Archibald Lox and the Vote of Alignment Read online

  “Inez,” I whisper.

  “Hmm?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Have faith,” she says.

  I gulp, wishing I knew more about what lies in store.

  The woman stops speaking and there’s a smatter of applause as she slips back into the crowd. A guard starts to call the next speaker, but Dragoslav interrupts.

  “A moment, please,” he cries, hurrying forward, signalling us to follow.

  People murmur and heads turn. I see Kurtis’ eyes bulge as he clocks Inez and me, then he swiftly says something to his uncle.

  On the stage, King Farkas stands and stares at the advancing guard. “What’s going on?” he barks.

  “If you’ll grant me a minute, my lord, I’ll explain,” Dragoslav says.

  “I most certainly won’t,” the king huffs, then shouts angrily, “Stop before I have you cut down!”

  Dragoslav draws to a standstill and we halt behind him. He’s turned pale, but his fingers don’t tremble as he bows his head respectfully.

  “Who are these children?” Queen Pitina asks, stepping up next to the glowering king.

  “I apologise, your highness,” Dragoslav starts, but is cut short by Duke Edward.

  “I recognise that boy,” he roars. “He freed the rat who stole my jewels.”

  The queen’s eyes widen. “You’re right. But what –”

  Before she can finish, two men step out into the aisle at a signal from Duke Noah. As fearful as I was a moment ago, I’m even more scared now, because the men are Orlan Stiletto and Argate Axe.

  “So,” Orlan says as he brandishes his sword. “We meet again. I had a feeling we would.”

  “It’s true,” Argate says, drawing his axe. “I told him you couldn’t possibly make it here, but this is proof that I should never doubt my partner’s instincts.”

  “Put your weapons away,” Dragoslav thunders. “It’s forbidden for a guest to draw a weapon in this room.”

  “It would take a better man than you to disarm us,” Argate snarls.

  “Fifty better men,” Orlan adds.

  “We’ll see about that,” Dragoslav growls, then whistles sharply, and a dozen nearby guards surge to his side.

  Orlan and Argate stare coldly at the guards and share a short look.

  Then both men smile.

  “You should have summoned an army,” Orlan says softly.

  “But even that wouldn’t have stopped us,” Argate hisses.

  And the killers advance.

  34

  ARGATE TWIRLS HIS AXE as if it was a baton. The tip of Orlan’s Stiletto dances in the air, pointing from one guard to another — I think he’s marking the order in which he intends to kill them.

  It shouldn’t be a contest, two against thirteen, but Orlan and Argate ooze lethal confidence, and I see fear in the eyes of some of the guards. They think they’re no match for the assassins who are quickly closing the gap between them.

  An awed part of me wants to watch the battle, to find out if Orlan and Argate are as unstoppable as everyone believes. That part doesn’t care that people are about to be killed. It just craves action and blood.

  “Stop!” someone shouts, and I flinch at the harsh sound. It’s King Hugo, on his feet at last. “If you take one more step...”

  Orlan and Argate ignore the king. He leaps from the stage, calling for a sword and assistance. Just about every Merged draws a weapon to answer his call, and every SubMerged reacts similarly, to rush to the aid of the killers. We’re seconds away from all-out war, and I prepare myself for carnage.

  Then someone shouts, “Stand down!”

  This time Orlan and Argate pause and glance at the stage, where Queen Pitina has raised a hand. She looks even angrier than Hugo. Behind her, King Farkas is watching with a bewildered expression.

  “Don’t interfere, your highness,” Duke Edward says, pushing forward.

  “They’re doing this for you,” Duke Noah adds, stepping out too, a sick-looking Kurtis shuffling along behind him.

  The queen sneers. “Spilling the blood of my people, in my throne room, for me?”

  “Those two are anarchists,” Edward snaps. “Orlan and Argate have been trailing them for months. Tell your guards to withdraw and this will be over in a matter of seconds. Then we can –”

  “Silence!” Queen Pitina screeches, and the duke winces, his hands dropping by his sides. “How dare you issue orders in this manner?”

  “I was only trying –” he mutters.

  “No more,” she stops him, then waves a hand at the guards and killers. “Step aside, all of you.”

  The guards immediately peel away, Dragoslav among them, but Orlan and Argate don’t budge. They’re staring at the queen as if they were spiders studying a curious insect, trying to decide whether or not it was edible.

  “You’d disobey a queen’s order?” she challenges them softly.

  “You’re not our queen,” Orlan replies coldly.

  “But this is my realm,” she says.

  “Not for much longer,” Argate sniffs, then nods at Orlan to advance again. They have a clear path to us, and I sense death approaching.

  “I’ll call for the vote before you strike the first blow,” Queen Pitina says, and that stops the killers. “And I’ll vote to keep Sapphire Merged.”

  “Pitina!” King Farkas squeaks, but she silences him with a sharp gesture. Orlan is looking at her now, while Argate stays focused on us. The queen holds Orlan’s gaze and doesn’t blink.

  “I won’t have this, Edward,” she says in a low voice. “The laws of Sapphire must be respected.”

  “I understand,” the duke says, “but Orlan and Argate are here to serve you.”

  “Under whose say-so?” she asks.

  Edward gulps, then says, “Mine.”

  “You don’t have the right to make such a call,” she says sternly. “Tell your men to quit or I’ll vote against you.”

  “You’d undo all that we’ve planned because of something as trivial as this?” Edward bleats.

  “Now,” is Queen Pitina’s only response.

  Edward looks to Duke Noah for help. Kurtis’ uncle is studying the irate queen. He casts a glance at Inez and me, purses his lips, then shakes his head and steps back, pulling Kurtis with him.

  “Orlan,” Edward says weakly. “Argate. Sheathe your weapons and return to your original positions, please.”

  The killers obey without any sign that their feathers have been ruffled. People back away from them, eyeing them with a mix of terror, hatred and distrust.

  Queen Pitina waits for everyone to settle down and replace their weapons. “Now,” she says, setting her sights on Inez and me, “it’s time to tell us who you are and why I shouldn’t order your immediate execution.”

  Inez has remained composed throughout the last few minutes, and she speaks without a hint of a tremor. “My name is Inez Matryoshka. I’ve been charged with delivering a package.”

  “Who sent you?” Queen Pitina asks.

  “Princess Ghita,” Inez answers, and a collective sigh sweeps through the room.

  “You know where Ghita is?” Hugo gasps.

  “Hugo, please,” the queen tuts, and points to his chair.

  The young king scowls but steps onto the stage and sits. Queen Pitina and King Farkas sit also.

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” the queen asks.

  “That will become evident when I make my delivery,” Inez says.

  “And if you’re lying?” the queen murmurs. “If your package is meant to cause us harm, sent by one of our enemies?”

  Inez shrugs. “I’m a trusted camel.”

  “You’re not known to me,” Queen Pitina says archly.

  “Well, Dukes Edward and Noah are familiar with me,” Inez chuckles, “but I doubt they’ll provide me with a good reference.”

  “Edward?” the queen asks.

  The duke mutters something beneath his breath.

&
nbsp; “What was that?” she presses.

  “I don’t know her,” he says sourly.

  “That can’t be so,” King Hugo says with an icy smile, “because you told us she was a threat and that you’d stationed your thugs to deal with her.”

  Edward blanches. “What I meant... I mean... I didn’t...”

  Queen Pitina waves for silence and turns her gaze on Inez again. “The princess’ absence troubles me. I’ve heard rumours that forces sympathetic to Farkas and I had something to do with her disappearance, but I’ve been assured that isn’t the case. If evidence is submitted to suggest otherwise...”

  She glares at Duke Edward, who smiles shakily.

  The queen sniffs and says to Inez, “We’ll accept delivery. I just hope you’ve told the truth about who sent it. If not, you won’t be leaving this room with your throat intact.” She adds almost as an afterthought, “That goes for the pasty-looking ghost of a boy too. Now, come, no more delays. What do you have for us?”

  Everyone in the throne room – myself included – waits with bated breath for Inez’s answer. To my shock, she turns to me and says, “Time to work your magic.”

  I gawp at her. “What?”

  Inez draws back her shoulders and undoes the top two buttons of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I yelp.

  “I need to show you... this,” she says.

  Inez parts the upper folds of her shirt. I start to tell her to stop playing games, but then I spot something a few centimetres beneath her throat. A circular patch of flesh is glowing. It’s a soft, cream-coloured light, and I know instantly that it’s invisible to everyone else in the room.

  Because the light is a lock.

  It seems impossible, but there’s a lock in Inez’s chest. She’s hiding something inside herself. But what’s in there? It must be small, whatever it is. A message from the missing princess?

  “Don’t think about it,” Inez says as I stare at the glowing lock. “Just do what comes naturally to you.”

  I stretch out a hand, then stop. “What if I hurt you?”

  “You won’t,” she says confidently.

  “But I’ve never seen a lock like this before. I’m not even sure how to begin.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” she says. When I still hesitate, she whispers so that only I can hear, “Winston has faith in you. Trust him and follow your instincts.”

  “And if I fail?” I ask quietly.

  Inez shrugs. “We’ll be executed anyway, so what do we have to lose?”

  That’s not the most inspiring way to end a pep talk, but the lock intrigues me. I never would have guessed that a lock could be set in human tissue. I’m keen to find out how it works. So, as scared and uncertain as I am, I reach towards Inez and brush the tips of my fingers across the glowing lock, which expands as other locks have when I’ve touched them.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, blushing.

  “It’s OK,” she laughs. “Just don’t slip your fingers down any lower.”

  “As if I would,” I huff, reddening an even deeper hue. Then my eyes narrow, the blush fading as I focus on the lock, quickly forgetting about everything else.

  For the most part this isn’t unlike any other lock. The tumblers, levers and pins are made of bone and flesh, but they work the same way. What is different is that the pieces don’t connect. Whenever I slide a fragment around, it circles back into place when I move on. The lock is fluid and I’m not making any progress.

  I frown and stare into the light, trying to form a picture of the lock’s interior. I’m dimly aware of the dukes complaining, saying we’re charlatans, that we should be killed. Queen Pitina hushes them and says she wants to see where this is leading.

  A map of the lock’s inner workings doesn’t materialise inside my brain. Instead I find myself thinking about my first glimpse of Inez on the bridge in London, the way she squinted and grimaced. I smile at the memory, and as I do that, the index finger of my right hand flicks a lever that stays flicked.

  I focus on that area, pushing thoughts of Inez aside, but nothing else around the lever works the way it should. I roll tumblers and pick pins, but the flesh oozes back in to swamp them whenever I pause.

  As my fingers dance in vain, frustration and fear mounting inside me, I recall climbing the cliff, how scared I felt, reaching out for Inez when she slipped, helping her back to safety. To have gone through all that, only to run into a brick wall now, to fail at the one thing I’m supposed to be good at...

  A lump forms in my throat but subsides as I roll a tumbler that doesn’t disappear back into a fleshy quagmire, but leads me to another tumbler, firm as it would be in a normal lock.

  I set about the new tumbler eagerly, then force myself to stop and think. I’ve made a couple of breakthroughs but they won’t mean anything unless I can figure out why they happened. Locks are logical. Each is a secret code, and to crack that code, you must understand it.

  I found the lever when I was thinking about Inez. Same thing with the tumbler. I’m tempted to dismiss that as a coincidence, but this is the Merge. Locks can work in mysterious ways. I’m able to pick most with my fingers, but some require special tools. Others are triggered by facial expressions, gestures or words.

  What if memories can serve as a key too?

  I focus on a memory from when I was by myself on the island of pineapples. My fingers dance inside Inez’s chest but nothing happens. I stop and think about when I was with Winston, those happy few hours when I was his apprentice, and again I get no further.

  Then I recall sailing down the river of blood with Inez, learning about steers as we chatted with the lonely Preston. A tumbler rolls beneath a finger and clicks into place, leading me to a series of stationary levers and pins.

  I smile tightly and murmur to myself, “Our bond is the key.”

  The lock has been devised to surrender only to the touch of a locksmith who is one of Inez’s true friends. To crack this cunning puzzle, the most important thing is to know Inez well.

  I hum happily as I sift back through our adventures, meeting King Lloyd, popping up in New York, working with the thesps. I recall the sad, scary and angry memories too, when we narrowly thwarted the hell jackals, when I thought Inez was falling for Kurtis, facing Orlan and Argate at the grop match.

  I lose track of what my fingers are doing. My eyes closed at some point, and my hands move of their own accord. If people are talking, I can’t hear them. If Queen Pitina has lost patience and is ordering our beheadings, I’m unaware. Everything else has been forgotten. I’m adrift in a dreamlike world of memories, and it’s bliss.

  I’m enjoying the recollections so much that I all but forget about the lock, and that turns out to be part of the key too. I don’t think it would open to someone who’d befriended Inez only in order to betray her. If I was truly focused on the lock, it would repel me, no matter how many memories I conjured, but because I’m a genuine friend, the layers of the lock peel away while I’m not concentrating.

  It’s a mild shock when the last tumbler spins and the lock opens with a small click. Withdrawing my fingers, I open my eyes, then shut them again immediately.

  Bright light is streaming out of Inez. The people around us have turned their heads aside. I take a few steps back before opening my eyes again, just a chink this time, shielding them with my hands.

  Inez is standing with her arms spread wide and her head thrown back. There’s a halo of light where her torso should be. Then, as I’m staring, a voice echoes to me from within the light. “Don’t just stand there. Help me out, you fool.”

  “Um?” I mumble.

  “Oh, for...” The voice tuts. “Lean forward and give me a hand.”

  “But the light...” I squeak.

  “It won’t hurt you,” the voice says.

  I gulp, take a couple of steps towards Inez, and stretch a trembling hand deep into the light.

  Hands lock onto my forearm and a girl grunts with satisfaction. She starts to p
ull herself up my arm, and I instinctively back away, but slowly, so as not to dislodge her. As I retreat, a brown-skinned girl’s head emerges from the halo of light.

  I keep moving backwards, dragging the girl out. As her feet clear the area where the lock was nestled in Inez’s chest, the light clicks off. The girl plummets to the floor and I reach out with my other hand to catch her, but she must have been expecting this because she releases my arm and hits the ground in a roll, before springing to her feet like a gymnast.

  “Tah-dah!” the girl exclaims, and faces all around us drop with shock or light up with amazement.

  “Ghita!” the observers shriek.

  “It’s the princess!” a guard cries. “The princess has returned!”

  “Yes,” the girl says, as Duke Edward groans and Duke Noah rolls his eyes. She looks at me and winks. “You did well, locksmith, even if you hesitated at the end.”

  “Nobody warned me,” I retort. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “In the Merge you should always expect the unexpected,” she laughs, then turns to face the stage, where King Hugo is beaming, Queen Pitina is scowling, and King Farkas is blinking with shock.

  “Have you voted yet?” the princess asks.

  “No,” Queen Pitina says. “We were in the middle of the ceremonies when –”

  “I don’t think we need continue with those,” the girl interrupts. “We’ve all made up our minds, haven’t we?”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” the queen says, but King Hugo claps to stop her saying anything else.

  “Stuff the protocols,” he smirks. “I vote to keep the realm Merged. Ghita?”

  “Merged,” the princess says. “And since you and Farkas can’t outvote us, there’s not much point me sticking around to hear what else you have to say.”

  As the queen’s features darken, the princess spins on her heels and lays a hand on Inez’s shoulder. The light has faded and Inez is back to normal. She’s been doing up the buttons of her shirt, but pauses when the princess makes contact.