‘Search him then for weapons.’ Two of the girls searched him; he pretended to enjoy it, but when they took the Glove from his pocket Attia knew it took all his self-control not to lash out.

‘What is this?’The leader held up the Glove. It lay in her hands, the dragonskin iridescent in the gloom, the claws split and heavy.

‘That’s mine,’ Keiro and Attia said together.

‘I carry it for her,’ Keiro said. He smiled his most charming smile. ‘I am the Slave of the Glove.’ The girl gazed at the dragonclaws with her mismatched eyes. Then she looked up. ‘Both of you will come with us. In all my years taking toll on the Skywalk I’ve never seen an object of such power. It ripples in purple and gold. It sings in amber.’ Attia moved forward cautiously. ‘You can see that?’

‘I hear it with my eyes.’ She turned away Attia flicked a fierce glance at Keiro. He had to shut up, and play along.

Two of the masked girls pushed him. ‘Walk; one said. The leader fell in beside Attia. ‘Your name?’

‘Attia. You?’

‘Rho Cygni. We give up our birth names.’ At the large hole in the floor the girls were sliding expertly through.

‘Down there?’ Attia tried not to let the fear into her voice, but she sensed Rho’s smile behind the mask.

‘It doesn’t lead to the ground. Go on. You’ll see.’ Attia sat, her legs dangling over the edge. Someone caught her feet and steadied her; she slithered through and grabbed the rusty chain. There was a rickety walkway built close under the viaduct, half hidden by ivy It was as dark as a tunnel and it creaked underfoot, but at its end it divided into a maze of smaller passageways and rope stairs, hanging rooms and cages.

Rho walked behind her, noiseless as a shadow. At the end she guided Attia to the right into a chamber that moved slightly as if beneath it was nothing but sky. Attia swallowed. The walls were of interwoven wattle and the floor was hidden in a deep coating of feathers. But it was the ceiling that made her stare. It was painted a deep, amazing blue and gleaming in it were patterns of golden stones, like the one in Rho’s eye.

‘The stars!’

‘As Sapphique wrote of them.’ The girl stood beside her and looked up. ‘Outside they sing as they cross the sky. The Bull, and the Hunter and the Chained Princess. And the Swan, of whose Constellation we are.’ She pulled off her feathered helm and her hair was dark and short, her face pale. ‘Welcome to the Swan’s Nest, Attia.’ It was stiflingly warm, and lit by tiny lamps. She saw the shadowy figures remove armour and masks and become girls and women of all ages, some stout, some young and lithe. The smell of food rose from cooking pots. Deep divans filled with downy feathers littered the room.

Rho pushed her towards one. ‘Sit down. You look exhausted: Anxious, she said, ‘Where’s . . . my servant?’

‘Caged. He won’t starve. But this place is not for men.’ Attia sat. She was suddenly unbearably weary, but she had to stay alert. The thought of Keiro’s certain fury cheered her.

‘Please eat. We have plenty.’ A bowl of hot soup was put in front of her. She sipped at it hurriedly, while Rho sat, elbows on knees, watching.

‘You were hungry,’ she said after a while.

‘We’ve been travelling for days:

‘Well, your journey’s over now. You’re safe here.’ Attia savoured the thin soup, wondering what she meant.

These people seemed friendly, but she must be on her guard.

They had Keiro, and they had the Glove.

‘We’ve been expecting you,’ Rho said quietly.

She almost choked. ‘Me?’

‘Someone like you. Something like this.’ Rho drew the Clove from her coat, laid it reverently in her lap. ‘Strange things are happening, Attia. Wonderful things. You saw the tribes migrating. For weeks we’ve watched them down there, always searching, for food, for warmth, always fleeing from the commotion at the Prison’s heart:

‘What commotion is that, Rho?’

‘I’ve heard it.’ The girl’s strange gaze turned to Attia. ‘We all have. Late at night, deep in dreams. Suspended between ceiling and floor, we’ve felt its vibrations, in the chains and walls, in our bodies. The beating of Incarceron’s heart. It grows stronger, daily. We’re its providers, and we know.’ Attia put down the spoon and tore off some black bread.

‘The Prison is shutting down. Is that it?’

‘Concentrating. Focusing. Whole Wings are dark and silent. The Fimbulwinter has begun, and that was prophesied. And still the Unsapient sends out his demands.’

‘Unsapient?’

‘So we call him. They say the Prison summoned him from Outside. . . From his chamber in the Prison’s heart he is creating something terrible. They say he is making a man, out of rags and dreams and flowers and metal. A man who’ll lead us all to the stars. It will happen soon, Attia Gazing at the girl’s lit face Attia felt only weariness. She pushed the plate aside and said sadly, ‘What about you? Tell me about you.’ Rho smiled. ‘I think that can wait till tomorrow. You need to sleep.’ She dragged a thick cover over to Attia. It was soft and warm and irresistible. Attia snuggled into it.

‘You won’t lose the Glove,’ she said sleepily.

‘No. Sleep well. You’re with us now, Attia Cygni.’ She closed her eyes. From somewhere far off she heard Rho say, ‘Was the slave given food?’

‘Yes. But he spent most of the time trying to seduce me,’ a girl’s voice laughed.

Attia rolled over and grinned.

Hours later, deep in sleep, between breaths, in her teeth and eyelashes and nerves, she felt the heartbeat. Her heartbeat. Keiro’s. Finn’s. The Prison’s. 

‘Were you responsible?’ Claudia stepped out of the shadow of the hedge and enjoyed the way Medlicote spun round, alarmed.

He bowed, the half-moons of his glasses flashing in the morning sunlight. ‘For the storm, my lady? Or the fire?’

‘Don’t be flippant.’ She let herself sound imperious. ‘We were attacked in the Forest — Prince Giles and myself. Was it your doing?’

‘Please: His inkstained fingers lifted. ‘Please, Lady Claudia.

Be discreet.’ Fuming, she kept silent.

He gazed across the wide lawns. Only peacocks strutted and squawked. There was a group of courtiers in the orangery; faint giggles drifted from the scented gardens.

‘We made no attack,’ he said quietly. ‘Believe me, madam, if we had, Prince Giles — if he is Giles — would be dead. The Steel Wolves deserve their reputation.’

‘You failed to kill the Queen on several occasions.’ She was scathing. ‘And you placed a dagger next to Finn …’

‘To ensure he remembers us. But the Forest, no. If I may say so you were unwise to ride out without an escort. The Realm is frill of discontents. The poor suffer their injustices, but they don’t forgive them. It was probably a simple attempt at robbery.’ She thought it was the Queen’s plot, though she had no intention of letting him know that. Instead she snapped a bud from the rosebush and said, ‘And the fire?’ He looked stricken. ‘That is a disaster. You know who was responsible for that, madam. The Queen has never wanted the Portal reopened.’ And now she thinks she’s won.’ Claudia jumped as a peacock rustled its magnificent tail into a fan. The hundred eyes watched her. ‘She thinks that my father is cut off:

‘Without the Portal, he is.’

‘You knew my father well, Master Medlicote?’ Medlicote frowned. ‘I was his secretary for ten years. But lit, was not an easy man to know’