Incarceron Part 79

Then he nodded, and let her go. A white circle of bloodless skin looped her wrist like the mark of a manacle.

"I can't hurt you," he said hoa.r.s.ely. Her eyes widened.

"But there is this Finn. And there is Jared."

She stepped back. She was shaking, her back cold with sweat. For a moment they looked at each other. Then, not trusting herself to speak, she turned and ran to the door, but his words caught her there and she had to hear them.

"There is no way out of the Prison. Bring me the Key, Claudia."

She slammed the door behind her. A pa.s.sing servant stared in surprise. In the mirror opposite Claudia saw why; her reflection showed a tousled, red-faced creature, scowling with unhappiness. She wanted to howl with rage. Instead she walked to her room and closed the door, and threw herself on the bed. She thumped the pillow and buried her head in it, curling up small, arms hugging her body. Her mind was a maze of confusion, but as she moved, paper crinkled on the pillow and she raised her head and saw the note pinned there.

It was from Jared.

I need to see you. I've discovered something incredible. As soon as she'd read it, it dissolved to ash.

She couldn't even smile.

PERCHED IN the rigging of the ship, Finn held on tight, seeing far below lakes of sulfurous yellow liquid, viscous and evil-smelling.

On the landscape slopes, animals grazed, odd gawky creatures from here, the herd splitting and fleeing in terror as the shadow of the ship fell on them. Beyond were more lakes, small scrubby bushes the only things that grew near them, and away to the right a desert stretched as far as he could see into the shadows.

They had been sailing for hours. Gildas had steered first, at random, high and steady until he had yelled irritably for someone to relieve him and Finn had taken a turn, feeling the strangeness of the craft below, its buffeting by drafts and breezes. Above him the sails had flapped; the winds catching and sloughing the white canvas.

Twice he had sailed the ship through cloud. The second time the temperature had dropped alarmingly and by the time they had emerged from the tingling grayness, the wheel and deck around him had been frosted with needles of ice that fell and clattered on the boards.

Attia had brought him water. "Plenty of this," she'd said, "but no food."

"What, nothing?"

"No."

"What did he live on?"

"There's only some sc.r.a.ps Gildas has."

As he'd drunk, she'd taken the wheel, her small hands on the thick spokes.

She'd said, "He told me about the ring."

Finn wiped his mouth.

"It was too much to do for me. I owe you even more now."

He'd felt proud and grumpy both at once; he'd taken the wheel back and said, "We stick together. Besides, I didn't think it would work."

"I'm amazed Keiro gave it."

Finn shrugged.

She was watching closely. But then she had looked into the sky. "Look at this! This is so wonderful. All my life I lived in a little dark tunnel lined with shanties and now all this s.p.a.ce ..."

He said, "Do you have any family?"

"Brothers and sisters. All older."

"Parents?"

"No." She shook her head. "You know ..."

He knew. Life in the Prison was short and unpredictable.

"Do you miss them?"

She was still, gripping the wheel tight. "Yes. But ..." She smiled. "It's odd how things work out. When I was captured, I thought it was the end of my life. But instead it led to this."

He nodded, then said, "Do you think the ring saved you? Or was it Gildas's emetic?"

"The ring," she said firmly. "And you."

He hadn't been so sure.

Now, looking down at Keiro lazing on the deck, he grinned. Called to take his turn, his oathbrother had taken one look at the great wheel and gone below for some rope; then he'd lashed it and seated himself next to it, feet up.

"What can we possibly hit?" he'd said to Gildas.

"You fool," the Sapient had snarled. "Just keep your eyes open, that's all."

They had pa.s.sed over hills of copper and mountains of gla.s.s, whole forests of metal trees. Finn had seen settlements cut off in impenetrable valleys where the inhabitants lived in isolation; great towns; once a castle with flags flying from its turrets. That had scared him, thinking of Claudia.

Rainbows of spray arched over them; they had flown through strange atmospheric effects, a reflected island, patches of heat, flickering blurs of purple and gold fire.

An hour ago a flock of long-tailed birds had suddenly squawked and circled and dive-bombed the deck, making Keiro duck. Then just as suddenly they had vanished, a mere drift of dimness on the horizon.

Once, the ship had drifted very low; Finn had leaned out over mile on mile of stinking hovels, the people running from haphazard dwellings of tin and wood, lame and diseased, their children listless. He had been glad when the wind had lifted the ship away.

Incarceron was a h.e.l.l. And yet he possessed its Key.

He took it out and touched the controls. He'd tried it before, but nothing had happened. Nothing happened now either, and he wondered if it would ever work again. But it was warm. Did that mean they were traveling in the right direction, toward Claudia? But if Incarceron was so vast, how many lifetimes might it take to travel to the exit?

"Finn!" Keiro's yell was sharp.

He looked up. Ahead, something flickered. He thought at first it was the lights; then he saw that the dimness was not the usual gloom of the Prison but a dark bank of storm clouds, right across their path.

He scrambled down, rasping his palms to heat on the cables. Keiro was hastily untying the wheel.