and dashing it from her. Her first thoughts were that in a fit of his old puckish devilment, Alberon had put a sack full of rats on her knee. But then the bundle sighed with a familiar, haughty impatience and Wynter stilled, her hands up, hardly daring to believe it. The cloth was shrugged aside and a grey-furred head emerged. Wynter’s vision blurred with tears as huge, gold-green eyes blinked up at her.
‘Coriolanus?’ she whispered.
The cat gazed at her for a moment, frowning. Then he rolled his eyes. ‘Oh,’ he said wearily. ‘’Tis but thee. Pfffft. For this, he-who-is-heir drags me from a warm nest.’
‘Coriolanus!’ She grabbed the disgruntled creature under his scrawny shoulders and held him up to the light. He let out a small whine of genuine pain and Wynter saw with dismay how thin he was, how threadbare his once sleek fur had become.
‘Unhand me, girl,’ he hissed, and she lowered him gently onto her lap. He lay panting for a moment, his heaving ribs horribly defined in the flaring light of the fire. Then he slid a glance to Wynter and grimaced. ‘Great Hunter,’ he gasped. ‘I had quite forgot what a grabbish little human thou were.’
‘Sorry,’ she whispered, smiling down at him, her hands poised. She could not believe he was still alive. She had returned from the North to find them all gone – all those sleek, self-possessed friends of her childhood, fallen victim to an inexplicable purge; killed on the murderous order of the King. But here he was, Cori, her favourite, the smoke-coloured companion of her happy youth.
He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, then sighed. ‘Thou mayst pet me,’ he said graciously. ‘If thou wishest. I should be quite happy to allow it.’
‘Thank you.’ Gently she ran her hand from his shoulders to his tail, just as he had always liked it.
‘Mmmmmm,’ he purred.
Wynter gazed at Alberon, her eyes quite uncontrollably full of tears as her old cat-friend stretched and stiffly curled himself on her knee. Thank you, Albi. Thank you so much.
Alberon smiled and nodded, his own eyes very, very bright.
Coriolanus sighed again and settled his chin down against his chest. His spine was a well defined serration beneath Wynter’s palm, his poor body a thinly covered collection of bones. ‘Great Hunter, girl,’ he murmured, already almost asleep, ‘what hast thou been doing? Thou smellest most strongly of dog.’ And he drifted off, perfectly content, his rusty purr in warm harmony with the crackling of the fire.
MAPS AND PLANS
‘IS GREYMOTHER here too, Albi?’ asked Wynter, her voice low in deference to the sleeping cat.
Alberon shook his head sadly. He reached and scratched Coriolanus’s head. ‘I tried to get her to come, but she preferred to take the last of the kittens and go into hiding. Cori had already fallen foul of the poison, and he was simply too weak to keep running. When I sent Oliver and his men ahead, I had them take the poor fellow with them. He has survived it all, poor thing, but as you see, he is not terribly well.’
‘Oh, Albi. Why? Why did the King do it?’
Alberon twitched a smile. ‘I was quite relentless in my hunt for his wonderful machine, Wyn. I simply would not back down.’
Wynter traded a startled glance with Razi. Wonderful machine? That could only be a reference to her father’s infamous Bloody Machine. Were they finally to learn what it was?
Alberon, still occupied in gently scratching the top of Coriolanus’s head, went quietly on: ‘The cats knew every inch of the palace, just like the ghosts. I’m afraid to say that I was constantly questioning the poor creatures. They told me nothing of use, but in the end, Father felt he had no choice but to do away with them. I suppose he found it preferable to poisoning me.’
He looked up into her eyes. Your fault! thought Wynter. All your fault! But Alberon’s smile was so sad, his big hand so gentle on Cori’s fragile back, that she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Razi, apparently lost in thought, was sprawled in his chair, idly flicking the curled edge of the bigger scroll with the tip of one finger. It was a perfectly casual gesture, but Wynter knew that he was trying to see what the parchment contained. Alberon sat back. The wry amusement in his face told Wynter that he knew exactly what his brother was up to.
‘You sent Oliver ahead?’ asked Razi softly. ‘That is