Incarceron laughed, but there was a note of anxiety in its humor. "To find Finn you must go straight on."
She was silent. Suddenly she sensed its tense presence all around her, as if it did not breathe, was waiting. She felt small and vulnerable. She said, "I think you're lying to me."
For a moment, nothing. A rat ran up the passage, saw her, and slunk around. Then the voice said thoughtfully, "Your idea of Finn is a foolishly romantic one; the lost Prince, the imprisoned
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hero. You remember a little boy and want it to be him. But even if Finn is really Giles, that was a lifetime away and a world ago and he is not the same now. I have changed him,"
She stared up into the darkness. "No."
"Oh yes. Your father was right. To survive here men descend to the depths of their beings. They become beasts, not caring, not even seeing the pain of others. Finn has stolen, perhaps killed. How can such a man return to a throne, and govern others? How can he ever be trusted again? The Sapienti were wise, but they made a system without release, Claudia. Without forgiveness."
Its voice was chilling her. She didn't want to listen, to be drawn into its persuasive doubts.
She activated the Key, turned into the low passage, and began to run.
Her shoes slithered on the rubble that littered the floor, bones and straw, a dead creature so desiccated, it collapsed as she jumped over it.
"Claudia. Where are you?"
It was all around her, before her, under her.
"Stop. Please. Or I will have to stop you."
She didn't answer. Ducking under an arch, she found three tunnels that met, but the Key was so hot now, it almost scorched her hand, and she plunged into the left-hand tunnel, racing past cell doors that hung open.
The Prison rumbled. The floor rippled, rose up under her like a carpet. She gasped as it flung her up; she landed with
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a cry, one leg bloodied, but picking herself up, she raced on, because it couldn't be sure where she was, not with the Key.
The world rocked. It tipped from side to side. Darkness closed in, noxious smells seeped from the walls, bats swirled in clouds. She wouldn't scream. Clawing the stones, she pulled herself on, even when the passageway lifted itself up and became a hill, a steep, slippery slope, and all the rubble that lay on it slid down on her.
And then, just as she wanted to let go and slither back, she heard voices.
KEIRO FLEXED his fingers. His face was flushed and his eyes would not meet Finn's. It was Gildas who broke the silence. "So I've been traveling with a halfman."
Keiro ignored him. He looked at Finn, who said, "How long have you known?"
"All my life." His oathbrother's voice was subdued.
"But you. You were the one who hated them most. Despised them ..."
Keiro shook his head in irritation. "Yes. Of course. I hate them. I have more cause to hate them than you. Don't you see that they scare me stiff?" He flung a glance at Attia, then yelled out at the Prison, "And you! I swear if I could ever find your heart, I'd slice it open!"
Finn didn't know how he felt. Keiro was so perfect, all he
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had ever wanted to be. Handsome, bold, without flaw, alive with that zestful confidence he had always envied.
He was never scared stiff.
"All my sons think that" Incarceron said slyly.
Keiro slumped against the wall. A Are seemed to have gone out of him. He said, "It scares me because I don't know how far it goes." Lifting up his hand, he flexed his finger. "It looks real, doesn't it? No one can tell. And how do I know how much more of me is like that? Inside me, the organs, the heart. How do I know?" There was a sort of agony in the question, as if it had been asked silently a million times before, as if behind the bravado and arrogance was a fear he had never revealed.
Finn looked around. "The Prison could tell you."
"No. I don't want to know."
"It doesn't matter to me." Finn ignored Gildas's snort and glanced at Attia.
Quietly she said, "So we're all flawed. Even you. I'm sorry."
"Thanks." Keiro was scornful. "The pity of a dog-girl and a Starseer. That really makes me feel better."
"We're only--"
"Save k. I don't need it." He brushed away Finn's outstretched hand and pulled himself upright. "And don't think it changes me. I'm still me."
Gildas limped past. "Well, you get no pity from me. Let's get on."
Keiro stared at his back with a rigidity of hatred that made
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Finn move in; his oathbrother snatched up the sword from the floor, but as he took one step after the Sapient, the Prison shivered and shuddered.
Finn grabbed the wall.
When the world stopped moving, the air was thick with dust; it hung like a fog, and there was a ringing in his ears. Gildas was hissing in pain. Attia scrambled over; she pointed through the miasma. "Finn. What's that?"
For a moment he had no idea. Then he saw it was a face. A face that was oddly clean, with bright clever eyes and a tangle of hastily tied hair. A face that was staring at him out of the mists of the past over the tiny flames of candles on a cake that he leaned over and blew out with one exhausting breath.
"Is that you?" she whispered.
He nodded, silent, knowing this was Claudia.
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32
***
You will thank us for this. Energy will not be wasted on frivolous machines. We will
learn to live simply, untroubled by jealousies and desires. Our souls will be as placid as the tideless seas.
--King Endor's Decree
***
The soldiers came after two hours. Jared had been waiting for them; he had lain on the hard bed in the silent room and listened to the sounds of the Palace through the open casement; the galloping horses far below, the coaches, the scurry, the shouts. It was as if Claudia had taken a stick to a nest of ants and now they were in a swarming panic, their Queen injured and their peace gone.
The Queen. As he sat up stiffly and gazed at the men, he hoped he wouldn't have to face her fury.
"Master." The liveried servant seemed embarrassed. "Would you come with us, sir."
Always the Protocol. It saved them from facing the truth. As they led him down the stairs, the guardsmen fell in discreetly behind, their halberds held like staffs of office.
He had already gone through all the emotions. Terror, bluster, despair. Now all that was left was a sort of dull resignation.
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Whatever the Warden would do to him had to be borne. Claudia had to have time.
To his surprise they took him past the state rooms, where anxious envoys argued and messengers ran in and out, down to a small room in the east wing. When they ushered him in he saw it was one of the Queen's private drawing-rooms, cluttered with fragile gilt furniture, an elaborate clock on the mantelpiece heaped with cherubs and simpering shepherdesses.
Only the Warden was here.
He was not sitting at a desk, but standing, facing the door. Two armchairs were arranged at easy angles by the hearth, where a great bowl of potpourri sat in the empty fireplace.
It still felt like a trap.
"Master Jared." The Warden indicated one chair with a long finger. "Please sit."
He was glad to. He felt breathless and light-headed.
"A little water." The Warden poured it and brought the goblet over. As he drank from it Jared felt Claudia's father ... no, not her father ... watching him acutely.
"Thank you."
"You haven't eaten?"
"No ... I suppose ... in all the fuss ..."
"You should take more care of yourself." The voice was hard. "Too many hours working at these forbidden devices."
He waved a hand. Jared saw that the table near the
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window was covered with pieces of his experiments, the scanners, the imagers, the devices to block alarms. He said nothing. "Of course you unders
tand that all these are illegal." The Warden's eyes were ice-cold. "We have always allowed the Sapienti a certain leeway, but you seem to have been taking great advantage." Then he said, "Where is Claudia, Master?"
"I told you--"
"Don't lie to me. She is not at home. There are no horses unaccounted for."
"Perhaps ... she may be on foot."
"I do believe she is." The Warden sat opposite him, his black satin breeches creasing elegantly. "And perhaps you thought you were not lying when you said home?"
Jared put the cup down. They faced each other.
"How did she find out?" John Arlex said.
Jared decided, quite suddenly, to tell the truth. "The girl in the Prison told her, Attia, Finn's friend. From some records she had discovered."
The Warden nodded in slow appreciation. "Ah yes. How did she take it?"
"She was ... very shocked."
"Furious?"
"Yes."
"I would expect nothing else."
"And upset."
The Warden shot him a keen glare, but Jared returned it
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calmly. "She had always been so secure as your daughter, sir. Known who she was. She ... cares for you."
"Don't lie to me." The sudden snarl shocked him with its anger. The Warden got up and paced down the room. "There has only ever been one person Claudia has cared for in her life, Master Sapient. And that is you."
Jared sat still . His heart hammered. "Sir ..."
"Did you think I was blind?" The Warden turned. "No indeed. Oh, she had her nurses and her waiting women, but Claudia is far above their level and she knew it early. Every time I came home I saw how she and you laughed and talked, how she fussed with your coat if it was cold, sent for possets and sweetmeats, how you had your private jokes, your shared studies." He folded his arms and stared out of the window. "With me she was distant, reserved. She didn't know me. I was a stranger, the Warden, a great man at Court, someone who came and went. Someone to be wary of. But you, Master Jared, you were her tutor and her brother and more her father than I have ever been."
Jared was cold now. Behind the Warden's iron control was a blazing hatred; he had never sensed the depth of it before. He tried to breathe calmly.
"How do you think that felt, Master?" The Warden swung around. "Did you think I didn't feel it? Do you think I didn't suffer, not knowing what to do, how to change it? Aware that with every word I spoke I was deceiving her;
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every day, just by being there, by letting her think she was mine."
"She ... that is what she will not forgive."
"Don't tell me how she thinks!" John Arlex came and stood over him. "I have always been jealous of you. Is that not foolish? A dreamer, a man without family, so fragile a few blows would kill him. And the Warden of Incarceron is sick with envy."
Jared managed to say, "I... am very fond of Claudia ..."
"You know, of course, there are rumors about you." The Warden swung away abruptly and sat down again. "I don't believe them; Claudia is willful but not stupid. However, the Queen does, and let me tell you Jared, at the moment the Queen is screaming for revenge. On anyone. Evian is dead, but the plot obviously included others. You, for one."
He shivered. "Sir, you know well that is not so."
"You knew about it. Didn't you?"
"Yes, but..."
"And you did nothing. Told no one." He leaned forward. "That is treason, Master Sapient, and could easily have you hanged."
In the silence someone called outside. A fly buzzed in and droned around the room, hitting the glass and fumbling against it.
Jared tried to think, but there was no time. The Warden snapped, "Where's the Key?"
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He wanted to lie. To make something up. Instead he kept silent.
"She's taken it with her, hasn't she?"
He didn't answer. The Warden swore. "The whole world thinks Giles is dead. She could have had everything, the Realm, the throne. Did she think I would let Caspar get in her way?"
"You were in the plot?" Jared said slowly.
"Plot! Evian and his naive dreams of a world without Protocol! There has never been a world without Protocol. I would have let the Steel Wolves deal with the Queen and Caspar, and then had them executed, simple. But now she has turned against me."
He was staring blankly across the room. Jared said gently, "The story you told her ... about her mother."
"That was true. But when Helena died the baby was sickly and I knew it would die too. And what then of my plans? I needed a daughter, Master. And I knew where to get one." He sat in the armchair opposite. "Incarceron is a failure. A hell. The Wardens have long known that, but there is no remedy, so we keep it secret. I thought I would rescue one soul from that, at least. In the depths of the Prison I found a woman who was so desperate she was willing to part with her newborn girl. I paid well. Her other children survived because of it."
Jared nodded. The Warden's voice had sunk; he seemed to be talking to himself, as if he had justified this endlessly to himself over the years.
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"No one realized, except the Queen. That sorceress took one look at the child and knew."
A sudden understanding came to Jared. Fascinated, he said, "Claudia always wondered why you agreed to the plot against Giles. "Was it because the Queen ..." He stopped, not knowing the words, but the Warden nodded without looking up.
"Blackmail, Master Sapient. Her son was to be the one to marry Claudia. If I had not agreed, she taunted me that she would tell Claudia publicly who she was, disgrace her before the whole Realm. I could not have borne that."
For a moment there was a wistful distance in him, a stillness. Then he raised his head and saw Jared's look and his face went cold. "Do not feel sorry for me, Master. That's something I do not need." He stood. "I know she's gone into Incarceron. For this Finn. There's nothing for you to betray. And she has taken the Key." He laughed bitterly. "It's as well she took it. There's no way out without it."
Suddenly he stalked to the door. "Follow me."
Startled Jared stood, fighting down a shard of fear, but the Warden stepped out into the corridor and waved the guards away impatiently. The men looked at each other.
One said uneasily, "Sir, the Queen has issued orders that we stay with you. For your protection."
The Warden nodded slowly. "My protection. I see. Then please remain here and guard this door after I enter. Allow no one to follow us down."
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Before they could argue he had opened a hidden door in the wainscoting and led the way down some dank steps into the cellars. Halfway down, Jared looked back. The men were watching curiously through the slit.
"It appears the Queen suspects me too," the Warden said calmly. He took a lantern from the wall and lit the candle inside it. "We will have to work quickly. The study, as you've no doubt realized, is the same room here as at home. A space halfway between this world and the Prison, a Portal, as the inventor Martor called it."
"Manor's writings are lost," Jared said, hurrying after him.
"I have them. They are classified." His dark figure paced down quickly, holding the lantern high, its shadows flickering down the wall. He glanced back at Jared's astonishment and allowed himself a smile. "You will never see them, Master." Between the casks the darkness lay deep; far above, the guards' voices seemed to whisper in confusion.
At the bronze gate he jabbed the combination in swiftly; the gate shuddered open and as they passed through, Jared felt that odd shiver of displacement he had felt before.
The white room adjusted itself. Everything was exactly as he had left it. He had a sudden pang of anxiety. What was happening to Claudia? Was she safe?
"You sent her through with no idea of the danger." The Warden flicked the control panel out and touched sensors. "Entering the Prison is hazardous, physically and psychologically."
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Shelves slid back. The screen lit.
&nb
sp; On it, Jared saw a thousand images. They flickered, a checkerboard of tiny squares, of empty rooms, bleak oceans, far towers, dusty corners. He saw a street packed with people, a hideous den of stunted children, a man beating a strange beast, a woman tenderly breastfeeding a baby. Bewildered, he stepped up below the images, watching them flicker, the pain, the hunger, the unlikely friendships, the savage bargainings.
'This is the Prison." The "warden leaned against the desk. "All the images seen by the Eyes. Its the only way to find Claudia."
Jared felt a terrible misery soak him. In the Academy the Experiment was considered one of the glories of the ancient Sapienti, the noble sacrifice of the world's last reserves of energy to save the unredeemable, the poor, the despised. And it had ended in this.
The Warden watched him, a silhouette against the rippling images. "You see, Master, what only the Warden has ever seen."
"Why didn't... Why weren't we told ...?"
"There is not enough power. They can never be brought back, all those thousands of people. They are lost to us." He took out his watch and gave it to Jared, who took it numbly and then looked down at it. The Warden indicated the silver cube on the chain.
"You are like a god, Jared. You hold Incarceron in your hands."
He felt the pain inside him throb. His hands shook. He
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wanted to put it down, to step back, step away. The cube was tiny, he had seen it a thousand times on the watch chain and barely noticed it, but now it filled him with awe. Was it possible it contained the mountains he saw, the forests of silver trees, the cities of ragged people preying on each other's poverty? Sweating, he held it tightly and the Warden said softly, "Afraid, Jared? It takes strength to see a whole world. Many of my predecessors never dared look. They hid their eyes." A soft bell.
They both looked up. The screen had stopped flashing; as they stared, the pictures started to flick off, and one in the bottom right-hand corner grew, pixel by pixel, until it filled the whole screen.
It was Claudia.
Jared put the watch chain shakily down on the table.
She was talking to the prisoners. He recognized the boy Finn, and the other one, Keiro, who was leaning back against a stone wall, listening. Gildas crouched nearby; Jared saw at once that the old man was hurt, Attia standing next to him.