“There are being lamps,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I am thinking the lamps you do have will be light for us. Too much of the light, and we are proclaiming to this bad wizard that we come for him!”
“Let’s go,” Celie said.
Lord Griffin needed no further urging. He headed into the dark passageway with Celie clinging to his back, walking at a quick, smooth pace. Celie had never thought she’d be as close to another griffin as she was to Rufus, but there was something so strong and reassuring about Lord Griffin. It was, in a way, like being with her father.
“Princess . . . I mean, my Lord Wizard?” The guard who had sealed the door into Bran’s room whispered loudly down the line. “Do you want me to close this door? Permanently? With that thing?”
“Best not, actually,” Bran said. “We need to leave ourselves one escape route, why not Lulath’s room?”
“It will please me to be the place of refuge,” Lulath whispered.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, and edged back until he was at the end of the line.
There were more whisperings as they all shuffled along the passageway. Bran kept trying to make Celie get behind him, but she ignored him. He was so busy hissing at her that he didn’t hear the noise, but Celie did, and so did Lord Griffin.
They both froze, and Celie gripped the golden collar that Lord Griffin wore. She squeezed with her knees and Lord Griffin started forward, walking softly but swiftly.
“Celie,” Bran said.
Celie held up one hand and shook it fiercely in warning. Bran instantly subsided. Everyone hushed, and crept forward. The sound was growing louder and louder. It was a scraping sound, and some thumps, and then . . .
“Stop it, you fool beast!”
Lord Griffin leaped around the corner at the sound of Arkwright’s shout. The others rushed after him, and in the light of the lamps they saw Arkwright struggling with Rufus, who was tied with black cords. Celie’s heart clenched to see her beloved griffin bound like that. He was scrambling to get away from Arkwright, who was cursing and trying to drag him along the passage.
Lord Griffin let out a scream of rage that almost shook the mortar from the stones around them. Arkwright whirled around and shouted something in Arkish, his hands making a throwing motion toward Celie.
Horrible sticky webby stuff attached itself to Celie’s face and hands and dropped down over the griffin she was riding. Lord Griffin squalled as the webs touched him. Bran slipped around them before Celie could even cry out and began shouting a spell of his own. Black ropes flew at Arkwright, and then Bran whipped around and spoke three sharp words at Celie and Lord Griffin. The webs shriveled up and fell away, and Bran was facing Arkwright again and shouting another spell.
Arkwright had deflected the black ropes, and now he was chanting as he dragged Rufus away from them. Rufus was fighting him even more wildly, and Celie was appalled to see that there was a muzzle around his mouth, keeping him from squawking.
The passageway was too narrow for them to get around Bran and surround Arkwright, so Bran had to face him alone, flinging spells and edging closer to the older wizard and his captive. Lord Griffin was quivering with rage, screeching his battle cry, but there was nothing else he or Celie could do.
Bran hit Arkwright with another burst of magic, and the wizard fell against the wall. Lord Griffin grabbed the back of Bran’s robes with a talon and pulled him out of the way, then leaped forward. Celie held tight to the collar as Lord Griffin went on the attack. He slashed and bit at Arkwright, who cowered, screaming.
Lord Griffin rolled his shoulder, and Celie found herself dumped on the floor beside Rufus. That suited her fine, and she hurried to drag Rufus farther down the passage and get the ropes off him. They were horrible and sticky, and they melted away when she pulled them off. They also took quite a bit of fur and feathers with them when she pulled, making both of them cry.
Once she’d freed him enough that he could run, Celie stopped pulling ropes off Rufus and tugged his harness to make him follow her. She went just a little way down the passage, and turned back to yell something to Bran. What she saw stopped her cold.
Arkwright was in the center of a huge swirling cloud of magic. It looked like dust, if dust had sparkles in it. But even with the sparkles, the dust looked . . . unwholesome. Dimly, beyond the chanting, gesturing Arkwright, through the rising cloud of dark magic, Celie could see Bran preparing a counterattack. She took a step toward them, one hand raised to ward off the dust.
“Celie! Run!” her brother shouted. “And take this!” He threw the lockbox, the original one that their mother had made, through the magic dust. Celie caught it. “You know what to do,” he bellowed. “Go!”
Rufus was already tugging at the back of Celie’s nightgown, anxious to be gone. She climbed onto his back, cradling the lockbox one-handed, and Rufus took off running down the passage.
Celie barely managed to stop him when they reached the next door, yanking on the harness so hard they skidded and he nearly fell on his rump. They plunged through the narrow door and came out in a corridor barely wider than one of the secret passages. It led to the laundries and sewing room, and eventually out a new door that was just across from the griffin stable at the back of the Castle.
Trembling, Celie put the lockbox on the door, and turned the knob. The door almost fell on her and Rufus, and Rufus had to dance out of the way. Then she urged him along the corridor, past the steam-filled laundry.
There was another door that connected to that passageway, and she wanted to close it immediately. It was near the Heart of the Castle, and Celie wanted to make sure that Arkwright didn’t get anywhere near that room, or the once-broken Eye of the Castle that he had hidden for hundreds of years.
But when she got to the end of the corridor, all she found was a door she didn’t recognize. And when she opened it, she saw a staircase leading up. Celie got off Rufus’s back and sent him up the stairs, too scared to argue with the Castle, and followed right on his heels. At the top of the stairs, she found herself in that tower with the brass instruments once again.
“What am I supposed to do?” Celie wailed.
The only tool she knew how to use was the speaking tube. And what was there to say? They needed to guard the passageways that were left, and catch Arkwright if he came out, but she didn’t know where most of the guards were. Were they already in the walls? Were they out working on the ship in the meadow?
The ship. Celie had read a book of sea voyages last year with Master Humphries. She went to the speaking tube and did the only thing she could think of:
“All hands on deck! All hands on deck!” she shouted. “Meet in the Heart of the Castle! All hands to the Heart of the Castle!”
Chapter
20
Celie ran down the stairs from the tower with the brass instruments, now with Rufus crowding her heels, and when she came to the last step, the Castle changed. She stepped out into the corridor just behind the throne room, and found herself facing a tapestry depicting the Battle of Bendeswe. She flipped up the edge, opened the door behind it, and looked into the darkened passageway. She couldn’t see or hear anything, so she closed the door again and used the lockbox to get rid of it.
There was a tight feeling in her chest as she did so: now the only way out for Bran and Lulath and the guards was through Lulath’s room. She knew that was what Bran had meant when he’d said that she knew what to do, but it still scared her. It meant that Arkwright, if he overpowered them, could also escape through Lulath’s room.
Celie ran down the corridor and into the main hall. There was a stream of people coming in the front doors and heading for the Heart of the Castle. They stopped to look at her curiously as she stood there in her nightgown, but continued on into the Heart as Celie pointed to the doorway, still catching her breath. Then Pogue peeled off from the crowd and jogged over to her, ignoring her signal to continue into the Heart.
“Celie! That was you, wasn’t it? What’s hap
pening?”
“Get some guards,” she said to him. “Go to Lulath’s rooms and guard the secret passage in the fireplace.” Her throat constricted, and she had to cough to clear it. “Either Bran and Lulath will come out, or Arkwright will.”
“What?” Pogue swore, started to say something, stopped, and then told her, “I’m on my way!”
He pointed to a few guards who were trickling in, pulling them out of the crowd. It was strange to see how quickly they responded: Pogue had once been known for his brawls with the village boys, usually over a pretty girl. But now he was a knight and a respected member of the court.
“Come with me,” he ordered the men. “And you,” he added, pointing to a young page. “Bring my weapons to Prince Lulath’s rooms!”
He headed out with six men trotting behind him. Queen Celina came to the open archway of the Heart and looked out at the people still coming in. She saw Celie and beckoned her forward. Celie hurried through the clusters of maids and confused ship workers to her mother, who put an arm around her and led her inside. Just before they stepped through the doors, Celie directed one of the maids to go to her room and fetch her copy of the Castle atlas.
Lilah was sitting close beside their father’s cot at the front of the room, where the Eye of the Castle rested in the middle of the mantel. She was holding one of the king’s hands, and looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. Rolf stood guard on their father’s other side, also looking exhausted and rumpled. Celie felt a little pang—she supposed she should have taken a turn sitting with King Glower. Then she shook it off. No, what she was doing was just as important.
Rolf’s frown eased a little when he saw Celie, but instead of coming toward her, he pulled a bench out from the nearest table and gestured for Celie to stand on it.
“Tell us what’s happening,” he said when she got closer.
Celie took a moment to look down at King Glower. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, if anyone could sleep peacefully in the middle of a crowded, well-lit room, fully clothed in the middle of the day. Celie stooped and kissed her father’s cheek, then got up on the bench with Rolf’s help.
She wished she’d gotten dressed, but there was no time now. And she couldn’t help but feel a little proud that neither her mother nor her brother had questioned her about why she had summoned everyone. She faced the assembly, her fists clenched in the long sleeves of her nightgown.
There were maids and footmen arrayed in front of her, standing between the cots of the fallen guards. Cook and her kitchen staff were still in their aprons, and Cook held a large ladle in one hand like a sword. Ma’am Housekeeper and her chambermaids were grouped around the sleeping Maisy. Celie’s tutor, Master Humphries, whom she had been avoiding for a week now, had his spectacles off and was rubbing his eyes. The men who had been working on the ship still had tools in their hands, as did the stable hands. The guards and courtiers and Councilors were all gathered in the middle. And they were all looking at Celie.
“Who among you knows where the secret passages are in the Castle?” Celie asked.
A few people raised their hands, mostly the maids, she noted. They looked timid, though, and a girl near the front called out.
“Not all of them, Your Highness. Just the ones near our quarters.”
“And some of those have been closed permanently,” Celie said, thinking fast. “All right . . . I’m going to break you into groups. I need you to guard each of the passageways while I try to close them. If Arkwright comes through the door you’re guarding, stop him as best you can.”
“Where is your brother?” Queen Celina said in a low voice.
“Wizard Bran, Prince Lulath, and a half dozen guards are in the passageway leading from Prince Lulath’s rooms,” Celie announced to the entire room, not trusting herself to look down at her mother as she said the words. “The king of the griffins is with them, and I have closed all the other doors from that passage.” She looked at the atlas, which a maid had just handed her. “Does someone have a pencil I can mark this with?”
One of the Council leaped forward and handed her one he pulled from behind his ear. Celie began to cross out passages and secret door with heavy strokes.
Rolf held up a hand. “I want six men with me in the throne room,” he called out. “The passage behind the dais.” He pointed to Ma’am Housekeeper. “Ma’am Housekeeper, you take six men and two footmen to the other end of that passage.
“Celie?”
Celie nodded and marked the groups on the atlas so that they could keep track.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am Housekeeper said. She snapped her fingers, and two footmen immediately went to her side. Sergeant Avery came to the front and detailed off six men for Rolf and six for the housekeeper, and they left.
“I’ll take six men to the summer dining hall,” the queen said.
“And two stout footmen,” Sergeant Avery said. “To be your personal guard, Your Majesty.”
Again he separated out some of his men and some of the servants, and they came to stand beside the queen. Celie made more notes, but her mother didn’t leave. She looked up at Celie, waiting to see what was next.
“Lord Sefton?” Celie looked around for the tall Councilor. He had been one of their few allies during the dark time when Prince Khelsh had been in power. “Do you know about the passage by the Council’s privy chamber?”
“No,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I do, Your Highness,” said one of the maids. “I clean the privy chamber.”
“If you’d be willing to guide us, miss?” Lord Sefton said courteously as Sergeant Avery assigned more men to them.
“Of course, milord.”
They left, and Celie assigned more maids and guards to see to the remaining passages. There were only three passages left now. Sergeant Avery would go to the stables with his last four men and three stable hands, Ethan would take more stable hands and a footman to the rear of the Castle, where there was a passage that had only recently arrived in Sleyne, and that left Celie and the weapons gallery.
Celie looked around in dismay. “I seem to have done a poor job of dividing up the guards,” she said to Cook, who had drawn closer with her staff, not that everyone else had cleared out.
“Not really,” Cook said, and she waved her ladle.
In the corners of the room were griffins, all the griffins that Celie had brought from Hatheland save for Lord and Lady Griffin and Lorcan. Juliet was on the alert beside Lilah, and Rufus was also watching Celie as though awaiting orders.
Cook, not one to be daunted by wizards or griffins, shouted to the beasts and brandished her ladle. The griffins immediately rose and paced forward until they stood in a cluster in front of Celie’s bench, gently forcing the kitchen staff out of the way.
“Very well,” Celie said to her golden-eyed army. “Thank you, Cook. You and your people may return to the kitchens.”
“If you don’t mind, Princess, we’ll go back to guarding the stores,” Cook said gruffly.
“What?” Celie stopped scribbling in the atlas and looked at the large woman. She remembered how empty the kitchens had been earlier, an eternity ago, when she’d found Arkwright in the pantry.
“I took my strongest people down to the storerooms this morning, to keep watch for that bad wizard,” Cook said. “He’s getting food from there, you know. Stands to reason there’s a door none of us know about.” She polished the bowl of the ladle on her sleeve in a way that made the huge spoon seem more terrifying than a sword.
“You’d best get back to guarding the storerooms, then,” Celie said, blinking.
Cook nodded and snapped her fingers at the kitchen staff. They all filed out without a word.
Celie pointed to the griffins. “All of you! Follow me, please!”
She climbed onto Rufus’s back and took the shortest route to the weapons gallery, which was filled with strange weapons and armor from the Glorious Arkower and Hatheland. At the head of the flock of
griffins she went out of the Heart of the Castle, through the main hall, and into the clear space of the main courtyard. She turned Rufus and gave the order, and they all leaped into the sky and circled around the center roofs of the Castle until they came to the open gallery that ran along the west side.
They swooped down and into the long open-sided corridor that ran along the portrait gallery. Then through the portrait gallery, with pictures so ancient that Celie and her family now knew the oldest were of the Hathelocke and Arkish men and women who had come to Sleyne with their dying griffins. On the other side of that, across a narrow foyer, was the weapons gallery.
The door to the secret passage was in an alcove behind a suit of bronze armor, and led straight to the throne room. Before the Castle had been brought entirely to Sleyne, this door hadn’t existed and the passageway behind the throne room had only appeared on Mondays, when the maids cleaned the throne room and the royal bedchamber.
“When this is done, I’ll have to throw my atlas away and redraw every map,” Celie grumbled to Rufus.
And it would be nice to know that no one could sneak through the Castle undetected. Her discovery that the Castle couldn’t see inside the secret passages had made Celie feel like Arkwright was watching her all the time. She knew he was probably more concerned with her father or Bran, but still, it was a decidedly creepy feeling.
Again she realized that she was still in her nightgown. In her nightgown, and waiting for a wizard who meant her family harm to burst out of a secret passage. She looked around for a minute, thinking, and then she slid off Rufus’s back.
“You all stay here,” she told the griffins, pointing to the alcove with the suit of armor.
They stood rigid, watching, as though they knew exactly where the door was and had always known. Perhaps they had, Celie thought, as she slipped into the weapons gallery. She looked around until she found what she wanted: a leather jerkin with steel bosses down the front and back. It had probably been made for a young human prince, that or a dwarf warrior, but it was only slightly too large for Celie.