Incarceron (Incarceron, Book 1) (35 page)

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in the hush, it almost hurt. Faint bells chimed eleven in the clock towers and stables of the Palace. In one hour her wedding day would dawn. She would not give up. Not yet.

"Now that we know about the Portal and what it does ... could you operate it?"

"Possibly. But there's no way back."

"I could try." She said it quickly. "Go in and look for him. What have I got here? A lifetime with Caspar ..."

"No." He sat up and faced her. "Can you even begin to imagine life in there? A hell of violence and brutality? And here-- if the wedding doesn't happen, the Steel Wolves will strike at once. There will be a terrible bloodshed." He reached over and took her hands. "I hope I've taught you always to face facts."

"Master--"

"You have to go through with the wedding. That's all that's left. There is no way back for Giles."

She wanted to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. She hadn't known he was so strong. "Giles is lost to us. Even if he's alive."

She slid her hands down and held his, tight with misery. "I don't know if I can," she whispered.

"I know. But you're brave."

"I'll be so alone. They're sending you away."

His fingers were cool. "I told you. You have far too much to learn." In the darkness he smiled his rare smile. "I'm going nowhere, Claudia."

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***

THEY COULDN'Tdo it. The ship wouldn't hold steady, even with all of them hauling at the wheel. Her sails were rags, her rope trailed everywhere, her rails were smashed, and still she yawed and zigzagged, the anchor swinging and the bow oscillating toward the cube, away from it, above, below. "It's impossible," Keiro growled.

"No." Gildas seemed lit with joy. "We can do it. Keep strong." He gripped the wheel and stared ahead.

Suddenly the ship dropped. The headlights picked out the cube's opening; as they closed on it, Finn saw it was filmed across with a strange viscosity like the surface of a bubble. Rainbows of iridescence glimmered on it.

"Giant snails," Keiro muttered. Even now he was able to joke, Finn thought.

Nearer, nearer. Now the ship was so close, they could see the reflection of her lights, swollen and distorted. So close that the bowsprit touched the film, indented it, pierced it so that it popped with soft abruptness, vanishing into a faint puff of sweet air.

Gradually, fighting the upstream, the ship slewed into the dark cube. The buffeting slowed. Vast shadows overwhelmed the headlights.

Finn stared up at the square of blackness. As it opened as if to swallow him, he felt that he was very tiny, was an ant crawling into a fold of cloth, a picnic cloth laid on the grass far away

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and long ago, where a birthday cake with seven candles lay half eaten, and a little girl with brown curly hair was handing him a golden plate, so politely.

He smiled at her and took it.

The ship cracked. The mast splintered, toppled, wood showering around them. Attia fell against him, scrabbling after a crystal glitter that slid from his shirt. "Get the Key," she yelled.

But the ship hit the back of the cube and darkness crashed down on him. Like a finger crushing the ant. Like a main mast falling.

THE LOST PRINCE

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29

***

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams.

A wall at the worlds end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.

--Lord Calliston's Diary

***

The morning of the wedding dawned hot and fine. Even the weather had been planned; the trees were in full blossom and the birds sang, the sky was a cloudless blue, the temperature perfect, the breeze gentle and sweetly scented.

From her window Claudia watched the sweating servants unloading the carriage-loads of gifts, saw even from up here the glint of diamonds, the dazzle of gold.

She put her chin on the stone sill, felt its gritty warmth. There was a nest just above, a swallow that dipped in and out regularly with beakfuls of flies. Invisible chicks cheeped urgently as the parents came and went.

She felt heavy-eyed and bone-weary. All night she had lain awake and looked up into the crimson hangings of the bed, listening to the silence of the room, her future hanging over her like a weighty curtain ready to fall. Her old life was finished--the freedom, the studying with Jared, the long rides

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and tree-climbing, the carelessness of doing as she liked. Today she would be Countess of Steen, would enter the war of scheming and treachery that was the life of the Palace. In an hour they would come to bathe her, do her hair, paint her nails, dress her like a doll.

She looked down.

There was a roof far below, the slope of some turret. For a dreamy moment she thought that if she tied all the sheets of the bedclothes together, she might let herself down, slowly, hand over hand till her bare feet touched the hot tiles. She might scramble down and steal a horse from the stables and ride away, escape just as she was, in her white nightdress, into the green forests on the far hills.

It was a warming thought. The girl who disappeared. The lost Princess. It made her smile. But then a call from below jerked her back; she glanced down and saw Lord Evian, resplendent in blue and ermine, gazing up at her.

He called something; she was too high to hear what, but she smiled and nodded, and he bowed and walked away, his small heeled shoes clacking.

Watching him, she knew that all the Court was like him, that behind its perfumed and elaborate facade lurked a web of hatreds and secret murders, and her own part in that would begin very soon, and to survive it she must be as hard as they were. Finn could never be rescued. She had to accept that.

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She got up, sending the swallow off in panic, and walked to the dressing table.

It was laden with flowers, tussy-mussies, nosegays, and bouquets. They had been arriving all morning, so that the room smelled exquisite and sickly. Behind her, on the bed, the white gown lay spread in its finery. She looked at herself.

All right. She would marry Caspar and become Queen. If there was a plot, she would be part of it. If there were killings, she would survive them. She would rule. No one would tell her what to do ever again.

She opened the dressing table drawer, took out the Key, and placed it on the tabletop. It glimmered, its crystal facets catching the sunlight, its eagle splendid.

But first she would have to tell Finn. Break it to him that there was no escape.

Tell him their engagement was over.

She reached out to it, but just as she touched it, there was a low knock on the door and instantly she slid it smoothly into the drawer and picked up a brush. "Come in, Alys."

The door opened. "Not Alys," her father said.

He stood, dark and elegant, framed by the gilt lintel. "May I come in?"

"Yes," she said.

His coat was new, a deep black velvet, a white rose in the lapel, his knee breeches satin. He wore shoes with discreet buckles and his hair was caught in a black ribbon. He sat

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gracefully, flipping the tails of the coat. "All this finery is rather a bother. But one has to be perfect on such a day." Glancing at her plain dress, he took his watch out and opened it, so that the sun caught the silver cube that hung on the chain. "You have only two hours, Claudia. You should dress now."

She leaned her elbow on the table. "Is that what you came to tell me?"

"I came to tell you how proud I am." His gray eyes held hers, and the light in them was keen and sharp. "Today is the day I have planned and schemed for decades. Long before you were born. Today the Arlexi come to the heart of power. Nothing must go wrong." He stood up and strode to the window, as if tension would not let him keep still. He smiled. "I confess I have not slept, thinking of it."

"You're not the only one."

He looked at her closely. "You must have no fear, Claudia. Everything is arranged. Everything ready."

Something in his tone made her glance up. For a moment she looked at him and saw under the mask, saw a man driven so fiercely by his dream of power that he would sacrifice anything to achieve it. And with a cold shiver she saw that he would not share it. Not with the Queen, or Caspar. "What do you mean ... everything?"

"Just that things will turn out in our favor. Caspar is nothing but a stepping-stone."

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She stood. "You know, don't you? About the assassination plan ... the Steel Wolves. Are you one of them?"

He crossed the room in one step and grabbed her arm so tightly, she gasped. "Keep quiet," he snapped. "Do you think there aren't listening devices even here?"

He led her to the window and flung it open. Strains of lute and drum floated upward, the shouts of a guard commander drilling his men. Under cover of the noise his voice was low and husky. "Just do your part, Claudia. That's all."

"And then you kill them." She tugged away.

"What happens after doesn't concern you. Evian had no right to approach you."

"Doesn't it? How long before I'm in your way too? How long before I fall off my horse?"

She had shocked him. "That will never happen."

"No?" Her scorn was acid; she wanted it to burn him. "Because I'm your daughter?"

He said, "Because I have come to love you, Claudia."

There was something there that stuck her. Something odd. But he turned away. "Now. The Key."

She frowned, then went to the dressing table and opened the drawer. The Key gleamed; she took it out and laid it on the top, among the clustered flowers.

The Warden came and looked down at it. "Not even your precious Jared could have discovered all the mysteries of this device."

"I want to say good-bye," she said, stubborn. "To Finn, and

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the others. To explain to them. Then I'll give you the Key. At the wedding."

His eyes were cold and clear. "You always have to try my patience, Claudia."

For a moment she thought he would just take it. But he walked to the door.

"Don't keep Caspar waiting too long. He gets so ... sulky."

She locked the door after him and sat down, holding the Key in both hands.
I have come to love you.
Perhaps he even thought that was true.

She switched the field on.

Then she jumped back, so fast that the Key fell with a clatter onto the floor.

Attia was in her room.

"You have to help us," the girl said at once. "The ship has crashed. Gildas is hurt."

The field widened; she saw a dark place, heard a distant howling as of wind. Petals blew off the flowers on her table, as if a gale from that place moved here.

Attia was shoved aside; Finn said, "Claudia, please. Can Jared help ...?"

"Jared's not here." Helpless, she saw the wreckage of a strange craft littering the floor. Keiro was tearing a piece of sail into strips and binding Gildas's arm and shoulder; she saw blood already seeping through. "Where are you?"

"The Wall." Finn looked weary. "I think we've come as far

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as we can. This is the End of the World. There's a passageway beyond, but I don't know if he can travel ..."

"Of course I bloody can," Gildas snapped.

Finn pulled a face. "Not for long. We must be close, Claudia, to the gate."

"There is no gate." She knew her voice was flat.

He looked at her. "But you said--"

"I was wrong. I'm sorry. It's all over, Finn. There is no gate and there is no way out. Not ever. Not from Incarceron."

***

JARED WALKED into the Great Hall. It was thronged with courtiers and princes, ambassadors, Sapienti, dukes, and duchesses. It was a bewilderment of colored satins and the smell of sweat and powerful fragrances, and it made him feel a little weak. There were seats along the wall; he made for one and sat, leaning his head back against the cool stone. All around him, the guests at Claudia's wedding chattered and laughed. He saw the bridegroom, with a gang of his wild young friends, already drinking, laughing uproariously at some joke. The Queen was not present yet, nor the Warden.

A crinkle of silk beside him made him turn. Lord Evian bowed. "You look a little tired, Master."

Jared stared back. "A sleepless night, sir."

"Ah yes. But soon now, all our worries will be over." The fat man smiled, and fanned himself with a small black fan. "Please give Claudia all my best wishes."

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He bowed again and turned. Jared said suddenly, "One moment, my lord. The other day ... when you made a certain promise ...

"Yes?" Evian's smug manner was gone; he looked guarded.

"You mentioned the Nine-Fingered One."

Evian glared. He grabbed Jared's arm and hauled him into the crowd, moving so fast, people stared as they were pushed aside. Out in the corridor he hissed, "Never say that name aloud. It is a sacred and a holy name for those who believe."

Jared tugged his arm free. "I have heard of many cults and beliefs. Certainly all the ones the Queen allows. But this--"

"This is not the day to discuss religion."

"Yes k is." Jared's eyes were sharp and clear. "And we have very little time. Does he have another name, this hero of yours?"

Evian breathed out angrily. "I really can't say."

"You will say, my lord," Jared said pleasantly, "or I'll make such an outcry right now about your assassination plan that every guard in the Palace will hear it."

Evian's brow prickled with sweat. "I think not."

Jared glanced down; the fat man had a dagger in his hand, the blade hard against Jared's stomach. With an effort, he met the man's eyes. "Either way, my lord, you would be discovered. Ail I ask is a name."

For a moment they were face-to-face. Then Lord Evian said,