The Crystal Heart (16 page)

‘Quite so,' said my father, with an ironic smile. ‘Well, boy, you have come at the right time. The day after tomorrow we are welcoming a visitor who knows all the
feyin
in your mother's country – the Erlking of Almain, whose son my daughter is to marry shortly.'

Amadey glanced at me.

‘You will be able to ask the Erlking yourself, Amadey. Won't that just be splendid?' I said as steadily as I could, begging him with my eyes to agree.

‘Oh yes,' he hurried to say. ‘You are all so very kind!'

‘It seems you are to be our guest until then,' said my father. ‘Perhaps we should arrange for you to be made more presentable, and to find you a room. Marshal, will you –'

‘Oh, may Glarya look after that, Father?' I asked quickly. ‘I am sure the Marshal has a great many other duties, and Glarya is at a loose end this afternoon. I know she will be delighted to find our guest a room and a valet. As for me, I will be glad to rest, for all this has rather exhausted me.'

I held my breath as my father searched my face. After a moment, he smiled and said, ‘You do look pale and worn, and we must have you fresh for when the Erlking arrives.'

‘Yes, Father,' I said meekly, while inwardly I fizzed with excitement.

‘May I ask a question, Your Royal Highness?' Amadey asked as we made our way back through the corridors.

I nodded.

‘When the Erlking comes, what am I to do? I know nothing really of
feyin
in Almain – only what my grandmother has said – and I paid little attention.'

‘We will think of something,' I said vaguely.

He shot me an anxious glance. ‘Very well.'

‘Right now, we must find your friend before he is discovered by the Marshals. I will need your help.'

‘Of course, anything I can do.' Amadey paused. ‘May I ask something else?'

‘Go ahead.'

‘Is it true you are to marry the son of this Erlking?'

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

‘But now that Vaz– I mean, now that he is here … then, surely –'

‘He must go home. With you,' I said, every word an effort. ‘It is not safe for him here. There is nothing else we can do. You see, I cannot bear to …'

In all the time I'd been here, I'd not spoken of Kasper to a single soul, not even to Glarya. The subject had been closed between my father and I until today, and I shrank from anyone else knowing, shrank from even kind talk that would turn the knife in the wound. So why was I talking so to a stranger?
Because he is Kasper's friend
.

‘Amadey, will you tell me a little about how you met Kasper – Vazily? What is he like now? How does he speak? What has he told you …?'

‘I would be honoured to do so, Your Royal Highness,' he said gently.

‘Izolda,' I said. ‘My name is Izolda. Please, call me that.'

‘I feel disrespectful to –'

‘Stop that. It's lacking in respect not to do as a princess asks you,' I said haughtily.

He looked at me, startled, then laughed. ‘As you wish, Princess Izolda.'

And so we made our way to my quarters, with Amadey telling me what he knew of the young man Vazily Adamak. It wasn't a lot, but it was something, and it was a bittersweet pleasure listening to him. Amadey did not have a clue as to how Kasper had contrived to escape, but that was of minor importance, compared to the fact that he
had
escaped. And then I found myself telling him the bare bones of our own story – how we had fled from the Tower, and the life we'd found in the woods. It made my heart lighter to at last begin to talk of these things.

When we reached my rooms, Glarya was waiting, worried that I was not in my bedchamber. ‘My lady, I wondered where you had –' she began, and then she caught sight of Amadey. Her eyes widened. ‘Who's he?'

‘A guest, Glarya.'

Taking Glarya's hand, Amadey bowed low over it, saying, ‘Amadey Rozen at your service, my lady.'

‘Oh!' Glarya giggled nervously. ‘I'm not a lady, sir. I'm just –'

‘Yes you are, Glarya,' I said. ‘You are much more a lady than those rude and haughty creatures who have nothing but their blood lines to commend them.'

‘No, you are too kind!' said Glarya, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘I have not been kind enough. I have never told you how much you have warmed my heart in these hard times, and I am sorry for that. But I want to tell you that now, and I want to tell you that my father has agreed that the care of our guest Amadey be put in your hands, for he thinks a great deal of you too.'

‘Oh, my lady!' Glarya's eyes shone, half with tears, half with smiles. Her whole face lit up so that its sharp prettiness was softened into real beauty. But I wasn't the only one who saw that; Amadey could not keep his eyes off her. ‘You are the kindest, best mistress I could ever have hoped for,' Glarya went on, ‘and I would die for you, my lady!'

‘There is no need to die for me, Glarya,' I said, smiling. ‘Only, please escort our guest to a suitable room and find him a manservant who will see to some fresh clothes. And then bring Amadey back here, will you?'

‘Of course, my lady. This way, if you please, sir,' said Glarya, beckoning to Amadey, who followed her with alacrity.

I should have felt gloom at the thought I had so little time to find Kasper and spend a few moments with him before we had to say goodbye for ever, but strangely, I did not. My heart was filled with gladness that I had been granted this chance, that fate had dealt me a hand as unexpected as this was thrilling. Even short moments can be eternal, in love; you can carry them with you for ever in your heart, no matter what has happened. All the memories of the woods, the time I'd had with Kasper – all those memories I'd locked away – all of them had escaped and come back to me. I could wait to know the hows and the whys. How Kasper had escaped, why it had taken so long. Why the connection between us had been broken; how it had returned. What mattered was that I knew that if he was here, risking great danger, it was because he still believed in us. And that made me feel strong. It made me put the thought of the Erlking and what must happen three days from now aside.

Remembering our talks, I realised Kasper had another advantage over Amadey in that he already knew something of the geography of the city, for I had told him all about it. He had even seen a map. He would have worked out a place where he could hole up till the time came when he could approach me. The question was, where?

Sitting down at my desk, I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil. In my mind's eye I saw again the map I'd created, back at our cottage in the woods. From that, I was able to redraw it. I then traced the routes that could be taken from the Crystal Fountain.

A multitude of routes radiated from the Fountain and into the city, like the branches of a huge star. It depended where you were heading. Towards the Palace, one way. Towards the huge main square with its rows of arches and decorated buildings; another leading towards the translucent cathedral of the Lady of the Rock with its soaring crystal spire and opal altar. One way into the guild districts, with its bustling huddle of shops and merchants' houses. One way to the Marshal barracks, and after that to the southern edge of the city, where stood the gleaming rows upon rows of the greenhouses full of crops and the vivariums with their cave cattle and rock sheep. To the tall watchtower on the northern flank, and the fishing-harbour, darkly glinting far in the distance. A closer route would take you to the streets lined with the turreted mansions belonging to the nobility, and still another led you through a maze of alleys and lanes, into the cheerfully crowded districts populated by the lowly – servants and Outlander apprentices and gardeners and small traders, who were not part of the big guilds but nevertheless lived in pleasant, comfortable lodgings.

That is where I would go if I were him
, I thought. You could hide much more easily amongst the crowds there, than in the smarter districts where strangers stand out like sore thumbs. For a while, at least, Kasper could pass as an Outlander newly arrived in the city. He had gained enough knowledge of these things from me. But he would not of course have any identification papers, so if he were stopped by the city watch or, heaven forbid, by the Marshals, he'd be in trouble.

I made up my mind. I could not wait for Amadey to return, and it would be better if I went alone. And
unrecognised, if possible. I pulled on my plainest dress, twisted my hair into a braid and put on a hooded cloak. After scribbling a note to say I would be back soon and that Amadey was to wait in my rooms, I left.

There was no one in the corridor when I emerged. I hurried as fast as I could towards the storerooms, where I could pick up a basket to make me look like a servant sent on an errand. The Lady of the Rock must have been by my side that day for I did not meet with a single challenge, and as I came into the back courtyard, I could feel my disguise had not been seen through. Nevertheless, I kept my hooded head down and my steps brisk as I reached the Palace gates and the guards stationed there. Thank the Lady they were busy with a trader lacking the necessary papers, and I was waved through without a glance.

Not far from the Palace was a stand for the noiseless glass trams that ran between the different sections of the city. But fearing that I'd be noticed, I walked as rapidly as I could through the streets and the thickening crowds, like a servant girl intent on her errand. What a strange sensation it was for me, to be immersed in the ordinary mass of the city! The crowds did not frighten me as they would have done when I first returned home, fresh from my long imprisonment in the Tower and the quiet weeks in the woods, but up till now I'd never really sought them out.

Perhaps it was just my excitement that was tinting my vision, but for the first time since my return to Night, I felt oddly at ease. The golden light of the caves bathed me in warmth today, and I found myself not longing for the days and nights above. As I hurried amongst the bustling
crowds of my people, I felt as though I were home, as though I were truly a part of Night again.

Reaching the Low Districts, I worked my way through the maze of streets and alleys, stopping every now and then to ask a question – the same question: Have you seen a young Outlander with jet-black hair and a scar on his left wrist?

Each time I came up with nothing until, at last, a street trader with a crooked grin answered, ‘Who's looking for him?'

‘His sister,' I said.

‘Hmm,' said the trader. ‘What's your brother been up to, then, girl?' he added with a wink.

‘Nothing. Only my mother tasked me to give him this.' Opening my basket, I showed him the eel pies I'd snaffled from the kitchens.

‘Well, well, maybe a taste of pie might help my memory, girl,' said the man. I gave him one and asked, ‘Where may I find my brother?'

‘I don't know exactly,' he said, biting into the pie, ‘but I did see a man of that description this morning, heading into Grand-dam's over there.' He pointed to a dark shop-front down the street.

I headed over to the shop, which proved to be a place that sold trinkets of dubious origin. There were some carvings in the window. Though made by
feyin
hands, they were badly done, without the simple grace of Kasper's carvings. But now I knew why he'd come here.

‘I'm looking for my brother,' I said to the wispy ancient woman who crouched behind her counter like a spider in her web. ‘He's tall with dark hair, dark eyes and a scar on
one wrist.' I paused. ‘I think he was coming here to sell you a carving or two.'

‘Wrong, dear,' the old woman said, looking up at me with pale, sharp eyes that belied her great age.
She must be well over a hundred, maybe closer to a hundred and fifty
, I thought, for the true-blood
feyin
live much longer than humans, even if they are not immortals. ‘I did see this brother of yours,' she went on, ‘but he wasn't here to sell. He came to buy.'

‘What exactly?'

The old woman gave me a sly sideways glance. ‘I think you'll have to ask him that yourself, my dear. I don't think my customers would like me divulging their secrets.'

I let it pass, for I had a more important thing to ask. ‘Did he say where he was going?'

‘No, my dear, he did not.' All at once, she leaned forward and grabbed my hand. She looked at it briefly, then dropped it again.

I'd been so startled that I'd not had time to protest. ‘How dare you!' I said, drawing away.

‘As I thought,' she said, with a crooked grin. ‘Fine white hands – the hands of a lady. Well,
my lady
, he's a brawny bonny lad for an Outlander, I'll give you that. And I understand a high-born lady needs her little diversions. But here's a free piece of advice from old Grand-dam: Don't run after him. Let him run after you. The chase will be all the sweeter if you let him think he's the hunter.'

I could feel the flush rushing up my neck and flaming into my cheeks. Without another word, I turned on my heel and left the shop with as much dignity as I could muster, with the old woman's delighted cackle resounding in my ears.

My swift exit from the shop hadn't just been caused by embarrassment at the familiarity of what the old woman had said; it was a leap of fear that had fired in my blood when she grabbed my hand. I had felt her icy touch, and at the same time, the crystal against my heart had gone cold. Now, hurrying out of that street and finding a quiet corner in which I could take the stone out of my bodice to examine it, I saw with relief that it still glowed. It hadn't gone out, as I'd feared. In fact, it was more intense. It was almost as though … he were close. Yes. Kasper was somewhere nearby. I looked around. Where might he be? In one of those houses? In that shop? In the tavern …?

The tavern.

The taproom was crowded with people, mostly men and Outlanders, and quite a few dark heads in sight. But I could not find his. Pushing my way to the bar, I asked the bright-faced barmaid my standard question.

‘Sorry, dear, you just missed him. He did take a room, but he's gone out.'

‘Where?'

The barmaid glared at me. ‘How should I know?'

‘Sorry. Of course you wouldn't. Look, I need a favour. I'd like to go to his room to leave him a note.'

‘If you wish.' She looked me up and down. ‘Take my advice, that kind'll break your heart. Eyes of stone, worse than a Marshal's.'

What would you know, you fool
, I wanted to say. Instead, I asked, ‘Could I borrow a pencil and a scrap of paper?'

She nodded, and gave them to me, as well as directions to Kasper's room. I headed upstairs, my heart thumping with anticipation. Perhaps I would stay there till he
arrived. Or leave him a note. Whatever, at least I would be in a place that brought me a little closer to him.

It was a tiny room, with a bed and a chair as the only furniture. To my disappointment, there was nothing of his in the room – not a shred of clothing, no bag, no little trinket from Grand-dam's. Nothing. I looked under the mattress, the bolster, the blankets. Still nothing. And then I saw it, on the floor by the bed – a single strand of hair the colour of a raven's wing.