The Dark Flight Down (13 page)

10

Night in the palace.

Different worlds enacted themselves in different parts of the palace, but it would have been a mistake to suppose these worlds were entirely isolated from each other, for they were all part of a single, if intricate, dance.

In the Royal Bedchambers, Frederick snored gently, muttering in his sleep, through which pleasant dreams of his coming immortality wrestled with nightmares of less pleasant things, things from the past that he had thought were forgotten. He wore a red nightcap, whose long red tassel dangled across his face, looking in the half-light like a trail of dried blood.

He turned in his sleep, calling out from time to time, but not waking. The guards at his door ignored it all, being well used to the emperor’s ways.

Nearby in the adjacent wing of the palace, the emperor’s right hand, confidante, doctor, servant, advisor and counselor, Maxim, paced around his study. Finally he sat down in a velvet armchair by the fire, and scratched his bald head. He was weighing up certain matters. He had an answer for Frederick now. He had a solution. If it worked, then all would be well, and Maxim would be safe. If it failed, then the irritable old fool might have him sent down that dreadful stairway. But he had decided one thing, and that was that to fail to act at all would probably be fatal anyway. Frederick was getting more erratic with each day that passed. Maxim knew he was living on borrowed time, and that he had stalled as much as he was able to. He had to do something now.

Idly he threw more coals onto the fire, and as he did so, thoughts flowed into his head. What a strange life it had been! He didn’t want it to end now, but there had been so much death, so much killing, and now that he was older, and maybe a little wiser, he saw it as a disease. Death had been all around him for so long, and he felt in very real danger of catching the dying disease himself.

When he’d been in the dungeons he’d heard Bedrich singing that song, the song from so long ago, written by Sophia Beebe. Since he’d heard it again he hadn’t been able to shift it from his mind for very long. It seemed so apt at the moment; maybe that was why all these thoughts of the past were coming back to him now, all these thoughts of death.

Had she even used the book herself? Foreseen her own future, and that of everyone else tied up in its demonic designs? It was an appalling thought, one that made him feel powerless. Still the tune ran through his head, and he hummed to himself.

Surely you won’t run,
When your boat is ready to sail.
Surely you will stand
And face the gentle rain?

In the morning you should think
You might not last unto the night,
In the evening you should think
You might not last unto the morn.
So dance, my dears, dance,
Before you take the dark flight down.

Maxim stopped humming and bitterly spat into the fire. He was far from ready to take the journey, the long dark journey to oblivion. He would beat the emperor at his own game yet, and do away with all the hangers-on who made his life so much more complicated than it need be. If it was just him and the emperor, he could control things. One way or the other, it would be over soon.

And then there was Boy, who once again sat by the darkening window watching the snow unbelievably still falling from the clouded heavens, hiding all trace of dirt and grime from view. He waited until it was dark and then waited some more. Someone brought him his supper, and he ate it gratefully enough. He reflected grimly that he was eating better than he ever had in his life, and yet he wanted nothing more than to escape.

Escape.

It was the only thing to do. Find Willow and escape. Kepler could look after himself as far as Boy was concerned.

Boy waited all through the dark evening, after his tray had been taken away, waited and waited for each tolling of the City and palace bells, until midnight came. As he waited he inevitably started to think about Valerian. Valerian, his father. No, he didn’t know that for sure, but he felt it. At least, he felt there was something in the way Kepler had tried to conceal what he had spoken, that told him it was the truth. And what then? If he had lived with his father all those years, being bullied and tormented, and not even realized it? Did that bring him peace? It might not tell him everything, and he might never know who his mother was, but it would be a start. At least then he would know something about himself, in the way other people did.

The midnight bells struck softly through the snow-laden night. Once again Boy made his way with his lockpick down the secret stairwell, but this time headed for the court itself. He knew his way around a few parts of the palace quite well now, from his rooms to the court, but nonetheless he felt on unknown ground as he approached the huge chamber. By night, and with no one else around, it was a very different place. During the day, it was full of color and life and people and wealth. By night, it was a different thing. The place seemed even bigger when empty, and the colors muted. It was a deserted, forgotten place. Haunted.

Boy stole across the marble ocean of the floor, and was happier when his footfalls landed on thick carpets instead. He tried to decide where to wait for Willow, and spotted a corner by the side of the fireplace that would be perfect. He was making for it when Willow stepped from the shadows.

“Boy!” she cried, and rushed to him.

They held each other for a long time before either of them spoke again.

Finally they pulled apart, and looked at each other. There were too many questions. Too many words that needed to be spoken.

“How are you?”

“What happened? You didn’t come. . . .”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was captured. There was no way to tell you. . . .”

Willow held Boy’s hands. They moved and sat down next to each other on the dais, just in front of the throne. Two small figures dwarfed by the vastness of the darkened courtroom.

“What did you mean about the Phantom?” Willow asked.

“Just what I said!” Boy said. “It lives in the palace, under it really. I was kept in the dungeons, and there’s a flight of stairs that leads down to somewhere even deeper. That’s where it lives, then comes out to . . .”

Boy stopped. He didn’t want to think about it.

“And they don’t know about it?”

“Oh yes, they do. Well, Maxim does, at least. They seem to tolerate it, as long as it doesn’t murder in the palace itself.”

“Don’t worry,” Willow said, seeing Boy was upset by it. “We’re together again, now.”

“But what did you think when I didn’t meet you by the fountain?”

“I knew. I knew you wouldn’t just leave me. But I was so worried.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“A feather. They left a white feather behind in the house. Kepler said it was the Imperial Guard.”

“He was right. I should thank him for that, at least.”

Willow shrugged.

“I don’t like him. I suppose he’s trying to help, but I really don’t like him.”

“He’s come here to get me back, I suppose?”

Willow nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Boy said. “I know he thinks I belong to him now that Valerian’s gone, but you wouldn’t think he’d risk his life to get me, would you?”

“Never mind,” Willow said. “We can forget him. Boy, let’s just get out of here and start again, as we meant to.”

“Yes,” said Boy. “Yes.”

“There is one thing, though. I don’t know if there’s a good time to tell you, so I think I should tell you now.”

“What?” Boy asked, wondering why he suddenly felt scared.

Willow hesitated.

“What?” Boy asked. “Tell me!”

“Boy. It’s about Valerian. He’s not your father.”

Boy said nothing, but flinched as if he had been struck.

“No,” he said. “That’s not true. No. You can’t know that.”

“Boy,” said Willow gently. “It’s true. I found out from Kepler.”

“He told you?”

“Not exactly. We were talking about you. Well, arguing really. I told him he’d been terrible to you, to split us up, to send you back to the Yellow House, and only a few days after you’d seen your father die.”

“What did he say?”

“He shouted at me that your father wasn’t dead. He said he only told Valerian that to make you live.”

Boy said nothing now, but just sat, slowly shaking his head.

“He gambled that Valerian would believe him, that there was one small bit of Valerian that wanted to believe he had a son, and could not kill that son for his own sake.

“Valerian told us he made the pact to spend one night with the woman he desired. And he did, but somehow in the morning she still rejected him.

“Kepler told me something, something I’d already suspected. He loved that woman too. She was called Helene. That was why he and Valerian fell out, became enemies when they had been friends before. Neither of them saw Helene again, but Kepler knew he could use that story to make Valerian believe you were his son, even just for a short while. Long enough, in fact, for him to go to his death, instead of you to yours. But he’s not your father. He’s not.”

“Then who is?” Boy cried. “Who is?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said. “Kepler wouldn’t say, and when I pushed him for an answer, he got angry and sent me to bed.”

She stopped, trying to think of what she could say to Boy, who sat with his head hanging in his hands, but finding no words that could help.

“I’m sorry” was all she said, in the end. “Let’s get away from here, at least, shall we? There’ll be time later to think.”

Boy looked up at her.

“No,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Willow asked.

“I mean, no. I’m not going anywhere. Not until I have some answers. I don’t want to think about things later. I want some answers now.”

Willow put her hand on Boy’s arm, but he did not take it. He stood and looked down at her. She had never seen him like this before.

“I’ve had enough, Willow,” he said. “I’ve had enough of not knowing who I am, who my parents were, where I was born. I don’t even have a name!”

“Yes, you do, you’re Boy, you told me that. . . .”

“I don’t care what I told you! I want a proper name, I want to know who I am! I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.”

“Please, Boy, let’s go. Let’s get out of this bad place first and then think about it later. Please?”

“No,” said Boy. “No. I’m staying here.”

“But what good will that do?”

“The book,” said Boy. “The book is here, isn’t it? Maxim may think he’s just pretending it is, but it is here. Kepler has it, doesn’t he?”

Willow looked at the floor.

“Yes, I think he does,” she said quietly.

“Then I’m going to look in it.”

“No!” Willow said, gripping his arm tightly. “You know how dangerous it can be! You mustn’t.”

“I don’t care how dangerous it is. Haven’t you been listening to me at all? I want to know the truth about myself now, no matter what the risk. I have to know!”

Willow shook her head.

“But we can’t even get to it. I think it’s in the bag he brought with him. It’s very heavy and I’ve seen precious little else come out of there. But he never leaves me alone, we’d never get the chance to see.”

“Then we’ll make a chance,” said Boy. “That’s all there is to it.”

Willow stared at Boy. There was something new about him, something stronger than she had ever seen before.

“The only question,” Boy said, “is will you help me?”

Willow stood and held Boy’s hands for a long time. She smiled, gazing into his eyes.

“Of course I’ll help you. We’re together now, see?”

Boy smiled, and leant toward Willow. He kissed her and smiled, then looked more serious again, the air of strength returning to him.

“Listen to me, then,” he said. “We don’t have much time. Maxim’s about to make his move, and when he does, he’ll kill us all. You, me, Kepler. All the alchemists and astrologers. No one will be safe once Frederick’s immortal. Tomorrow, we will be in court. Kepler will be called too. And we’ll make a chance to look at the book. I’m fighting now, Willow. I’ve been pushed around enough and I’m going to put an end to it.”

Willow smiled and nodded. She only wished she felt as sure as Boy seemed to be.

11

Boy was right. Maxim was ready to make his move. When Boy woke next morning he found the young serving girl already in his room.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

Boy got down out of bed and scratched his nose. “Today’s the day!” the girl declared.

“What are you talking about?”

“The emperor. Maxim’s going to make him immortal today. This evening, in court.”

Boy almost felt like laughing.

“Don’t you understand?” he asked as he got dressed. “Don’t you understand anything about this place? What do you think will happen once Frederick’s immortal?”

“What?” asked the girl, surprised.

“No one will be safe. Maxim will see to that. And Frederick will just go on getting madder and madder with no end to it all.”

The girl ignored him, and began to tidy things in the room. Boy gave up.

“There’s one person who’s not invited,” she said, not smiling for once. “You.”

Boy raised an eyebrow.

“Maxim says you’re to remain here.”

Boy smiled. It might work in his favor. Maybe he could get to the book while everyone else was occupied in court.

He crossed to the window and scowled at the falling snow. He had had enough of it. He had believed it was going to help him, he had trusted it to hide all the horror away, but it had failed. He cursed it, and himself for being so stupid as to think it could save him. He was going to have to save himself.

12

The whole palace was astir. The news had spread from the highest bell tower to the lowest cellar. Everyone was talking about the emperor’s immortality.

There was a huge uproar in the Old South Tower. Frederick’s astrologers and other advisors were shocked at the news. Willow and Kepler listened to the debates over the communal breakfast they took in the tower refectory. There was disagreement over what it would mean, and over exactly what Maxim was going to do, and much, much argument about the book, and about whether it even existed, never mind whether Maxim had it.

Kepler stared at the plate in front of him. He and Willow were the only people in the room not discussing the forthcoming events.

“Don’t be so obvious,” she hissed.

Kepler looked up and saw what she meant.

“Let’s go back to our rooms,” he said.

“What do you think Maxim’s going to do?” Willow asked, as they walked up the spiral staircase.

“Just what he says, probably.”

“But he doesn’t have the book,” Willow said. “You have it, don’t you?”

“Be quiet!” They had reached their rooms, at the very top of the tower, and Kepler flung the door shut behind them.

“Yes, I do have the book, and if anyone finds that out, we’re as good as dead. Just to own it means death! People will kill to own it. So keep quiet.”

He stormed off across the room.

“But why did you bring it?”

“I couldn’t take the risk of leaving it anywhere. Nowhere is safe. They’d ransacked the Yellow House looking for it. If they made a connection from Valerian to me, as they undoubtedly will sooner or later, they’d have gone looking for it at my house too. The only safe place is where I can keep an eye on it.”

“But what are we going to do?” she asked. She knew full well what her plans with Boy were, but what if Kepler’s own plans got in the way?

“I don’t know. It’s turned out differently from what I planned. And once Maxim does his performance today . . .”

“You mean you got us in here with no idea about getting us out again?”

“Getting in was the hard part, but that’s not what I mean. And if I can get things back to what I had planned, we won’t need to worry about getting out again.”

“What are you talking about?” Willow asked.

“Enough. You’ll see later. Now tell me what you and Boy spoke about yesterday.”

“No!” said Willow. “I want to know what you mean. Why won’t we need to worry about getting out?”

“I said enough! What did you and Boy speak about at court?”

“You expect me to tell you, but you won’t trust me with your plans? You can think again!”

Kepler grunted and strode to the window, where he gazed out at the City far below.

Willow watched him; then her eyes were drawn to the large leather bag lying under Kepler’s bed. Its mouth lay slightly open, and though she couldn’t be sure, Willow thought she could see the corner of a book poking out. A huge, weighty tome. The book from the Dead Days when Valerian had died.

And now Boy wanted to look inside it. Her heart began to race.