Text 2008 Melina Marchetta.

Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)

11
P R O L O G U E
A long time ago, in the spring before the ve days of the
unspeakable, Finnikin of the Rock dreamed that he was to
sacrice a pound of esh to save the royal house of Lumatere.
The dream came to him from the gods on the eve of the
Harvest Moon Festival, when the whole of the kingdom slept
under the stars in the Field of Celebration. It was Finnikins
favorite night of the year, watching his fellow Lumaterans dance
and give thanks for a life of peace and plenty. When the dawn
broke and the priest-king sang the Song of Lumatere, the joy
in peoples souls lit up their world. And what a world it was
made up of those hailing from the Flatlands, the Forest, the
Rock, the Mountains, and the River. All protected by a beloved
king and queen and their ve children, said to be descended
from the gods themselves.
Finnikin told his friends Prince Balthazar and Lucian of
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
12
the Monts about the dream the next morning as they spat olive
pits into the river. The three boys loved their mornings on
the waterfront, watching Finnikins father, the captain of the
Kings Guard, as he and his men checked the merchandise on
the barges. No one was more formidable than Captain Trevanion
when he was protecting the kingdom, and many spoke of his
love for the gentle Lady Beatriss of the Flatlands, who would
give birth to their child that year, and how she adored Finnikin
as if he were her own.
Upon hearing Finnikins dream that day, Balthazar con-
vinced them that no harm would ever come to Lumatere as long
as his father was king. Lucian claimed that if the gods were
serious, they would have asked him to protect his royal cousins,
for no other reason than that he had turned nine that spring
and was a head taller than the others. And so, for a time, the
dream was forgotten.
Each afternoon, Finnikin, Balthazar, and Lucian played in
the Forest of Lumatere, practicing how they would one day catch
the silver wolf. Legend had it that only a true warrior could
conquer such a beast, and they were certain that Balthazar,
the heir to the throne of Lumatere, would be the one. The three
friends spent all summer digging the trap, and when it was
nished, they dragged Balthazars youngest sister, Princess
Isaboe, along to be the bait. But the wolf never appeared.
As summer moved into autumn and the days grew shorter,
Finnikin began to worry. He would tremble in fear when he
remembered his dream. At night he prayed to Lagrami, the god-
dess of light, to protect his unborn sibling, to keep Balthazar
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
13
and his four sisters safe, and to watch over the Forest Dwellers,
even though they worshipped another goddess and lived outside
the kingdom walls. Until one day, nally, he convinced his
companions to make a pledge.
And so they climbed the rock of three wonders at the crest
of Finnikins village, and they cut esh from their bodies and
tugged a strand of hair from the weeping Isaboes head to make
a sacrice to their goddess. Balthazar pledged to die defending
his royal house of Lumatere. Finnikin swore to be their protector
and guide for as long as he lived. Lucian vowed he would be the
light whom they traveled toward in times of need.
That evening, Finnikin and Balthazar sat perched high on
the at roof of a cottage in the village. As always, they spoke
of the silver wolf and the might of a warrior king, and they
imagined the years to come when one would rule and one would
guard. Finnikin looked down at Princess Isaboe, who slept
between them, and although his thigh ached from the pledge
wound, he felt peace in his heart that he had done the right
thing. They were indeed blessed as no other kingdom in the land.
Until the ve days of the unspeakable.
When the king and queen and their three oldest daughters
were slaughtered in the palace and Princess Isaboe was slain
in the Forest of Lumatere.
When Balthazars bloody handprints were found splat-
tered on the kingdom walls and the people of Lumatere, seeking
someone to blame, turned on one another.
When the despised cousin of the dead king entered the
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
kingdom with six hundred of his men and began to burn the
Forest Dwellers in their homes.
When Captain Trevanion was arrested for treason and sent
to a foreign prison and his beloved Lady Beatriss died delivering
a stillborn baby in the palace dungeon.
When Seranonna, the matriarch of the Forest Dwellers,
cried a blood curse as she burned at the stake, a curse that
caused the land to shudder and split the earth, that swallowed
those who failed to run from the fury of its jaws, that crumbled
village homes and shook the palace to its foundations.
Those who could escaped to the Valley of Tranquillity, out-
side the kingdom walls, trampling their neighbors who were
left behind. And then the dark forces of the curse entombed the
kingdom, dividing the people in two.
This is the story, as told to those not born to see such days,
recorded in the Book of Lumatere so they will never forget.
The story of those trapped inside the kingdom, never to be
heard from again, and those who escaped but were forced to
walk the land in a diaspora of misery.
Until ten years later, when Finnikin of Lumatere climbed
another rock
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
P A RT O N E
T H E N O V I C E
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
17
C H A P T E R 1
W
hen it nally appeared in the distance,
Finnikin wo ndered if it was some phantom
half-imagined in this soulless kingdom at
the end of the world.
There had always been talk that this land had been
forsaken by the gods. Yet perched at the top of a rocky
outcrop, cloaked in blue-gray mist, was proof to the con-
trary: the cloister of the goddess Lagrami.
From where they stood, the at expanse that led to
its fortied entrance resembled the softness of sand over
a desert. Finnikin could see a trail of pilgrims with their
heads bent low, sacks across their shoulders and staffs
in their hands. They made a line across the low-lying
country like tiny insignicant ants at the mercy of the
nothingness surrounding them.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
18
We must hurry, the kings First Man urged, speak-
ing the Sarnak language. Sir Topher had decided that once
they reached this wasteland of Sendecane, they would use
the language of the neighboring kingdom to the north. At
the inn two nights before, he had made it known that they
were pilgrims themselves: holy men who had come to
the end of the earth to pay homage at the greatest temple
of the blessed goddess Lagrami. To be anything else in
this part of the land would raise suspicion and fear, and
Finnikin had come to realize that those full of fear were
the most dangerous of people.
As they drew closer to the rock, the terrain beneath
their feet began to change. What Finnikin had thought
was sand turned out to be a thick claylike substance that
tested his balance. They were walking on a seabed, and
by nightfall the waters would return and there would
be no hope of leaving this place until the next low tide.
At the entrance of the rock of Lagrami, they followed
the wide stone steps that circled up to the summit, pass-
ing the pilgrims kneeling at the shrine of welcome. The
leather of Finnikins boots gave little protection from the
cold hard surface, and he found himself looking back
to where the pilgrims knelt, knowing that some would
make their way up on their knees as a display of devo-
tion to their goddess. He had witnessed the ignorance
that came from blind faith time and time again over the
years, and he wondered how many of these pilgrims were
Lumateran exiles searching for some kind of salvation.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
19
Higher, the steps became stones to climb. Finnikin
suspected that sooner or later they would be forced to
crawl their way to the top, where the messenger of the
High Priestess was surely waiting. Yet not even halfway
up, the stones gave way to a smooth cliff face, leaving
them nothing to grip except tiny metal bars embedded in
the rock. Finnikin stared, confused. He looked down at
his oversize feet and wondered how it would be possible
to balance them on so narrow a ledge.
Not for our feet, my boy, Sir Topher said with a
sigh. He wiggled his ngers in front of Finnikins face.
Mercy.
Do not look down, he warned.
Sir Topher began to climb, and Finnikin felt a shower
of grains from the rocks above as they crumbled under
his mentors weight. One caught him in the eye, and he
resisted the urge to wipe it free, preferring to be blinded
rather than lose his grip.
I said, do not look down, Sir Topher grunted, as if
reading his thoughts.
If I look up, Ill lose my dinner, Finnikin gasped.
And what a pity that would be. All those lovely
goose gi zzards. All that rabbit pie you insisted on wolf-
ing down despite my warning. All gone to waste.
Finnikin paused, his head spinning and his mouth
beginning to taste of a sickly substance. The dull stench
of pigeon lled his nostrils and turned the contents of
his belly. His hands ached from gripping the metal bars,
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
20
and he longed to be able to place his feet at against the
rock. Yet this journey up the cliff face had to be worth
it. Somehow the High Priestess had located him and Sir
Topher in the kingdom of Belegonia. Not an easy feat
when most of the time they chose not to be found.
For the past ten years, Sir Topher and Fi nnikin had
worked to improve the conditions of Lumaterans living
in overcrowded camps rife with fever, fear, and despair.
Former dukes of Lu matere, now employed in foreign
courts, had often requested their presence, eager to fund
their efforts to bring a reprieve to their people. Less wel-
come were the approaches from foreign kings and queens,
who always seemed to have a price for their goodwill.
Often it was information about what was taking place in
a neighboring kingdom in exchange for palace protection
for the exiles camped along their riverbanks and valleys.
While protocol ensured that the kings First Man and his
apprentice were granted access to any court in the land,
Sir Topher had learned to be cautious when it came to
accepting invitations.
But this one had been different. It began with a name
wh ispered to Finnikin deep in the night as he lay sleeping
among the exiles in Belegonia.
Balthazar.
Finnikin had dragged Sir Topher from his sleep in an
instant. He could hardly describe the messenger to his
mentor. He could only remember the voice in his ear and
the disappearing robes of one who spoke of the isolated
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
21
cloister of Sendecane. The moment Finnikin had nished
speaking, Sir Topher rose from his bedroll and packed it
without a word.
Finnikin reached the summit of the cliff rst and
stayed draped over the stone, trying to regain his breath
before leaning across to help Sir Topher, who was wheez-
ing and hungering for air. Hearing a sound behind them,
they turned to where a wizened old novice stood before
an opening in the wall. When she shufed around and
disappeared into the connes of the cloister, they under-
stood that they were to follow.
Finnikins lanky frame meant he was forced to crouch
through the damp tunnel, which led to a set of narrow spi-
ral stairs. When they reached the top, they followed the old
woman along a hallway, past rooms where other novices
knelt in prayer. They crossed the cloister and entered a
large chamber with high windows that let in the light. This
room interested Finnikin greatly. There were rows and
rows of tables where novices sat, absorbed in their work.
Some were poring over bound manuscripts, copying their
contents, while others read. Finnikin had seen a room like
this before, at the palace of Osteria. The manuscripts there
held records of each kingdom of the land: their gods and
goddesses, their wars, their origins, their landscape, their
language, their art, their food, their lives.
As a child in exile, Finnikin had worried that his king-
dom would have no further record of existence, so he
began his own work on the Book of Lumatere. He wondered
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
22
if these scholars felt the same way he did about the scent
of parchment and the feel of a quill in their hands. But
their faces revealed little, and the old novices pace began
to quicken, leading them into a dimly lit room full of
columns. And there, in the middle of the room, stood
the High Priestess.
Blessed Kiria. Sir Topher bowed and kissed her hand.
You have come a long way, Sir Topher.
Finnikin heard the note of surprise in her voice, almost
wonder. Like all priestesses of Lagrami, her hair was worn
long, almost to her knees, marking her years of devotion
to her goddess. Upon her death, the braid would be cut
and offered as a sacrice, while somewhere else in the
land a novice would enter the cloister, her hair shorn and
her journey begun.
The Lumateran pilgrims who have made their way
to us over the years have taken courage in the existence
of the kings First Man and his young apprentice, she
said, looking at them both.
It is good of you to acknowledge our cursed people,
blessed Kiria, Sir Topher said.
She smiled warmly. We are neighbors, despite the
distance. I feel anguish for your beloved priest-king, to
have lost his people in such a way, and I am here as a
servant to your people as much as to mine. It is the wish
of our goddess.
Do you have the good fortune to know of our priest-
kings whereabouts? Sir Topher asked.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
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The High Priestess shook her head sadly. Then her
expression changed and she walked farther into the room,
beckoning them to follow. You have come for the girl?
she asked.
Girl. Finnikins heart dropped. He had hoped; stupidly
he had hoped. The fury he felt for harboring such a dream
made him sway on his feet.
We have little time before the tide rises, so I will
speak quickly, she said in a low voice. Two springs
past, a girl came to us. Her name, Evanjalin. Unlike many
of our Lumateran novices, she was not orphaned dur-
ing the ve days of the unspeakable but belonged to the
exiles in Sarnak.
Finnikin flinched and closed his eyes. When he
opened them again, he saw that Sir Topher had paled.
The High Pr iestess nodded. I see that you are well aware
of the ill-fated exiles in Sarnak.
We have petitioned the king of Sarnak to have
those responsible for the massacre brought to justice,
Sir Topher said.
Finnikin wondered why they had wasted their time.
The slaughter of a group of Lumateran exiles, two years
past, was of little concern to an apathetic king.
The High Priestess leaned forward to whisper. The
novice Evanjalin has a gift, and I promise you this: in
my time I have come across many who claim to have
extraordinary gifts, but I know this girl speaks the truth.
She professes to have walked through the sleep, not only
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
24
of your beloved heir, but of your people trapped inside
Lumatere.
It was one of the most fanciful stories they had heard
to date, and Finnikin bit his tongue to hold back a con-
temptuous retort.
It is not that we are surprised by the notion of Prince
Ba lthazar being alive, Sir Topher said carefully, clear-
ing his voice as a warning to Finnikin. It has always
been our hope that there was truth in the tales that the
heir survived. But these past ten years, there have been
many claims to the Lu materan throne across the land.
Each one has proved to be false. You are aware that as a
consequence, the ruler of each kingdom of Sk uldenore
has decreed it treason to make such claims.
Yet I hear that no Lumateran acknowledges the
reign of the king trapped behind those walls, the High
Priestess said. Is he not referred to as the impostor king?
Despite our belief that the one ruling inside Lumatere
played a role in the deaths of our beloved people, as far
as the leaders of Sk uldenore are concerned, he was legiti-
mately crowned the king.
A hasty decision made by those controlled by fear, who
dared to meddle in the affairs of another kingdom, Finnikin
thought bitterly.
If you are to believe anything, believe this, she said
rmly. The rightful heir to the throne of Lumatere and
survivor of that wretched night has spoken to the novice
Evanjalin.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
25
Does the novice have a message from him? Sir
Topher asked.
Just a name, the High Priestess said, of a childhood
companion of your prince. A trusted friend.
Suddenly every pulse in Finnikins body pounded.
He felt the eyes of both the High Priestess and Sir Topher
on him. Then the High Priestess came closer, taking his
face between her callused hands.
Is that what you were to him, Finnikin of the Rock?
she said softly. For I do believe your king is calling. It
has been ten years too long and Balthazar has chosen you,
through this girl, to take your people home.
Who is she to be worthy of the association with our
heir? Finnikin asked stify, moving away. Does she
claim to have made his acquaintance?
She is a simpleton. She has taken the vow of silence,
broken only to tell me of the sleep and that you, Finnikin,
would one day come to collect her. I believe she is some-
how promised to your heir.
What makes you believe such a thing, blessed Kiria?
Sir Topher asked.
At night she whispers his name in her sleep with
intimacy and reverence. As if their bond is ordained by
the gods.
This time Finnikin failed to hold back the sound of
his disbelief.
The High Priestess smiled sadly. You have lost faith
in the gods.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
26
He held her gaze and knew she could read the con-
rmation in his eyes.
Do you believe in magic? she persisted.
My kingdom has been impenetrable for the past ten
years with no logical explanation, so I have no choice but
to say I do believe, he admitted ruefully.
It was indeed a very dark magic used by the matri-
arch of the Forest Dwellers. Made up mostly of hatred
and grief for what Lumaterans had allowed to happen
to her people in the days fo llowing the deaths of the
king and his family. But somehow some kind of good
survived, and the novice Evanjalin is the key. You would
know by now the meaning of the archaic words spoken
by Seranonna that day.
Finnikin had not heard the name Seranonna since his
childhood. He did not want her to be known as anything
other than the witch who had cursed Lumatere.
We were in the square that day, Sir Topher said,
and have spent these past ten summers deciphering
the curse, but there are words we are still unsure of.
Seranonna used more than one of the ancient languages.
And those words you do understand? the High
Priestess asked. She stared at Finnikin, waiting for him
to speak.
Dark will lead the light, and our resurdus will rise.
Its the ancient word for king, is it not? Resurdus?
The High Priestess nodded. The curse was to con-
demn Lu materans for allowing the slaughter of her
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
27
people, but it was also to protect the one she claimed to
have seen eeing from the forest that night. The resurdus.
The heir. The dark and light will lead you to him.
But where are we supposed to take this child?
Evanjalin? Finnikin asked.
The High Priestess gave a small humorless laugh. Do
you consider yourself a child, Finnikin?
Of course not.
The novice Evanjalin is nearly your age and left her
childhood behind far too early.
Where are we to take her, blessed Kiria? Sir Topher
prompted gently.
The High Priestess hesitated. She claims that the
answers lie in the kingdom of Sorel.
Mercy.
Finnikin would have preferred to have heard Sarnak
or Yutlind. Even Charyn with its barbaric ways. He would
have preferred to take her to hell. It would certainly be
less dangerous than Sorel.
And you believe Balthazar will contact us there?
Sir Topher said.
I do not know what to believe. The goddess has not
bestowed the gift of foresight on me. All I can pass on is
this girl and the name of the one she claimed would come
for her. Once again her eyes were on Finnikin. Perhaps
both chosen by a missing king to be his guide.
There was a sound by the door, and the High Priestess
held out her hand as a gure appeared from the shadows.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
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The girl had the coloring of the Lumateran Mont
people, a golden skin tone, much darker than Finnikins
own fair skin. Her hair was shaved, but he imagined that
if it were allowed to grow, it would match the darkness
of her eyes. Dressed in a gray shift made of coarse fabric,
she would easily be passed by without a second glance.
Sir Topher, Finnikin, I present to you the novice
Evanjalin.
She cast her eyes down, and Finnikin watched as her
hands shook and then clenched.
What is it you fear? he asked in Lumateran.
Most of her time was spent in Sarnak, the High
Priestess explained. It is the language we have used
during the break of silence.
Finnikin could no longer hold back his frustration.
He pulled Sir Topher aside. We know nothing of her,
he said in Belegonian to ensure the novice and the High
Priestess would not understand. This is all too strange.
Enough, Finnikin, Sir Topher said rmly. He turned
back to the High Priestess. Has she spoken since?
She shook her head. She has taken the vow of silence.
She has suffered much, Sir Topher, and her faith is strong.
Its the least we can leave her with.
Sir Topher nodded. If we are to make the tide, we
must leave soon.
Finnikin was stunned at how swiftly Sir Topher had
made his decision, but the look in the older mans eyes
warned him not to protest. Biting his tongue, Finnikin
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)
watched as the High Priestess took the girls head in her
hands and pressed her lips tenderly to her forehead. He
saw the girls eyes close and her mouth tremble, but then
her face became impassive again and she walked away
from the High Priestess without a backward glance.
The descent was as nauseating as the climb up, made
worse for Finnikin by the burden he carried in his heart.
Taking this girl halfway across the land had not been part
of the plan he and Sir Topher had worked out in the early
days of winter. The uncertainty of their new path did not
sit well with him.
When they reached the base of the cliff, they passed
the group of kneeling pilgrims. A hand snaked out to
grab the cloth of the novices cloak.
Your feet, Finnikin said, noticing for the rst time
that she was barefoot. We cant afford to be slowed down
because you dont have shoes.
But the girl did not respond and continued walking.
It was only when they were a good distance from the
cloister that she looked back and he saw the raw emotion
of loss on her face. By then the waters reached their knees
and Finnikin feared they would not make it to safety with-
out being washed away. Here, the tide was said to return
at amazing speed and pilgrims had drowned without any
warning. He grabbed her arm and pulled her forward,
and suddenly her look of vulnerability disappeared and
in its place was a ash of triumph.
As if somehow the novice Evanjalin had gotten her way.
Text 2008 Melina Marchetta. Maps by Cathy Larsen 2008 The Penguin Group (Australia)