Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) (14 page)

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Then another.

Her lips were salty with sweat.

Why had she asked him that? Where had it come from? Her mother was someone she never thought of, never even imagined. It was as if she had never existed. Even when she'd been small, looking at the other girls at Court with their fussing mamas, she had had no curiosity about her own.

She gnawed the bitten nails on her fingers. It had been a deadly mistake. She should never, never have said that.

"Claudia!"

A loud, demanding voice. She closed her eyes.

"Claudia, it's no good hiding in all these hedges." Branches swished and cracked. "Talk to me! I can't find the right way!"

She sighed. "So you've finally arrived. And how is my husband-to-be?"

"Hot and irritable. Not that you care. Look, there are five paths here at a meeting point. Which do I take?"

His voice was close; she could smell the expensive cologne he used. Not splashed on, like Evian, but just enough. "The one that looks least likely," she said. "Toward the house."

The peevish mutter became more distant. "Like our engagement, many would say. Claudia, get me out of here!"

She scowled. He was worse than she remembered.

Yew thrashed and snapped.

She stood quickly, brushing down her dress, hoping her face was not as pale as she felt. On her left the hedge shuddered. A

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sword came through and hacked an opening, and his big silent bodyguard, Fax, stepped through, looked quickly around, then held open the branches. Through them came a thin youth, his mouth sour with dissatisfaction. He glared at her crossly. "Look at my clothes, Claudia. They re ruined. Quite ruined."

He kissed her coldly on one cheek. "Anyone would think you were avoiding me."

"So you've been expelled," she said calmly.

"I left." He shrugged. "Too boring. My mother sends you this."

It was a note, on white thick paper, sealed with the Queen's white rose. Claudia opened it and read.

My dear,

You will have heard the good news that your

wedding is imminent. After waiting all these

years, am sure yours excitement is as intense as
my own! Caspar insisted on coming to escort you

here--such a romantic. What a handsome couple

you will make. From now on, my dear you must

think of me as your loving mother.

Sia Regina.

Claudia folded it. "Did you insist?"

"No. She sent me." He kicked the astrolabe. "What a bore getting married is going to be, Claudia. Don't you think?" She nodded, silent.

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12

***

The decay was gradual and we were slow to recognize it. Then, one day, I had been talking with the Prison, and as I left the room I heard it laugh. A low, mocking chuckle.

The sound turned me cold. I stood in the corridor and the thought came to me of an ancient image I had once seen in a fragmented manuscript, of the enormous mouth of Hell devouring sinners.

It was then I knew we had created a demon that would destroy us.

--Lord Calliston's Diary

***

The sound of the unlocking was painful, as if the Prison sighed. As if this was a door that had not been opened for centuries. But no alarms howled. Perhaps Incarceron knew no door could lead them out.

Gildas stepped back at Finn's warning; chunks of debris and a red rain of rust clattered. The door shuddered inward, and stuck.

For a moment they waited, because the narrow slit was dark and a cool, oddly sweet-smelling air moved beyond. Then Finn kicked the rubble aside and put his shoulder to the door. He

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heaved, and rammed it until it stuck again. But now there was room to squeeze through.

Gildas nudged him. "Take a look. Be careful."

Finn glanced back at Keiro, sitting slumped and weary. He drew his sword and slipped sideways through the gap.

It was colder. His breath frosted. The ground was uneven, and ran downhill. As he took a few steps a strange tinny litter rustled around his ankles; putting a hand down, he felt drifts of crisp stuff, cold and wet, sharp against his fingertips. As his eyes grew used to the deeper gloom, he thought he was standing in a sloping hall of columns; tall black pillars rose to a tangle overhead. Groping to the nearest one, he felt it over with his hands, puzzled. It was icy cold and hard, but not smooth. A mass of fissures and cracks seamed it, knots and swelling growths, and branches of intricate mesh.

"Finn?"

Gildas was a shadow at the door.

"Wait." Finn listened. The breeze moved in the tangle, making a faint silvery tinkle that seemed to stretch for miles. After a moment he said, "There's no one here. Come through."

A few rustles and stirrings. Then Gildas said, "Bring the Key, Keiro. We need to shut this."

"If we do, can we get back?" Keiro sounded worn.

"What's to get back for? Give me a hand." As soon as the dog-slave had slipped through, Finn and the old man shoved and forced the tiny door back into its frame. It clicked quietly shut.

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A rustle. A scrape of sound. Light, steadying, in a lantern.

"Someone might see it," Keiro snapped.

But Finn said, "I told you. We're alone."

As Gildas held the lantern high, they looked around at the ominous enclosing pillars. Finally Keiro said, "What are they?"

Behind him, the dog-creature crouched down. Finn glanced at it, and knew it was looking at him.

"Metal trees." The light caught the Sapient's plaited beard, the gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "A forest where the species are iron, and steel, and copper, where the leaves are thin as foil, where fruits grow gold and silver." He turned. "There are stories, from the old times, of such places. Apples of gold guarded by monsters. It seems they're true."

The air was cold and still. It held an alien sense of distance. It was Keiro who asked the question Finn didn't dare to.

"Are we Outside?"

Gildas snorted. "Do you think it's that easy? Now sit before you fall." He glanced at Finn. 'I'll deal with his wounds. This is as good a place as any to wait for Lightson. We can rest. Even eat."

But Finn turned and faced Keiro. He felt cold and sick, but he spoke the words stubbornly. "Before we go any further I want to know what Jormanric meant. About the Maestra's death."

There was a second of silence. In the ghostly light Keiro gave

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Finn one exasperated glare and crumpled wearily in the rustling leaves, pushing back his hair with blood-streaked hands. "For God's sake, Finn, do you really think I know? You saw him. He was finished. He would have said anything! It was just lies. Forget it."

Finn looked down at him. For a second he wanted to insist, ask again, to silence the nagging fear inside him, but Gildas eased him aside. "Make yourself useful. Find something to eat.

While the Sapient poured water, Finn tipped out a few packages of dried meat and fruit from his pack and another lantern, which he lit from the first. Then he trampled down the icy metal leaves into a clotted mass, spread some blankets on them, and sat. In the shadowed forest beyond the pool of light, small rustles and scrapings disturbed him; he tried to ignore them. Keiro swore viciously as Gildas cleaned his cuts, stripped his jacket and shirt, and rubbed chewed-up herbs of a disgusting pungency onto the wound across his chest.

In the shadows the dog-slave crouched, barely visible. Finn took one of the food packets, opened it, and held some out.

"Take it," he whispered.

A rag-bound hand, crusted with sores, snatched it from him. While the creature ate he watched, remembering the voice that had answered him, a low, urgent voice. Now he whispered, "Who are you?"

"Is that thing still here?" Sore and irritable, Keiro pulled his

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jacket back on and laced it, scowling at the slashes and tears. Finn shrugged.

"We dump it." Keiro sat, wolfed down the meat, and looked around for more. "It's poxed."

"You owe
that thing
your life," Gildas remarked.

Hot, Keiro glared up. "I don't think so! I had Jormanric where I wanted him." His eyes turned to the creature; then they widened in sudden fury and he leaped up, strode to where it crouched, and snatched away something dark. "This is mine!"

It was his bag. A green tunic and a jeweled dagger spilled out. "Stinking thief." Keiro aimed a kick at the creature; it jerked away. Then, to their astonishment, it said in a girl's voice, "You should be grateful to me for bringing it."

Gildas turned on his heel and stared at the shadow of rags. Then he stabbed a bony finger at it. "Show yourself," he said.

The ragged hood was pushed back, the wrapped paws unwound bandages and gray strips of binding. Slowly, out of the crippled huddle a small figure emerged, crouched up on its knees, a dark cropped head of dirty hair, a narrow face with watchful, suspicious eyes. She was layered with clothes strapped and tied to make humps and bulges; as she tugged the clotted wrappings from her hands, Finn stepped back in disgust at the open sores, the running ulcers. Until Gildas snorted. "Fake."

He strode forward. "No wonder you didn't want me near you."

In the dimness of the metal forest the dog-slave had become a small thin girl, the sores clever messes of color. She stood

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upright slowly, as if she had almost forgotten how. Then she stretched and groaned. The ends of the chain around her neck clattered and swung.

Keiro laughed harshly. "Well, well. Jormanric was slyer than I thought."

"He didn't know." The girl looked at him boldly. "None of them knew. When they caught me I was with a group--one old woman died that night. I stole these rags from her body and made the sores out of rust, rubbed muck all over myself, hacked off my hair. I knew I had to be clever, very clever, to stay alive."

She looked scared, and defiant. It was hard to tell her age; the brutal haircut made her seem like a scrawny child, but Finn guessed she was not so much younger than himself. He said, "It didn't turn out to be such a good idea."

She shrugged. "I didn't know I'd end up as his slave."

"And tasting his food?"

She laughed then, a bitter amusement. "He ate well. It kept me alive."

Finn glanced at Keiro. His oathbrother watched the girl, then turned away and curled up in the blankets. "We dump her in the morning."

"It's not up to you." Her voice was quiet but firm. "I'm the servant of the Starseer now."

Keiro rolled and stared. Finn said, "Me?"

"You brought me out of that place. No one else would have

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done that. Leave me, and I'll follow you. Like a dog ." She stepped forward, "I want to Escape. I want to find the Outside, if there is one. And they said in the slavehall that you see the stars in your dreams, that Sapphique talks to you. That the Prison will show you the way out because you're its son."

He stared at her in dismay. Gildas shook his head. He looked at Finn and Finn looked back.

"Up to you," the old man muttered.

He had no idea what to do, so he cleared his throat and said to the girl, "What's your name?" "Attia."

"Well, look, Attia. I don't want a servant. But ... you can come with us."

"She has no food. That means we have to feed her," Keiro said.

"Neither do you." Finn nudged the pack of clothes. "Or me, now."

"Then she shares your catch, brother. Not mine."

Gildas leaned back against one of the metal trees. "Sleep," he said. "We'll discuss it when the lights come on. But someone has to keep watch, so first it can be you, girl."

She nodded, and as Finn curled up uneasily in the blankets, he saw her slip into the shadows and vanish.

Keiro yawned like a cat. "She'll probably slit our throats," he muttered.

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***

CLAUDIA SAID, "I said
good night,
Alys," and watched in her dressing table mirror as her nurse fussed over silk garments strewn on the floor.

"Look at this, Claudia, it's ruined with mud ..."

"Put it through the washing machine. I know you've got one somewhere."

Alys gave her a glare. They both knew the endless archaic scrubbing and beating and starching of clothes was so wearing that the staff had secretly abandoned Protocol long ago. It was probably the same even at Court, Claudia thought.

As soon as the door was closed she jumped up and went over and locked it, turning the wrought-iron key and clicking on all the secrecy systems. Then she leaned her back against it and considered.

Jared had not been at supper. That didn't mean anything; he would have wanted to keep up the pretense, and he hated the Ear's stupidity. For a moment she wondered if he really had been ill in the maze, and whether she should call him, but he had warned her to keep the minicom for emergencies, especially with the Warden in the house.

She tied the belt of her dressing gown and jumped on the bed, reaching up to grope in the canopy of the four-poster.

Not there.

The house was quiet now. Caspar had talked and drunk his way through supper; fourteen courses of fish and finches,