the feather.
‘I wish to fly free over the wave. Dark forces gnaw at the roots of the throne, bright
ice shall cut to the very bone, my tower shall soon be my grave. Help me fly free.’
‘I will,’ Zed said fervently, taking the feather. For a moment longer she gazed up at him, then she nodded, smiled, and turned and walked away towards the end of the courtyard, where servants were flinging open the doors of the banqueting hall. The old woman limped along behind her, still clasping the end of her chain, with two tall and superior-looking footmen striding behind, carrying a stiff leather muzzle on a tray.
The three friends were left standing in silence, Zed looking down at the swan feather in his hand. Merry glanced at Liliana. Her grey eyes were glowing, her hands clasped so tightly before her the knuckles were white.
‘She knew we were coming,’ Zed said wonderingly. ‘She knew we needed the swan feather.’
‘Of course,’ Liliana said, at her most intense. ‘Is she not the Teller?’
‘Was she not the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?’ Zed said. ‘Her hands . . . her hair . . . and those eyes . . .’ He looked at Merry, who nodded and tried to smile, but all his attention was on Liliana and the shadow that had darkened her face. She turned away, letting her curls fall across her cheek.
Merry reached out to touch her arm, but she shrugged him away, saying in a muffled voice, ‘They say her mother Shoshanna was so beautiful you could not look upon her face without falling in love with her. That is why Prince Zander kept her locked in the tower. Rozalina must look just like her.’
‘I’ve never seen a girl like her,’ Zed said. ‘The way she looked at me, so pure, so trusting . . . she knows I’ve come to rescue her . . . she wants me to!’
Merry’s brain began to get busy with the wildkin princess’s strange and cryptic words. ‘I wonder what it means? Dark forces gnaw at the roots of the throne . . . bright ice shall cut to the very bone . . .’
‘It means we have to get her out of here,’ Zed cried. ‘We cannot allow her to be locked up any longer. We have two more feathers to find. We have to find them tonight.’