Incarceron

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 documents 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 assassination? 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 greensheened 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 fiancé." 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 snatched 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; Fi

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 amusement, and maybe it knew there was no Escape.

"Hurry." Gildas was waiting impatiently. He had brought nothing but a satchel of food and medicines and his staff; he strapped that to his back and glanced up the ladder into the shaft. "We get up to the transitway; the top may be guarded, so I'll go first. From there it's two hours to the door."

"Through Civicry territory," Keiro muttered.

Gildas eyed him coldly. "You can still go back."

"No he can't, old man."

Fi

From the sides and shadows of the tu

Amoz swung his fearsome axe.

Among his bodyguards, glowering and huge, Jormanric stood. Red juice stained his beard like blood.

"No one's going anywhere," he growled. "Neither is that Key." 

10

The eyes in the corridor were dark and watchful and there were many of them.

"Come out," he said.

They came out. They were children. They wore rags and their skin was livid with sores.

Their veins were tubes, their hair wire. Sapphique reached out and touched them.

"You are the ones who will save us," he said.

No one spoke. Fi

Big Arko broke the tension. "Never thought you'd run out on us, Fi

Keiro's smile was steely. "Who says we are?"

"The sword in your hand says it."

He lumbered toward them, but Jormanric stopped him with the back of a mailed glove against his chest. Then the Winglord looked beyond Fi

"I believe so. It was sent to me from Sapphique." The old man tried to push past, but Fi

"Oh yes," the big man said grimly. "That's true enough."

The Comitatus exchanged grins. They moved closer. Fi

Gildas folded his arms. His voice was rich with contempt. "Do you think I fear you?"

"I do, old man. Under all that bluster, you fear me. And you have cause." Jormanric rolled ket around his tongue. "You've stood behind me at enough hand loppings, tongue splittings, seen enough men's heads spitted on pikes to know what I will do." He shrugged. "And your voice has grated on me of late. I'm sick of being lectured and berated. So here's a proposition for you. Get lost before I cut your tongue out myself.

Climb the ladder and join the Civicry. We won't miss you."

That wasn't true, Fi

Gildas laughed sourly. "And the Key?"

"Ah." Jormanric's eyes narrowed. "The magic Key and the Starseer. I can't let them go.

And no one ever deserts the Comitatus." He turned his stare on Keiro. "Fi

Keiro didn't flinch. He stood tall, his handsome face flushed with controlled anger, though

Fi

Silence.

In the dark shaft the words rang as if the Prison whispered them mockingly around and around. Fi