The Winter Knights (30 page)

Madame Maris Pallitax-Vespius

(only joking!)

P.S. The funniest thing, Quint. Your letter – the barkscroll parchment you wrote it on – it is exactly the same sort that Father wrote his will on. Smooth texture, with small grey flecks on it. I remember thinking it was odd at the time because Father always used sumpwood barkscrolls (more grainy and lighter). But it was definitely his writing. And now, here you are, using the same sort!

Dear Maris,

I'm sorry you found it formal and odd that I signed myself Quintinius Verginix in my last letter, but you must understand that I have moved on to the Upper Halls and left childish things behind. You might only be teasing, but these things matter. And as daughter of a Most High Academe, I would expect you to understand this.

I am very disappointed that you only sent me five gold pieces, and can only count myself fortunate that my loyal friend, Vilnix Pompolnius, came to my aid at the Elevation Ceremony. He sharpened the blade of my sword beautifully and ran all sorts of useful errands for me, including picking up your letter – and the measly gold coins you decided to let me have.

If you were as true and loyal a friend to me as Vilnix, you would find a way to take the gold your guardian has taken from you, and send it to me. I'm sure it's what your poor dear father would have wanted – especially as my new mentor, the Professor of Light, has turned out to be so tight-fisted. As my true friend, you would take as much of the gold as you could and give it to Vilnix in this copperwood urn. He will pass by your window each week on market day until you wave a red kerchief to show you have been successful. Do not expect any further barkscrolls from me until you have proved your friendship by doing this.

I shall pass on your concerns to the Professors of Light. I certainly wouldn't be at all surprised if Hax Vostillix was up to something – he is not only mad, but also devious, as poor Vilnix has found out to his cost. After doing him many
kindnesses and small acts of service, Vilnix was promised a position in the Upper Halls as an apprentice high professor. But Hax Vostillix cruelly betrayed him, sending him to the Upper Halls and making him a knight academic squire instead, even though he has no interest in or intention of going stormchasing.

I was so angry when Vilnix told me this that I felt like murdering Hax Vostillix with my own two hands. It is no more than he deserves! That is what true friends do for each other.

Do not let me down again.

Yours,

Quintinius Verginix

Upper Hall Squire

Dear Quintinius,

I was very hurt by the tone of your last letter. In fact, I cried for a whole week, if you must know. I do want to be a good friend to you, you know I do. I don't think murdering anybody – even Hax Vostillix – with your bare hands is proof of friendship, and even though you seem to think so highly of Vilnix, I'm afraid he still gives me the creeps.

For three weeks he's been appearing outside my window on Market Day, with that horrid little twisted smile on his face. It's almost as if he's happy that you're angry with me and that I'm miserable. Indeed, I've been so miserable that I have actually gone and done what you asked
me to. It was against my better judgement, because stealing is wrong, and both of us know that.

I managed to sneak into Heft and Dacia's bedchamber last night, and watched while the loathsome fat barkslug quaffed sapwine and rocked back and forth while he counted out that gold of his. Dacia was as drunk as he was, and they kept singing ‘under shall rule above’, and laughing. It was horrible!

But eventually they both fell asleep and I managed to tiptoe from behind the hanging drapes and take about a hundred gold pieces out of the lufwood trunk, literally from under Heft's big fat snoring nose!

I say ‘about’ because I'm sure you'll understand I couldn't stop to count it out. There, so I've done it! You'll find them in the copperwood urn with this letter. I'll give it to Vilnix when he turns up tomorrow (which I'm sure he will). Perhaps it'll wipe that horrid little smirk off his face!

When Heft finds out, I'll be in big trouble, I know, but you asked me to prove my friendship, and I have, so there! And I say ‘when’ not ‘if’ because he knows exactly how much he's got – or rather, how much he had. I'm not proud of what I've done, and I intend to slip away as soon as I can. I'll go to the twin Most High Academes and throw myself on their mercy. I've decided to tell them everything, Quint – I'm sure it'll be for the best.

Your true friend,

Maris

Dear Maris,

We must see each other. Don't, I beg of you, do anything stupid!

You must escape and get to the Loftus Observatory. Wait for me on the north gantry platform of the Observatory Chamber at eight hours tomorrow morning and I will explain everything …

Please excuse my poor handwriting, but I injured my hand at Gantry Tower practice.

Thank you for the money. You are a true friend.

Your friend,

Quint

Maris slipped a coin into the calloused palm of the old gnokgoblin basket-puller and stepped onto the West Landing. She shivered and lowered her head. With the howling wind tugging at her cape, it seemed, if anything, even colder up here on the great floating rock than back in Undertown.

From behind her there came the creaking noise of the great wooden treadmill as it raised and lowered the log burners – the huge glowing cage-like structures she'd watched so often from the window of her bedchamber. Up close, she could now hear the barks and whinnies of the hardworking prowlgrins that turned it, as well as the curious mournful hooting of the giant fromps.

So many changes since I was last here, she thought.

She scurried along the jutting platform, keeping to the long, early-morning shadows as best she could. There were gatekeepers everywhere, she noticed with a shudder, in their white tunics with the horrible red insignia. But they were too busy shouting and bullying the stable-hands to pay her any attention. How different from the days when her father had been Most High Academe. He would never have allowed Hax Vostillix to build up his own personal army …

Still, she thought, as she reached the end of the landing and stepped down onto the broad, snow-covered avenue that led, in a majestic sweep, from the Great Library to the Loftus Observatory, the twin Most High Academes would put a stop to it, she was sure. Especially as she was going to tell them all about the Captain of the Gatekeeper's suspicious meetings with her guardian, Heft. But first she had to get to the Loftus Observatory before eight hours, to meet Quint.

Her heart gave a leap. Quint! It was going to be so good to see him again after all this time.

There was so much she wanted to say to him, and so many questions she couldn't wait to ask. What was it
really
like being an Upper Hall squire? To ride a prowlgrin, and learn to sail a stormchaser? And his friends; she wanted to know all about them – Stope, Raffix, Phin and … even Vilnix.

What
did
he see in that thin, shifty-eyed apprentice whose twisted smile made her flesh creep?

These sorts of things couldn't be explained in barkscroll letters, but Maris was sure Quint would explain everything to her now that, at last, they were going to meet face to face. She quickened her pace.

Cutting through an alleyway at the back of the School of Mist, she emerged on the main avenue, the tall towers of the College of Cloud ahead of her. There were mob-gnomes and cloddertrogs out clearing the snow as best they could, and the air was filled with the sound of scraping shovels. Above her, though, the early morning sunlight was already being blocked out by an approaching bank of black cloud. She turned right. The Loftus Observatory loomed ahead of her.

Not far now, she told herself, and she'd see Quint again and could tell him everything. About the long, lonely, cold nights locked up in her room, about the petty unkindnesses and meanness of her guardians and the deep ache in the middle of her chest whenever she allowed herself to think about her former life in the great floating city.

And then there was the hurt. The angry hurt that his letter had caused her, with its haughty tone and accusation that she wasn't ‘a real friend’. It had stung her so deeply that Maris had seized the first opportunity to prove him wrong. She hadn't had to wait long …

A gatekeeper had arrived with a message for Heft which had transformed her moaning bully of a guardian into a laughing, giggling fool. He'd pranced delightedly round the palace, ordering the servants to bring the sap-wine, and shouting for Dacia to come and celebrate with him. Before long, the pair of them were roaring drunk and staggering off to their bedchamber, singing, ‘Under shall rule above!’ – and forgetting to lock Maris's door on their way.

Heart in her mouth, Maris had slipped out of her room and tiptoed down the corridor and into her guardians’ bedchamber. There, she'd nipped behind the heavy window drapes at the far end of the huge room. With her heart hammering in her chest, she'd peeked through a gap in the drapes. Dacia had collapsed on the enormous carved lufwood bed and was snoring like a woodhog, while Heft was kneeling in front of an open chest at the foot of the bed.

As Maris watched, his eyes grew heavy and closed and his head lolled forward. Soon, he too was snoring thunderously, crouched over the treasure chest as if worshipping its contents.

Maris had waited a while, just to be sure they weren't about to stir. Then, with a deep breath, she emerged from behind the curtains and tiptoed over to the open chest.

How full it had been! she remembered indignantly. It contained more gold coins than she had ever seen before – all glinting and gleaming in the yellow light of the two-groat tallow candle that flickered on the lampstand. Without a second thought, she hitched up her skirt and scooped several handfuls of coins – a fraction, she was sure, of what her father had left her – into the folds of material. Then, scarcely daring to breathe, she hurried away from the bedchamber.

Back in her own room, she'd wrapped the coins up with her letter in a small cloth and stuffed the whole lot inside the copperwood urn. Then – unable to sleep, her head spinning with the thought of what she'd just done – she sat up the whole night, waiting for morning. By daybreak, the market stalls had already been set up and there, lurking in the shadows once more, was Vilnix Pompolnius. For the first time ever, she was pleased to see him. Instead of ignoring him, as she'd done on all the other occasions, she pulled the red kerchief from her sleeve and waved.

Then she'd pushed the urn through the bars at her window and lowered it on a length of knotted sheet into Vilnix's waiting arms. He'd grabbed it, pushed it inside his jacket and dashed away without even the slightest acknowledgement.

Well, she'd thought, with a bitter feeling of triumph. At least Quint would realize that she was a ‘true friend’ now. But she would pay a high price for proving her friendship when Heft counted his gold again. And she didn't have much time – a day or so at most …

An hour later, dressed in her warmest clothes, with her belongings wrapped up in a small bundle under her arm, Maris had set off to confess everything to the twin Most High Academes. Up in their bedchamber, Heft and Dacia were still sleeping off the effects of the sapwine as she slipped out of their apartments.

She hadn't gone more than half a dozen paces when she felt a tug on her sleeve. With a terrified gasp, she'd spun round – to be confronted once more with the leering face of Vilnix Pompolnius.

‘I'm glad I caught you,’ he said, his nasal voice breathy and urgent. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a barkscroll, which he'd thrust into her hands. ‘I've just come back down from Sanctaphrax – Quint told me to give you this. It's very important, so read it now!’