They returned to the chamber. It was empty. At the far end, at the back of the stage on which the boy had sung, there was a small door. It opened on to a winding stairway.
"This must go up one of the towers," said Colin. "Come on."
They started to climb. Graham gave up counting the worn marble steps after five hundred. It was dizzying and frightening climbing so high, and in the dark, for there were no torches to light the stairs.
Finally they came to an end, and the children arrived at the top of the tallest tower in the Palace. There was only one door in front of them.
"No guards," said Graham.
"Why should there be?" said Colin. "None of that lot down there look as if they could climb the stairs."
"Shall we knock?" said Gwen.
"No."
Colin turned the handle of the beaten-gold door. The lock clanked, and the door swung open ponderously on huge hinges.
Inside, there was chaos. The white outfit the boy had been wearing was strewn across the floor. A number of other spectacular costumes had been flung into a corner. There were upset wine cups on the floor, staining the exquisitely woven carpet with purple dregs. A large, round window dominated one wall, but it was so dark outside that no light passed through it.
Lying on a pile of cushions, dressed in a gown of cream-colored silk, lay the boy, his limbs splayed in exhausted sleep.
He seemed to feel their eyes upon him, and he woke. His dark eyes looked at the children imperiously.
"What are you doing in here?" he demanded. "I –" Gwen began. "We came – I mean –"
"We want to speak to you," said Colin, determinedly, "in the hope that you have a little more sense than the others."
"You're not from the Palace," said the boy.
"No. We're just passing through," said Colin, with a grim smile.
"Where are you going?"
"Into Desolation," said Colin.
"To the Darkest Places," said Graham.
The boy said nothing. His eyes fell.
"I know nothing of such a place," the boy said. "Please go."
"Oh come on now -"
"I said -"
"I heard what you said!" replied Colin. "But I don't believe you."
"I don't want you here," said the boy. "I don't know you and I don't wish to. You will go!"
He rose, eyes blazing.
"We've got to know how we get to the Darkest Places," said Gwen. "Tell us, and we'll go."
"I don't know. I've never heard of them."
"Don't you understand?" Gwen said, tears in her eyes. "If you stay in here, the Cloud will cover this Palace, and there'll be nothing here but slime."
"Leave him, Gwen," said Colin. "He knows as well as the rest of them. But he wants to die."
"I don't," said the boy.
"Then why stay?"
"For my people. I am their King."
"You? A King?" said Graham.
"Yes. I have been King ever since my father disappeared into the Cloud."
"Why don't you lead your people away?" said Graham. "You could escape."
"No. This is where my people have always lived, even in the years of the Old Kingdom, when they knew the stars. And this is where they will die."
"But we have the means to stop the Cloud," said Graham.
"It isn't any use," said the boy.
"What do you mean?"
"You can't turn back the Darkness. I know that, and so do you."
"We can try," said Graham.
"Of course," said the boy, "but why die failing to accomplish the impossible? It is wiser to realise the ridiculousness of your quest, and put an end to it now."
"We've not come this far just to give up," said Gwen. The boy smiled.
"There is a difference," he said, "between the wise man who gives up because the task is beyond him, and the coward who does not even consider trying. You are brave, but bravery is not enough. Sit down – I will pour some wine."
They drank the wine from silver cups. Colin drank his first cup off all at once, and the boy poured him another.
"I know that Desolation approaches," the boy-King went on, "but it will, in time, encompass the world – and it is a vain and heart-straining gesture to run from it. Such foolishness does not befit my people, who were once the wisest and most beautiful on earth."
"Why do you sing?" asked Gwen.
"To remind them of the days of the Old Kingdom, and to tell them not to be afraid. They are weak now, and a sort of madness has come upon them. They are only half-awake," the boy said sadly, "Stay with me here. I do not want to be alone when the Cloud comes upon us. Even Kings can be frightened."
"We can't stay," said Gwen. "They're all depending on us. In this world and at home."
"Do you still believe in your power to withstand the Cloud?" said the boy.
"Yes," answered Graham, but the old doubts returned to him.
"I too once believed in my power," said the boy. "I thought that Kings could work miracles. But persuasion comes easily when it is to convince you of your own importance."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on, Gwen," said Colin softly. "He's telling us we only think we can do anything because it makes us feel important. Because we fancy ourselves world-savers."
"But Darach said –" began Graham.
"Darach said the stars were holes in heaven! Isn't it about time we stopped making idiots of ourselves? Let's stay here – at least we'll have the frescoes to look at when the end comes."
There was a long, long silence, broken only by Gwen's stifled sobs.
The boy traced the patterns on the carpet, with the familiarity of someone who has been idle enough to do so a hundred times a day.
"If we're not any use," said Graham, "why did the candle bring us here? Why aren't we at home?"
"Home?" said Colin. "Where's home? A long way off. Perhaps it doesn't exist. Perhaps we dreamt it all. Perhaps," he laughed strangely, with the wine making his head spin, "perhaps we're still dreaming!"