“But if I do that-”
The queen nodded deeply. “Indeed, the rulers of your empire would not forgive you. Do you fear their wrath? Why? You’re strong. And you’re right to be angry.”
Ico looked up at the queen-a little boy standing at the feet of a maiden.
“If you really wanted to change things, if you really wanted to lift the cruel burden that has been placed upon the Sacrifices-if you are ready to rise up in anger against those who told you false histories and sent you to your death, then I will serve as your master and your protector. I will give you sword and shield and an army to lead!”
Ico blinked, not understanding at first. Me, under the queen’s protection? She wants me to follow the master of the Castle in the Mist?
“I am not your enemy,” the queen said. “Nor is the castle. No, your enemy sits in the capital, reveling in the prosperity they have gained through the sacrifice of your kin.”
And they must be punished-the thought rose in Ico’s mind of its own accord. He took a hesitant breath.
“Sacrifice!” the queen called to him. Her voice was stronger, and her appearance more noble than ever before. Her tone was that of a sovereign addressing her subject.
Ico felt his posture straighten.
“There is no time within this castle. Consider your choice for as long as you like. And, if it so happens that you collapse before the sadness, and you fall into despair, and you choose to hold your anger deep inside you, then I will turn you to stone and place you among the others here. As I did Ozuma so long ago.
“But do not misunderstand-I turned him to stone from compassion. Stone men have stone hearts, and stone hearts cannot be wounded or broken. I would show you the same compassion, if you wish it.”
The queen vanished, along with Yorda’s body.
Ico was alone, the dark truth his only companion.
6
ICO SAT CURLED into a ball, his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. He sat like that for a long time, fading in and out of awareness. He might even have slept. When he finally opened his eyes, his body was cold, and he ached all over from the punishment he had received.
He was tired, and his limbs felt heavy.
Ico closed his eyes again. I’ll just go to sleep. I’ll keep sleeping. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to have to make any decisions. If I sit here long enough, maybe the queen will make good on her promise and turn me to stone.
Ico didn’t really care if she did. He felt as though he was made of stone already. He liked what she had said, about stone hearts being impervious to harm. It made perfect sense. A lot of things she said had made perfect sense.
But I’m not stone. My heart does hurt. A lot. That’s why I can’t stand.
He wondered where Yorda had disappeared to. Ico looked up at the queen’s throne. It was empty. Everything was quiet. Sunlight shone in through a window along the corridor ahead. Everything was perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened here at all.
The queen had offered to let him escape with Yorda, but then she had gone and hidden her somewhere. Does she want me to look for her again? Or was she hoping that I would just give up after all?
Another possibility occurred to him: Yorda might have left on her own. So I could leave the Castle in the Mist by myself. Maybe that’s what I should’ve done in the first place. I’m the lucky Sacrifice, right? Why throw that luck away?
If he went back home, he could see his foster parents again. Wouldn’t they be happy to see their prophecy fulfilled, their little Sacrifice returned to them to live in peace?
Then the voice of doubt rose in his mind. Peace? Really? Even with Toto gone? Even though he’s probably turned to stone? Toto had traded his life for the Book of Light. He had purchased Ico’s life with his own.
Ico sensed another presence in the room, and he turned, almost expecting to see Toto there.
It was the shadow creatures-several of them stood in a semicircle behind him. Their eyes glowed, fixed on him. For a while, Ico stared back at them as though beguiled, his breathing slow and labored. Save for the slow rippling of their silhouettes caused by the faint motion of the air around them, the shades were stock-still. But to Ico, it looked as though they were trembling, weeping.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last in a breathless whisper. He swallowed, then said again, louder, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t know-you’re the same as me, but I didn’t try to understand.”
The shades made no response. Ico sat up on his knees, then swayed as a sudden wave of dizziness came over him. His hands hit the floor, and he sat hunched over for a while, fighting back nausea. When he looked up again, the shades were gone.
Ico stood slowly and walked over to where the shades had stood. No trace of them, no sign of their presence, remained.
He left the queen’s audience chamber and walked out into the sunlit corridor. The light hurt his eyes. Ozuma was standing at the end of the corridor, his back to a single, high stone step leading to another passageway. His figure cut a dark silhouette against the pool of light at the corner.
Ico stopped and faced him.
“This was your fault,” he said. The words came to him quickly.
With the light at Ozuma’s back, it was impossible to see his expression. Unlike the shades, his eyes were covered in darkness and gave off no light at all.
“It’s all your fault!” Ico screamed as he raised his fists and charged the knight. A moment before he reached him, Ozuma slid to one side, his cloak billowing behind him.
Ico’s fist came down on empty air, and his momentum carried him sprawling onto the ground. His knees, legs, and fists smarted.
“Your…fault.”
Ico struggled back to his feet to see Ozuma vault to the top of the step. The knight moved smoothly, betraying neither hesitation nor any acknowledgment of Ico’s presence.
“You did this to me! To everyone!” Ico shouted as he ran after him, trembling with rage. Clambering up the stairs, he found himself at the beginning of a passageway that curved gently to the right. Ozuma was walking down it, away from him. Ico paused, catching his breath with one hand on the wall. “Turn and face me, coward!”
Ico felt the strength come back to his limbs. He ran, determined to catch Ozuma, to make him face his descendants-Ico and the other shadowy Sacrifices. This time he would answer for what he had done.
Ico ran through several rooms, clambering up large steps and dropping down over ledges. He climbed, vaulted, and used chains to swing across otherwise impassable crevices. The more he ran, the faster he went, until he felt his body become as light as the wind. Even still, he couldn’t catch Ozuma. The black knight was ahead of him, always visible, yet always out of reach.
It’s almost like he’s leading me somewhere.
After running for what seemed like an impossibly long distance, Ico had to stop, out of breath, hands on his knees. He looked up. I recognize this place.
It was the small room he and Yorda had come to after they first crossed the old stone bridge. He recognized the walls and the columns, the hanging chains, and the positions of the sputtering torches on the walls. There were the idols, and beyond them, the bridge.
Will I find him standing out there again? The stone watcher on the parapet?
Ico could hear the sound of the sea. A briny smell reached his nose. He could feel the wind on his skin. He stopped, hand resting on one of the idols by the door. He led me here…he wanted me to follow him. But why?
Ico passed between the idols, hearing a seagull cry close by. He was standing at the end of the long stone bridge now. On both sides, the sea reflected the color of the sky. Waves leapt, sending up a spray where they hit the stone columns supporting the bridge. Ico felt like he had emerged into the vast space between heaven and earth after months in a tiny box.