The Prince of Mist (Niebla 1)

The old man turned to look at him, an amused expression in his eyes.

‘It was an honour to meet you, Mr Kray,’ said Max.

Victor Kray smiled one last time and gently tapped his chest with his index finger.

‘The name’s Victor, Max. And the honour was all mine.’

Slowly the train pulled away, and soon its trail of steam was lost in the distance. Max stayed on the platform until he could no longer see the small dot on the horizon. Only then did he open the box the old man had given him and discover that it held a bunch of keys. Max smiled. They were the keys to the lighthouse.

EPILOGUE

THE LAST WEEKS OF SUMMER BROUGHT MORE news of the war – whose days, it was said, were numbered. Maximilian Carver had opened his watchmaker’s business in a small building near the market square and soon there was not a single local who hadn’t visited his shop of marvels. Irina had completely recovered and seemed to remember nothing about her accident on the staircase. She and her mother took long walks along the beach, looking for seashells and small fossils with which they had started a collection that promised to be the envy of Irina’s new school friends that coming autumn.

Loyal to the old keeper’s legacy, Max cycled every afternoon to the lighthouse and lit the lantern so that its beam could guide ships safely until the following morning. He climbed up the tower and from there gazed out at the ocean, just as Victor Kray had done for most of his life.

On one of these afternoons Max realised that his sister Alicia returned regularly to the beach where Roland’s hut stood. She went alone and sat by the water’s edge, her eyes lost in the sea, letting the hours pass by in silence. They no longer spoke the way they had done during the days they had shared with Roland, and Alicia never mentioned what had happened that night in the bay. Max had respected her silence from the first moment. When the last days of September arrived, announcing the arrival of the autumn, the memory of the Prince of Mist seemed to fade from his mind like a dream in the light of day.

Often, when Max watched Alicia down on the beach, he remembered Roland’s words when he had confessed his fear that if he was called up this might be his last summer in the town. Now, although brother and sister barely spoke about it, Max knew that the memory of Roland and of that summer in which they had discovered magic together would stay with them, uniting them forever.

The Prince of Mist

> Reading Group Notes

In Brief

Max’s father had that look on his face. The one that meant another crazy idea was becoming a reality. It was June 1943 and Max’s thirteenth birthday, and it seemed that the Carver family were moving. Not only were they moving – but this was their last day in the lofty apartment that had been Max’s home for ever.

They were moving to a beach house in a small coastal town to get away from the inevitable approach of the war. In truth, it wasn’t a complete surprise to the family – but so suddenly? Max hung back as the others rushed off to pack and his father reassured him that the move would turn out all right. Max’s father Maximilian was a watchmaker by profession, and he reached into his pocket and brought out a beautiful silver watch he had made for Max’s birthday. Engraved upon it were the words Max’s time machine. When Max looked back on the scene years later, he knew that day was when his childhood had ended.

The morning brought a bustle of last-minute packing and sorting as they made their way to the station for the long train journey. Max would always remember his first sight of the sea as they ventured into the small town that seemed like a toy version of the city where Max had spent all his life. There was something unreal about the station as the family waited for Maximilian to find help with the luggage. Even the station clock was slow – a point that Maximilian used to illustrate the positive change of pace in the countryside. Max’s sister Irina insisted on adopting a sinister cat that stared at Max as they made their way to the new house. As Max turned back to look at the station, he realised that the clock wasn’t slow – it was running backwards.

Max’s first sight of his new home did little to dispel the doll’s house impression. All pastel colours and sash windows, the houses of the peaceful town basked in the unusual luminosity the sea provided. Max was beginning to think that his father’s decision to move the family might have been an inspired one as they arrived at their new house, which stood at the end of a long beach.

The house was arranged over two floors and appeared to be in good condition. A little unloved and neglected certainly – but basically sound. No small thing considering its proximity to the sea. It had a rather sad history, which culminated in the drowning of the son of the house some years previously, but Maximilian was sure that his family would inject new life and happiness into the place.

As the family busied itself making their new home habitable, Max noticed a walled enclosure beyond the yard at the back of the house. The twilight made it hard to see clearly, but it seemed to contain statues. Max was intrigued.

Max was woken by a strange dream before dawn the next day. An eerie figure had been whispering in his ear – though Max couldn’t tell what the figure had been trying to tell him. He looked out the window at the early morning mist and quickly dressed. The walled garden was further than he’d thought, though the rusty padlock on the gate was easily opened. The statues seemed to be of a circus troupe. They were all gathered around a central figure of a clown standing on a plinth with one fist raised. Max bent to look at a star engraving at the clown’s feet, but when he looked up again he saw that the clown’s upraised fist was now an outstretched hand – palm open invitingly. Max ran all the way home without looking back.

Max’s world became stranger and stranger as he got to know his new home – and he soon realised that, as they had left one threat behind in the city, his family had found a deadlier danger in their new home. A danger drawing ever nearer the shore …

About the Author

Carlos Ruiz Zafón was born in Barcelona and is the author of six novels, including The Shadow of the Wind. His work has been translated into more than thirty-five languages, selling more than fifteen million copies worldwide, and he has received numerous international awards.

His debut novel The Prince of Mist, one of four written for younger readers, launched his phenomenally successful career in publishing, winning the prestigious Edebe Prize.

For Discussion

How does the author set the tone of the novel?

‘Sometimes memories follow you wherever you go – you don’t need to take them with you.’ To what extent is this a theme of The Prince of Mist?

How long is the shadow cast by the war?

What is the significance of rain to Max?

‘I now know that a man’s life is broadly divided into three periods.’ Do you agree?