Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) (17 page)

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in that nerveless stare. "I know you don't want to marry me," he said.

"Caspar ..."

"It's all right, I don't mind. It's a dynastic thing, that's all. My mother's explained it. You can have any lovers you like, after we've had an heir. I certainly will."

She stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't sit still; she jumped up and paced the disrupted room. "Caspar, listen to yourself!" Have you ever thought about what sort of life we'll have together, in that marble mausoleum you call a palace? Living a lie, a pretense, keeping false smiles on our faces, wearing clothes from a time that never existed, posing and preening and aping manners that should only be in books? Have you thought about that?"

He was surprised. "It's always been like that."

She sat next to him. "Have you never wanted to be free, Caspar? To be able to ride out alone one spring morning and set off to see the world? To find adventure, and someone you can love?"

It was too much. She knew it as soon as she had said it. Too much for him. She felt him stiffen and frown, and he glared at her. "I know what all this is about." His voice was harsh. "It's because you'd have rather had my brother. The saintly Giles. Well, he's dead, Claudia, so forget about him." Then his smile came back, sly and narrow. "Or is this about Jared?"

"Jared?"

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"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? He's older, but some girls like that."

She wanted to slap him, to get up and slap his sniggering little face. He grinned at her. "I've seen how you look at him, Claudia. Like I said, I don't mind."

She stood, stiff with anger. "You evil little toad."

"You're angry. That proves it's true. Does your father know about you and Jared, Claudia? Should I tell him, do you think?"

He was poison. He was a lizard with a flicking tongue. His smirk was acid. She bent and put her face into his and he moved back.

"If you mention this again, to me, to anyone, I will kill you. Do you understand, my lord Steen? Myself personally, with a dagger through your weak little body. I will kill you like they killed Giles."

Trembling with wrath she marched outside and slammed the door with a clap that rang down the corridor. Fax, the bodyguard, was lounging outside. As she passed him he stood, with an insolent slowness, and as she ran beneath the portraits to the stairs, she felt his eyes on her back, the cold smile.

She hated them.

All of them.

How could he say that!

How could he even think it! Thundering down the stairs, she crashed through the double doors, maids scattering before her,

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her mood like thunder. Such a filthy lie! Against Jared! Jared, who would never dream, never even think of such a thing!

She screamed for Alys, who came running. "What's wrong, lady?"

"My riding coat. Now!"

While she waited she fumed, pacing, staring through the open front door at the eternal perfection of the lawns, the blue sky, the peacocks practicing their eerie cries.

Her anger was warm and a comfort. When the coat came she flung it around her, snapped, "I'm riding out."

"Claudia ... There's so much to do! We leave tomorrow."

"You do it."

"The wedding dress ... the final fitting."

"You can tear it to shreds as far as I'm concerned." Then she was gone, running down the steps and across the courtyard, and as she ran, she looked up and saw her father, standing in the impossible window of his study that didn't exist, wasn't even there.

He had his back to her, was talking to someone. Someone in the study with him? But no one ever went in there.

Slowing, she watched for a moment, puzzled. Then, afraid he'd turn around, she hurried to the stables and found Marcus already saddled, pawing the ground with impatience. Jared's horse was ready too, a lean rangy creature called Tam Lin, which was probably some secret Sapient jest she'd never understood.

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She looked around. "Where's the Wise One?" she asked Job.

The boy, always tongue-tied, muttered, "Gone back to the tower, lady. He forgot something."

She stared at him. "Job, listen to me. You know everyone on the estate?"

"Pretty much." He swept the floor hastily, raising clouds of dust. She wanted to tell him to stop, but that would have made him even more nervous, so she said, "An old man called Bartlett. Pensioned off, a retainer of the Court. Is he still alive?"

He raised his head. "Yes, my lady. He has a cottage out on Hewelsfield. Just down the lane from the mill."

Her heart thudded. "Is he ... Is his mind still clear?"

Job nodded, and managed a smile. "He's razor-sharp, that one. But he doesn't say much, not about his days at Court. He just stares if you ask him."

Jared's shadow darkened the doorway and he came in slightly breathlessly. "Sorry, Claudia."

He swung himself up into the saddle, and as she put her foot in Job's linked hands, she said quietly, "What did you forget?"

His dark eyes met hers. "A certain object that I didn't want to leave unguarded." His hand moved discreetly to his coat, the high-necked Sapient robe of dark green.

She nodded, knowing it was the Key.

As they rode off she wondered why she felt so oddly ashamed.

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***

THEY MADE a fire from the dried fungi and some snapping powder from Gildas's pack and cooked the meat while the whirlwind raged outside. No one spoke much. Finn was shivering with cold, and the cuts on his face stung; he sensed that Keiro was still weary too. It was hard to tell about the girl. She sat slightly apart, eating quickly, her eyes watching and missing nothing.

Finally Gildas wiped greasy hands on his robe. "Were there any signs of the inmates?"

"The sheep were roaming," Keiro said carelessly. "Not even a fence."

"And the Prison?"

"How should I know? Eyes in the trees probably."

Finn shivered. His head felt echoey and strange. He wanted them to sleep, to fall asleep so he could get the Key out again and talk to it. To her. The girl Outside. He said, "We can't move on, so we may as well rest. Don't you think?"

"Sounds good," Keiro said lazily. He arranged his pack against the back of the hollow. But Gildas was staring at the image carved in the tree trunk. He crawled closer, reached out, and began to rub at it with his veined hands. Curls of lichen fell. The narrow face seemed to emerge from dinginess and the green fur of moss, its hands holding the Key so carefully drawn, they seemed real. Finn realized that the Key must be linking into some circuitry in the tree itself and for a moment

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a blur of vision caught him off guard, a sense that the whole of Incarceron was a great creature in whose entrails of wire and bone they crept.

He blinked.

No one seemed to have noticed, though the girl was staring at him. Gildas was saying, "He's leading us along the way he took. Like a thread through the labyrinth."

"So he left his own picture?" Keiro drawled.

Gildas frowned. "Obviously not. This is a shrine, created by the Sapienti who have followed him. We should find other signs on the way."

"I can't wait." Keiro rolled himself over and curled up.

Gildas glared at his back. Then he said to Finn, "Take the Key out. We need to take care of it. The way may be longer than we think."

Thinking of the vast forest outside, Finn wondered if they would wander in it forever. Carefully he reached up and removed the Key from the hexagon; it came away with a slight click, and instantly the hollow was dim and the whistling splinters of foil blurred the distant Prison lights.

Finn was stiff and uncomfortable, but he kept still, listening. After a long while he knew by the old mans harsh breathing that Gildas was sleeping. He wasn't sure about the others. Keiro had his face turned away. Attia always seemed silent, as if she had learned that keeping still and being overlooked kept her alive. Outside, the forest roared with the storm. He heard

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the cracking of its branches, the turmoil of its contempt surge from far distances, felt the strength of the wind batter the trees, shudder the iron trunk above him.

They had angered Incarceron. They had opened one of its forbidden doors and crossed some boundary. Perhaps it would trap them here forever, before they had barely begun.

At last, he couldn't wait any longer.

Cautiously, taking infinite pains to keep the rustle of the leaf-litter down, he tugged the Key from his pocket. It was cold, frosted with cold. His ringers left smeared imprints on it, and even the eagle inside was hard to see until he had rubbed condensation from its surface.

He held it tight.
"Claudia"
he breathed.

The Key was cold and dead.

No lights moved in it. He dared not speak louder.

But just then Gildas muttered, so he took the chance and curled up, bringing k closer. "Can you hear me?" he said to it. "Are you there? Please, answer."

The storm raged. It whined in his teeth and nerves. He closed his eyes and felt despair, that he had imagined all of it, that the girl did not exist, that he was indeed born in some Womb here.

And then, as if out of his own fear, came a voice, a soft remark. "Laughed? Are you sure that's what he said?"

Finn's eyes snapped open. A man's voice. Calm and considering.

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He glanced around wildly, afraid the others had heard, and then a girl said, "... Of course I'm sure. "Why should the old man laugh, Master, if Giles was dead?"

"Claudia." Finn whispered the name before he could stop himself.

Instantly Gildas turned; Keiro sat up. Cursing, Finn shoved the Key into his coat and rolled over to see Attia staring at him. He knew at once that she'd seen everything.

Keiro had his knife out. "Did you hear that? Someone outside." His blue eyes were alert.

"No." Finn swallowed. "It was me."

"Talking in your sleep?"

"He was talking to me," Attia said quietly.

For a moment Keiro looked at them both. Then he leaned back, but Finn knew he was not convinced. "Was he now?" his oathbrother said softly. "So who's Claudia?"

***

THEY CANTERED quickly up the lane, the deep green leaves of the oaks a tunnel over their heads. "And you believe Evian?"

"On this I do." She looked ahead at the mill rising at the foot of the hill. "The old man's reaction was all wrong, Master. He must have loved Giles."

"Grief affects people strangely, Claudia." Jared seemed worried. "Did you tell Evian you would find this Bartlett?"

"No. He--"

"Did you tell anyone? Alys?"

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She snorted. "Tell Alys and it's around the servants' hall in minutes." That reminded her. She slowed the breathless horse. "My father paid off the swordmaster. Or tried to. Has he said anything more to you?"

"No. Not yet."

They were silent while he leaned down and unlatched the gate, easing the horse back to drag it wide. On the other side the lane was rutted, lined by hedgerows, dog-roses twined among nettles and willow-herb, the white umbels of cow-parsley.

Jared sucked at a sting on his finger. Then he said, "That must be the place."

It was a low cottage half obscured by a great chestnut that grew beside it. As they rode closer Claudia scowled at its perfect Protocol, the thatch with holes in it, the damp walls, the gnarled trees of the orchard. "A hovel for the poor."

Jared smiled his sad smile. "I'm afraid so. In this Era only the rich know comfort."

They left the horses tied, cropping lush long grass from the verge. The gate was broken, hanging wide; Claudia saw how it had
recently
been forced, how the grass blades were dragged back under it, still wet with dew.

Jared stopped. "The doors open," he said.

She went to step past him, but he said, "A moment, Claudia." He took out the small scanner and let it hum. "Nothing.

No one here."

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"Then we go in and wait for him. I've only got today." She strode up the cracked path; Jared followed quickly.

Claudia pushed the door wider; it creaked and she thought something shuffled inside. "Hello?" she said quietly.

Silence.

She put her head around the door.

The room was dark and smelled of smoke. A low window lit it, the shutter off and leaning against the wall. The fire was out in the hearth; as she came in she saw the blackened cooking pot on its chains, the spit, ashes drifting in the draft down the great chimney.

Two small benches lined the chimney corner; near the window stood a table and chair and a dresser with some battered pewter plates and a jug on it. She picked the jug up and sniffed the milk inside.

"Fresh."

There was a small doorway into the cow byre. Jared crossed to it and looked through, stooping under the lintel.

His back was to her, but she knew, from his sudden, intent stillness, something was wrong. "What?" she said.

He turned, and his face was so pale, she thought he was ill. He said, "I'm afraid we're too late."

She came over. He stayed, blocking her way. "I want to see," she muttered.

"Claudia..."

"Let me see, Master." She ducked under his arm.