Incarceron Part 18

"Now wait a minute!" Keiro peeled himself off the wall. "He's not going anywhere. He's sworn to me."

Gildas looked at him in distaste. "Only because he's useful to you."

"And not to you?" Keiro laughed in scorn. "You're a hypocrite, old man. A gla.s.s trinket and a few ravings when he's off his head are all you're interested in."

Gildas stood.

He barely came to Keiro's shoulder, but his glare was malevolent, his wiry body tense.

"I would be careful, boy. Very careful."

"Or what? You'll turn me into a snake?"

"You're already doing that to yourself."

With a shiver of steel Keiro drew his sword. His eyes were blue and icy.

Finn said, "Stop this." Neither of them even looked at him.

"I've never liked you, boy. I've never trusted you," Gildas said grimly.

"You're a preening, arrogant thief who considers only his own pleasures, who would murder if it suited him-as it certainly already has. And you'd like nothing more than to make Finn your twin."

Keiro's face was flushed. He raised the sword so that the sharp tip menaced the old man's eyes.

"Finn needs me to protect him from you. I'm the one who looks after him, holds his head when he's sick, watches his back. If we're speaking home truths, I could say that the Sapienti are old fools clutching rags of sorcery-"

"I said that's enough!" Finn stepped between them and shoved the blade aside.

Glowering, Keiro whipped it away. "You're going with him? Why?"

"What's there to stay for?"

"For G.o.d's sake, Finn! We're well in here-food, girls, all we want! We're feared, respected-powerful enough to tackle Jormanric any time now. Then we'll be Winglords, both of us! "

And how long, Gildas sneered, "before two is one too many?"

"Shut up!"

Finn turned, furious. "Look at you both! The only friends I have in this h.e.l.l and all you can do is fight over me. Do either of you care about me? Not the seer, the fighter, the fool who takes all the risks, but me, Finn?"

He stood shivering, suddenly bone-weary, and as they stared at him he crouched, hands to his head, his voice breaking.

"I can't stand this anymore. I'm dying here, terrified, living between seizures, dreading the next one, I can't bear it anymore, I've got to get out, find out who I am! I have to Escape."

They were silent. Dust fell slowly through the beam of the lantern. Then Keiro sheathed his sword. Finn tried to stop shivering. He looked up, dreading to see the mockery in Keiro's eyes, but his oathbrother held out a hand and pulled Finn up until they were face-to-face.

Gildas growled, "I care for you, you fool boy."

Keiro's eyes were sharp and blue.

"Be quiet, old man. Can't you see he's manipulating us both, as ever? You're so good at that, Finn. You did it to the Maestra and you do it to us."

He released Finns arm and stepped back.

"All right. Let's say we try to get out. Have you forgotten how she cursed you? A dying curse, Finn. Can we go up against that?"

"Leave that to me," Gildas snapped.

"Ah yes. Sorcery."

Keiro shook his head in disbelief.

"And how do we know the Key will open this door? Doors only open if Incarceron wants it."

Finn rubbed his chin. He made himself stand upright.

"I need to try."

Keiro sighed. He turned away, gazing down at the fires of the Comitatus, and Gildas caught Finn's eyes and nodded. He seemed quietly triumphant. Keiro swung back.

"All right. But secretly. Then if we fail no one will know."

"You don't have to come," Gildas said.

"If he goes, I go."

As he said it his foot dislodged a scatter of birdmuck from the ledge; watching it fall, Finn thought he saw a shadow flicker below. He grabbed the chain.

"Someone was there."

Keiro stared down. "Are you sure?"

"I thought so."

The Sapient pulled himself to his feet. He looked dismayed. "If it was a spy, if he heard about the Key, we're in trouble. Get weapons and food and meet me in ten minutes at the foot of the shaft."

He looked at the Key, its rainbow shimmer. "I'll keep this."

"No you won't." Finn took it back firmly.

"It stays with me."

As he turned away with it, he felt a sudden strange warmth in its heaviness, and glanced down. Under the eagle's claw a circle of paleness was fading. Inside it he thought he saw, just for a moment, the shadow of a face, staring at him.

A girl's face.

"I HAVE to confess that I detest riding." Lord Evian walked between the flowerbeds examining the dahlias attentively. "It all seems such an unnecessarily long way from the ground."

He sat next to her on the bench and gazed out at the sunny countryside, the church steeple shimmering in the heat haze. "And then your father wanting to come home so abruptly! I do hope it wasn't some sudden illness?"

"I suppose he must have remembered something," Claudia said carefully.

The afternoon light warmed the honey-colored stone of the manor; it glinted on the dark gold waters of the moat. Ducks arrowed toward the floating bread; she threw more for them, shredding it in her fingers. Evian's reflection showed his smooth face as he leaned over.

His mouth said, "You must be a little anxious, as well as eager, about this marriage."

She tossed a crust to a moorhen. "Sometimes."

"I a.s.sure you, everyone says you'll manage the Earl of Steen without any problems. His mother dotes on him."

Claudia had no doubt of that. Suddenly she felt weary, as if the whole effort of acting her part was overtaking her.

She stood, her shadow darkening the water. "If you'll excuse me, my lord, I have so much to see to."

He didn't look up, reaching his plump fingers to the ducks. But he said, "Sit down, Claudia Arlexa."

His voice. She stared in astonishment at the back of his head. The nasal whine was gone. Instead he sounded strong and commanding. He looked up. She sat, silent.

"This will come as a shock, I'm sure. I enjoy my disguise, but it can be tiresome."

The oily smile was gone too, and that made him look different, his heavily lidded eyes a little tired. Older.

"Disguise?" she said.

"a.s.sumed persona. We all have them, don't we, in this tyranny of Time? Claudia, can we be overheard here?"

"It's safer than the house."

"Yes."

He turned on the bench, the pale silk suit rustling, and she caught a waft of the exquisite perfume he doused himself with.

"Listen to me now. I have to speak with you, and this may be the only chance. Have you ever heard of the Steel Wolves?"

Danger. There was danger here and she had to be very careful.

She said, "Jared is a thorough teacher. The Steel Wolf was the heraldic symbol of Lord Calliston, who was found guilty of plotting treason against the Realm, and was the first Prisoner to enter Incarceron. But that was centuries ago."

"A hundred and sixty years," Evian murmured. "And that's all you know?"

"Yes." It was true.

He glanced quickly across the lawns.

"Then let me tell you that the Steel Wolf is also the name of a secret organization of courtiers and ... shall we say ... malcontents who long for release from the endless playing at an idealized past. From the tyranny of the Havaarnas. They ... we ... would have the Realm ruled by a queen who cared for her people, who would let us live as we want. Who would open Incarceron."

Her heart thudded with fear.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Claudia?"

She had no idea how to deal with this. Biting her lip she watched Medlicote come out of the gatehouse and look around for them.

"I think so. You're one of this group?"

He had seen the secretary too.

He said swiftly, "I may be. I'm taking a great chance talking to you. But I think you're not so much your father's daughter."

The secretary's dark figure crossed the drawbridge and strode toward them.

Evian waved limply. He said, "Think about it. There are not many who would mourn the Earl of Steen."

He stood. "Are you looking for me, sir?"

John Medlicote was a tall man of few words. He bowed to Claudia and said, "I was, my lord. The Warden sends his compliments and begs me to inform you that these dispatches have arrived from Court."

He held out a leather satchel. Evian smiled and took it daintily.

"Then I must go and read them. Excuse me, my dear."

Claudia dropped an awkward curtsy, watching the small man stroll beside the grave servant, talking lightly of the prospects for the harvest, tugging doc.u.ments out to read.

She crumbled bread between her fingers in silent disbelief. There are not many who would mourn the Earl of Steen. Was he talking about a.s.sa.s.sination? Was he sincere, or was it some plan of the Queen's to trap her, to test her loyalty? If she reported it or kept silent, either way might be a mistake.

She tossed the bread on the dark water, watching the bigger mallards with their green-sheened necks peck and bully the smaller ones aside. Her life was a labyrinth of plots and pretense, and the only person she could trust in all of it was Jared. She dusted her fingers together, cold in the sun. Because he might be dying.

"Claudia." Evian had returned; he held a letter up between plump fingers.

"Good news, my dear, of your fiancee."

He looked at her, his face unreadable.

"Caspar is traveling nearby. He will be here tomorrow."

It shook her. She smiled rigidly and threw the last crumbs onto the water. They floated for seconds. Then they were s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

KEIRO HAD stuffed a pack with plunder-fine clothes, gold, jewels, a firelock. It must have been heavy, but he wouldn't be complaining; Finn knew it would hurt him far more to leave any of it behind.

For himself, he had brought one spare set of clothes, some food, a sword, and the Key. That was all he wanted. Looking down at his share of the acc.u.mulated riches in the chest had filled him with selfloathing, brought back the Maestra's scorching stare of scorn. He had shut the lid with a bang.

Seeing Gildas's lantern ahead, he ran behind his oathbrother, glancing back anxiously. Incarceron's night was inky. But the Prison never slept.

One of its small red Eyes opened, turned, and clicked as he raced below it, and the sound swept a small shiver of dismay through his skin. But the Prison would watch curiously. It played with its inmates, allowed them to kill, wander, fight, and love until it grew tired and tormented them with Lockdowns, with twisting the very shape of itself. They were its only amus.e.m.e.nt, and maybe it knew there was no Escape.