The Girl of Ink & Stars by Kiran Millwood Hargrave Page B

and might not let me go. Pablo was fifteen, but so tall and broad he would pass for a man. Best to settle for somewhere in-between.
    â€˜Fourteen, sir.’
    â€˜Small for fourteen,’ sniped Marquez, but Governor Adori nodded.
    â€˜I didn’t much like the idea of taking Riosse with us anyway. He’s old and disrespectful, and that leg is a hindrance.’ He turned his back. ‘You’ll do.’
    Hardly believing it, I said, ‘Sir, I thought that if I came with you, maybe my father could—’
    â€˜Don’t push your luck, boy.’ The Governor’s voice sentshivers spidering across my back. ‘If you do not disappoint me, we’ll see about your father.’
    The door opened and I saw the kind man who had fetched Miss La.
    â€˜Go with Ferdinand to fetch the horse boy. You two can saddle up the horses.’ He turned to the man. ‘Watch them. If they try anything, put them both in the Dédalo. And send Luis here, I want him with us. Oh, and Ferdinand?’
    â€˜Yes, sir?’
    â€˜Don’t let him see Riosse. I don’t want him starting any trouble down there.’
    â€˜Yes, sir. Come on, boy.’
    I allowed myself to be led out of the room into the dark hallway, the tide of voices rising again. I had done it. I was going.
    Ferdinand led me along a corridor. ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming here, eh? Could have given you a lift.’
    I could tell he was trying to put me at ease, but my skin was crawling with nerves. The Governor’s house seemed to go on for ever. The floors were covered with tapestries, muffling our steps.
    The Governor’s blue was everywhere. Even the ceilings were like a sky. It seemed such a waste. Da always had to ration his sea-colours, and yet here there was enough blue dye to make a large-scale map of Afrik’s rivers. Most of the walls were covered with paintings of stern-eyed men and ships. There were so many candles, wax burning down and no one using the light.
    At last we reached a place where the corridor intersected with another, like a crossroads. At the centre was a trapdoor fitted with a heavy metal lock. I swallowed hard. The entrance to the Dédalo.
    A guard stood over it. He frowned as we approached.
    â€˜What’s going on?’
    â€˜You’re needed in the drawing room, Luis,’ said Ferdinand curtly.
    The guard left without another word. It was strange, I thought, how they followed orders without comment or question.
    Ferdinand took a key from his belt and stooped to unlock the trapdoor, turning the key slowly and with great effort. The bolts slid noisily.
    The man heaved, veins in his neck straining as the trapdoor creaked open. He let it fall to the floor with a bang, wincing at the noise. A terrible smell rose from the entrance below: damp, rotting. In the thin light of Ferdinand’s lamp, I could see a stone-cut staircase leading into an impenetrable blackness. It made me dizzy just looking at it.
    He climbed gingerly down the first few steps, then seemed to remember he was not alone. He stopped, and climbed back up, taking chains from his belt.
    â€˜Nearly forgot,’ he said, holding out the chain.
    He locked my wrists together, and fixed the chain to a bolt in the wall, next to a heavy-legged table. I shuddered. How many people had been locked here before descending to the Dédalo?
    I watched as the lamp became a pinprick of light, fading as Ferdinand went lower, towards Da, somewhere below me.
    I looked around, eyes catching something above the table.
    A large butterfly was resting on the sky-blue wall, its wings outstretched. They were an iridescent purple, edged with black. I had never seen a butterfly that size or colour before. I leant forward, taking care not to move too fast.
    It was not until I was breathing close enough to rustle the wings that I saw it was behind glass, saw the pin through its heart.

CHAPTER
NINE
    I leant heavily against the table