Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) (28 page)

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His voice murmured among the glass spheres, high into the timbered rafters of the roof. Dismayed, barely hearing Gildas's angry outburst, Finn faced the window and stood there, staring out through the sealed glass at the drifting clouds of Incarceron's stratosphere, too high for birds, the icy landscape miles below, the distant hills and dark slopes that might be walls beyond his sight.

His own fear terrified him.

If this was true, there was no Escape, from here or from himself...

He was Finn and always would be, with no past and no future and there was nowhere to go back to. No one else that he had once been.

Gildas and Attia were angry; they were arguing, but Keiro's cool comment sliced through the noise and silenced everyone. "Why don't we ask them?" he said. He picked the Key up and touched the controls; turning quickly, Finn saw how adept at it he was.

"There's no point," Blaize said rapidly. "For us there is."

"Then I will leave you to speak to your friends." Blaize turned. "I have no wish to do so. Feel free to treat the tower as your home. Eat, rest. Think about what I've said."

He walked between the spheres and out of the door, the robe flapping about his stained clothes, a faint scent of acid and something else, something sweet, drifting behind him.

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As soon as he was gone Gildas swore, long and bitterly.

Keiro grinned. "You learned something useful from the Comitatus then."

"To think that after all these years I should find a Sapient and he should be so weak!" The old man sounded sick with disgust. Then he thrust out his hand. "Give me that Key."

"No need." Keiro placed it hastily on the table and stepped back. "It's working."

The familiar hum rose; the holo-image sprang out and cleared to a circle of light. Today it seemed even brighter than before, as if they were nearer its source, or its power had grown. Into it, as close as if she were among them, Claudia stepped. Her eyes were bright, her face alert. Finn almost felt he could reach out and touch her.

"They found you," she said.

"Yes," he whispered.

"I'm so pleased."

Jared was with her, one arm leaning against what seemed like a tree. And suddenly Finn realized they were sitting in a field
,
or a garden, and the light in that place was a glorious gold.

Gildas shouldered past him. "Master," he said curtly. "You are a Sapient?"

"I am." Jared stood and bowed formally. "As are you, I see."

"For these fifty years, son. Before you were born. Now answer me three questions and answer them true. Are you Outside Incarceron?"

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Claudia stared. Jared nodded slowly. "Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Because this is a palace, not a prison. Because the sun is above us, and the stars at night. Because Claudia has discovered the gate that leads to the Prison ..."

"Have you?" Finn gasped.

But before she could answer, Gildas snapped, "One thing more. If you are Outside, where is Sapphique? What did he do when he got out there? When will he return to release us?"

There were flowers in the garden, brilliant red poppies.

Jared looked at Claudia, and in the silence between them a bee buzzed on the petals, a small murmur that made Finn shiver with lost memory.

Then Jared stood and came forward, so close, he and Gildas were face-to-face. "Master," he said courteously. "Forgive me for my ignorance. For my curiosity. Forgive me if this seems a stupid question. But who is Sapphique?"

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23

***

Nothing has changed, or will change.

So we must change it.

--The Steel Wolves

***

Finn thought the bee would come out of the nimbus of gold and land on him. As it buzzed near his hand, he jerked back and it darted away.

He looked at Gildas. The old man had almost staggered; Attia was helping him sit, and Jared was reaching his own hand out as if to help, dismay on his face. He glanced at Claudia; Finn heard his murmur. "I shouldn't have asked. The Experiment ..."

"Sapphique Escaped." Keiro pulled a bench over and sat in the hologlow, its light rich on his red coat. "He got out. He's the only one that ever did. That's the legend."

"No legend," Gildas snapped hoarsely. He looked up. "You really don't know? I thought ... that out there he would be a great man ... a king."

Claudia said, "No. At least... Well, we could do some research. He may have gone into hiding. Things here aren't perfect either." She stood quickly. "Perhaps you don't know, but people here believe Incarceron to be a wonderful place. A paradise."

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They stared at her.

She saw the startled disbelief in their faces, Keiro's changing almost instantly to an amused, acid grin. "Fabulous," he murmured.

So she told them. She told them about the Experiment, her father, the sealed enigma of the Prison. And then she told them about Giles. Jared said, "Claudia ..." but she waved a hand at him and went on quickly, pacing on the astonishingly green grass. "They didn't kill him, we know that. They hid him. And I think they hid him in there. I think he's you."

She turned and faced them, and Keiro said, "Are you saying ..." and then stopped and stared up at his oathbrother. "Finn? A prince?" He laughed, wondering. "Are you crazy?"

Finn hugged himself. He was shaking, he knew, and that rarely lost bewilderment was back in the corner of his mind, glimmers of things gone as fast as shadows in dim mirrors.

"You look like him," Claudia said firmly. "There are no photographs allowed now, it's not Protocol, but the old man had a painting." She held it up, slipping off the blue bag. "Look."

Attia breathed in.

Finn shivered.

The child's hair was shining and his face lit with innocent happiness. Impossible health radiated from him. His tunic was cloth of gold, his skin chubby and pink. A tiny eagle seared his wrist.

Finn stepped closer. He reached out and she lifted the

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miniature to him, and his fingers closed around the gilt frame; for a moment he felt he had hold of it, that he touched it. And then his fingertips met on nothing and he knew that it was far away, farther than he could imagine. And long ago.

"There was an old man," Claudia said. "Bartlett. He looked after you."

He stared at her. His emptiness scared them both.

"Queen Sia then? Your stepmother, she must have hated you. Caspar, your half brother? Your father, the King, who died. You must remember!"

He wanted to. He wanted to drag them out of the blackness of his mind, but there was nothing there. Keiro was standing and Gildas had his arm, but all he could see was Claudia, her eager, fierce gaze on him, willing him to remember. "We were betrothed. When you were seven there was a big feast. A great celebration."

"Leave him alone," Attia snapped. "Leave him."

Claudia stepped closer. She stretched her hand out and tried to touch his wrist. "Look at it, Finn. They couldn't take it away. It proves who you are."

"It proves nothing!" Attia turned so suddenly, Claudia jerked back. The girl's fists were clenched, her bruised face white. "Stop tormenting him! If you loved him you'd stop! Can't you see it hurts him and he can't remember? You don't really care if it's him, if he's Giles. All you want is not to marry this Caspar!"

In the shocked silence Finn breathed hard. Keiro pushed

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him onto the bench; his knees gave way and he sat quickly.

Claudia was pale. She took a step back, but her eyes never left Attia. Then she said, "Actually that's not true. I want the real King. The true Heir, even if he is of the Havaarna. And I want to get you out of that place. All of you."

Jared came close and crouched. "Are you all right?"

Finn nodded. His mind was fogged; he rubbed his face with his hands.

"He gets like this," Keiro said. "And worse."

"It may be the treatment they gave him." The Sapient's dark eyes met Gildas's. "They must have given him drugs to make him forget. Have you tried any antidotes. Master, any therapies?

"Our medicines are limited," Gildas growled. "I use powdered tumentine and a decoction of poppy. And once harestooth, but it made him sick."

Jared looked politely appalled. Claudia knew by his face that such things were so primitive the Sapienti here had all but forgotten them. All at once she felt furious with frustration; she wanted to reach in and drag Finn out, to break down the invisible barrier. But that was no use, so she made herself say calmly, "I've decided what to do. I'm coming in. Through the gate."

"How does that help us?" Keiro asked, watching Finn.

It was Jared who answered. "I've made a careful study of the Key. From what I can see, our ability to contact each other is changing. The image is becoming clearer and more focused.

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This may be because Claudia and I have come to Court; we're nearer to you, and the Key may register this. It may help you navigate toward the gate."

"I thought there were maps." Keiro eyed Claudia. "The Princess here said so."

Claudia sighed, impatient. "I lied."

She looked straight at him; his blue eyes were sharp as ice.

"But," Jared went on hastily, "there are problems. There is a strange ... discontinuity that puzzles me. The Key takes too long to show us each other; each time it seems to be adjusting some physical or temporal parameter ... as if our worlds are somehow misaligned ..."

Keiro looked scornful; Finn knew he thought all this was a waste of time. From the bench he lifted his head and said quietly, "But you don't think, Master, do you, that Incarceron is another world? That it floats free in space, far from Earth."

Jared stared. Then he said gently, "No, I don't. A fascinating theory."

"Who told you that?" Claudia snapped.

"It doesn't matter." Unsteadily, Finn stood. He looked at Claudia. "In this Court of yours, there's a lake, isn't there? Where we floated lanterns with candles inside?"

The poppies around her were red tissue in the sun. "Yes," she said.

"And on my birthday cake, tiny silver balls." Claudia was so still, she could hardly breathe.

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And then as he stared at her in unbearable tension her eyes went wide; she turned, yelled, "Jared! Turn it off!
Turn it off!"

And in the dark room of spheres instantly there was only darkness, and a strange tilted giddiness, and a scent of roses.

Keiro reached his right hand carefully into the empty space where the holo-image had been. Sparks spat; he jerked back, swearing.

"Something scared them," Attia breathed. Gildas frowned. "Not something. Someone."

SHE HAD smelled him. A sweet, unmistakable perfume that she realized now had been there for a long time, that she had known but ignored, caught up in the tension of the moment. Now, as she faced the blazing border of lavender and delphiniums and roses, she felt Jared behind her rise slowly to his feet, heard his small breath of dismay as he registered it too. "Come out," she said icily.

He was behind the rose arch. He stepped from it reluctantly, the peach silk of his suit soft as petals.

For a moment none of them spoke.

Then Evian smiled an embarrassed smile.

"How much did you hear?" Claudia demanded, hands on hips.

He took out a handkerchief and wiped sweat from his face. "Quite too much, I'm afraid, my dear."

"Stop the act." She was furious.

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He glanced at Jared and then, curiously at the Key. "That is an amazing device. If we had had any idea it existed, we would have moved heaven and earth to find it."

She hissed out a breath of anger and turned away. To her back he said shrewdly, "You know what it means, if that boy is really Giles."

She didn't answer.

"It means that we have a figurehead for our coup. More than that, a righteous cause. As you so thrillingly said, the true Heir. I gather this was the information you promised me?"

"Yes." She turned and saw his fascinated gaze, and it chilled her as it had before. "But listen, Evian. We're doing this my way. First of all I'm going through that gate."

"Not alone."

"No," Jared said swiftly. "With me."

She shot him a startled look. "Master ..."

"Together, Claudia. Or not at all."

A trumpet rang out in the Palace. She glanced toward the building in annoyance. "All right. But there's no need for assassinations, don't you see? If the people understand that Giles is alive, if we show him to them, surely the Queen will never be able to deny it..."

Her voice trailed off as she looked at them. Jared was playing unhappily with a small white flower from the grass; rubbing its perfume between his fingers. He wouldn't look at her. Evian did, but his small eyes were almost pitying. "Claudia,"