Read Online The Hidden Coronet by Catherine Fisher - Free Book Online Page A

closed in the warm sun. It must hurt, Carys thought. Galen burned to tell Solon, to tell the world, that the Crow had returned, and yet it still wasn’t safe. Though if it hadn’t been for that man outside, Solon would know, she was sure.
    Raffi finished his story and Solon stared in solemn astonishment. Finally he said, “So that little minx out there is the ruler of Anara! But yes . . .” Excitedly he turned to Galen. “That must be right! In the sixth chapter of the Apocalypse, Tamar implies that the Crow and the Interrex are somehow linked! They come together. I remember reading various commentaries on it for my studies—the Apocalypse is one of the more enigmatic books, as you know.” He looked around. “My friends, this is a wonderful time we live in. Our next step is obvious. We have to find the Crow!”
    Galen fingered the jet and green beads at his neck. He looked almost sick. He was about to speak when Tallis said calmly, “That may not be so. We have something to tell you that not even Galen knows.”
    Carys glanced at the Sekoi. It was biting its thumbnail, and smiled back at her archly.
    Tallis turned to Galen. “While you’ve been away, we’ve made progress with the console.”
    “At last!”
    “The console?” Solon murmured.
    “A relic. Carys . . . brought it. From the Tower of Song.”
    Solon’s eyebrows shot up. “How?”
    “We’ll explain later.” Galen leaned across to Tallis, impatient. “What does it say? How much have you read?”
    For answer she got up and crossed to a small chest of cedarwood that stood next to the hearth, and opened it. The fire had smoldered low; the Sekoi put some logs on, stirring up the blaze. Tallis came back.
    Sitting down, she unwrapped a piece of black velvet and laid the console reverently on the smooth wood.
    It was a small gray thing, made of Makers’ material—not cold or warm, not metal or wood, a fabric unknown. Carys looked down at it, remembering the slimy stench of the worm she had fought off to get it. Small square buttons adorned it, each with a symbol. She had seen those many times in training, on relics studied in the Watchhouse, but not even the Order were sure what they meant anymore. Somewhere in the Tower of Song was the Gallery of Candlesticks, where thousands of clerks spent their lives making and breaking codes, but had never managed to decipher these.
    Beside it Tallis laid some pieces of paper. Then she folded her fingers together and looked up.
    “Galen and I had been trying to study this before he was called away. It is very ancient. I believe the memories inside it are those of one of the Makers themselves, perhaps Tamar, though he never gives his name. It has been difficult to read, because very little power is left in it. Raffi had to use most of it to escape from the Watchhouse, if you remember.”
    She touched the papers lightly. “But last week, on the day of Altimet, which I thought might be a good time, we tried again. Myself, and Carys, and our friend the Sekoi.”
    Galen looked surprised. Carys grinned at him.
    “I needed stronger sense-lines than my own,” Tallis explained. “Carys has much awen, though undirected, and Sekoi energies are powerful, even though they are strange to me. But we had to work in silence for over an hour before we made the entry.”
    “Did you use a Web or a Link?” Galen interrupted, and Solon said, “Do the Sekoi have a third eye, then? I have never heard that.”
    Tallis smiled. “Keepers. The details can wait. Let’s just say that we managed to insinuate our minds deep into the cracks and crevices of the device. There was a faint stirring of warmth there still, but so thin a whisper that I had to bring it out word by word, in some places letter by letter. Carys wrote the message down. Often we had to stop. It was exhausting.”
    “And very peculiar,” the Sekoi muttered. It scratched its fur. “Small sparks like fleas crawled over my skull. And what a thirst I had